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

[SpiralErrant]

So this was how it was going to go. All things considered this had not been a great night. Things had gone from bad to worse with a speed that Orm couldn't even fathom. But at least it had all calmed down. All around them had been chaos as stones and arrows shot through the air with bloody intent and Orm could hear screaming from all sides, including that of his own. That had really pushed him to the edge. The rage was creeping up as they stared down the phalanx of slavering gnolls and it was now that Orm started to regret the spray of blood carrying that corpse had covered him in. Only a little bit though. He held the mask high and pointed from it to the corpse, trying his best to show how they'd fought a common foe, that there were threats to all of them here. Just as Belanor was doing the same thing and Orm hoped against reason that it might be enough to calm the canine natives.


But they kept looking back and Orm knew they were thinking of their dead kin, stuffed full of arrows. At last things became still and all Orm could hear through the tense quiet was the waterfall. He focused on that, letting the noise drown his cravings and urges. The chains were at their feet. Enough shackles for two. Orm couldn't understand the yapping language of the dogs but he'd communicated enough through actions to know their intent.


He took a step and picked up one of the chain sets. They were tiny things that Orm couldn't even fit around his wrists. Then he looked to the line in front of them, full of snapping, slathering, jaws. The gnolls were straining at their own bloody desires, he could empathize. That was what was waiting for him and Belanor if they gave themselves over... Orm had heard stories of gnoll mercy. Was this the deal, would they spare the tribe if he walked away? Chains in hand he turned to look across the river, at the life he'd be leaving behind and through the gloom could see the clear shape of Bruul's massive horns, darting all over the place. Orm held his arm out, dangling the chains towards the line in front of them, not just the gnoll warriors but the shattered trees and scratches in the earth.


For a moment he locked eyes with Belanor. Orm could never tell much difference in the little faces of the hornless but sometimes, if he got a good look, he could read their eyes alright. He looked into the elf's sharp gaze with his own blood shot stare. He must have looked like a mindless animal... but he could see the elf's make. He was a fighter, that was something they had in common. They had both made their choice. at least Orm could say he tried.

*****

​

What bloody madness had taken over Orm that he'd stayed over there?!


All hell was breaking loose and now the camp was being forced to watch as the chieftain of this freshly made settlement was about to be torn apart by wild animals! Bruul couldn't let this happen, he couldn't be the war shaman that let the chief die on his watch! Wjat was the lad thinking staying behind to die with some stranger? And now he was jangling something around like - like he was just giving up!?


Then Bruul saw it. Around the group of gnolls was smashed trees, littered rocks and... and... and those bastards had been using his loincloth again!


But it did get Bruul back to thinking of his experience with catapults just like before. He could brag about how good his ideas were if this worked. For now he needed some strong arms and keen eyes.


Bruul set to work like a bull possessed. ["Boulders! I need the biggest ones you can throw and I need you lot getting ready for more!"] He yelled, smacking the warriors back to attention. ["Whoever threw those biggest rocks there, you're doing it again! Shul you get over here, we need that moon eye!"]


["What are you up to?"] Shul panted as he ran over, trailing smoke from his horns as he went. ["You want to try for a keen shot?"]


["Not just a keen shot, a great one."] Bruul growled, pulling out the trick he had up his sleeve. The AMBER GEM. Orm never liked to carry it around, he always kept it in storage with the shaman and now was as good a time as any to use it. The thing didn't have much glow left but it would have to do. Bruul had heard and seen for himself how it had made stones fly and guided them about. Well he didn't need to make a boulder fly, he had his boys for that. He just needed to guide it a little and mixed in with his PUNCH MAGIC he might just be able to combine those powers together for extra effect.


Shul set about charming those on the large stone crew, lighting up the darkness for them as if the moon shone like a pale sun.


Bruul readied himself, punches clocked and amber at the ready. They'd only get one shot at this... hopefully they had enough. ["Swing away!"] He yelled and his slingers let loose, even the herdsmen with their smaller stones. Bruul only had a mind for the large boulder that was now sailing over their heads. He'd pointed the team to aim at the assembled gnolls and throw it with that same tree breaking force. Maybe that would be enough but he wasn't about to leave it to chance.


He readied the combined magics in his hands. He didn't need much from the gem. With that and his own power... he just had to guide the rock towards the heads of the shield wall. He just had to nudge it towards them. He just wanted to SPIKE IT DOWN ON THEIR HEADS! Bruul charged his power up and let rip, hoping to shatter that formation like the pins they'd set themselves up like.

*****

​

Orm tensed and waited. Then the cry went up and then he saw a massive form arc through the air. Orm looked to the elf and yelled one of the common tongue words he knew all too well. "RUN!!!" And with that he broke for the log bridge. All they had to do was get across and they could do it, they could win whatever fight followed them across.


Orm expected Belanor to break into the same run and skip across the log with the same ease his kin had, instead he seemed to weave around Orm like some protective spirit as Orm charged forward. He could even hear the distinct twang of a bowstring letting loose fresh arrows. He'd have been lying if he said he wasn't thankful for the extra cover. With his axe tight in hand all Orm could think of how close to home he was... and how far too.


- Bruul gets Shul to aid the eyesight of the tyren that threw the tree splitting boulder and orders them to do it again, this time aiming at the gnoll formation. He is combining the earth stone and his punch magic to help guide the rock and augment their shot and aim as he sees it. The other slingers are also opening fire on the gnolls while Orm and Belanor make a break for it.

 

[Beckoncall]

@Heyitsjiwon :


The building team keeps doing what it's doing.


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


"I will tread carefully, for a special fate awaits oracles that make the minds of their patrons up, rather than showing them the possible fates they choose. I am of two minds – on one hand, we have no idea the nature of the entity of the fountain, the entity itself may not know or express it’s powers this close to extinction… It is worth mentioning that it has had at least two followings before – were they here? In another time? Another plane? What became of them, and if we cast our fortunes with it – it seems to have been unable to shield its adherents in the past…


Still, it presents an opportunity – we are surrounded by strange bedfellows, is there a line drawn that we cannot align with a magical fountain? In its few whispered words it may have shared great secrets with us! Prisons for gods and their agents? What else might it know?


The safest bet may be to wish it away from the fountain and be done with it – but it is weak now… you may be able to tend and nurture it at a pace we can at least learn more about it, and decide on the basis of your knowing more…


…It might also be possible, even advised, to bring more magical experts or priests into examination of it. I can see fates, but I cannot divine the nature of the entity, only what it might do should it become more corporeal in relation to this plane. How the fountain was made, or scrying the magic of the fountain could tell us far more."


5 Soldiers are now guarding/patrolling the settlement.


Some older exile workers run up to the Attolian patrol from the slowly forming Inn in the ‘Platz…


“There is some kind of police force now? Is this because the boss headed north with all the countrymen? Is this about the dog people?”


“In any case, Dracos BLESS YOU for doing your part to keep us safe… just watch out around some of the work details on the south-side… many of Boss Dradic’s men were convicts you see, and I think a great many may feel… well… worried that there are constables about. After your shifts please come down to the inn and introduce yourselves around – let some of ‘em know yer real folk and maybe you can get some stories running ahead of yah the will warm their ways. Here’s a Silver for your troubles, mates – I can’t tell you how lovely it is to know somebody is watching out for us. That’s good money, too! Tyren made – good quality, we tested it!”


The workers departed, seemingly sincere in their wish that these newcomers be properly introduced to the locals…


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


Randall took a number of men off the crane detail and told the rest to take a break until he could return with full staff for safety. Wiping sweat from brow and dust from cloth the workers were happy to hear it. The Engineer took the detail to where they had covered the broken hatch, and levered the block from the hole. No sound greeted them this time, as it had before. He handed a parcel of food, trinkets and other valuables to the leader of the team and asked them to descend. When they reached the bottom, the basement chamber with the collapsed wall into the sewers was smeared with strange glyphs, tribal or religious in nature – all over the walls… it seemed a broad and crude system of symbols, but seemingly applied in haste and not without a certain style. The pictograms were largely indecipherable, but it seemed red people with heart-shaped heads were playing horns and taking the hands of white, insubstantial people. The trail of runes went through the basement and directly east down the sewer tunnel. Where Randall’s men sought to put down their gifts, they found a crude map of the sewer, seemingly with directions through the sewer – to head west under the main street of the ruins, ostensibly to wind up at one of several buildings inside the city. There also seemed to be a thin rectangular parchment as well, with a large single symbol on one side and a series of altogether unfamiliar alphabet on the other side, going less than a third of the way down the scroll.


Randall left the package, and tried not to think too much about the fact that there was now no denying somebody – something – was living in the sewers and was well versed in them… and they had offerings for them too…


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


“Sir Lothar!” The lieutenant of the footmen called up to the barded horse of the Sundered King…


“You think it strange that your brother assign as much force, if not more – to investigate a bit o’ wildflowers than he does to police our would-be town?” Lieutenant Aekold itched his mustache through the gap in his helm with a finger of his shiny, gilded gauntlet.


“Not for us to ask, Lieutenant. Certainly not for you.” Lothar replied. It was hot under the helm today… even with a cold night coming on. He looked at the cloudy sky above and gave a short sigh. It’s never any better in the rain, or sun, or snow, this getup – the only weather for which this suit was ideal was carnage… and if the lieutenant was right they were ill dressed for the affairs of wildflowers.


The path of flowers was winding and circuitous, almost playful in how it wound around one hill only to go right over another. The flowers behind seemed to wilt even as they passed them, the grass reclaiming them, as if they alone might be part to some secret for following….


In the northeast of boulder field, Sir Lothar found on the far side of a hill south of the Tyren encampment – a pit. A pit, surrounded by wildflowers. The soldiers knelt around the outside of the muddy hole and saw…. The upper part of some kind of statue… a pretty large one, they’d say by the look of it. Although weathered by age and naught knows what else, the rough shape of a woman, her arms held bowed in front of her as if the statue held a great basket at one time, or was inviting the embrace of a child. A great rock nearby had shown that something had uncovered the statue by removing that debris that covered it, and since then the rain was eroding the part of the hill that concealed the statue.


Below the statue’s bosom was a pool of murky water where rain had collected, giving the statue the odd quality of a lady bathing.


“It’s a statue. What to make of it?” A soldier said.


“It’s a statue with flowers around it. Surprise?” added another.


Sir Lothar wasn’t really paying attention to this however… he had removed his helmet and tucked it into the crook of his arm. Further to the northeast, over the sounds of the wind and the river, he could hear the noise of battle….


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


Cassandra led Caelis to the fountain and walked him to the place she laid her head on the lip of the dry marble structure. Rain did not accumulate here, though perhaps it had some means of drainage that was not readily apparent. Cassandra bid he lay his head on the stone, and listen for the voice of the fountain…


“So… so far away… farther than you think, mortal.” The fountain seemed to croak in a voice so barely audible Caelis thought he might have imagined it.


“Sacrifice. The currency of mortals and the divine is sacrifice.”


Caelis still thought he could hear the voice, but it was too quiet to make anything of it, as he knelt at the side of the fountain, a gleam off the lacquered sheath of his boot-knife drew his attention, then faded just as quickly.


“Can you hear it, lord?” Cassandra asked. “For I cannot.”


Silence reigned in the ‘platz...


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!"


Sir Gaston wheeled his horse and bid his soldiers move behind him… as they left the agora, they could see to the right and left where skeletons had since rose, and were standing, one might say patiently, for the sunlight that fell in their way to fade. One skeleton was a mere four feet from the outer wall and seemed to be laying it’s hands on the border a sunbeam as if it were a wall. It turned its grinning skull to follow the men as they bustled past it.


The entire formation wheeled left, onto the main street… Sir Gaston snapped the reigns and prompted the horse into a trot, the men moving double-time behind him. Four blocks to the east and they would be out of this place… Though Gaston wondered if he might be bringing the place to them…


After two blocks of hurried movement they saw the “Mastaba-Theater” staircase coming up on their right. The clouds moved slightly in the windy sky and covered further obscured the sun, as if the vanishing day had been put to a dimmer.


At once, a solid THRONG of skeletons, in tattered robes, in tattered armor, in tattered souls – they at once expelled from the theater-venue… A large number already blocking the way on main street. In moments, thrice more would be on the streets before them… until perhaps every bone they saw below would be between them and freedom.


“Charge!!!” Sir Gaston cried, his vison and lance dropping in the same gesture… the wedge of men behind him ran as their full speed behind him, while he careened towards the mass of bones ahead.


Sir Gaston Braced, just as his horse did – in an action that they’d both trained ad infinatum to execute. The Charging weight of horse and man suddenly slowed against the mass of weight against it, and in an instant it seemed as if they would crash into an immovable wall – before it yielded in the same instant. The skeletons directly in front of the Charger were either trampled or pulverized, shrapnel of bone flying in every direction outward. To their sides the walking bones were cast to the ground, and a handful of skeletons themselves were trashed upon the lance of the Sundered King. The horse LEAPED from the back of the formation, and Sir Gaston wheeled his horse again as he saw his men recklessly hacking and pushing their way through the fleshless mob.


They had broken through. Sir Gaston allowed them to pass him before marching his horse behind them, at least for a pace. The clouds moved again, and he saw the skeletons stop in their animations, and instead lazily walk back down into the Amphitheater… A couple of the robed skeletons seemed to pause and consider the carnage of bones, filling their arms with skulls, hips, and femurs before following the rest back down into their eternal venue…


The men descended the slope from the ruin where the path lead both into the ‘platz, and the deep slope lead into the depression.


“Are they coming, Sir Gaston!?” All the men were asking, but not one looked back until they had finally seen another living person…

 

[Beckoncall]

@The Elusive Shadow :


Grigor merrily accepted the additional personnel and immediately set to designing a modest addition to the warehouse where the wine could be kept from salt air and moisture. With the preserver’s help, they contrived a system to seal a corner of the warehouse with pitch, and create a door-seal that would maintain a preferable temperature and humidity.


The berry gathering and stomping continued, and the first batches were emptied into great casks to be stored. It would take some time for the first batches to be ready, but after that point production would be steady. If they had the services of a chemist, it might be possible to accelerate the fermentation process… but where would they find such talents?


Vorenus notified the healer that he was ready to seek an audience with whatever power held sway here… he sat on his carved throne, coral embellishments at arm’s reach. A thrall kneeled at the foot of his throne, holding the crown in supplication.


All was in readiness, and the healer walked out in the shallows at the idol site where the previous sacrifices were made, and spread his arms while channeling the mana of the sacred site.


Deep below, in the rift deep below the waterfall, a great rush of bubbles flooded upward. Moments later, the water off the beach where Vorenus sat began to become turbulent and almost effervescent. Steam began to rise off a great whirlpool that took shape off of the shallows, and the healer ran back to the sand for the heat rising out of it…


Bursting to the surface and hovering above the whirlpool, was the translucent, almost jelly-like apparition of a young girl. The rumor of a human skeleton seemed to float in her watery body, a jaw bone floating completely loose from the empty skull above it. Through her chest could be seen a chain of roiling filaments – like a man-o-war twisted in her innards, pulsing with fluorescent light. Her back was cloaked in what appeared to be a living stingray, which alternatingly folded around her and flapped as if to give the disturbing form wings… looking straight through her chest Vorenus could make out some other kind of animal embedded at the base of this being’s skull, three vertically stacked jet-black eyes on it’s ventral side seeming to stare through the girl’s body unblinking back at Vorenus as he beheld it. Two squid like tentacles spread out of the seeming parasite, hovering almost menacingly above the creature, the whirlpool, and lurching forward as if to loom over the beach. The form of the “jelly-girl” hovered several feet over the whirlpool in a rising pillar of steam and bubbles, to land gracefully on the edge of the beach… turning it’s skull, it beheld Vorenus, The cowering thrall, and the Healer that had run to the side of the throne…


“Standing before you is Anais-T’leth-Aboleth” – the voice was low, burbling and disturbing – as if rising from a throat that was filled with seaweed…


“It means Anais, mouth of Aboleth – and it is I you have contacted. I have used the shell of the slave you kept to create this avatar, for I speak in the tongues of all whom I have consumed… and I have consumed so very many…”


“It is fortunate of you that you are a Master…” The fluidic form paused…


“…Vorenus.” It continued – “In my eyes there are only masters, and slaves. Because you are a Master I can commune with you thusly – were you not, I might have simply dragged your lot to the bottom of the sea bed, or sank the island you presently inhabit without a second thought…”


“...But it seems you are not a slave, Vorenus, you are a Master – and I can bear to speak with you because of this. There are only two types of beings in my dominion, Vorenus – Masters allowed freewill and to think, and those others whom I control utterly, like this vessel I use to speak with you. The minds of your followers are yours to crush, however – I feel it is much better to command one’s puppets then let them pretend to do your bidding… slaves are so insincere, Vorenus – if you hope to live as long as I have you will internalize this fact.”


One of the creatures tentacles gestures slightly, and the crown of coral and obsidian is pulled from the hand of the cowering thrall, through the air, to rest on the head of ‘Anais T’leth Aboleth”… The being seems to pulse again with inner light, as if the gesture held some hidden gravity.


“You have a name by which you will know me, and you too are a will that dominates. You will not be drowned at this time… but that leaves much space as to the nature of our proposed agreement… you do seek an agreement Vorenus? I doubt you would have called to me otherwise…”


The gelatinous form on Anais plants its feet in the sand, and particulate matter from the beach visibly swirls inside of it. Crossing the back-tentacles high above its head two rods form in the oval tips of the appendages, barbed hooks curling out of the myriad suckers to hold the wands in place…


“If you take the black rod, you propose to be my partner – as another master regards a master – I can tell you are a being of avarice, purpose, and… shall we say… moral flexibility… As such, we can do business. My first proposal is that for every human you consign to me as you already have, I will give you two of my deep ones… Mindless, unquestioning, for you or any caster you designate to use and spend as you see fit. It has been so long since I dined on the flesh of humans, you see… and while I do not find them particularly… palpable… so few thoughts, so little fat… They help me to remember a happier time, Vorenus – surely you would not deny me such enjoyments? You would be wise to consider the generosity of my offer…”


“If you take the white rod, you accept me as your master – your cause becomes mine and the reverse too is true. You and but a handful of your drones will keep your minds intact, but you will rapidly behold and wield powers so terrible your simple mind can barely find expression for them. Take the white rod and submit, and the pallid earthly goals you came here to realize will fade like the smallest fish is torn asunder in my abyss…”


“As a show of my power and indomitable will, I finally give you this vessel, the one once called Anais… It was a wish of yours to make this expedition with a translator – and above all a T’leth Aboleth is that – She can speak to the minds of mortals, and knows the languages of all whom I have consumed…”


“…and as I have stated I have consumed so many, Vorenus.”


“I have spoken my peace. Take one of the rods from my avatar, and use her as you see fit. Ply her with questions, and I may… I may answer them. Once we have clarified the nature of our… relationship… we can both take steps to assure each of us feels we have the better part of the deal…”


With that, Anais’ tentacles flick down, spontaneously capturing and eviscerating the thrall that once held the crown she wears. In another small gesture she whips the dead and bleeding slave into the whirlpool, which seemingly pulls the thrall to a boiling hell beneath the ocean, and who knows what other fate that might await.


Anais turns her head again, once more towards vorenus... a moment later the skull inside also seemingly spins in the fluid of her head to face correctly with the turn. Hermit crabs seem to twist in the concaves of her eye-sockets… The voice of the girl rises slightly in her throat:


“I died in pain and terror so thorough my suffering will be considered legendary, even in hell.”


Anais then took her side in the bloody sand where she had killed Vorenus’ thrall. She was his now. Looking down at her kneeling at his throne, he saw her stingray cloak pull tight around her, and the pulsing parasitic thing that clung to the back of her neck twisted inside her, retreating into a broken hole at the base of her skull and pulling the impossibly long and muscular tentacles inside there with it. The rods fell into her hands as the bulbous tips of the tentacles sucked inward, and Anais held the rods up to Vorenus to make his choice… The healer seemed quite satisfied with himself.


(-1 thrall, +1 avatar of Aboleth {translator})

 

[Heyitsjiwon]

As Caelis listened for slightly longer, he came to realize that the voice had fallen completely silent. He would hear no more. Caelis looked back at Lady Cassandra and said "For now, let us leave it be. We'll give it the "regard" needed to keep it still present in this world, but until we get someone more skilled in these matters I want this fountain to be left alone." He then heard the sound of horse hooves heavily clapping against the paved ground of the marketplatz. Caelis turned to look at the approaching Sir Gaston. It had not been that long and yet... Sir Gaston looked like he had just been in the midst of a long skirmish. Sir Gaston dismounted his horse, and took off his helmet. He then looked at Caelis with a slightly weary face and said "Lord Wolff. I brought a scouting party into the city as you had requested."


He then took a moment to gather his thoughts before he spoke again. "On the outskirts, the ruins are nothing more than that with barely a wall standing. However, we found a few intact buildings only a few blocks into the ruin. Specifically, an underground amphitheater of sorts, and then one block further away a walled agora. In those buildings were... skeletons. Remains of hundreds of people. When we first entered the amphitheater, we only saw the fallen skeletons. However, the moment we entered the agora... they began to stir and rise. My lord, there are hundreds of undead skeletons, residing in those ruins. I know not what evil resides deeper in the ruins, but the place is surely cursed. It was a blessing that the skeletons did not pursue us any further once we left the ruins. Perhaps, they are protecting something? I do not know, but the ruins are not a safe place to enter. I already am concerned that we are residing so close to these unholy beings."


Caelis nodded and replied "Thank you Sir Gaston. I am glad to see that no harm has befallen upon you or any of the men. Now, go take a well deserved rest. I will figure out what to do about this." Sir Gaston gave a curt bow and then remounted his horse to take his leave. Caelis then looked at Lady Cassandra and said "We must hold a council. Call the others."


---


A few moments later, Caelis was in the company of his trusted advisers: Lady Cassandra, Dr. Fleming, and Sir Nicolas. He gave them a summary of the things that the men had discovered. Everyone held a sullen face as they listened to the concerning news. With Caelis' summary over, they began to discuss the matters. First was the issue with their new neighbors below them. Dr. Fleming spoke up first "Lord Caelis, if I may, would you allow me and the linguist to examine these drawings on the walls and the parchment that they have left us? I may be able to determine what these beings are or at least make some assumptions about their physical capabilities based on how they are depicted. The linguist may perhaps be able to read some of this or at least begin to make sense of their writing." Caelis responded "Very well, however, I will assign you two each a soldier just in case to escort you two."


The next issue that came up was the ruins. No one seemed to have a great solution, but for now... it seemed that they were safe. The only suggestion that made some reasonable sense was to build a watchtower on the top of the slope to the west. This watchtower on top of the slope would have a vantage point over everything to the east of it and give them a decent warning if something came from the ruins.


With the two pressing matters dealt with, they began to talk about more general affairs. "The sun shines brighter by the day." Lady Cassandra commented "Summer will be upon us soon." Dr. Fleming then added "Yes, we must begin to be concerned about the food. While our current diet is rather rich... we're simply not eating enough vegetables. It's not a sustainable diet in the long term." Caelis nodded and said "Yes, we must begin to plant this year's crop as soon as possible. I'll give word. We need to make as much land as possible available to develop on and farm. In the mean time, I'll have the men contribute our recent catches to the guild. That way we can generate a bit more pull in the guild."


"What of the fountain?" Sir Nicolas asked. Caelis responded "We are simply not able to deal with it right now. I believe the wisest option is to wait for someone who has more knowledge and skill in these matters to arrive on the island." Sir Nicolas nodded, but he seemed bored. So far, he had not seen anything magical in these new lands. Caelis then remembered about the Tear. He reached into his pocket and pulled it out. He then said "Ahh yes, Nicolas, I believe that you wanted to analyze this stone, correct?" Nicolas replied "Yes! It's obvious that it contains magical properties. I could find out exactly how the stone works, and perhaps replicate its power." Caelis nodded and said "Very well, Sir Nicolas, I would like to know exactly what this stone can do." as he handed the Tear over to Nicolas.


@General Deth Glitch


There was then the last issue. Some of the exiles felt nervous about there being a proper guard around the settlement. It was to be expected since many people in that ship were fearful or spiteful of authority. Caelis thought that a joint guarding force could be a solution. That way, the Exiles would be less tense about having a police force since some of their own brothers would be a part of the guard. It would help encourage more cooperation between the two. Plus, it would help with the security in the Marketplatz, which benefited both the Attolians and the Exiles. Thus, Caelis wrote a message to Maeder, asking for his opinion on a joint guard for the Marketplatz and for him to contribute some men to the current 5 soldiers that Caelis had on patrol.


With that, the council was over.


Summary:


Dr. Fleming, and the linguist are to enter the basement to examine the drawings and the parchment that was left for the Attolians. They have 2 soldiers to escort them.


The Engineer is to lead 5 skilled workers and 10 unskilled workers to build a watchtower on top of the slope that leads to the ruins to the west. They have 5 soldiers to escort them as well.


10 Skilled Workers and 20 Unskilled Workers are to clear the field and plant seeds for this year's crop.


The Attolians are bringing their new catches, Fat Redwood Blackbirds, to the Grocers Guild.


Sir Nicolas, the artificer, is to examine and study the Star Tear.


Proposal is sent to Maeder to form a joint guard for the Marketplatz.


---


The South of the Tyren Camp


Lothar looked over to the soldiers that were with him and said "We found out what the flowers lead to. That's all we had to do in regards to that, so we can report about the statue, where it is and what not. But, you boys hear that, right? It's the sound of a good battle. We are going to go up north a bit and scout out what the bloody hell is going on up there. If I remember correctly, some of the minotaurs in the first group of colonists live up there supposedly, and while I am not quite fond of them I'm sure that Caelis would at least want us to take a gander as to what's going on and help if there's an issue. Besides..." Lothar then donned his helmet again and said "I've been itching for a good fight since we were on that blasted boat months ago." He then urged his horse up north up the hill with his men in tow.


Summary:


Lothar and the 5 soldiers go north to check out what's going on, and perhaps help if it looks like their fellow colonists are in trouble.

 

[Beckoncall]

@Leusis :


Eteel and his brother saw the net that was closing around them. Neither would suffer a cage.


The moment both blades were unsheathed and turned in their hands, a pulse of light BLAZED in the wooded clearing where they stood so bright that it was visible to any being within many, many miles. The twins practically hid in their cowls for the sheer intensity of it, even prepared with their eyes closed and covered the light almost seared them into blindness.


At once, the entire array of gnolls surrounding them screamed and recoiled as if their very ends had come. Yelps of terror rose in their throats, and continued as many of them utterly panicked.


“Crow” Jareel Gestured. Eteel shook his head – why must everything his brother suggests be a frontal assault? A straight line? He gestured back – “Toad and Scorpion” and Jareel Nodded. In the same instant the near exhausted Jareel was boosted to stand on his brothers shoulder with one foot, and on Eteel’s right hand held level with it for the other foot. Crouching, he took back his brothers two arrows from his quiver…


…And Eteel ran for the foe still twisting and screaming in their blindness. Carrying his brother, he jumped from foot, to knee, to shield, to head and over the ranks of the foe, his boots making a crunching noise on all he touched as he turned his weight to spring again. From braced position carried aloft by his brother, Jareel shot the requisite four enemies to enable them to vault over the formation. Each shot piercing eye or throat…


The gleamsplitters felt lighter in their scabbards – it was doubtful they would shine with such potency again, not unless they were again left under the sun in some mouldering grave for years untold…


Such was not of highest concern now – they needed to return to the camp of the Autumn-Lord. Masters of stealth as they were, they made their way along the river to the Ent-Bridge downriver of their position. Here and there they saw pockets of Gnolls clashing with Mask-folk, but they did not intervene… let them kill each other to a man if they wished. They were one-directed of purpose.


Reaching the fallen Ent they could sense the faintest magic enveloping the wilds around it… clouds of greenish fireflies seemed to rise out of it as they walked, perhaps aggressive were they not of wood elven kin – instead they seemed to light the way as they walked, swarming out where they laid their feet and returning just as swiftly where they passed.


Once across the river, they made a bee-line back to the foothill woods. By now Eteel was relaxed and measured, but Jareel had pushed his elven frame to the limit… he would not let his brother outrace him, however – he beat Eteel by two hand-spans before mantling onto an outstretched tree-bough and curling up to sleep. His brother would tell the tale, he figured. He had run out of words to give voice to centuries ago. He rested his hand over the trophy he held on his belt -- the elf-skull helm of the masked-one warlord... it would have to be handed over to the Autumn lord or Tree Folk for rites of burial, but for the moment it was just a trophy of his artful bloodshed.


(item: Feathered-Skull war crown)

 

[Beckoncall]

Bruul gave the orders. Shul used the moon-eye on each of the Tyren standing on their opposing hillside, and a handful of Tyren workers had moved a wagon to the ridge for cover as some herdsmen moved a cart of stones behind it. As this unfolded quickly, Gnoll skirmishers continued to take shots into the Tyren camp… but the watching glade guard made that a costly proposal. A small wagon caught fire, but it was pulled to the lee of the hill and extinguished with blankets… at the cost of injury to more Tyren.


Mirgarak, one of the warriors – taunted the gnolls with his war cries, it drew fire from camp onto him… he seemed to have been hit many times… but the smell of his own blood only made him roar louder.


A loud thump could be heard by Bruul from behind the hill-wagon, and Bruul knew the gambit would soon be put into play. Belanor signaled to his warriors to wind down fire until after the Tyren had made their play…


From the Stone cart and behind the wagon came Goefuran and one of the larger young warriors. They ran behind a massive block of masonry dug from boulder field, easily one of the largest the Tyren dared move whole – each of them holding one end of Bruul’s infamous leathers as they sped it to the edge of the hill, where it began to ROLL… breaking away from them and heading straight past where Bruul stood.


Bruul held out the stone, and with the last of its energy seemed to lift it several feet off the ground, diving behind it as it passed, he placed the boulder between him and the enemy regiment – hoping his chambered punch, and physics, would take care of the rest.


The strike was not particularly accurate, but it was DEVASTATING… out of the blue it looked as if the Tyren shaman had called down a METEOR, which had struck the tree-line and UTTERLY DEMOLISHED a row of trees, three ranks of gnolls, and indeed portion of the far slope in front of where Orm and Belanor stood. Dirt and leaves rained down for several seconds afterwards, giving Orm and Belanor the beginning of the cover they’d need to escape.


Bruul postured with burning hands – demonstrating with frightful intensity that the Tyren had a MAGE, and he was calling down ARTILLERY. When the cloud of debris settled, the Glade guard fired full into the enemy regiment, without the benefit of their frontal cover. Just then, a WAVE of light from deep inside the wood seemed to TEAR through the battlefield, which confused the devil out of the colony forces assembled, but did doubly to the Gnolls now sure that Bruul was about to drop something even worse on top of them.


Still, most of their shield-wall was still intact, so after one rather withering volley from the glade guard they were able to withdraw tactically into the wood.


Just as it seemed the gnolls were going to yield the field to the Colonists, The Attolian detatchment arrived. If the colonists wish to press a counter-attack, they’d received reinforcements.


Orm and Belanor made it across the river. A large black-gnoll took a parting shot at Orm with a long spear, and struck true, hitting Orm in the shoulder-blade… it was not a deadly wound, but it was agonizingly painful, and until it was removed and tended to moving his off-hand would only aggravate the wound. Belanor saw who made the throw and sent them flying back into the brush with their hand pinned between their eyes and an exit wound at the back of his skull.


With the main regiment denied their prizes and given GREAT reason to find cover from mage-fire, it seemed the battle would be over for the colonists unless they wished to pursue.


Unmolested, the glade guard made short work of any skirmishers too stubborn to fade into the brush.


Cries began to ring out in the Tyren encampment… injuries might have mounted. Of the Tyren fighters, two Herdmen slingers were lightly wounded, and 2 warriors were wounded, Mirgirak seemingly critically.


A single glade guard lay unconscious from injuries, but was expected to pull through. The humans, who had not particularly committed to the fight, were unscathed.


The extent of Tyren Civilian casualties would not be known until the battle had definitively ended, however… but it seemed there were at least a few…


Elsewhere in the wood fighting between Gnoll and Mask-folk could be seen and heard… to the NE it became apparent that a small part of the wood was on fire... Even if the Colonists broke off the fight, battle in the woods would carry on almost until dawn…

 

[Beckoncall]

NEW COLONY QUEST! (Council)


If a central colony is to take shape, some kind of central authority/government must exist -- It should consists of skilled workers or designated representatives of faction leaders -- the folks designated to be a part of this council will discuss what are the most pressing needs of the colony, and if factions have any way to cooperate to realize those goals.


Pros:


(It takes away some degree of micromanagement, followers may suggest improvements for colony)


Cons:


(It may be a place of contention for factions that are not getting along)


Not any/all factions are required to contribute workers/representatives to council, but participation may have impact on future events.


WHERE the council will be held is also something that must be agreed upon, at least 3 factions must participate if a council is to form.

 

[Beckoncall]

@Heyitsjiwon :


Dr. Fleming, and the linguist are to enter the basement to examine the drawings and the parchment that was left for the Attolians. They have 2 soldiers to escort them.


The soldiers descended into the infamous basement in question – though it rapidly became clear that there had been no new occupants in the area since humans last left it. Everything remained in (or out) of place as it was left, and the basement and adjoining sewer were deathly quiet. They gave the all clear, and Dr. Fleming and the Linguist entered the basement proper to examine the strange markings left by their mysterious subterranean neighbors…


It seemed there was more than one alphabetical system at play in the odd diagrams, larger glyphs and symbols with pictographic representations, as well as a more specific and possibly distantly related general alphabet. The linguist took exhaustive notes of everything, but sadly submitted that he would need far more time to analyze the alphabet to decrypt it, though a fair amount could be gleaned from the symbolism in the larger drawings…


…The linguist is reasonably certain that whomever left these writings, is convinced that the Attolians are ghosts, or more particularly, skeleton-ghosts? There is representation of “we” (red figures with heart shaped heads?) and “you” (dead humans?) – it’s still quite confusing, but it seems the markings are an invitation, or perhaps a command, to move through a certain path in the sewer that would take the Attolians (or any other restless spirits) back into the ruins from below. There seems to be an element of pity or courtesy implied – that lost souls should be reunited with their families, and if they wander they hope to be of help getting them back where they belong…


Dr. Flemming also recognizes what purpose he believes the parchment is supposed to serve – as a physician he has often been called upon to perform pre-burial funerary rights, and he believes he recognizes the odd piece of paper as a “Death Blessing” – something placed over the eyes of a restless spirit, that gives them directions in front of their eyes to follow (back to a grave, or to the next world) with a glyph of compulsion if the spirit is restless or wicked on the out-facing side. Death-blessings are familiar devices in many completely distinct cultures, especially those with histories or environments that pertain to their dead not resting easily, by default or design.


It is thought that over half of any nuance to this information is hidden in the other alphabet, but both the Linguist and the Doctor seem to think their particular lens on this environment at least corroborate one another…


The Engineer is to lead 5 skilled workers and 10 unskilled workers to build a watchtower on top of the slope that leads to the ruins to the west. They have 5 soldiers to escort them as well.


While technically against, if not actually IN, the ruins – orders were orders. The soldiers set up a perimeter and watched carefully for any sign of the undead, should they attempt to disturb the work detail. Gathering some of the loose stone from the area, a strong foundation for the watch tower was made, followed by a light but sturdy wooden frame, and a watch-house at the very top. It was easily the highest structure in the ruins for some distance, so its scope of vantage would be considerable.


Not wanting to tarry in the ruin any longer than necessary, the project was finished extremely fast – after which the work detail returned to the ‘Platz, and the soldiers remained at the watch-tower until Caelis or one of his agents decreed they do otherwise. It was worth noting however that even though it was understood there was supposedly a great dashing and scattering of bones a few blocks into the ruin, there could be little evidence of that now… perhaps it was too dark, perhaps the moon-light played tricks, but even for an intrepid warrior who walked a ways down the road to make sure the area was safe before construction began – he could find no signs of bones anywhere near where Sir Gaston had supposedly executed his charge…


10 Skilled Workers and 20 Unskilled Workers are to clear the field and plant seeds for this year's crop.


Economy of scale and the importance of the task at hand produces some great results here. An additional +3 carts of stone is removed from boulder field – clearing what could be four distinct plots of land in total since the Attolians arrived. If the Attolians and Tyren kept hauling stone like they were doing, boulder field would soon be a predominantly fallow field, ripe for planting…


The Attolians are bringing their new catches, Fat Redwood Blackbirds, to the Grocers Guild.


The Grocer Guild Summary is added to Overview Section, with Redwood Blackbirds included. A general market guild or healers guild might also be a good idea to try to form… though presently a COUNCIL is being proposed by some…


Sir Nicolas, the artificer, is to examine and study the Star Tear.


Fascinating! Strong signatures of clerical/divine energy, raw magical power, and it also emitted signs that an artificer would unmistakably recognize as some kind of “animate” signature – the kind of things magical creatures, constructs, and elementals give off that pass for “life signs” of those types of creatures. The crystalline structure however is so far complex and intricate that the Artificer could not dream of understanding it, much less emulating it, without a much deeper understanding of how it was made.


Beyond those observations, the gem was crystal clear and it was immediately noted that it had a unique aspect to the way it reflected light. Light seemed to be cut into several prisms when viewed from most angles, but in one particular angle (the artificer believes this particular angle is light in line with the weakness in the barrier) the prisms line up and become a concentrated beam of light. While the light itself is not very strong, it functions similarly with any light source – and as such, the gem is a spectacular navigational tool, if you needed it to find your way through the weakness in the barrier, or by extension of that, the way back to the colony landing. In the simplest sense, it’s a compass that always points the way towards home… if the place of the new colony could be called that.


Besides the above, it is obvious that a large amount of magical energy is stored in this crystal. The power of the crystal can either be expended by directing “intent” by the wielder, or it could be used to enhance a particular building or structure, or even enchant a specific item.


To guess what kind of effect it would have on an item, the Artificer would need to experiment – ie, given weapons, armor, or the like to attempt to speculate synergy between tool and catalyst.


As buildings went, the artificer would be absolutely OVERJOYED if he could take the crystal and make it a power source for a dedicated golem laboratory. If Caelis had other ideas for structures to bind to the stone, the artificer could speculate what effects those might have… but he was certain if he was able to use the stone as an enhancement for his own magical practices it could have potentially profound effects, without necessarily depleting it’s power… Draw from it after integration into a structure might be impressively sustainable, but he could not promise that it would be safe to the structural integrity of the crystal if Caelis later sought to remove the Jewel for some other purpose…


In short, it expends power so that mages and lords can exercise their will through it. If not used for that, it can give Stellar/Astral Power to a tool, weapon, armor or some other item, or be used to bless/power/improve a colony structure with improved properties. In particular, it could be used short term to more rapidly build a force of golems, or have such golems produced be more powerful... however if Caelis was willing to commit the


@General Deth Glitch


Proposal is sent to Maeder to form a joint guard for the Marketplatz.


(Please direct such offers/invitations to the other player(s) in question)


In the interest of simplicity, I will summarize that the Attolians want to police the Marketplatz and potentially the surrounding area. They appreciate that many exiles are not particularly fond of constables… as such, they invite the Exiles to take part in the security of the marketplace to both help out and increase trust in the objective.

 

[SpiralErrant]

Orm roared out in pain as his back exploded into pain as if it was as on fire. He stumbled the rest of the way across the bridge and into the waiting company of tyren and elves. The tense silence had yet again erupted into chaos and panic. People were running all around him and the world smelled like blood and smoke. Orm tried to move further only for his arm to scream in protest. He was panting and growling like a wounded animal.


With the chief wounded and a good view of the battlefield it was time for Bruul to step in. He watched the gnolls fall back from the gash of devastation he'd carved in the forest side. The arrows that had fallen on them had slowed down until the elves took command of the ranged battle. The only fighting that was going on for now was deep in the other woods as they sprang up in distant lights and flames. Bruul didn't see them following any time soon, not with all the injuries they had going around. For tonight the tyren were done, they had to withdraw and lick their wounds.


["Get the injured to safety, pull the wagons to cover, far side of the hill, now!"] He roared for the able bodied folk around him. ["We're up, Shul, it's all hands at the ready!"]


The shaman and those who were able scrambled to pull the wounded to safety and circle the wagons for further cover, trying to keep them on the far side of the hill and out of the danger zone of falling arrows. Orm was stubborn enough to walk himself back to the hills but Mirgirak was more blood than bull by this point. ["You mad *beast."] Bruul sighed over the coughing warrior. He'd seen from up high how his roars had pulled the arrows away from the herdsmen, how he'd taken them all on himself.


["Someone get Ummush, get the elves, anyone you can!"] He bellowed to any runner that would hear. These wounds were horrific, he may have been even beyond a shaman's power by this point but Bruul wasn't about to give up. ["You aren't allowed to die, you hear me? You gotta hear the songs they're going to sing about you."] He whispered as he wiped the bull's slick brow.


Hrun'taras was coming together in their time of crisis as best they could. The three shaman tended to the wounded as best they could with Shul moving among the more lightly injured with his censor basket and other tricks with Bruul seeing to the more sever cases and Ummush to the absolute worst. Helping them out where they could were the two herbalists who had learned their fair share of tricks, along with any able bodied tyren who could lend a hand. Orm could only look on impotently as he braced himself against someone bulling the spear from his shoulder, it took Rahg holding him down to make sure he didn't lash out on instinct while the herb grower saw to his wound. He wished he could say this was the first time the caravan had gone through something like this.

 

[Leusis]

Belanor watched as the combined efforts of the Elves and Tyren drove the gnolls back into their forest, where it seems they were forced into the same struggle as the rest of their kin. As well as this Belanor witnessed a great flash of light, something he knew came from the direction of the twins, and thus he expected they were in some kind of danger and forced to flee. This raised the question of just how many masked people there had been, and how many more gnolls were among them, fighting for the forest. However, Belanor could not worry about this at the moment, hearing the roar of Orm and looking over his shoulder he spotted the spear that was lodged in his flesh. This was exactly what he was trying to avoid, he wanted to keep damage to his allies and his own at a minimum. From what he could see however that was not what happened, plenty of Tyren were injured, including their leader, and even one of the Glade Guard was unconscious.


Ordering the Glade Guard to take the one elf that was injured to the Tyren camp so that they could give him medical care he would wave for one of the Glade Guard to come closer. He was one of the younger members, though he was also one of the most physically impressive, easily the fastest runner in the entirety of the elf colony. "Go back to our kin, bring Anfel and as many healers as you can and run them back here. Anfel is to make sure our injured man is stable first while the rest of the healers work on the injured Tyren. When Anfel is done she is to help for a short time with the Tyren and then return to our central wood". The young Glade Guard simply nodded, running off with swiftness and determination unmatched by most beings. The Glade Guard, moving to the Tyren camp would offer small pouches filled with a dried and ground up herb they had found in the river to the Tyren. It was a piankiller and clotting agent and could be used well to stop the bleeding and suffering of the injured bulls, giving the elves who were to come and help more time to arrive and save lives.


Belanor would personally go to Orm, helping those who pulled the spear from his body, and afterwards offer his own herb pouch, using any medical knowledge he had picked up in his long life to assure that the Tyren chief would have a quick recovery. It was when the elf healers arrived that Belanor would bid farewell to Orm "I must go and speak with my council on what has happened tonight, five of my Glade Guard and all of the healers who have come will stay and help treat and protect your people". Leaving the Tyren camp Belanor would quickly travel back to the central forest of his people, taking a seat on the throne that was made on the platform in the trees. All of the Winterborn except for Anfel would stand before him, waiting for her to return an hour or so after Belanor. "We have gone to talk with the gnolls and we have learned two things, the first being that war is unavoidable, and the second being that there are others within the forest, who decorate their bodies with the bones of our kin, as if it were jewlery. They seem to be of questionable elf lineage, and for that I will deem them Mud Elves, I can only assume that this is because they had taken the women from a previously colony and forced themselves upon them" Belanor spoke, Jareel coming forward to hand Belanor the skull he had taken, Belanor showing it to them, proving that it was an elf womans skull. "I do not know your feelings, and I wish to apologize for treating you all like children when I specifically asked for your opinions. But I hope now, with this new information that you will commit yourselves to the defense of our kin, as words will not reach the ears of the beasts that live within the forest".


"I hope that you hear the cries of our fallen kin, calling to us for retibution for the slaughter these beings brought upon them. And I hope" Belanor spoke as he stood from his throne, placing a hand on his chest "That you will honor the lives that were lost with the blood of those who thrust the blade into their hearts". His words honest, and it seemed as though he was hurt by the fact they had been living only a few short miles away from those who slaughtered their people, men, women, and children alike, and did god knows what with them before they did it. This was not a call for vengeance coming from some dark place within Belanor's soul, it was a call for justice against the Gnolls who threatened their current holdings and the Mud Elves who had already committed terrible acts upon his kin.

 

[General Deth Glitch]

Swallowing pride.

​

Maeder could have rushed the bridge but he men were hidden. He hoped to protect should their be an assault from the rear and his men were hurriedly whispering, asking that they be allowed to charge but Maeder conducted his men like he had against the Muurdaan so many times before. He swolled his pride and let events play out, somethings require finesse. He distracted by one of his men when Orn was stuch alone and, just as he made preparations to rush to his aid it become unnessisary. The others may think worse of me after this he thought but once the Gnolls dissapeared off to fight the masked men he and his men made their way over the bridge. "They dont know I am here, thanks to your magic elf lord, I will see what I can find out with my men and then set up a fortification at the bridge. We need to keep it under our control if we plan to push onto their village and repay them for their kindness today." he said as his men went on ahead of him. Without the helf masking their scent from the elves, an operation like this would be useless against the Gnolls but it worked on the Muurdaan so it shall work on the Gnolls now that their noses have been neutralised. Once the far side of the bridge was indeed assured to be clear he sent one of his men back to rally some of the freemen and any convicts hoping to assure their place alongside their freer brothers "Tell them that any man who dies to this foe will be treated a hero and, I am sure, be greeted by Dracos before starting a better life in her glory. Tell them also that any man who slays two of these fiends will win his freedom." With that he snuck off, his men with their shields at the ready and raised, sneaking behind him to find what they can. Should they find the victors of this battle between the masked and the mongrels then he will happily finish off the victor. Should their numbers be too great or the odds of success to slim then he would return with what he learns and set up the bridgehead.

 

[Heyitsjiwon]

As the Attolian detachment marched north, getting closer and closer to the sounds of battle, they heard a near deafening boom soon followed by a flash of light. It seemed that magic was at play. With a few more steps, they reached the peak of the hill and saw the devastation that had wrecked this part of the river. There were arrows that spotted the ground as far as the eye could see. For now, it appeared the battle was largely over as the gnolls began to fall back unto the forest on the otherside of the forest. The Tyren, and what seemed to be elves rushed to tend to their wounded and reorganize themselves.


Lothar looked back at his men and said "We best see if they need any help." He then rode forward into the Tyren camp with his men in tow. As the group apprached the camp, a group of familiar looking humans crossed the river via large trees that interconnected the two riverbanks. The Exiles are here too? Lothar wondered. This battle seemed to be a rather intentional conflict rather than a random skirmish seeing how so many of the other colonists were here and armed. He wanted to know what in the world was going on. Lothar had his men help secure the camp and the bridge while he went off to find out what had happened.

 

[Beckoncall]

@SpiralErrant @Leusis


Anfel crouched over the fallen elf -- the wound was not serious, what could have laid him low?


"Poison" she exhaled the word as she rubbed some of the blood from the wound between her fingers. A paralytic. This was something the dogs used to soften foes up before they closed for battle. It was a pity they were such poor shots... it might have mattered strategically if they could be sure to charge elven archers while they slept.


Elven field medicine had controlled bleeding and treated the pain of most wounded -- which indeed did buy time for more skilled medical attention to arrive where needed. As such, The Minotaur constitution vs. the Gnoll arrow poison was significant -- two Tyren youngsters were indeed shot during the struggle, the poison did more to keep them calm and still while being treated than it did to bring them low, and similarly almost a dozen other Tyren had at least semi-superficial arrow injuries that were quickly treated by Shamans, Herbalists, or elves and promptly released. Pain and fear had come to live in Hrun'taran, however -- every Tyren would have sworn they felt safe up until the moment the poison arrows fell...


However, some injuries were more serious. Kunai, one of the elder Herdsmen -- was shot directly through his nasal cavity and slain instantly in the first moments of the battle. Mehrra, one of the youngest of the crafters was felled by a lucky shot in the open and was subsequently killed by indirect fire in the chaos. Worst however, was the case of Mirgirak. Long after all the injured, even Orm -- had been fully treated, There was much hovering and administering to Mirgirak's wounds. The problem however was the sheer volume of venom that Mirgirak had been exposed to... At first, Mirgirak was very lucid and calm -- though confused at why he could no find his anger. By the time his bleeding was controlled and his wounds were dressed, he was aware and awake but very quiet. It began to become clear that even with anti-venoms proferred by Tyren and Elven Herbalists that he was too heavily innoculated with it. He was being soothed into the grave. Orm sat with him, a Poultice of Belanor's packed on his wounds and his shoulder stitched shut by a strange elven technique -- the application of great wide-mandibled ants, that when held over his gash would pull it shut with their bite after which elven medics would promptly pinch their heads off and leave them as stitches. Orm sat with Mirgirak and Uumush as they heard his last utterances. His breathing became labored... then he ceased all but blinking... and Uumush performed a burial rite of homecoming when even that ceased.


His final words however, Uumush would record in the plates of ancestors -- "I sleep in home of my sons. I sleep in Harun'taran."


"Too much Poison, Great Chief... what more I could do would be against nature, and all of our ways. He will be free."


(Tyren Losses: -1 Unskilled worker, -1 Skilled worker, -1 warrior -- scattered injuries w/ rapid recovery.)


It was a cold splash of bitter rain on the spirit of the Tyren -- who had been in the space of an hour pulled from a near delirious dream of good fortune and promise... to a cold reality that despite how they felt, they may be as close as ever to folk that would see them scatter to the winds, or die...

 

[Beckoncall]

@General Deth Glitch @Heyitsjiwon :


Maeder's runner took no time in making his way downriver and back to the 'Platz, from there he would descend into the depression and rally the troops as Maeder ordered. Bearing a torch as he ran in the enveloping dark, he found himself met by two Attolian sentries who saw him approach -- Policing the Marketplatz, they asked him his hurry and if they could help.


"The Gnolls have been repulsed back into the wood, but the fight is not over! Maeder Dradic has called for all his men to meet him for to bring the fight to the dog-men! Even now he fortifies the approach to the bridge!"


"We hear you and lead the way, we shall be your escort!" replied the sentry -- after which they jogged behind the tired countryman for a few steps before one of them quickly tripped him and sapped him into unconsciousness... to the utter alarm of his comrade.


"WHAT IN THE HONORABLE WAYS OF ATTOLIA POSSESSED YOU TO DO THAT!?" Barking in anger, he struck the shoulder of the other sentry with the pommel of his weapon -- hard.


"Lemme ask you a question, Jav -- who do you guess it is we stand in the service of?" The first guard scoffed, pulling the unconscious countryman towards a barrel at the edge of the construction area taking a moment to be gentle about it.


"Lord Caelis! Have you gone daft?"


"And who do we serve operating in his name, and in his stead?"


"Doctor Flemming, Sir Nicholas, Sir Lothar and Lady Cassandra! You ARE mad!"


"And how'd you think Doctor Flemming would like it if some exile rabble-rouser gave every exile in the depression a reason to scatter to the four winds, diseased or not?"


"Oooooooh. I'm reckoning it would make him very off indeed Tomaz -- Think this guy is a were-rat trying to loose the infection?!"


"I'm telling you IT DON'T MATTER EIVER WAY, JAV! The Exiles need to stay in camp until Flemming Administers a cure! You give yourself a great bloody pat on the BACK, Jav! 'Cuz if we weren't here, and that rally DID occur..." Tomaz slips Maeder's Countryman into a barrel, bidding his comrade to help him carry the barrel to Maeder's Ship where Flemming would likely have this poor fellow caged up with Baez and those others that were definitely exposed...


"I'm telling you that if we DIDN'T sap this guy, the next thing we'd likely be hearing about is a few dozen people ratting-out in the middle of a warzone, and causing epic and pandemic on a scale we'd never be able to control, Jav. Pat your back, and give it another pat -- because that's what being a guard means. Nobody's gonna know we just saved the colony, pal... nobody's gonna know, and even if they did, they'd never believe it."


They carried the barrel to Dr. Flemming, and it redoubled his urgency to distribute the cure...


"Had Maeder gone MAD?! I thought we had an understanding! Tell Caelis DISCRETELY that we may need to take steps to contain the exiles in the depression... Maeder has either forgotten the threat this unchecked disease poses, or we can only assume otherwise that HE HIMSELF has been infected. Either way, Caelis needs to tell us how we can get this cure convincingly distributed without causing a panic -- or we're going to lose a hold on this thing, and with a cure IN HAND that would not only be a disaster, but OUR SHAME... Go! Inform Lord Wolff!"


The Sentries hopped to it...


Maeder and his men had cautiously taken the far side of the bridge once more, and secured the bridge-head. While the elves had withdrawn completely, a handful of Tyren Slingers and the stationed Tyren Warriors continued to overwatch for them from the home side of the river.


Fighting was without a doubt taking place all over the wood, more seemingly far from the home territory of the gnolls -- it seemed momentum of the fighting had moved WELL away from where Maeder held the bridge, perhaps the Gnolls were pushing a successful offensive against the mask-folk even if the forces of the colonists had humbled them here.


When the Boulder struck dispersing the Gnoll offensive, they were pretty thorough exfiltrating with all of their wounded, and even the majority of their dead. Blood trails, drag marks, and even the odd limb or crushed mess was still locatable -- but the physical presence of live Gnolls remained undetected.


With the area secured, Sir Lothar and the other Attolians arrived late to the scene -- however, they seemed more than willing to assist the Exiles in fortifying the position. The countrymen, long used to guerrilla warfare, quickly pushed some of the more manageable rocks from the riverside to make a crude barrier on the far side. The Attolian Halbardiers showed a bit of ingenuity by demonstrating how they could slip shovel-heads into a groove at the tail end of their polearms, enabling them to rapidly dig a trench around the front of the low rock-wall. At the same time, Maeder and his men wasted no time bringing their axes to bear on some of the fallen wood -- and the two forces together built a wide wooden barricade rooted with deep post-holes and rear reinforcement.


The Trench was then extended in the shape of a "U" that spanned almost to the river, and filled with odd n' end wood whittled into spike-tips. To access the bridge the gnolls would practically need to set foot in the river and come behind it, under full survey of friendly troops on their side. The Exiles however could rapidly cross the trench by dropping one of their barricades over it.


They were well pleased with their work when they realized that reinforcements should have arrived by now, as Maeder had requested them... The Boss of the Exiles had to wonder if something had gone amiss.


While this fact began to sink in he saw where the Attolians had set up and lit firepits along the perimeter and behind the barricade, keeping the area well lit and with fair visibility.


Sir Lothar and Maeder perhaps too doubted they would have to go very far into the woods to encounter enemies however -- It was one thing for the Foe to withdraw from this front, it was another entirely to think they would leave this front vulnerable to attack...


In hours, the sun would rise. Unsteady peace reigned... but for how long?

 

[Beckoncall]

NOTE!: While digging by the river -- patches of CLAY are found, and are likely to be found all along the river...


Rew Resource/Commodity: CLAY

 

[SpiralErrant]

"I sleep in home of my sons. I sleep in Hrun'taras."


And then he was gone. There was no pain or fear, Mirgirak simply drifted off as if he was going to sleep. The elf had said it true, he was eased into the grave as gently as a babe into a cot. Orm and Ummush had sat with him for hours alongside the warrior's family. He hadn't been the only casualty but for a time he was the worst hurt that could still draw breath. The arrow rain that had fallen on them had taken both old and young alike. Tyren that Orm had known for years. Voices of their little community, snuffed out like flames in the wind. Orm could only hope they didn't suffer... but he knew that hope would be wasted.


Mirgirak's words and deeds were promised a place in the iron pages of the caravan's history along with the name he had been given. Orm had knelt with the felled warrior back when he was more lucid and his fight with these injuries seemed most vicious. He had heard about how the bull had drawn the attention of the gnoll archers on the hillside, challenging them to try and down him and refusing to back down even when they dotted his flesh with crude iron.


Orm had taken the warrior's hand and said in front of all his kin he had earned his war name ten times over this night. Hearing it spoken had brought a prideful puff to Mirgirak's chest and perhaps given some comfort to those he left behind, however hollow. He only held the name for the night but none could take it from him.


Now as he entered the iron pages, the highest honour a tyren could receive, he would be remembered for the ages and greeted by the ancestors as Mirgirak Fire-Shout.


He deserved it, unlike some of them. After this chaos Orm couldn't bare to hear someone call him "Great Chief".

*****

​

It was a bitter night, filled with the sound of distant battle until it was met by the harsh light of day come the morning. Each side had been given time to lick their wounds but the scars were there to stay. Mental and physical. All the merriment from the previous nights felt like a distant memory as the camp went about their business in a tense quiet. And yes, Hrun'taras felt very much like just a camp at this point.


Mirgirak, Kunai and Mehrra were laid to rest one hillside over from Hrun'taras where their graves could watch over the forest, river and off over the sea. Traditionally the tyren burned their dead and scattered their ashes, a symbolic gesture of how their spirit would wander freely as any nomad. But times had changed and the families wanted the same treatment Mirgirak had wanted. To sleep in their new home. Now even in death they would not be moved on.


Laying the fallen to rest may have given some closure to their families who had lost their loved ones but it had only compounded the mood that had fallen over the tyren. The circle of shaman had gathered together in their tent and talked in hushed whispers. There was something they could do, it'd be risky but they needed to try something or the caravan would scatter in their hearts before the gnolls even struck a second blow. So it fell to Bruul to burt in on their chieftain's tent where he was glumly getting his wounded tended to by Anuc the herbalist.


["What is it, Bruul?"] Orm winced against the little pincers dotting his flesh.


["Well I thought I'd see as to why our brave leader is hiding himself away like a mewling coward?"] The shaman huffed boisterously without a hint of humility.


["What?"]


["Well not just me, the whole circle is wondering about what under the sky happened last night. My money is on you messing it up royally and now your slinking back here in an attempt to hide your stupidity."] Of course Bruul had a good idea of what happened, some of the guards had clearly seen Orm and Rahg at the bridge and then rushing off when the howl went out. But that wasn't the point of why he was here. ["So since you're such and honest lump of a brute I was wondering if you'd enlighten me."]


Orm bristled where he sat, his ears twitched and his jaw clenched. ["I tried to off the gnolls peace."] He growled as he glared daggers at the foolhardy mystic.


["You tried to give them peace?!"] Bruul yelled back in disbelief, his voice easily carrying past the walls of the tent for anyone passing by to hear. ["What was going through your blood addled mind to make you think those hounds would ever think of us as anything but food?!"]


["I had to try."] Orm said, standing up to face his accuser and raising his own voice as the rage began to stir in him. Anuc was still behind him and kind of hoping to find a back way out of the tent. Somehow he guessed she wasn't supposed to be seeing this.


["And when they had blades and chains drawn on you, you had to try it then? You didn't think it was maybe time to do what you're born for and smash their skulls?"] Bruul brayed, some genuine frustration creeping in as he remembered the sight of Orm stuck on the far side of that damned log bridge.


["I had to try everything. I couldn't meet my ancestors if I didn't."] Orm barked back, thinking that a shaman of all people should understand that.


["Why in blazes would the ancestors even care about some flea bitten gnolls?"] Bruul went in for the kill now. He'd pushed Orm to the brink and now it was time to get him going. He shoved the larger minotaur right in the chest, just with one hand, the kind of shove that was meant to agitate.


["Because this was their land first!"] Orm roared back, baring his teeth. ["Because the gnolls lived here before us and that made it THEIR forest! THEIR ancestral lands! Just like we used to have ours! And I wouldn't storm in from the night just to rob them of their peace and home, Bruul!"] The shaman was taken aback, cowed before the sight of the Charger's anger. He stumbled out some question of why and Orm was on so worked up he was quick to oblige. ["Because I promised, the day I made that flag. I might ask to change the way we live but I don't want to change who WE ARE! I'll die before I let us become like those that drove us from the old lands..."]


The two stared each other down, their primal instinct kicking in. The quiet had given Orm time to gather himself and calm his heart. And that same sorrow crept back in. ["... Doesn't matter anyway. I failed. Failed them all and now we go with blades. So think of me what you want, either way I'm about to go do what I'm made for."] Orm practically spat out those last words. ["You know what happens then."]


Orm walked out of the tent, startled to see the number of passersby that had paused to look at him. He didn't even think of how loud they'd been yelling, he may as well have said all that in the open. And to think before this he'd been brewing over ideas to build houses with thick walls. That dream of privacy would have to wait, if it survived the coming days. He'd sent a message to the leaders of all the groups that had gathered at the river last night inviting them to come themselves or send representatives to make a sort of "War council" to plan for how to respond. If the others planned on showing up and adding troops. Oh Orm would have to sit next to Bruul for that meeting! This was going to be awful.

*****

​

Bruul gave a huff at the awkward herbalist and stormed out of the tent, looking to see how many of their folk had been curious enough to stay and eves drop. He turned a tent corner and found Shul waiting in the shade.


["Worked like a charm on him at least."] Bruul shrugged.


["I'm checking up on all the injured I tended last night, plenty of chances to make chatter and spread the word you want. You sure this'll work?"] The smaller minotaur wondered anxiously.


["Best idea I can think of. We're in too far now, we gotta make it work, and we will."] Bruul muttered and the two of them parted ways. He was feeling proud of himself anyway.


The dread of last night was hanging heavy over them all, threatening to smother every spirit in Hrun'taras. The circle knew this was something they couldn't afford to happen so they'd given everyone the night to recover, themselves included and then set to work. It was Bruul's idea so he took the lead on it with Shul's help since Ummush didn't have enough words left in him for this. They couldn't expect Orm to give a rousing speech in front of everyone to fix this, that wasn't his way and it probably would have rung hollow. But they needed someone to rally folks' spirits. Bruul had put enough together to form an idea and knew Orm well enough to manipulate him for their cause. Tyren caravans were small communities and always full of gossip, soon this overheard argument between the two would spread and with some work Shul and Bruul could shape the story to how they wanted it. Word of mouth always warped things anyway.


They would hear how the chief was still strong enough to put one of the shaman in their place. They'd hear about how Orm had gone to the savage gnolls to offer the hand of peace and friendship they had been so often denied. All to preserve the safety and the spirit of the tyren people. And those monsters answered him with a blade in the back and by bringing death to their kin! Now the chief was going to go back into those woods and unleash all the his rage upon those beasts as only a blood-touched could and claim a VENGEANCE for the fallen the likes of which the tyren had never been given. If they played their cards right then by the day's end the camp would be saying something similar. It may have seemed underhanded but the shaman circles were there to guide the spirit of the caravan and sometimes they had to be a little sneaky about it.


Bruul had seen enough battles to know this situation well enough. They couldn't raise the spirits here, not really. But they could warm them up, light a fire in them that only hatred could kindle. They were living in fear of the gnolls right now but with some help they'd be seeing them as monsters in need of slaying. That would be the story they would tell here, a good simple one that would once again pump up the morale of their warriors so they could beat this enemy back with a fury.


What the caravan needed to understand was that they weren't just fighting some tribe of dog-men. They were going to fight and beat everyone who had ever oppressed them. Then no one would ever dare try to hurt them or Hrun'taras ever again.


- @Leusis @General Deth Glitch @Heyitsjiwon


Orm has sent out a call to all the factions that were involved in the river fight to meet at Hrun'taras for a war council to discuss strategy and troops. If they intend to give troops for the fight with the forest natives.

 

[Heyitsjiwon]

It was an eerily quiet night. The kind of night where disaster seemed to be just looming, waiting to strike. Caelis walked along the perimeter of the Attolian settlement as he just took a night stroll. There were so many problems and unknown issues that just bordered them that could end the lives of everyone instantly if everyone was not cautious. Considering everything and coming up with solutions was stressful indeed, but he was called Lord for a reason. He was brought up to lead people through the dark and towards the light at the horizon. He was the one that everyone relied on, and he was someone who hated to disappoint. Thus, Caelis took his duty seriously. He served his people as they served him.


Caelis' reverie was broken when two soldiers of the guard came running towards him. No news was good news. They saluted him and then came closer to begin speak quietly "Lord Caelis, there is an issue..." they began to explain the situation to him. After a brief rundown, Caelis replied "Jav and Tomaz, right? Good work you two. I expect great things from you two from now on. Now then... we need to figure out a discreet way to get the cure to everyone... I see a few options. We could try to have our members of the grocer's guild to try and put the cure into any food sent to the Exiles... but... that would take a bit of time. Perhaps their water?"


Tomaz spoke up "Lord Wolff, I believe that the exiles send men to collect water from the river daily. We could stop the next shipment and "check" the water." Lothar nodded, but then said "It might dilute the cure too much though..." He then looked at the men and said "Maeder wants to have men come join him to fight. Maybe we should let them leave. But, it's not a good idea to march on an empty stomach. Perhaps, we can offer a hearty, special meal to the brave... men before they depart. Who declines free food after all? I also believe that most of the afflicted will attempt to leave the quarantine." He then looked at the men and said "Tell the Doctor that he's free to administer the cure to the already afflicted in the brig. Time is of essence at this point and it is obvious that Maeder is simply too occupied to deal with the matter right now. I want you two to pick 2 soldiers to escort the doctor." He then looked at the inn and said "Perhaps, a meal together would be a good idea."


"We are sending 5 soldiers over to the Tyren camp. I suspect that Lothar may have arrived there already since he was already heading in that direction... and he is not the type of person who runs at the sound of conflict. But, before they depart, they should join the Exile volunteers in a meal before they march off to fight and not make the meal not seem suspicious. Go ask the innkeeper if he would be willing to host this... feast for the warriors who will go march off to fight for the safety of the colony. The ones who are fit to fight after the meal can be sent to go help Maeder." In the meantime, the rest of Exiles will have to be slowly treated. Ask the our merchants of the Grocer's guild if they could indicate what foods are going to the Exiles and have the cure inserted. As for all the other soldiers... I want you five to continue your patrol and the 3 remaining soldiers to man the watch tower. We have to remain alert like you two have have been, keep making us proud."


The two soldiers saluted and said "Yes, My lord." before they went off to perform Caelis' will. This night was obviously too quiet, and Caelis now knew why.


Summary:


Dr. Fleming has the green light to treat the infected in the hold.


The Attolian merchants in the Grocers guild are asked to help identify and insert the cure into the Exiles' food.


5 soldiers are being sent to help the Tyren.


The Exiles are to be informed of Maeder's request to join him, but they're also to be told that there will be a hearty meal for them before they depart for their long march.


Before the Attolian soldiers are sent, they are to join a "feast" for the Exiles men who are to march to the Tyren camp. This feast, however, will feature food that will contain the cure.


---


With the barricade up on the other side of the river, the Attolian soldiers were now just standing guard. Lothar pieced together bits of information from the minotaurs that lived at this camp after he paid respects to the minotaurs that died in battle. A warrior was a warrior, and in the end they deserved respect for making the final sacrifice. For now, he got back to the men and was surprised by the discovery of clay along the riverbank. He asked the men to continue fortifying the beachhead that they had on the other side of the river by applying clay to the wooden parts of the barricade in order to help make it more flame resistant. He watched the men and the treeline. He couldn't help but feel like he was being watched from from the treeline in front of him; in fact, he wouldn't be surprised if he were being watched.


@SpiralErrant


As he overlooked the construction efforts, Lothar was approached by a messenger. It appeared that they wanted to form a war council. Lothar wasn't sure if the Attolians should get involved in an offensive against the gnolls. While the gnolls were... difficult beings to speak to, he found the idea of a war to wipe them off the map to be revolting. After all, would they not be merely projecting the Eternal Empire's will by invading the natives of this land? Lothar believed that there could be a better way for this to end that would benefit the colony. Lothar replied that he would attend the war council, but hopefully to talk some sense to the grieving and war-hawkish factions.


Summary:


The soldiers are to help further fortify the fortifications by applying nearby clay to the wooden parts of the barricade to make it more flame proof.


@SpiralErrant


Lothar will attend this War Council

 

[Beckoncall]

@Leusis :


"I do not know your feelings, and I wish to apologize for treating you all like children when I specifically asked for your opinions. But I hope now, with this new information that you will commit yourselves to the defense of our kin, as words will not reach the ears of the beasts that live within the forest"


Belanor gave his full and sincere peace to his council, he would hear them speak.


Jareel shrugged. He silently gestured -- "Attack, Defense, Same thing."


Eteel spoke softly. "We let them know that we will not stand idly by as plans are hatched against us. The price of elven blood has been stated -- and it is astronomical." He gestured further - "We let them know this WITH PLEASURE."


The leader of the forest folk replied: "Ours is not to question to will of the Autumn-Lord, We fall in line."


The last of the winterborn stayed silent, not willing to test the temper of their leader.


Anfel, latest to the circle, stepped in...


"Oh Belanor, I truly meet your contrition evenly if that is what you hoped for -- I truly understand now that words cannot reach the ears of the beasts you have filled with arrows. I am commited to the defense of my kin more than I ever have been, Autumn-Lord -- if only because you seem so storm-bent on placing their lives at risk. I see that you wanted this war, and that you will have it... it falls to US, the Winterborn, to protect you, and our people -- from any folly on this intrepid venture. At the onset, the highest hope was to turn the hand of the Gnolls against the Mud-elves for our benefit... and I concede to an extent that your kicking up this slaughter has indeed agitated the blood on their borders... But none of us, even the Twins-Silent, likely believe that you had anything less than what has come to pass in mind."


"You startled a dog, and now proclaim it inevitable that he tried to bite you -- Nobody, I doubt even you, believes that." Anfel narrowed her eyes, then blew the hair from her face with a smile that seemed to cast all prior frost away from it. Her next words were more sunny -- almost cheerful.


"Though you have truest grasp of all other facts, Autumn-Lord -- Indeed there are enemies in the wood, and that the mud-elves indeed are a grotesquery we would not abide even if we did not seek to annex their wood. You will have your war, and... with the cooperation of your best advisers, and your clever use of the Tyren and other "colonists", perhaps the songs sung about it in history will not be too bittersweet."


The Winterborn council stayed in the presence of the Throne-of-Oak -- The rest of the Winterborn either stood silent, or in shock of the color and candor of Anfel's words. The Autumn-Lord would continue to hold court, or he would dismiss them...

 

[Leusis]

The words of Belanor's council were comforting, though sadly this was not what he was looking for. He knew he had made mistakes and it wasn't hard to see that all of the Winterborn knew it as well. However Anfel seemed to be the only one to call him out on his mistakes, and she knew how to make her words sting. Sitting calmly on his throne as she spoke he waited for her to finish, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, nodding to the woman as she returned to where she was previously standing. "I wish for the twins to pick the twelve greatest of the Glade Guard, granting them the chitin platemail and forming an elite advanced guard that will be known as the Way Watchers. The two of you will lead this elite unit and guard the Tyren camp and bridge, though I expect you to stay out of sight, picking of gnoll skirmishers or scouts whenever they present themselves, but never commit to any kind of large scale combat. Anfel, I want you and Ilythyrra to gather up our best merchants and send them to the Grocers Guild with all of the resources we have at our disposal. After all, if we wish to win the humans trust we have to play along with their little games from time to time don't we? MaeKith, I want you to continue the grows of the vegetables and mushrooms, but I also want you to focus a substantial portion of the Forest Kin efforts towards fortifying the three hill forests as quickly and effectively as possible. And with this all said, I wish for you all to do what you do best, keep me informed and protect our people".


Shortly after the council had scattered Belanor still sat on his throne, his face pressed into his palms as he struggled with the pressure he had just put himself and his people under. His latent anger towards almost all other races keeping him from leading properly, and instead leading his kin into conflict. It was then that he heard the sound of an elf approaching, telling him that Orm requested elf presence at a war council between all the colonists. This was obviously something that Belanor approved of, and was glad Orm had not been scared out of helping with the conflict. Though it also meant he would have to deal with the childish bickering of the humans that were sent to discuss for their own factions. Nodding to the elf messenger he would send him on his way, gearing up in his own personal chitin armor, only leaving the helmet off and clipping it onto his belt so his face could be visible. As he exited the camp he could see the newly formed Way Watchers preparing their armor, aiding muds and such things to hide their scent and camouflage themselves in the grass and trees. Belanor decided this was likely smart for him to do as well, having a few of the elves who had already finished help him do the same, his armor now covered with muds and foliage.


The journey to the War Council would be rather short and he would be accompanied by the Way Watchers, as well as the twins who would take up positions around the Tyren camp and the bridge, perfectly hidden and almost undetectable by all but the sharpest eyes. Prepared to strike down any Gnoll or Mud Elf that ventured too close to the forests edge. Belanor on the other hand would proceed to wherever the council was being held, likely being seen as little more than a dirty but armored nobody to any of the people who had not seen him before.


- Elite, 12 man chitin armor wearing unit called the Way Watchers is formed with the twins as their leaders.


- Merchants are to be sent to the Crocers Guild to set up shop next to the Tyren, selling root vegetables, mushrooms, fish, and cat-tail.


- Forest Kin are to increase defenses in all three hill forests.


- Belanor goes to the war council along side the entirety of the Way Watchers, the elite unit guarding the camp/bridge from any Gnoll or Mud Elf with the stones to come anywhere near the edge of the forest.

 

[Beckoncall]

Summary: @Heyitsjiwon @General Deth Glitch


Dr. Fleming has the green light to treat the infected in the hold.


Dr. Flemming Made his way back into the tiny brig inside the hold – which was interesting to remark upon because it was rapidly becoming clear that the larger cargo hold was fitted as an even greater brig… seemingly this is how you transport a bunch of criminals across the sea without falling to a mutiny…


The first cases to be administered were one of Maeder’s countrymen and a leader among the convicts, Baez… after delivering the colloidal silver to these patients both seemed to swing from fever to full-on chills. Moments later the two of them were heaving violently, expelling what seemed to be a black bile with a strangely viscous texture… A soldier held a torch to the bile to burn it utterly. Baez quickly returned to some semblance of lucidity and pulled into a sitting position.


“Waaaaahter.” Baez groaned. His cellmate, after fully expelling his evil instead lost consciousness. Dr. Flemming would monitor him. The cure is then quickly administered to the sapped countryman still asleep in quarantine, and shows no signs of disturbance. Shortly after ingesting the cure a silverish “spot” can be seen on the inoculated subjects hands, between the thumb and forefinger… some kind of elegant signature effect added by the elves, with the added benefit of indicating who is vaccinated and who is not against the were-disease.


“Now” said the doctor, “We shall see what the administration of the cure does for our cannibalistic friend back there…” The soldiers steeled themselves… the prisoner had been consistently eating at his deceased associate, even now well after corruption began to take over the body… the soldiers pinned the subject down with the backs of their halberds before they even got the gate open. Held to the floor by all five of Flemming’s guardians, the cure was poured into the were-rat’s shrieking mouth. Quickly dissolving on his tongue it subsequently permeated through his body with violent speed and effectiveness. So overcome it failed to even make another noise as it twisted and bubbled whilst wracked by “the cure” – in a span of moments the convict was a dried and ashy pile of chalky debris – every bit of life having left the form that once existed.


“Results satisfactory.” The doctor remarked… on to broader clinical trials…


The Attolian merchants in the Grocers guild are asked to help identify and insert the cure into the Exiles' food.


Although suspicious of such a request by their superiors, they are more suspicious still of the Exiles and the sickness they may carry. Once the merchants are convinced that the cure will not be harmful to people (though the same cannot be said of wererats) they consent to the practice. Agents are reasonably certain this bit of conspiracy went over discretely, and is unlikely to be discovered.


5 soldiers are being sent to help the Tyren.


The garrison at the river crossing by the Attolians is thus raised to 10 soldiers and 1 Sundered King. The Exiles are welcome to see the reinforcements, though the border seems stable despite all the activity fortifying. While it is doubtful they are not being observed, overt surveillance by gnolls is complicated by elven archers prepared to snipe any reconnaissance that gets too careless.


The Exiles are to be informed of Maeder's request to join him, but they're also to be told that there will be a hearty meal for them before they depart for their long march.


The exiles find it strange that the Attolians are delivering the message of their leader regarding participation in the Gnoll conflict, but the words indeed sound akin to Maeder so their legitimacy are scarcely if at all questioned. The word “Feast” is like a siren-song to the Exiles, who are particularly excited about the prospect of Resthouse fare at the Inn since word that the elves have brought their own food to market and the standard “all protein” diet in the ‘Platz now had more variety. Some exiles seem to demur participation in the feast, but are rapidly pressed in by peers. Nobody wants to seem like the odd one out, so even most of those who had been busy or otherwise might have taken a pass are pulled into the festivities. News of Baez’s expected recovery at the feast makes most merry, but a few apparently uneasy. Dr. Flemming watched for any suspicious activity, as did his soldier detail who positioned themselves strategically at the exits. Dr. Flemming has little difficulty convincing the cook and manager of the Inn to cooperate once he is shown the cure is tasteless and therefore shouldn’t harm his business… he is extremely anxious regarding the feast’s reception, as he explains he is soon to unveil a new dish… “Rat ala Rat.” The doctor was incredulous, but glad for the cooperation.


The food is spectacular and presented at table before the guests are allowed to sit and eat. A full dose is in each serving, but is dissolved well enough that it should not take immediate effect before everyone is at least exposed. The exiles eat heartily, and the boldest among them re-hash the proclamation that Maeder has made for their freedom… it seems as if as many as 60 convicts are interested in taking up arms… and even a small number of workers, despite not having a need to earn their freedom.


A short time into the feast, the vast majority of people don’t bat an eye for their consumption of the cure… but then sickness hits pockets of the feast-hall like a WAVE. Five people here, Twelve people there… a few scattered here and there. There is some panic that the food has somehow been poisoned, but Dr. Flemming, with the Aid of Baez… keeps the peace. A weakened Baez is brought forward before chaos can take hold, and he explains that the “illness” is instead the “cleansing fire of Dracos, sweeping from their midst an evil that was growing in the very bosom of their community.” The symbolism rings true as the full-on Wererats crisp, blacken and die at their placemats – 8 in all full-blown were-creatures… a further 26 folk exhibit nausea and vomiting indicating prolonged exposure to the disease, but are expected to make a full recovery. It is worth noting that almost every exposed Exile was one of the Volunteers to join Maeder in battle… which likely would have been an untold catastrophe were it allowed to come to pass. The only one sickened by the food who does not perish, is the old matron Kjeld… a sweet and unassuming lady, largely above the reproach of all who know her…


…She instead Errupted into a smoking, semi-hulking and agonized mass of rodent muscle, claws, and teeth. In her contorted paroxysm of combatting her poisoning, her twisted form flies from her table, kicks its way into a corner, and falls through a hole in the floor do to construction. The Attolian Police quickly take steps to secure any exits from the basement, but it is obvious Were-Matron Kjeld is not going to go easily, quietly, or quick.


Her roars and cries in the basement do take the merry edge off of the proceedings of the feast, but at least it can be said that the vast majority if not all of the Exiles have been inoculated against the disease. If the Attolians are subsequently inoculated, and steps are taken to check for the hand-marker, 100% inoculation is a realizable goal. It is also thought by Dr. Flemming that if the Were-Matron were to be killed, that would likely break the curse for the others as well, if they are not yet too far gone.


(The Were-Matron is trapped in the Basement of the Inn – something must be done about this!)





While this is going on, The patrolmen – not needing to be pulled away from their rounds to oversee the feast, see a small group of exiles skipping out on the festivities – instead seemingly opting to head for the bridge-head directly. Four of Maeder’s unskilled workers, unlikely warriors to be sure, are with four more dangerous looking convicts… a sentry stops the group a block away from the edge of the ‘Platz, where the Fountain plaza opens up to the start of boulder field to the north. The guard successfully and unassumingly alerted the rest of the guard to come to his aid before addressing them, and an uncomfortable exchange takes place under the moon, above the silent broken grass and smooth marble of the ‘Platz…


“Missing out on the celebration, are we?” The Attolian puts forward, amicably.


“We all had just ate before we heard the announcement. Besides, If the boss asked for help – I’m guessing he wants it soon as possible, not after we all have dinner.” One of the workers replies.


A glassy eyed convict seems to furrow his brow somewhat, as if smelling something on the wind.


“I do believe I have forgotten to bring dinner to the lady Kjeld, my friends… I must depart to do that… quickly.” This convict makes to leave the assembly, just as two other sentries come across his path in the square.


Just then another two sentries cross the exit path from the plaza, effectively blocking their route from the ‘Platz.


“What’s all this then?” Another convict mutters, His hand twisting around a crude pick he’s fashioned out of a metal spike and a chair-leg…


The silence grew tense. The Attolians would have to defuse or escalate this situation before it escalated on it’s own… and quickly to boot.


In the tense air of the moment, everyone in the plaza, standing in the shadow of the fountain, felt they were being watched… but by what none could guess…


The soldiers are to help further fortify the fortifications by applying nearby clay to the wooden parts of the barricade to make it more flame proof.





This action will take place after the above event is navigated – it is safe to say that the fortifications will be reinforced with clay daub to strengthen them, but to the degree defenses are improved, it will be processed once the labor can actually arrive.


@General Deth Glitch:


(9 casualties sustained from administration of cure - 2 unskilled workers, 7 convicts -- this includes the cannibal wererat that died in the hold, above)

 

[Beckoncall]

@Leusis


- Elite, 12 man chitin armor wearing unit called the Way Watchers is formed with the twins as their leaders.


The armor was done some time ago, masterfully crafted in the loving hands of the Forest Kin under the direct oversight of Ilythyrra, mistress of the Hearth. Made of outwardly rigid but internally pliable interlocking plates, The armor gave protection in the vicinity of scale-mail at a fraction of the weight. Brushed by the crafters to give it a non-reflective, matte appearance, the armor seemed to melt into the dark, reinforced at the joints by more traditional composites of root and bark weaves or meshes more traditionally used as armor. Also lending to its origins from sea-scorpion, it aided the wearer in water, giving additional buoyancy, streamlining, and agility in the water. Some of the more sensitive elves remark that it makes the wearers smell like insects, but given Wood elf propensity to mask their scent with olfactory camouflage from nature it just seemed an added benefit. For the armor of the twins, parts of the claws of the Euripatid are fashioned into the bracers and greaves, giving untested potential for added defense if they willfully attempt to employ it. Indeed, the watchers are a fearful looking unit -- to the unfamiliar it is doubtful they would at first even be recognized as elves.


- Merchants are to be sent to the Crocers Guild to set up shop next to the Tyren, selling root vegetables, mushrooms, fish, and cat-tail.





The receipt of the wild, natural, and most notably plant-based fare of the wood elves had been long anticipated by the populace. Popularity of elven goods, and indeed their essentiality to a healthy diet make the Wood elves presently the most influential faction in the Grocer’s guild, unseating the Tyren by a minor margin. +2 Influence for elves. Finally the diet of the common folk in the colony can be considered not just stable, but healthy… It is likely fortunate indeed that this turn of events happened before undue cost to overall health…


(This adjustment is already made to the guild in the overview section.)


- Forest Kin are to increase defenses in all three hill forests.


“Please tell the Autumn Lord we have been working consistently to this end ever since it was decided we should fall back from the great redwoods, Ilythyrra!” A member of the Forest kind is purported to say.


“First, we made sure that bough and canopy were shaped to the comfort and safety of the folk, forest wide – then primary care was given to strengthening reasonable levels of defense of the center wood so as to shield the Autumn-Lord and give us a fall-back position should our woods be attacked. Since then, We’ve put great effort and pains into the sculpting of his throne and court-in-the-wood, and for the cultivation of generous food production in each of the three glades.” She paused.


“Now we will fortify further as the Autumn-Lord requires – more bramble and pit for the outer wood, more interlocking branches to prevent the unseating of any given tree, especially those deepest and outward-most, but we are far from a level of development that would enable greater defensive enchantments, and we still are devoting a great amount of our efforts to making the root-lodges that will rise in the winter to shield us from winter should nature choose to show her teeth. Put simply, without additional magical resources or commodities, the fortification will be slow-going hereforward… in part because the wood is spread out and our songs cannot be shared between them simultaneously, and partially because there are only so many of us who can be in any one place at one time. Remind The Autumn Lord that our powers will go further once or if we are re-located into a true and fuller forest…”


- Belanor goes to the war council along side the entirety of the Way Watchers, the elite unit guarding the camp/bridge from any Gnoll or Mud Elf with the stones to come anywhere near the edge of the forest.





Belanor will arrive at the war council with the Tyren at appointed place and time (waiting for involvement of other factions) – In the meantime the newly adorned Watchers lay low, mostly covering the fortification taking place by the Attolians and Exiles… it is thought that Gnoll observers must be out there somewhere, but no overt or close observation, and certainly no preparations for aggression, can take place without their notice. It seems what Gnolls there are may be competent scouts as well, for the Watchers occasionally see rumor of them, but nothing that presents as an opportunity to strike. The Watchers conclude there is either very little Gnoll recon going on, or there is some – but it is very reserved, and likely talented.

 

[Heyitsjiwon]

Doctor Flemming was rather pleased with the results of the cure. Granted, the were-rat matron's ability to resist the poison and scurry off into the basement was a predicament. Still, it presented an opportunity as well. He quickly approached the soldiers blocking off the exit from the basement and handed them one of the vials of the colloid silver. He said "Apply the liquid to your weapons. They should harm the beast even further. We must hunt it down immeadiately before the poison it has consumed wears off." Doctor Flemming then ordered one of his bodyguards to run and retrieve Caelis and the Sundered Knights since this could be a nasty fight.


Finally, he went over to Baez and said "With your blessing." before he began to loudly speak. Despite being a quite man, he was a noble who was trained in oration and speeches. "Men of Maeder and Dracos! As you saw, an evil resided amongst you, within your very hearts. Those who could not be redeemed were smited. The sinners, punished. Yet, you all can redeem yourselves. Will you not raise arms to fight against that... MONSTROSITY that dared to take the guise of a kind old lady? Those of you who can fight. Help us so that we may purge that foul beast that has no place in our hearts and our new home!" He hoped that those able would be willing to join the assault on the were-rat matron.


Summary:


Dr. Flemming distributed a vial of colloid silver to apply to the soldiers' weapons.


A soldier was sent to alert and retrieve Caelis and the 2 other Sundered Kings.


Dr. Flemming gives an passonate speach asking the Exiles to purge the "evil" that has been subverting them.


The soldiers are to begin their attack on the matron once either help arrives in the form of the Exiles in the inn or Caelis and the Sundered Kings.


---


Tomaz didn't like the feeling he had right now. Not only did one of the convicts pull out a weapob, he had a strange feeling that he was being watched by someone or somethinh else. But this was not the time to be nervous. He spoke up "Whoa, mate. Take it easy. I know you're itching for a fight and want to go help out your boss, but we're not here to fight you. Not at all." He then thought quickly on his feet on how to get these men to the inn as well where the doctor could treat them as well. "But, it ain't a good idea to be marching off like that by yourselves in the middle of the night. Safety in numbers, you know? Anyways, tell you what. I heard that Baez is at the inn. Let's just drop by the feast really quick and see if he'll let you guys go off on your own. It should take a minute at most. After all, isn't he in charge if Maeder ain't around? You should see if he would let you lads do that. It ain't a good idea to go somewhere without letting others know, especially if its your boss. Trust me, I know. I got chewed out by my Sargeant too many times." as he tried to calm the situation down with a joke.


"What a mess you've gotten yourself into this time, Tomaz" He thought to himself as he kept a firm grip on his halberd, ready to fight if it came down to it. But, he hoped that it would be easy and that they could talk a stroll to the inn and then proceed to get them innoculated as well, by force if needed. However, he was not eager to start a fight.


Summary:


Trying to de-escalate the tense situation and convince the group to take a walk to the inn with the patrol. There he hopes to let the Doctor do his job and have the patrol provide physical support if needed.

 

[Beckoncall]

@Heyitsjiwon :


A vial of colloid silver is barely enough to wet the edge of all the soldiers weapons... more colloid silver was needed, but fortunately plenty was brought to the inn should it have been necessary.


"Did Caelis depart to take part in the council the Tyren's are assembling? I know Sir Lothar is back that way aiding in their defense... if they are coming back, I doubt they'll be here very soon" One of the soldiers stammered to Dr. Flemming.


"We may have the escapes to the surface covered, Doctor," interjected another soldier -- "But I was on one of the details that took some peeks at the sewer system... it's quite possible the basement has access to those tunnels -- and if the Matron gets into the sewers we might never catch her! Do we have that much time to waste?!"


Dr. Flemming and Baez brought some quiet and order to the assembly, but he could tell even Baez felt his presence and command in Maeder's stead was growing unwelcome... and thin. The situation was stable, which was saying a lot considering several exiles -- who had friends and a place in the colony, had just died through the application of Flemming's "Cure"... still... he could see the atmosphere was delicate, and that perhaps trying to rally somebody else's forces, even though Maeder gave him some permissions, might be dangerous at this juncture.


"We take our orders from Maeder Dradic and his countrymen -- it is Baez's presence, strengthened and on the mend, that gives you enough currency here." Many are still in shock that folk that they worked with, broke bread with, may not have been what they seemed, may even have exposed them before they took the cure. Distrust is heavy in the room... Flemming's bodyguards step in and take him courteously away from the mob, to the back of the Inn where the hole and the downstairs doorway were presently being barred...


___________________


"I heard that Baez is at the inn. Let's just drop by the feast really quick and see if he'll let you guys go off on your own. It should take a minute at most. After all, isn't he in charge if Maeder ain't around?"


As Tomaz gets those words out, he sees the gravity in the plaza shift -- It seems there is a prurient interest in the exile group to lay eyes on Baez once more...


"Baez has recovered? That is GREAT news, indeed." Spoke one of the workers.


"I heard he had a terrible fever -- once it's broken, he'll be a whole new man..." added one of the convicts...


"We should go to the Inn and see what Baez wants to do next... if all of... the fiercest of us... are assembled there, it may very well be a feast we cannot afford to miss." Put forward a third.


"It will allow me to check on the lady Kjeld, as well -- something's not right. One of us should check on her." The entire group began to turn back to the Inn... the patrol walking behind them but still maintaining a semi-friendly banter...


"Bad apples, this lot." Jav whispered nervously to his comrade patrolmen. When they first got this assignment, they'd thought it was rosie as all get out. Watch wagons. stomp around in public... since then they've had run-ins with one of Maeder's closest agents, and had been the first and last line of defense against a thinking plague that sought to consume them all... Rosie indeed.


As they left the plaza they felt an almost longing, sighing presence fade away...

 

[Heyitsjiwon]

The air in the inn was... tense. Rather than feeling outraged, the Exiles appeared to be feeling downtrodden, which was understandable as some of their own friends, or people who they thought were their friends had just died in a rather gruesome manner. This rabble would be of no help any time soon. Doctor Flemming uttered a curse under his breath. There was a lack of manpower, but there was nothing much to be done about it at the moment. He planned to bring up the lack of muscle later to Caelis. However, for now, he had to deal with what he had. He looked at the 5 soldiers blocking the entrance to the basement and said "I am going to need you boys to get down there and finish the job. Remember, the solution is very harmful to it, so there's no need to get too close or look for an instant killing blow. Even a light cut will bring it great pain. There's only 1 while there's a lot of you. Land a couple of good strikes, and the solution will do its job. The matron is going to go down eventually from all the injuries and the solution. If any of you get cut by the matron, then drink a little bit of the solution immediately. Good luck."


He then looked over to his two escorts and said "I need you two to be ready in case of... unexpected circumstances. Those 5 going downstairs might need help, but until it seems like they do, just be ready on stand by with your weapons ready." Dr. Flemming wasn't a soldier, so he didn't want to get involved and prove to be a hindrance in the fight below. He was far from a man of faith, but all he could do was trust in the abilities of the brave soldiers of Attolia.


Summary:


5 soldiers are going down to fight the Matron


Dr. Flemming's 2 escorts are on standby to deal with any situation that rises


---


Tomaz whispered back to Jav "What did you expect? A couple of good ol' boys? Now, do your job and keep a sharp eye out for any funny business." It appeared that the 8 men were cooperating for now, but he wouldn't be surprised if they were to suddenly pull something. He and the rest of the soldiers kept a respectable distance from the lot walking towards the inn. This was to allow them the reach advantage that their halberds offered them in case the lot were to suddenly do something. Tomaz was ready to act. Ideally, however, they would get to the inn, he could indicate to the Doc that these boys needed to be treated as well, and they could eat some of the food that the doctor had specially "garnished". After that, that lot could go wherever they bloody pleased, but for now... he couldn't help but suspect that these 8 were infected as well. He just hoped that this night would go smoothly and without too much trouble.


Summary:


The Patrol follows the 8 men to the inn, ready to get physical if needed

 

[Prince Vaethorion]

Prologue: The voyage to Port Cestus.


Before the trip, to Port Cestus, Prince Vaethorion Velegion the High Elf of the East took some precautions and made some preparations. To confuse his enemies, he ordered four loyal Elves to dress as body doubles and sail in decoy ships with a uninformed retinue to head off in different directions. These crews were led to believe that they had the Prince on board.


Meanwhile, the actual ship of the Prince was boarded in secret, at night by longboat by the Prince and his most loyal Nobles. No one in the crew was informed of his presence until long after they set sail to Port Cestus. No one was allowed to know the heading, or the final destination. The voyage itself was treated as a state secret. There were two vital interest at stake. One was the preservation of life of the Prince and the other was the success of the colony to be established in the New world. There was another mission, an even more important mission at stake, a secretive mission, that was not to be discussed and was only known by the a handful of souls.


The crews itself and the colonist that sailed on this journey were hand picked. A delicate balance was reached between loyalty, and ability. This vetting process was handled by the intelligence officer. It was important that these subjects loyalty were without question. For this reason the majority of the subjects were young High Elves from the militia, others were more mature militiamen and skilled, some were elite fighters loyal to the Kingdom and the rest were ten nobles of high skill and valor. This crew were chosen for what they thought was a drill. Once on board, they were informed very little and were asked to take a sacred vow of secrecy.


These precautions were per-requisites laid down by the Prince's Mother, the Queen of the Eastern High Elves, herself. The Prince felt these precautions to be in the extreme, but trusted his Mother's judgement. His Mother already lost one child to the conflict with the dreaded Dark Elves, she would not lose another. The Prince would have preferred to remain to exact further revenge, but could not resist a royal decree laid down by his parents. The Prince was being asked not just to lead, but to remove himself from present danger.


The voyage to Port Cestus was relatively uneventful. Care was taken not to be followed. A fair distance was kept from other ships and the sleek High Elven vessel pulled into range of Port Cestus at night. It was decided to go to the port by long boat. The High Elves disguised themselves as Human. To the best of their abilities, not speaking much and putting their cloaks up to hide their pointy ears. High Elves were tall, and although clearly not human if scrutinized could pass at a distance. The arrangements with the Fetches were made, supplies were loaded onto long boats, the stone was chosen and no mention of the Prince or High Elves was publicly mentioned. It was hoped that the ruse succeeded, but one could never be sure. A touch of the arcane was utilized to help in the subterfuge, but this would only work on the uninitiated and weaker minded.


The ship, the “Pilin en' Templa” (“Magic Arrow”) set off with it's holds full of supplies. There were supplies from home, and the supplies provided by the Muurdan loaded onto the ship. Every detail was thoughtfully undertaken. Preparations for survival and for comfort were made. High Elves were not ones to live in squalor. The High Elves were accustomed to comfort and luxury. They would need to learn to rough it, but there was a limit to their ability and more so tolerance to forgo their creature comforts.


The Ship passed through the barrier and the crew was excited, but nervous. The legend of the barrier and it's potential danger had the High Elves on edge. The mage in particular was a bit nervous having studied the history of the barrier and the horror stories attributed to it. He attempted to minimize it's effects by internalizing his power by going into a meditative state in order to radiate less mana. Whether these precautions worked or not are unknown, but the vessel passed through the barrier unscathed. The new world lay ahead.


The Present:


Prince Vaethorion Velegion, a high elf stood on the bow of his royal Elven ship “Pilin en' Templa” (“Magic Arrow” in common tongue).


The Eastern High Elven ships are sleek, light, fast, and carved from a solid piece of the largest tree known to Elves from ancient times. The main sail has a sigil. A sword, with a red dragon eating it's tail, on the tip a star, flanked by two trees.

The Elven ships moves silently. Only the wind can be heard. It's low profile and


grayish sails blends into the ocean much like the rest of the High Elves on deck.


Prince Valethorion stood regally, just shy of 6 feet tall, he has long, braided silver hair, hazel eyes, pointed ears and objectively speaking (to humanoids) is beautiful to look at. His expression is one of excitement and alertness.


He wears full length mithril armor, a mithril helm covered by a hooded green cloak made from a strong plant material (*his plant material clothing serves as light armor , is warm, water resistant and was woven by High Elven handmaidens). The properties of the cloak seem to blend in with the environment varying from blue to gray. He wears a dull polished, silver bracelet and necklace with sapphires with an insignia. He wears a tunic of a indiscernible color, gray sash as a belt, which attached is two sheath with long curved, High elvish swords. He wears soft boots made from plant material. His clothing is notably of high quality even for High Elves and is both practical and comfortable. His long tunic style top, and long skirt is made of a silk like material also made from plants. His entire ensemble is clearly designed to serve as camouflage.


On the deck of the ship, ocean spray and wind blows his long silver, braided hair. He squints at the beach in the distance. He is relieved having gone through the barrier and having arrived safely. The ship stayed for now in the distance of shore in order to reconnoiter the coast line.


Anchored off far in the distance ( far away enough that human eyes could hardly even see the shore). “Lower the sails”, the Prince ordered, “change the sails to the short, plain sails for navigating closer to shore and lets not announce our arrival just yet”.


*Prince Valethorion gives an order to his sailors to lower the sail, replace it with a short, plain sail with no Royal sigil. and turns to face his men on the deck of the ship. *“Prepare the boarding crafts, we will go to shore discretely in small long boats. Keep the Pilin en' Templa out of sight for now. We need not announce our arrival, stay unseen from (dreaded ones) Muurdan patrols if possible.. Remember what we discussed before embarking, this is a discrete mission. We need not demonstrate our greatness to the mortals and standout.” As the Prince says this he removes his fine, sapphire jewelry with the Eastern High Elves royal insignia of his House, and replaces it with opal Jewelry with silver. He then places his royal Jewelry and a scroll in a small silver box with elven inscriptions. The box makes a small locking sound. He puts this aside for safe keeping.


Prince Valethorion addresses his second in command and closest advisors. I hope we threw off their trail, This was a long distance to travel for such subterfuge to fail. “


He then turns to the 100 assembled High Elves on deck. On the deck, wearing armor of different kinds. There are 40 militia bowman, 25 militia spearman, 25 Elite swordsman and 10 nobles. The militia have varied armor , some a armoe that their families passed down to them, some that the fashioned at home and/or bought piecemeal. The elite soldiers have uniform armor of a superior quality. The Nobles wear finery, with very fine mithril. and are outfitted with the best that High Elves can possess.


“ Noble Brethren, Remember at all times this briefing. I cannot emphasize the secretiveness of this mission and it's importance. “


The 100 tall High Elves stood at a disciplined attention. Five rows of 20 with the each five set apart to form a unit of five. 50 carried tall elven shields. The spearman in the front. The swordsman behind them. The archers in the back and the nobles behind them.


“At this time and from now on till you are told differently, you are to address me as “Nikerym Ithil'quessir” (Captain Moon Elf in common tongue), [Valethorion's nomme de guerre among the High Elves]. You are all sworn to secrecy. I am not to be called your Prince, not in private, and definitely not in front of our inferiors.”


The 100 High Elves in tight formation stood riveted listening to their Prince address them.


“ I will remind you once more of your orders, the guidelines, goals, and policies before we land and disembark. “


“First, we are representing not just the High Elves of the East, but ALL High Elves. We all realize that we are the superior race, our noble blood is recognized throughout the world, but we must remember that we are not to lord our superiority over the other inferior races. We know not what races, humanoids, creatures and beasts we will encounter. We must keep our thoughts on their inferiority to ourselves. It is better to stay silent on this matter than risk alienation, tension and potential bloodshed. Although, these humanoids are our inferiors, we are her to work with them for the greater good of forming a sustainable colony. This colony potentially will bring prestige, and wealth to our people. “


]The High Elves nodded subtly in assent. [


“Furthermore, we are here to reclaim our historical dynasty. Much of the world was once governed by High Elves until the “ Gayaerea“ (dreaded ones the Muurdan) slayed our kin and took our lands. We regrettably now must cooperate with them for our preservation and to keep the peace. Just as we have endured cooperating with the “Gayaerea”, we will endure cooperating with the lesser humanoids on this colony. We will demonstrate our superiority through actions not words. This means no needless scuffles, hostilities, insults, or violence. I direct this especially at you young elves of less than a hundred years whom are impetuous.”





“We will maintain discipline, we will work hard, we will seek out glory, but more importantly we will seek out lost knowledge and create beauty. This new world is our palette, our block of clay, wood to whittle into whatever we dream of. We will recreate the comfort and aesthetic perfection we are accustomed to. However, this will not happen over night. We first must live like Elves of old, like the Sylvan elves that lived primitively. We will go back to basics, but not indefinitely. Our first goal is survival and after we master this, we will make this New world our home. There will likely be hostiles and we will train everyday to defend ourselves. Every morning before breakfast we will train and every afternoon before dinner.”


The Younger high elves are not enthused by this information, but knew what they were getting into.


“We are the best the world has to offer, our knowledge, our skill, our love of beauty is unrivaled. We will thrive here and our enemies will know only pain.”





At this, the Prince gives them the Salute. Two arms crossed like an X in front of his face. The 100 men return the salute in unison.


“[Aranthil ! (sergeant), organize a landing party in long boats, assemble the Megilturas (swordmasters)! , you will go to shore with me just before dawn,with the Megilturas (sword party to Scout out a suitable area on the Leeward side of the beach to dock the ship.)


“If there is no suitable harbor, then we will need to consider constructing a dock on the Eastern beach, digging moors for mooring the ship or beaching the Ship. Consult the Engineer on how to moor the ship. Once landing is secured. Prepare to unload supplies. I, and the linguist will speak to the fellow colonist and introduce ourselves. Remember, we do not know what lies on this new world, if there are hostile forces and what are the intentions of the fellow colonist. Do not act hostilely unless we are threatened first. Adopt a defense stance, secure the beach and be ready for anything!”


“Have the all the High Elves on full alert!”


* Orders a landing party to scout beach under the cover of darkness before dawn on the Leeward (eastern side)


* secure landing site


* attempt to moor ship to beach if possible. Dig mooring points in beach


* see if a dock can be built for the ship (have engineer assess)

• establishes local contact with fellow colonist (comes in peace)
  
  
  leader and Linguist (assuming contact with made)
  
• have archers on ship in range to offer support if needed to give covering fire to swordmasters
  
  
  * have Skilled workers/militia spearman land once initial beachhead is secured.
  
• Once beach head is established have Skilled militiamen spearman be ready to deploy if need be
  
  
  * order High elves to be on high alert and be prepared for hostilities