|
Post by Celebfealor on May 29, 2013 23:16:44 GMT -8
Ha-HA! In before the next event! ...Just barely, but still.
Chronicle for May's event.
Kioriel Fealor
A note to all those reading: during the course of the morning, I died several times, and due to the trauma suffered by my spirit, I cannot personally recall what happened. Thus, my account of the morning has been pieced together from some of my own notes and from the descriptions of others, and may be less accurate than I would like. This does not apply to the afternoon, which I remember quite vividly.
When one thinks of the Dark City, one imagines a predator - not a scavenger. One pictures some unseen shadow crawling between the corners and hidden places at night, hunting for its half-helpless prey with a measure of cunning and subtlety that we cannot even begin to comprehend. But perhaps we misunderstand its nature; and the City and its vampires, much like a great eagle, will occasionally pause in their inclination to hunt when they smell an opportunity more akin to that attractive to a vulture. Of course, whether or not they occasionally play the vulture, we will nevertheless imagine the eagle when we think of the City; and thus, in the aftermath of such a devastating tsunami as we have had, when we are immediately beset by vampires, our first instinct is to question whether or not they caused it rather than whether or not they are simply taking advantage of a natural phenomenon.
To all reports thus far, it appears that the Dark City is playing the vulture, not the eagle. The tsunami seems to have had its root in natural causes rather than magical means - for, if the City or other forces were to attempt weather magic on such a scale as would be necessary, Astengrad would almost certainly have dispelled the Elder Sorcery required to provoke it; or, if not Astengrad, then Pinnacle. No such counters were made, which speaks to the natural origin of the tsunami. It is true that Sorikonia has suffered such things from time to time, as an island is like to do - further evidence.
But it happened in the night - the night, when vampires are most active, and most awake. The time was some three or four hours after midnight when the wave struck the island. Myself, many of my companions, and most of the inhabitants of the cities on the southern coast of Sorikonia died as we were awakened just in time to drown. This includes many of the Martial Masters, who - even as pacifists - may be damaged and killed through natural causes such as this. It is my understanding that had there not been protections against weather around the city, the damage would have been far worse than it was - so we may thank Pinnacle and their use of magic that as many were able to escape it as did.
In the aftermath of the flood, those who were first resurrected immediately set out to wade through the wreckage and search for survivors - or, more often, bodies to be brought back to life. This occurred for some hours in the darkness of the morning. Then, in the twilight hours, there were reports from down by the harbor that several ships were making to land upon the beach and their inhabitants disembark. We, as adventurers, were sent to investigate the matter; no one was quite certain what they were, at first, but many suspected and prepared for the worst. Indeed, wise: for the ships carried large forces of Grim troops, and amongst these were several carakwaiths.
Two main boats landed, and we separated into two groups. Mine was involved in the fighting of FalconCry and another carakwaiths whose name escapes me; the other group was involved in fighting AshEyes and Deathwish. Several abilities were exhibited by each of them. It would seem that FalconCry was ferocious in battle, and swinging warded weaponry with the power to take down beings much larger than ourselves; and he also was able to displace scores of items. My staff, it would seem, was among those displaced; but not Amara’s staff, though Amara had evidently asked me to hold her staff for her in the course of the battle. Urun has said that he offered me one of his weapons during that time, but that I would not accept it; this does not surprise me. I know myself, and know that even in those circumstances I would avoid the use of a weapon. Rather I would keep myself to the healing of those wounded, and the rescue of those in tight corners. There was another woman - Iraya, I think? - who lent me a dress that allowed me to use standard ritual spells of various mages on the condition that I was singing; I chose spirit guide and spent the battle keeping tabs on the carakwaiths so that others not able to see the same would not be caught by such surprise.
The battle went until dawn. As the sun crept over the horizon, the vampires withdrew - for their advantage of nighttime hunting was lost, and it was time for them to withdraw and regroup. We trudged back to the inn, seeing that for now the beach had been secured, and awaited the happenings of the undoubtedly grim day ahead of us.
At the meeting with the Sorikonian clans’ ambassadors, more details about the situation were revealed - most of which I have spoken of above - with the addition that many officials from the Free Republics of Roekron had come to provide aid and to blunt the edge of a dire situation. For this, I am thankful. I have heard of Pinnacle and Esterock Keep helping for certain; and surely there are others, as well.
Most of the morning, it seems, we spent training the militia - and for this, I am thankful, for that means that we have kept the promise we made to them. Each time, we combined their training with a mission or task from the board with which they could aid us and during which they could practice their skills. The first of these was to escort caravans and carts full of food across the width of Sorikonia so that it could be distributed in lieu of the newfound scarcity of food along the coast. The caravan-drivers expected to be plagued with bandits of various natures - either those who saw this as a good opportunity to make money by stealing and re-selling the food, or those who had been harmed by the tsunami and did not trust that the food would be distributed evenly or appropriately - and thus, we went to guard it. During this time, the militia was taught how to disarm weapons.
On the way, there were goblins, which were dealt with smoothly. There were also strange spirits, or haunts, of what appeared to be rocks that slowly crept over the ground. They had with them a piece of paper upon which was something of a code, which was put into my bag for safe-keeping. In my bag as well, during the course of the morning, I found several traps - pranks - set by the feyborn in our party.
We picked up the caravans and headed back. There were indeed many bandits along the way - and this is where I met my death several times, both due to Elder Sorcerers amongst them. The first, my head was exploded, though I was quickly rebirthed form that; the second, my body was turned to ash, and for that I had to be summoned and resurrected. There were also some sort of charm rays being thrown around, as well as other such spells, but I of course cannot recall exactly what. Nevertheless, we passed through the danger eventually, and made our ways back to Sashi Eten - excepting one more encounter with more inching rocks and a piece of paper. I am told that I attempted to control the mind of the haunts, at which point they briefly erupted in a frenzy of some sort of confusion or panic and then faded as haunts are apt to do.
Upon return, the group set out on another mission, the militia in tow this time again. They had already learned the fundamentals of disarming, and were now being taught how to knock opponents back upon their feet. The mission itself took the form of defending the coast from raiding Temnorian pirates - who, much more than the Dark City, are known to be scavengers when the opportunity arises. They were successfully fended off, and the militia were trained adequately in the use of knockback as well. Yet another piece of paper was recovered from a wandering rock-haunt; and it sounds as if Shailar also attempted to mind control the haunts, with the same effect. I cannot pretend that I understand what this means; perhaps, if I remembered having seen them, it would make more sense.
Here is where my memory begins again, for at this time, we scattered around to find what food we could to sustain ourselves before continuing upon the day’s measures. The first thing of note which I remember is offering candy to the feyborn in exchange for a promise not to trap or otherwise tamper with my sidebag anymore - which, after a moment of struggle, he gave into. The second thing I remember is attempting to help an alchemist find some of his supplies displaced in the tsunami. I helped him and others search the streets, and though found no signs of these supplies, instead found myself pursued through alleyways by four men who, despite my attempts at evasion, robbed me and left me unconscious on the street-side. It is fortunate that I tend to make a habit of not carrying valuables with me unless I am intending to spend them, which I was not planning to do so in this instance.
After both of these excitements, I was able to procure food - some of which I shared with those who had fewer resources to do so - and, as such, returned to the inn. What was to be done next was decided before one of the ambassadors had a chance to make an appearance. It is not often than our party is of such a mind and unity in its decision-making processes that this is like to happen, but on this occasion, it was. It would seem that, in the morning, the suggestion was put forth that we should make an assault on the ships of the carakwaiths shortly after high noon - the time of day when the sun blazes the hottest and highest, and vampires and their like are most vulnerable to it. For the ships needed to be dealt with, and quickly; for, if they were not, then they would simply come to launch another attack when night fell again. The hour was nigh, and the vote nearly unanimous - and so, those who were able and willing to do so strapped on their various pieces of gear and headed out to engage one of the ships that had landed previously.
I did not go with them. This mission was one solely for combat; and in such situations, I am more a liability than an asset. Others went - Dedoric, Amara, Kusari, and scores of others who I will not list for the sake of brevity - to one ship; the Martial Masters, as they had promised earlier in the day, set out to engage the other ship so as to buy us the time necessary to destroy or adequately impede what was upon the one we sought to face.
Between all missions that one does not choose to embark upon, there is always a long wait. This wait was longer than any I have waited before - for there was more at stake upon this one than upon any mission which we have yet attempted. The length is drawn out, syllable by silent syllable of time, by knowing that those you have grown to know and care for are out facing down the likes of morganti swords; of carakwaiths made of ex-Wizard’s Trade Order apprentices; of Elder Sorcery; of scores of undead that, even alone, would be formidable. It is the wondering, as each moment slowly passes by, who has been struck with what; and who will, and will not, be returning. It is hoping that everyone will, and knowing that some will not - and the dread that comes in feeling the possibility that several particular individuals will be among the ones who can’t.
But when, finally, my companions returned, they returned in the spirit of victory savored rather than the weight of losses. I was stymied, and sought around to see who had returned - and it seemed that all those who went had returned, with only one or two having the marks of morganti or other such things upon them. Seeing the relatively safe return of my companions, whether particular or not - especially knowing full well what might have been - filled me with joy, and for a moment, I allowed myself to relax into the spirit of victory as well. I might have asked of my companions what had happened, had there been a chance I would hear them; but the inn was full of something of a clamor of voices, and such a chance seemed slim. Rather, I waited; and eventually, Chen Panjue made his way through the crowd of my companions and stood at the front of the room to speak.
He, as well, seemed perhaps the slightest bit surprised - but then, I would hesitate to make such judgements about the thoughts of someone such as him, who is not easy to read more often than not. Chen Panjue called for quiet, and after several rambunctious moments, received it; then an official recount was given of what had happened. The two carakwaiths on the ship my companions attacked - AshEyes and FalconCry - as well as the rest of it, had been destroyed by “an unexpected ally”. He bowed to a corner of the room, where sat a woman who appeared, in a short glance, to be Priestess of the Elder Goddess; then explained that she carried a shield which exorcised all undead who looked upon it, and that it was called the Shield of Undying Light.
He then proceeded to relate how the other ship had fared, and that news was not nearly so lightening. Many Martial Masters had been taken by the carakwaiths on that ship; others had been brought to insanity, or hopelessness, or seem to have been driven from their minds completely. ...Deathwish, it seems, had been busy. I hate to pass judgement, even on carakwaiths, for vampires and their kind were once people as well; but Deathwish - to my thoughts, in any case - is the worst kind of carakwaith. ...That is what happens when you take the best sort of person and turn them on their heads. It is said that Deathwish, though he was an apprentice of the now-fallen Wizard’s Trade Order, was training as well to become a Sorikonian Martial Master; and that, though he is now a carakwaith, as he was a pacifist before, he still claims as such now. And it is said that he has earned this name because, as a pacifist, he will never kill you - he will only make you wish you were dead...
Amara D’ni has named him “Hopeslayer”, for the spell he cast upon one of our companions during the course of the morning. The man, I had known before as a fierce warrior ready to fight and protect when the moment warranted; but in confronting Deathwish, he had been the receiver of a spell something to the effect of, “I destroy your hope”. In the afternoon since - and I would imagine in the morning as well, though I cannot personally recall - he has seemed depressed, almost, and unwilling to lift his sword; for what, he asks, is the point? There can be no victory here.
Perhaps that is what is meant by the vision given to us by the ancestors, some months prior to today. It showed Sorikonia and its people being worn down, as waves breaking on a beach; and eventually, in their tiring of simply enduring, they turned upon each other and began to war. Who better to sow such dis-ease, than one who had been born from and believed in that which is to be dismantled? Though I think it is not all bad; for, in the presence of Deathwish, it proves also how powerful pacifist ideals can be. He is terrifying, even amongst carakwaiths, and it is because he can wield such destruction as he does though he will not turn his sword upon you. But that, as I have said before, is what happens when you take the best sort of person and turn them upon their heads. As it is the most powerful sort of destruction now, when turned to evil, it can be the most powerful sort of healing and strength when used for good. We cannot forget to see this, in the coming days.
Seven Martial Masters were lost on the other carakwaiths’ ship. Three of them, to my memory - one each a heaven, mountain, and water-styled monk - were potential candidates for carakwaiths, as they were far more experienced in the world than were the rest. What to do? The dilemma was stymying. Though on the one hand, with seven martial masters taken and the other ship so easily within our reach - and the other unable to give it aid -, it seemed prudent to go after it now, and perhaps undo the damage that had already been done. But on the other hand, the element of surprise had been lost; and they would know that we were coming, and prepare themselves, and the damage that could be done was far greater than that which we had escaped on the other ship. There was mild deliberation; but then Taka - a man who I had known to be either a martial master or training to be one - spoke. With his training in diplomacy, he said in words short and simple and greatly persuasive that it must be done, for another such chance could not come by us again. It was decided, then; Chen Panjue called upon my companions to gather their equipment and go with haste - and then, they were gone.
One more, I did not go with them. What stands true before stood true then, and no diplomacy could change that: when it comes to straight combat, I am more a liability than an asset. I would not risk not only my own life, but the lives of others who might try to save my own, on the words of a diplomat.
The Elder Goddess priestess did not go, either. She sat in the corner of the inn; I watched her, out of the curiosity that I watch all people. As my companions left, she watched them, and seemed greatly torn. She paced; she scribbled furious thoughts upon paper; and once, she stood to take her cloak and almost seemed about to leave - but she did not go. As I watched her, I remembered that it was she who had won the battle for my companions on the first ship; and if she was not there to do so again, well, what would become of them? The sweetness of victory faded, once more, to deep fear: for I did not know how many amongst my companions I would be seeing again. There would be far more damage this time. Though I could not know it for certain, I felt it; and the feeling was troublingly correct.
Upon their return, they were several fewer in number. Taka was gone; as was Spartan; as were a handful of others who I have not yet had the pleasure to be acquainted enough with to know their names. They had been taken by the carakwaiths, as had the Martial Masters who they had gone to rescue; and that is to say nothing of the state of those who returned. Many had been cursed by Deathwish; some had endured morganti hacks or wounds similar to those taken from the Maimed Cult; and a variety of other newfound hinderances were present upon those who had managed to escape the fates of those captured. ...I should not have been surprised. To this moment, I cannot decide whether I was, or was not. But then, when we think of the Dark City, we think most often of a predator; and we had given such a great predator as it an opportunity to do very well for itself. And we are greatly sorrowed, for it.
No further such attacks were made, though the ships with newly-captured companions had now begun to sail towards home; once more, we turned inwards, to begin to solve problems within our own shores. A group went out to attempt to rescue the drowned fire guardians - for, as fire elementals, they had fared ill in the tsunami - while the rest of us turned once more to attempt to dig through the wreckage of the city and find and tend to those yet to be helped. I was amongst the latter group. I could detail the cry of every child; the scream of every hungered babe; the relieved sighs of mothers, or the groans of broken men pulled from beneath piles of beams; I could tell you of every wreck of a shattered home, every tear shed for a livelihood pulled apart in mere moments, every bloodied beam torn to pieces, every scrap of doll stuffing, every howl of an injured dog; every bent nail, every empty food cart, every street obscured by rubble, every mangled body... But that is not why you are reading this. You are reading this to hear tales of heroic exploits, or perhaps to gain a context for one historical event or another. ...It is the suffering such as this which passes beneath us. We forget that history is founded, first and foremost, on ordinary people; and since you are reading for history or else for entertainment, I shall pass over it, lest I prove a poor host. But know that which you choose to ignore, for without it, there would be no story to strive towards at all.
Some time later, we joined once more at the inn. A fair number of the fire guardians had been pulled from the water and rekindled, for which we may all be thankful; and, on their way back, they had discovered yet another strange, drifting haunt-rock which concealed another piece of that paper with the green ink. I do not think we are missing many pieces now - though certainly, we do not yet have them all. The rest, I shall hope we will find soon.
Upon gathering, Shailar and myself endeavored to pull together a group to visit the shrine of the Elder Goddess. To those who do not remember from several months before: we had, on a past day, come across a paladin or warrior of the Elder Goddess, who had been searching for a purple gem or stone of some kind. She had deemed it very important; and though we did not follow up on it at the time, we had not forgotten it. If such a member of the Elder Goddess religion deems something to be important, I think it is best to assume that it is. As such, we pulled together a group and went to the shrine, to inquire with the priestess there as to further information about what we should be looking for.
The road to the shrine was mostly empty; but those few which we encountered were not insignificant. What sticks in my memory foremost is what at first appeared to be a hydra - which certainly would have been significant on its own - but later, clearly was something other. Among a variety of other abilities, it was able to utilize its breath as a weapon in the manner of a dragon; and it seems as if it were certainly much more intelligent than a hydra, but then, I would not know. Either way - it seems to me that it is likely that this creature is metamorphed into the form of a hydra; perhaps the original creature is indeed a dragon - but then, again, I would not know. We struggled past it, and found ourselves at the shrine not long afterwards.
The shrine itself, we found besieged by hill giants. My companions made work of them in their way; I tended to several people who had fallen in doing so, then proceeded onwards to the shrine itself. A guardian asked what our business here was; I explained, and then we were let through to speak with the priestess. Sara Brightheart was her name, if I remember arightly. We asked her of the gem, and of visions and information pertaining to it. In the discussion that followed, it was made clear to us that the gem was likely a blessing of some kind, and that to access it we needed two parts: one which we already possessed, and one which we must seek elsewhere. The obtaining of this other half is likely to prove to be complicated; there has been much planning on the subject, much of it not insignificant. We may have some semblance of a plan, but I am not certain how well it will work. Time, I hope, will tell.
Once we returned, my companions left for another mission; I returned, once more, to my work in helping with the aftermath of the tsumani. To work with the adventurers is certainly important to me, as I have endeavored upon several relatively noteworthy pursuits with them; but to work with common people is just as important to me, and so that is what I do as well. Even while in the course of adventuring, this is what I strive to do. Too often, the people are forgotten; and I seek, in my own small way, to change that. Though it is true that noble souls such as Taka may be captured by the Dark City, and perhaps eventually turned to one of their own - and that we mourn such happenings, and seek to stop them - how many others have felt the same pain? We fight many sired-by vampires in the course of our adventures, and those people do not simply come from nowhere. They, too, have families, and homes, and those who will mourn that which has changed within them.
The Dark City is a predator. It will prey upon our hearts; our souls; our spirits; it will feast upon our courage, drink of our will, revel in our fallen hopes; it will hit us where we are weakest. For that is the way of a predator, and that is what we must expect - and prepare for. And what are we to do if we have no heart to rally with; no soul to find strength in; no spirit to protect? That is why I do as I do: because the heart of Sorikonia - its people, and its ancestors - are our best hope against such a predator. If we live through this, it will be due them as much as us; and we cannot forget them, in the battles to be had ahead. Not all battles must be fought with sword and staff and blade; and in a battle which is first and foremost a trial of beliefs, I choose to believe that we can do better than this. We are all in this together; and if we are truly together, then no predator will be able to take us.
|
|
|
Post by Celebfealor on Jun 6, 2013 19:41:17 GMT -8
Aurora Nightsong - Sashi Eten, Sorikonia, Year 15,968 under High Queen K’uni Kendrai
------
Sixthmoon, Day 2: Night
Just for the record: I told you so.
This is why historians are great. If you’re wondering what I mean, go look through my old records. Last one I wrote. Eleventhmoon, a couple decades ago. Yeah, that whole big long thing? Read it. All of it. Especially the last part. Like I said: I told you so.
So we’ve got all these new adventurers running around and messing things up for us now. Amara seems keen on adopting them all for some reason that I cannot fathom. You’d think she’d learn after all of the other apprentices she’s adopted over the last few years, but I guess not. Anyway, we’ve got all these new guys running around; one of them is named Torald, and yes, he’s one of the ones that Amara’s adopted. He sponsored a mission tonight - something about rumors of things that weren’t quite how they were supposed to be. Mostly spinemen which actually had spines all over - sort of like those poisonous puffing fish that they have in the reefs around here - but it turned out that there were also ogres and other things of that nature that also weren’t quite right. Torald needed trackers - of which I’m a pretty damn good one - and seeing as how I’d already been out chasing the Grim off our beaches, I figured I might as well go with.
So out we go, to where they found the spinemen earlier. You’ll never guess what we found there: more spinemen! Who’d have thought! They were pretty easy to take down, and we did, then examined their corpses. It was pretty obvious that something was off; I used my rangerly expertise to take a closer look at what exactly they were, and yeah, they were spinemen, but they were covered with puffer-spines that puffed up when you poked them, even if they were dead. Reminded me of the way that jellyfish still sting even when they’re washed up on the shore. Very sharp, sturdy spines, too - definitely meant to deal a lot of damage. Their build was a bit off in general, and their eyes were placed wrong in their heads as well. Lots of small things that didn’t square rightly. The next logical step was to have someone identify them; so we got on eof the new storm mage guys and the job was done.
Problem is, they identified as completely normal spinemen - which they most definitely weren’t. Which meant that there was either some kind of problem with the idenfify, or some kind of masked mental effect, or something. So we tried to find an elf to identify them, given they’re good at such things, but I don’t think we were successful on that count given that there were no elven storm mages with us. So instead we picked up a couple of the mutant ones and kept tracking them towards their den.
We met something else on the way - something to do with some commoners, or something? - except come to think of it, I don’t really remember what happened. Now see, that doesn’t ring right with me at all, because I have a good memory, for both big things and little things. And something about that encounter is sticking out in my mind as being really strange, but what it is is completely eluding me. I don’t like that. Not one rutting bit. Because to me, that’s a sign that something’s messing with my mind. Even worse, now that I’m thinking about it, I have suspicions on what exactly that thing is...
I guess eventually we got past that encounter and continued on, because the next thing that I remember - actually remember - is more spinemen. Lots of ‘em, this time. We waded through the horde, cutting them down in our various ways; then I made my rounds of the bodies. Seems like 40% or maybe 50% of them were the weird mutant ones. When they finally stopped coming, we collected our wounded, then approached their source.
Was there a den there? No. No sign of any kind of burrow in sight. Instead, there was a broken shrine. This is about where the alarm bells started going off in my head. See, I’ve had some bad experiences with broken shrines. It’s been a couple decades, but I still sometimes wake up in the middle of the night with nightmares about it. The situation gets even better, though - we had a couple priests with us, so we had them take a look and see what divinity the shrine was to. After much head-scratching, they still couldn’t figure it out... it was escaping their memories, they said. We got well-acquainted with that feeling in the next hour... almost like it was a friend you wanted to take home and serve dinner to. Except, in my case, more like the “friend” you want to find in a back alley and make a new graffiti stain with.
So we were trying to figure out what to do when this brand new journeyman decides that he wants to be on the other side of the shrine. Except rather than walking around it like a reasonable person, he stepped over it like an idiot. And promptly disappeared into thin air. Which meant that our next move was decided for us - namely, going in after him. I was pretty sure he was probably in my afterlife, so I figured I’d go fish him out. Thus, I saluted my companions, and told them I’d “see you on the other side!” with my usual cheery irony (who am I kidding? more like psychotic inclination to spit in the face of danger), then made to step through. Except that before I could put a foot in, Amara grabbed my arm.
“If we’re going to do this, let’s do it the smart way”, she said - then linked arms with me and shifted into a stance. With a nod - and Amara as my anchor - I stepped through.
I have no idea what happened in there. Only that shortly thereafter, I was stepping back through with Amara’s help, and lugging that idiot journeyman through after me. And I was pissed. That’s not terribly unusual, though, so I don’t imagine it means too much. Of course, at this point, there were many questions about what exactly that place had been, and what it had looked like, and so on. Given that I was unable to supply the answer, it seemed like a reasonable thing to go in again and actually get an answer this time. So I asked the group for a pen.
I know a lot of historians carry pen and paper and the like around with them a lot; I used to as well, but I got out of the habit once I stopped focusing on saving the world or whatever I was supposed to be doing. Truth be told, all I really wanted to do was not blow up, and kick some demons’ derriers. Everything else was a side effect. Anyway, once that was over, I switched to kicking mafia derriers instead, so I got out of the habit of carrying that kind of stuff with me. Luckily, somebody did happen to have some pens, so I took one and prepared my hand as the excellent writing surface that it was. With that, I linked arms with Amara again, and plunged back in.
Upon being pulled back out, I found that I had mostly drawn the same landscape we had in front of us - with some slight differences. All the trees were twisted and dead, for starters. And instead of a statue that was part of the shrine, there was a pile of boulders that honestly looked a bit like some kind of demon devouring... something. It was mildly creepy. No vegetation, otherwise - but the basic shape of things was the same. So that was trial one. Some smart person decided that we should try entering the rift through the other side of the shrine, and drawing what was seen there; so Scarab grabbed the other pen, and a couple of our companions linked up with him to keep hold on him; then he stepped through, and vanished. When he came back out, we examined his hand; but it looked exactly the same as the landscape before us, when facing that direction. I checked the directions - when I had gone in, I was facing east. He was facing west. I don’t know if that actually means the slightest thing, but it’s good to have in stock just in case.
In the course of the next attempts to experiment with stuff, a couple of hasty people went through the rift without anybody anchoring them. When they didn’t return after a couple of minutes, we sent Amara in after them. Some kid gave her his staff, and I anchored her. When we pulled her out - followed shortly thereafter by the others, clinging to the staff - she looked like she was mid-freakout, so I braced and prepared for battle. Not a moment too soon - another flood of those mutant spinemen rushed out. Except this time, they were using some kind of infect-strike that cut through armor. Thanks to another party member, the armor I was wearing was unbreachable - and thank the world for that, because I got hit with most of the initial wave, and if I hadn’t been unbreachable I’d be all kinds of messed up right now. Anyway - we fought them down. Some people did get infected; we kept them away from the rift, and I yelled at people to make sure they didn’t wander off or do things they shouldn’t be once the battle was over. After that, there were a few more questions to be answered.
One, people wanted to know what color the sky was. This isn’t as inane a question as it seems; there are several planes that we know of that have skies of different colors, and if any of them match up to this place it might give them some hints. Two, I wanted to know how my afterlife felt in there, if you catch my meaning. Which you probably don’t. And lastly, I wanted to see what the divine connection in there was like. Pen in hand and Amara on my arm, I dove in again.
When I emerged, the writing was as follows: “Hazy grey” in relation to the sky’s color; “familiar” in relation to how my afterlife felt; and several notes in regards to the divine connection. Something about “Paladin skills - 1/3”. Which I would imagine means that my paladin skills worked about a third of the time in there, through multiple tries. So maybe it’s not quite so cut-off from the divine as we thought... or maybe there are other forces at play. Maybe both. Either way, that’s good enough confirmation for me: this was a rift to the Shadowlands. Not that we didn’t know that already, but it’s good to make sure.
Which left one last test. I asked Amara about invoking names; she bit her lip, but agreed, and then we mutually announced that we were going to be invoking names and that anyone who didn’t want to be on the anvil end should get going now. I’m not sure if people stirred or not; I was too busy prepping my speech. ...My speech, which consisted of the words, “Hey Prince - go screw yourself!” (in somewhat less polite terms than that). In I went...
...And it would seem that not long after going in, I died, and Amara had to pull me out. I survived it just fine, anyway - I suppose it was a bit of a risk, my soul in the state that it’s in, but I really don’t give a flying one. I’m just glad to know that me and the old bastard are still on the same terms as before.
The group left after that last experience; then we returned to Sashi Eten and were, in my case, resurrected. And now I’m here.
Next few months should be interesting ones. Sounds like Mong and I get to go demon-hunting again, given that one of the three is apparently loose and messing with our minds. Should be fun. As much as getting your soul torn up is fun, anyway.
See what I mean about psychotic inclination to spit in the face of danger? Like I always say: it’s bravery when it works, idiocy when it doesn’t. Anyway. I’ll consult him and see what our approach is going to be this time. I don’t think we can just take them down and exorcise them this time, because now there are all kinds of little rifts popping up on broken shrines across Sorikonia... and they can just come right back out of those. We have to tackle the source of the problem this time.
...I still told you so. See, this is why I don’t really go for hope. That’s what Amara does. And as much as I may respect Amara, there are some things I don’t agree with her on. Let me quote myself here: “We can hope it won’t involve the Shadowlands again”. See what happens when you get your hopes up? You’re just asking to get them crushed. Live and live without, says I. We don’t need hope here. Give me a sword in my hand and an enemy to face, and I’m happy to go rip them a new one just for the sake of watching them die. It’s gotten me this far; might as well keep going.
|
|
|
Post by Celebfealor on Jun 25, 2013 18:57:27 GMT -8
Chronicle for the June 2013 Campout, day (well, evening) #1. Aurora Nightsong - Sashi Eten, Sorikonia, Year 15,968 under High Queen K’uni Kendrai------ Sixthmoon, Day 16: EveningThis is a public service announcement to warn everybody that Mong is an idiot sometimes. But that’s okay, because he’s our idiot, and he’s getting better. Or at least not living on top of a volcano like some kind of caveman anymore, anyway. In other news, Mi Rue is also an idiot and can go dunk his head in a cow trough. That said, I am too, and have yet again managed to stumble into problems in my personal life that I didn’t really need to deal with right now. Vera, I’m an awful person sometimes. Just kidding, this wasn’t a public service announcement. I’m just grumbling at you people because, quite frankly, I don’t care what you think, and now that you’ve read my complaining, you can’t unread it. So at the very least I can be self-satisfied at my terribly underwhelming talent for trickery, and move on with my life.
Marion SparrowsongFor those of you who were, unfortunately, otherwise engaged with the evening’s activities - which I certainly don’t hold against you! You are adventurers, after all, and I’m sure you have much more important business than listening to the banter of bards - and were not able to attend my performance, which I have travelled so far to give: there is hope! My performance this evening was in honor of none other than the great Minstrel of Amir, who died some decades ago in an unfortunate combination of house fire and morganti suicide. Though he is no longer with us, his vision lives on through those of us bards who think to sing it; and, if you were not there to hear them, there are other records of these songs which you may peruse at your will. (It should be noted that, as he did not name them at the time, I have taken the liberty of naming them so as to distinguish one from the other for those in pursuit of specific songs.) The Lad on the QuayDancer and the BoatmanThe Knight in BlackThe Dark LadyExodusDon't Mess With Old LadiesBeastsSong of the SparrowFarewell, Fair LadyNow, I’m no historian, but lucky for us, there was this night a historian present to elaborate on the history of some of these songs. If you’ve more interest in the nature of these songs, you might speak to him - I hear he gives very interesting, if cryptic, tips.
|
|
|
Post by Celebfealor on Jul 16, 2013 22:32:30 GMT -8
Chronicle for the Club League June campout, Day #2.
Aurora Nightsong - Sashi Eten, Sorikonia, Year 15,968
Sixthmoon, Day 17: Early Morning
Sometimes, I forget why I do what I do.
Then again, that’s all of us sometimes. Such is the nature of life: we get caught up in the thrill of the battlefield, or the routines of training and pushing and training some more, or hooked on the adrenaline rush that comes from seeking out all the situations we know could very well destroy us. It’s easy to lose the “why” as you take whetstone in hand and sharpen your swords, and I think it’s something that happens to everyone from time to time. But sometimes, in the morning - in this eery, misty, just-before-dawn silence - when you’re actually awake for once and up boiling water for your choice of morning beverage - you unexpectedly stumble across it again.
I was raised to be a warrior. I hail from Odilathen, originally, and from a division of the Odilwatch Army called the Nightcats. You’d think that with that kind of history, combined with a year of adventuring, I’d have fought a war before - but the truth is, I haven’t. I’ve fought individuals, and I’ve fought small groups... never before an outright war. But we are set to fight the Grim today - the Grim, which has forced its way onto Sorikonian shores and looks to be pushing towards Sashi Eten - and it makes me wonder why. I’ve seen what war does to people. It punishes you, both physically and mentally, and you’re one of the extremely lucky few if you get out without any scars. So here I am, preparing to fight it nonetheless... and for what reason? Sorikonia is not my home. Sorikonia has never been my home, and never will be either. Yeah, it’s nice enough, and yeah, it’s what I’m accustomed to by now... but my home was in the mountains of Odilwatch, before it was taken by the Grim, and now I am unlikely to ever see it again.
Nor is it purely revenge against the people who corrupted my home - if this were Temnor, or Dsesnor, I would still be preparing to join the lines. That it’s the Grim just makes the fight that much sweeter. Truth told, I think my argument that I don’t fight just for the sake of fighting is getting weak; because in all honesty, I do enjoy battle, and I do fight half for the sake of watching blood spill and hearing agonized screaming and watching that last little light leave the eyes of dying men. But I can do that anywhere - not just on the front lines against the Grim. No, I’m fighting because, really? That’s all I know how to do. So I might as well do it in the name of some higher purpose, and if keeping the balance of Sorikonia isn’t that purpose, I don’t know what is. Somebody needs to save this place, and no matter what Amara says, it can’t be solely peace that does the job.
Sorikonia, are you listening? I’m writing this for you. This is your problem. First, you tried to fight, and you lost your “why” in the fighting; then, you tried to reflect, and you lost your ability to act in your meditations. You cannot walk just one path; you must walk both. You must be a warrior, and a mage. You must be a fighter, and a philosopher. You must know peace, and you must know war. You must be both these things if you are to survive. Chen Kamanari had some great ideas, I’ll grant him that; but even saints are idiots sometime too, and letting the Iron Disciples leave the way he did was a mistake. A big one.
You need to have your fight in you, Sorikonia, or else you are going to fall away. First you were caught in the fighting and the fire, and that lasted for a hundred years; and now you have woken up at the beginning of a new day, and you are taking time to reflect, as you must. But if you stay caught in your reflection, you will quickly find that the day will have slipped by you - and then night will have come again, and what will you have done in the meantime? You must act just as much as you think, because no matter how peaceful it is, thinking and never taking action on what you think is just as useless as always acting without thinking.
Sorikonia, don’t be me. I’m a nasty person, and anyone who says otherwise is lying through their teeth. But for the love of everything you hold dear, don’t be Amara, either. There’s a reason we’re still working together even though we’re stark opposites in both opinion and action: it’s because we balance each other out. When we need to stand back and negotiate, that’s her job. When we need to go rip heads, that’s my job. And between the two of us, we’ve been able to get much further than we would have on our own. Don’t you see? This is what you need. Find your balance, and find it quick, because some people who generally tend to know what they’re talking about are saying that you don’t have much longer to do it in. Pretty soon the sky’s going to come crashing down, and if you don’t make your moves before it lands, you’re going to be facing your shadow with no likelihood of ever coming back.
---
Sixthmoon, Day 17: Noon
Been fighting the Grim all morning. We’ve cleared out this area, so we’re taking the time to resurrect our dead and exorcise our captives and, in some cases, eat lunch. I hate fighting on an empty stomach, so that’s what I’m up to right now, as well as writing down some quick notes.
So far we’ve taken out about twenty miles worth of Grim. We’ve been working with some Sorikonian forces, as well as Esterock and other miscellaneous aid. We’re set to push another ten miles into their ranks this afternoon, which should leave about thirty miles of territory left that they control. What we’re up to after, that, I’m not sure; it may well be night by the time we clean that up, and I don’t think anybody wants to fight the Grim in the dark. We’ll see when we get there, I guess.
Off to go haul bodies. I assume I’ll be around to give updates later. Catch you then.
---
Sixthmoon, Day 17: Mid Afternoon
Quarantine is incredibly boring. Since I have the time, though, I might as well mark down what’s happened since.
If you’re wondering about the quarantine bit, the Grim used classic undead tactics. Among the plentitude of things that affect us normal mortals that don’t hinder undead in the slightest is disease; so one of the strategies that, historically, undead like to use, is to rub around in some kind of disease or other before they go fighting so that they can spread it to their more-often-than-not still living opposition. I was in the thick of the fighting and the bloodletting and the dragging away the wounded, so it follows through logically that of course I got it, along with a few others. Shemdira doesn’t seem to be affected by it at all, though, thankfully. And she called a nasty storm in to thrash the Grim from behind, too, so that was pretty great.
We were in quarantine briefly after that, but my companions decided that they’re rather have me and Scarab there and fighting with them than have us waiting around for them, even if it meant risking more disease. By that time we were getting into the thick of things, which of course meant vampires, which of course meant morganti. We trashed the former, which gave us several examples of the latter, some of which were kindly handed to me. I then proceeded to use them to royally screw with our opposition. That’s the thing about these people - they use morganti primarily because they know the fear factor associated with it. Who wants to tangle with something that could potentially destroy not only your current existence, but also your continued existence? Seems to me it’s their turn to take a taste of their own tactics. Bastards deserve it.
For the nosy souls out there, no, I didn’t keep the damn swords. I turned them in to the martial masters immediately after our return, and so did everyone else who had been taking care of weapons of a similar nature. They gave us several favors in return, then quickly went about setting up a quarantine area outside of town where we get to wait around until the herbalists can tend to pretty much our entire party. People were willing to risk disease, and well, they certainly got it.
But the Grim is pushed back that extra ten miles, now, and we’ve captured and exorcised a number of their vampires and other leading forces. Good on us, I think. Again, we’ll see what happens tonight, but either way, we made progress today, and that’s something to celebrate.
Kioriel Fealor
I remember, some months ago, upon the first day of excursions and adventuring amongst my companions - and I remember the mission which we completed last in the day, under the light of the setting sun. We set out to aid in the rituals which summoned the fire elementals which have so valiantly helped keep Sashi Eten safe from the Grim. I remember the climb up the steep, gravelly sides of the volcano, and as well the militia members or bandits which beset upon us with great force. I remember that many of us were killed in this battle, myself among them; and I remember, upon being awakened from that greyest of sleeps, staring directly into the scowling face of Li Tiesha.
How can we abandon her now?
We cannot. The answer is quite simple, and for my purposes, absolute. Even were she not one of the council members of Sorikonia, we still would owe her a great debt; and so, as she has not returned from her investigation of the shrines for several weeks now, it seems clear that she will not be returning under her own power. Thus, it must be under ours, for we cannot simply let go of her knowing that we could perhaps have brought her back. That is not honorable, and more than that, it is no way to repay kindness. So we will go.
There are some who mutter that this quest is likely to take us into the Shadowlands. It is a terrifying prospect; to this, I cannot lie. But that does not change the truth of the matter, no matter how much one might wish to cover it, or cloud it, or make it seem soothing and quiet. So, we will go.
May we return safely, and with Li Tiesha safe beside us. I cannot ask for more than that.
---
Kioriel Fealor
We have returned. Thank all the gathered forces we have returned, and returned with Li Tiesha. I had dared to hope so when we left, but once we were in the Shadowlands - I did not dare hope even that much. Numb with relief. I have no other words but these - “numb with relief” - to describe the way I feel.
What had we known when we set out? We knew that we would be straying into the Shadowlands. But we knew so little of them: only the limited power of the gods there, and of the greyness of the sky, and of the strangeness of the creatures there... but that was all. We knew also the shrine to which Li Tiesha had last been headed; it was to a shrine to Fire of some significance. So that is, of course, where we started.
Upon arriving, there were no signs of her, save faint traces of weeks-old footsteps. We knew we were not in the Shadowlands yet, for Shailar had been keeping track of the color of the sky; and it was blue and it was white with the clouds, but not yet grey. What to do next, we were not entirely sure. I searched through my bag for the incense and firemaking tools which I always keep with me, and set it up on the shrine; my companions helped me steady it, and helped to light the fire; and once the incense was lit, we all - minus those handful who stayed back to guard - settled ourselves down upon the ground and began to meditate.
How long we did so for, I cannot be entirely sure - it is difficult to keep track of time while in meditation, for part of the point is to let go of the world outside. But when we opened our eyes, it was not upon the landscape which we had closed them upon. The plants around us were withered and woody and dead, and twisted into things they ought not to be; and the sky, when we looked up, was the flat, featureless grey which we had been told to expect. We all stood, shaking the tingling out of our limbs; and myself, and Shailar, and the other elves present, gazed about us with the wide-eyed fearfulness of a world known only to be dangerous. But our companions, though they stood and livened their limbs as well, seemed to shrug off the landscape as if it were nothing other than normal.
What did we do then? Ah, but pardon my recollection... even for us, it is much like remembering a dream. Some parts stand out, but others fade to the background. I will try my best to remember with best detail what happened from there, but I cannot guarantee complete accuracy.
There was a man with us - Malfurien - who was a ranger, and a tracker; and Shailar convinced him that we should search for Li Tiesha’s footsteps and attempt to follow them. This, he did; and one by one, we filed away from the shrine and down the hill, in pursuit of the tracks which he did indeed find leading off into the brush. It was not long before we encountered creatures of the Shadowlands - mere minutes, in fact, for there was a group of them at the bottom of the hill. They appeared to be goblins, of a sort, though far different from any goblins in Sorikonia; but as they approached us, they cried with their shrill, pitched voices, “Kill the goblins! Kill the goblins!”.
It was immediately clear, to a point, what was happening. Even as they approached us with weapons drawn, I perceived that the perception of those in the Shadowlands was reversed; and surely they must perceive us as the small, violently-inclined creatures which are known to perpetually gnaw at the edges of villages and orchards, and meant to deal with us as such. Furthermore, the Shadowlands was a reversal of the land that cast it as a shadow - and, as the primary method by which such things are supposed to be dealt with in Sorikonia is by peace, in the Shadowlands, such things are dealt with by the sword.
Some of my companions immediately drew swords and approached the goblins; I think that they attempted peaceful words, but knew that they would not work. I hung back behind them, and knelt to the ground and began to search through my bag for the paper and pens which, along with the incense and many other tools, I always keep there. Shailar, seeing this, kept an eye on me, and urged me to move when the goblins drew close; and Urun, also seeing this, moved to ward them off while I first fumbled through the bag and began afterwards to write. They fretted, and I do not blame them.
After some minutes, our companions at the front were able to fell the goblins; and by that time, the second group - those who had chosen to guard us, before - had figured out how to make their way through the portal, and joined us. We proceeded onwards quickly, then for we knew not how long it would be before something else took an interest in our group.
Malfurien tracked Li Tiesha’s footsteps down the hill and further through a valley. At one point - I do not remember if it was amongst the footsteps, or elsewhere on the ground, or on the bodies of one of the slain goblins - a paper was found. It appeared to be an old journal entry, now smeared with a substance which was the dark red of dried blood. I had a bag, and so they gave the paper to me to keep safe; similarly so with subsequent papers which we found, and which I quickly stowed.
I know not if there were other details during this time which I missed; I was busying myself with writing upon many slips of paper, and then slipping these into the pockets of my companions. One of the things that Shailar and I have learned as geishas is how to unobtrusively reach a hand in the pocket of another, and to interrupt the gluing of small items without the target’s notice. Most often this is used for taking trinkets or gold from others, much in the manner of thieves; but I have never used it for this purpose. I used it now to put these onto them, instead.
Down into the valley, we went. More creatures attacked us as we continued onwards; I do not quite know what they were, busy with my notes as I was. There came a point where we reached the bottom of the valley; and at that point, the journey became so harrying that I had reached the limit of my notes. All of my concentration was needed simply to stay alive. We had noticed, by this point, several things, all of which accounted for this need. Firstly, the plants - which, until this point, had appeared lifeless and shriveled - became known to us as one of the most dangerous features to this place. There are swamp plants, in our own world, which feed upon insects rather than sunlight and water; they will lure a fly into their gullets and then close upon them, either with jaws or with sticky substances which the fly cannot escape. The plants of the Shadowlands, too - at the slightest brush - quickly let forth vines which ensnared the one who had touched them. They would then dig into the limb of the person and begin to drain away at their blood; and no amount of cutting or pulling could make the vines let go. Only when their target had died, would they slither back into the secret holes from which they had crawled.
Secondly, the nature of the wounds we endured in the Shadowlands became clearer. By this point, many of us had been stabbed by these creatures, or taken by the plants. We had of course healed them, as we would in our own world, if not more conscientiously so; but the healing, even of a magical nature, left thick, ropy scars where they normally would not. I have seen such scars before, on those whose wounds have become infected before they healed properly; and it grew clearer that the very nature of this place was poisonous to us, and that as we accrued more wounds, we would perhaps become unable to be healed at all.
Thirdly, the spells to which we had grown so accustomed - things such as medicine ball, or rebirth, or treeform, all of which we normally rely upon - cost us in a way that they did not in our own world. Each one drained the caster of a mana. Furthermore, other skills - those of paladins, and of samurai - did not work at all, when it came time for combat. This discovery was untimely, for the creatures which we fought had grown much larger and more fearsome: at the bottom of this valley, we encountered creatures which resembled giants from our own world. They hurled boulders at us. I tried to defend myself and my companions - defend only, for even and especially in this place, I will not attack another - but there is little I can do about boulders. It clipped my side; and then I was wounded; and then shortly thereafter, I was dead.
Each of us was revived shortly thereafter with a rebirth; but each of us was marked with even more horrific scars than occurred with normal wounds, and mostly around our necks. It seems that the creatures of the Shadowlands which we had fought had sought afterwards to remove our heads, and this is what had killed us. Many of us were growing weary; and at this time, many of us lacked limbs (for we had resorted to amputation to escape the plants), and our numbers were growing smaller, as there were some of us who we could no longer spare the time or maneuverability to retrieve. We continued onwards, harried all the way by more creatures of an increasingly terrifying nature; and Malfurien was still at the front, still following the footsteps of Li Tiesha. I attempted to help Shailar along, for she had lost one of her legs; but she would have none of it. The rest of our group, I tried to keep eyes upon, for we could not afford to abandon any more than we already had.
Skies. I cannot even remember what I remember anymore. There was too much, and too much of it awful; it was like walking through a bad dream from which one cannot awaken. At the end, it was even worse. I remember that we found more papers, and that we had even found the royal dress which Li Tiesha wears; but we were stuck in a valley - thankfully, this one more open and devoid of plant matter than the rest - attempting to fend off far too many creatures for our diminished numbers. We were drawing back in an effort to simply outrun that which we were beset by, but even that we could not do, for in our retreat many of us were wounded, and by that time so few of us had the energy to revive them. We did not know when, or how, we would get out, for there was no way which we could perceive. But that was the most important - for we had these signs of Li Tiesha, and someone must deliver them.
Each of these things had been given to me for safekeeping; and, even as we fought to fend off that which pressed us further up the valley sides, I drew forth the papers from my bag, and wrapped them up in Li Tiesha’s garments. This bundle, then, I thrust at Shailar; and as she stumbled back, I placed my hands on her shoulders, and attempted to give myself over to any watching forces so that she might be pulled from this place and back to Sorikonia. There, she would be able to warn the Masters of what had happened, and then the others might have been rescued as well. But if there were any watching forces, they did not intervene; and there I was a moment later, trying to help carry a shell-shocked and wide-eyed Shailar back from the tide of danger.
What happened after that, I do not remember. It is too much a haze. Somehow, we recovered Li Tiesha’s body, for she had been turned into one of the zombies which assaulted us; somehow, Malfurien, or perhaps someone else, found another shrine; and desperately, we all made our way to it - half of us being dragged behind the others - and then, we were awake again, and blinking in the sunlight and blue skies of Sorikonia.
What have we learned from this? Most of our companions cannot remember it, just as when we were in the Shadowlands, they could not remember a world other than it. Only those of us with an ability to throw off attempts to twist our minds - elves, and others with abilities and blessings which grant them this resistance - are able to recall it at all. But even for this, I am thankful; for we know, now, what it is that we face, and we are better able to prepare for it.
There are some of our companions still trapped in the Shadowlands - not least, Chen Panjue. Another expedition will likely be made to retrieve him, and the others, but it will be done tomorrow - when the daylight is not waning. I do not know if there is nighttime in the Shadowlands, but I cannot see it any other way. Even during the day, it was difficult, and in the darkness, it can only be more so.
May it be that I was able to grant them some small protection. By now, I am sure, those of our companions who were brought out have discovered the papers in their pockets: small papers, reminding them of the light and the strength and the goodness which they bring to us in simply being themselves. For that, I perceive, is what the Shadowlands is and does: it turns our sense of normality on its head, and brings us to a world where all is solved by violence, and nothing by peaceful discourse. It is easy to lose one’s self in that world, and I suspect that that is what the infection of the Shadowlands attempts to do: to turn one to a darker version of one’s self. I have lost my ability to bless others, as it was taken when the divines intervened in my death; and this, I understand. But it will not stop me from attempting to place myself between others and the evils which they face - in this way of small paper blessings and hopes, and in others. I do not know if it works; but I have tried, and I can hope that it will save them from what fate they might otherwise meet, and that they will last long enough for us to rescue them.
Li Tiesha is in the care of the Martial Masters, now; hopefully she will recover as fully as possible, for the Shadowlands did a great deal of damage to her. The papers, Shailar has, and we will attempt to divine their meanings so that we might gain a greater understanding of the place which we have escaped.
Light shine from us all; for we need it now more than ever, as the darkness draws closer around us.
Aurora Nightsong Sixthmoon, Day 17: Evening
Finally out of quarantine. Certainly took long enough. They had herbalists working on us all afternoon - that’s about how long it took to get through all of us, even with them starting with the other herbalists in our group. Something about having to go and collect the herbs, and then making them into those smelly concoctions and rubs and gods know what else. I don’t know what they did, or why it took so long; but it worked, so I guess I can’t complain too much. I’m just glad to be out.
The world doesn’t stop moving while you’re sitting and twiddling your thumbs and doing nothing, though. Part of the reason I was so anxious to get out. I like to be doing things, dammit, not just sitting around and waiting for someone to do something to me. I went pretty quickly to find Amara, since she hadn’t been in quarantine and she always seems to have some idea of what’s going on all the time. So there we were, sitting and talking, when, predictably, some of the younger adventures came careening over towards us on some dreadfully exciting and urgent mission. Verra’s bootheels, but I swear that this must be what it feels like to be Chen Panjue. Or any of the other martial masters who tend to the adventurer’s inn. I don’t know how often they must get their lives interrupted by us, and I don’t really have any inclination to find out. This is enough.
The adventurers appeared to be some of Amara’s numerous apprentices. They came running up to us, waving scraps of paper in our faces and nattering excitedly about jade. Bless their hearts, but it always gets me when somebody else bothers to check out old scraps of diary and chronicle. Not enough people do that, and it’s incredibly saddening. And frustrating. Those are the kind of people I dislike, you know? They expect you to have all the answers or to give all the answers to them, but can’t be bothered to actually try to find the answers on their own. Glad to see that somebody else has picked up the habit.
They showed us the paper. A lot of interesting stuff on it. It was hard to make out, since someone had taken the liberty of drawing on it with blood; and there were several large pieces missing from it. Unfortunately, neither is particularly uncommon when it comes to old important pieces of paper, so it wasn’t that hard to read around. There was a lot of interesting stuff in that paper. Looked like an old journal talking about the Shadowlands. Mentioned Lion Clan and Heron Clan, for starters, which is enough in and of itself. They were talking about one of the last words on the paper, though - jade - and saying that it was a cure for the infection of the Shadowlands. The wording on the paper was arranged oddly, and didn’t make much sense, but I could kind of see what they were getting at.
Jade, then. So that’s what they wanted. We had some favors with the martial masters from turning in all the Grim’s morganti, earlier; and they wanted us to spend our favors for jade. Sounded like a good use of it to me. Better than all the magic items and other special, selfish stuff everybody wanted to spend it on. Cure for the Shadowlands disease? Sold! Off we went to find Suun Fone. It took some convincing, and she seemed a little reluctant to let us use the favor on this, but she said that she’d see what could be done. We left it at that. I trust them to be able to do what they promise; no need to hound them about it.
Sounds like a lot happened during our few hours of quarantine. Lots of stories about the Shadowlands. I’ve got thoughts on that, but unfortunately I don’t have time to write them down now; and I’ve got to check some old records, anyway. There’s a lot of stuff that’s ringing bells, and it’s ringing all the wrong ones. I don’t know what’s going on, but I intend to find out.
Marion Sparrowsong
My goodness, the stories! This is why I do my best to hang around adventurers - for stories are a bard’s bread and butter, and they’re much better when they’re fresh instead of having been handed from mouth to mouth several people down the line. Better for competition with your fellow bards too - only friendly, of course - because everyone wants to hear the new stories, and if you’re the first one to hear ‘em, you can also be the first one to tell ‘em! Works out good for me.
Now today - today is the stuff you write long, drawn-out, dramatic lays about. Ah, the drama! The spectacle! I still have to orchestrate my stories before I can tell them, but you see, the subjects - the subjects are exactly what we need. How many, do you think, would want to hear the story of the war against the Grim? Of the two tides of battle, adventurers clad in bright-and-shining silver armor and their opposition in swirling dark cloaks, meeting as two fearsome waves, each set on tearing the other to pieces... and then, just as the battle reached its height, and the adventurers were scattered and almost set to run - morganti! But of course, being adventurers, they quickly took the morganti and set right to using it. That tends to be what adventurers do, I’ve found. Makes for great stories. Something about the theme of defeating evil by using its own evil against it. People eat that stuff up. Or then, of course, there’s the Shadowlands. That’s one of those stories you tell late at night around a dying fire - one of those creeping, insiduous stories that people love to hear for the adrenaline rush they get when they step outside, and suddenly, it’s as if they’re in the Shadowlands too.
(In fact, speaking of late-night Shadowlands, word in the inn is that one of the night patrols encountered some signs of the Shadowlands. Something about some kind of frog demon. And it seems that none other than the heroes Gideon and Amara D’ni have disappeared entirely. Now, never minding speculation that, being lovers, it’s entirely possible they have gone off to engage in just what lovers do... but it’s far more dramatic to assume that they have wandered into the Shadowlands and are, even now, attempting to defend their way out. I suppose we will know the truth in the morning.)
As for the other stories of the night - one group has gone to take a look into what appear to be zombie reenforcements coming up the shore and headed towards the Grim. There was to be another group who would attempt to fight the Grim in the dark, but unfortunately, the great army consisted of only three people. Now, certainly, three people against an army makes for an incredible story - but those stories are usually tragedies, of which there are far too many these days, so you will understand if I don’t blame these poor souls for backing out of the mission entirely. Perhaps the reenforcements will be mistaken for the heroes in the dark and the Grim will begin to annihilate itself instead.
But I suppose it must be mighty infuriating to be hearing about the construction of the stories, rather than the stories themselves. I apologize for teasing you in such a way, as it will be some time before I have the stories down to a point where I can tell them to do ‘em justice. In the meantime, however, if you haven’t heard them yet, you should look through my records and find those songs. Won’t take more than a few minutes of your time, I promise, and they should be plenty entertaining if you have an ear to listen.
Aurora Nightsong Sixthmoon, Day 17: Late Night
So that checking-up I said I’d do? Done. I know what it was that was bugging me about what everyone was saying about the Shadowlands now.
Namely, I’ve been there before. And I’m going to be there again, given the Shadowlands is my afterlife, so you’ll understand my particular interest in the subject. But I’ve been there before, and it wasn’t just this year, either. It was a couple decades ago, in my first year of adventuring, right when the Bone Gate appeared.
For the majority of you who are too lazy to bother looking back at old records, I’ll make it easy for you. Shadowlands had been around all year, because Curves and company had set up explodable boxes of silver coins and morganti to be unforged on top of shrines. We spent a lot of painstaking, soul-aching time removing these boxes without triggering them, which is made a great deal harder when you’re trying to not be killed by undead while doing it - especially when large portions of this undead can go ethereal, and you can’t use any goddamn spirit guide because that will make the chests explode. Excuse my rant. Anyway, towards the end of the year, there were all these little gates that were appearing in all of the shrines. Teeny tiny little gates of bone. And then there was a giant bone gate on the southern shore of Sorikonia, and it was connected to the Three Shadowlands Demons that I repeatedly pissed off in my spare time. Defeat the demons, and you break the gate - except if you exorcise them, then they can reappear in their native plane, the Shadowlands, and come right back out the gate that conveniently links just to there.
Well, we went inside it briefly. I remember that we got in there, and it pretty much looked like hell on earth. That, and there were a bunch of other nasty demons waiting for us. One of them chucked an Elder Sorcery sphere of some kind of controlling or other at me, and I just barely escaped with the help of the Green Demon. Don’t ask. You’re not getting an answer.
But the point is, look at the beginning of that second sentence. I remember. I’m not an elf. I don’t have mental protections. If you wanted to charm me, you could, except that that’s pretty much a guarantee that I’ll tear your face off once my fantastic friends remove it. Which is in turn a death sentence, which is why people don’t try it. Do you see what I’m getting at? You don’t remember the Shadowlands. Not now. All those people who wandered into it today? None of them remember anything about it, save the elves. Hell, I even went into it briefly rescuing that idiot journeyman after he stepped over a shrine, and I don’t remember anything about what that was like. I resorted to drawing pictures and writing notes to get any sense of it.
So obviously, something has changed about the situation. If you expect me to have the answer again, I don’t. Honestly, I have no idea. I could probably come up with some kind of bullcrap excuse for an analysis of it, but it would probably be wrong, and I don’t like being wrong. But the point is, something has changed, and if we want to have any chance of figuring out how to fix the fact that Sorikonia is sinking into the Shadowlands, we should probably be figuring out what exactly that is. And guess what? Not my problem! It’s yours! Unfortunately, I have other things to keep an eye on this year, which means that except for specific circumstances, you don’t get my help figuring out what’s going on. You get to do that all on your own. So let me know if you find anything, because I’m hereby delegating that job to you. Have fun. Don’t die.
(Start by looking into a historical event called the Darkness Zone. You might notice some similarities. Just maybe.)
Oh yeah - one last thing. I’m hearing something about the shrines of Sorikonia being used to access the Shadowlands, whether you intend it or not (but especially if you intend it). Check out that paragraph up there again talking about the exploding boxes of morganti and silver, and how there were miniature bone gates on lots of the shrines towards the end of the year. Once the big gate was closed, nobody bothered to check on the little gates. Mistake, guys. Don’t you think that maybe, if somebody had bothered to look into it, we wouldn’t be having this problem right now? I think I even said something about it at the time. Really, guys. If you’re going to expect me to have all the answers, you might at least listen to the ones I give. Then you wouldn’t end up in these messes. Either way, it’s a part of the answer now, so start looking into that too.
Check your inconsistencies, people. This is how you figure out what’s going on. All those tiny little details that happen while you’re busy not getting slayed by morganti wraiths are the important ones that you have to compare with other people later. Because when you start seeing inconsistencies, that means that something’s up, and something isn’t being perceived the right way, either intentionally or accidentally. Both of those are very different kinds of inconsistencies, but they’re both important. Stop assuming you can just stumble upon the answers for everything, and start using your eyes. And your brain. You’d be amazed how far those’ll get you.
|
|
|
Post by Celebfealor on Oct 13, 2013 19:54:08 GMT -8
And finally, chronicle for Club League June campout, day #3.
Aurora Nightsong - Sashi Eten, Sorikonia, Year 15,968
Sixthmoon, Day 18: Morning
Predictably, the Grim came in last night and took back all of the area we pushed them off of yesterday. So the plan is that, just like yesterday, we’re going to go push them back again. Lucky for us, there’s no chance they’ll have had time to do much securing yet, even if they spent all last night working on it. So it should be a lot easier to deal with, comparatively.
There are still a couple carakwaiths wandering around out there, though. Deathwish, for one, and Wraithlord too. Who knows when we’re going to run into those screwups. Haven’t yet, which means that they’re still hiding out somewhere in there and waiting for us to find them. Sounds like fun, huh?
Things have been mostly routine this morning, save two things. One, our favor-cache-in of jade came in. I didn’t realize when we asked the masters for jade that they were going to search for all the jade on Sorikonia, but that’s what they did. There’s a bag of small pieces of it that they have under lock and key now; everybody gets one piece. Experimentation yielded that if you hold the jade to those nasty Shadowlands scars and use a medicine ball or healing touch or something like that over it, it’ll heal up the scar properly. Of course, the jade disintegrates in the process, so once it’s used, it’s gone. It might also be able to ward off other effects of the Shadowlands... but I suppose we’ll be finding that out later today.
Two, Tui Ripentot came in and huffed at us for a couple seconds before leaving again. Nothing else, just huffed and left. I swear by Verra’s knucklebones, but he gets odder every day.
Kioriel Fealor
Following our discovery of the papers yesterday evening, this morning we set out to attempt to gather more information about their details. Here is a transcription of the note, as we perceive it is intended to be read:
“...invisible when... a shimmering in... uneasiness about... is ethereal in... this to be... used cloth... first few... terrible... Heron brothers... ing what appeared to be... The wounds would.... I could wake... recover their strength. Spell usage was incredibly draining and I was only able to heal two of the four who had sustained wounds. Our Chi was also compromised, though not completely, and had I been able to get out of combat we might have saved them. We were attacked again and by the time we returned to our fallen comrades they were dead. Had I known what would have become of them, I would have dismembered them, as they Lion Clan taught us later, but at the time we were unaware of the effect of the infection. Within an hour or less they were on their feet again, coming to hunt us down - our own honorable brothers! It was indeed heartbreaking to kill them again. Most amazing is how the Lion discovered the use of jade to deal first with the wounds and...”
Those two most honorable clans which it mentions - Heron Clan and Lion Clan - seemed to us the most sensible place to start. We knew that there were some Lion Clan members in Sorikonia at this time who were aiding our efforts to defeat the Grim; however, their exact locations, we did not know, and thus we firstly dispersed to the marketplace and Sashi Eten streets to attempt to catch rumors of where they might be found.
It saddens me that, though it was scarcely a few moons ago, so few people amongst our companions speak of the tsunami. The scars of its destruction - broken houses, hungry people, debris-littered alleyways - still remain, and will persist for a long time. We walked through the town, and even as we passed through the mires of the chaos left behind, so many seemed not to see it. But that is the way of it, I suppose. It is the purpose of adventurers to seek out and deal with the overbearing, dangerous problems of places; yet few consider it their duty to also help pick up the pieces of the aftermath which those problems - and their solutions - leave behind.
As other searched the streets and squares for a contact who would be able to lead us to Lion Clan, I chose to trust in the ability of my companions to do so and instead put my efforts rather to aiding in the resolution of incidents and issues occurring as we moved through the area. Accusations of thievery, locating those committing such acts, dancers breaking up the flow of movement in the streets, and a particularly nasty incident involving a man dragged into a back alley and then beaten and robbed. Eventually, some amongst my companions discovered where we might find Lion Clan - from the advice of a claymaker, I believe - and we withdrew to speak with the available members we could find.
The man we spoke with - Shizi Freten of the Lion Clan - was, though not one of leaders of the clan, nevertheless rather knowledgable about Lion Clan traditions. From discussing with him some of what we had found in the paper, many curious things came to light. One, Lion Clan officers have a tradition of carrying with them a small stick of jade at all times. He was not especially enthused at this tradition, as it is something which they must purchase with their own gold, and jade is not inexpensive. But nevertheless, we found this interesting. So too, Lion Clan’s tradition of removing the heads of those enemies which they kill - another practice which did not enthuse Freten, as it is a rather dishonorable thing to do. But it, just as the jade, seems to have stemmed from long-forgotten practices to survive the Shadowlands. He did not know the full breadth of their traditions, he said - more information would be with the true leaders of Lion Clan, in Esterock Keep. There, they would also have some artifacts - old skulls, and such - which were said to be of the Shadowlands. Yet such lore was considered mostly old stories and legends aside from these fragments, and it was not until recently that he and others had begun to see them as otherwise.
We could also, he suggested, talk to Heron Clan; it is a very small and very rare clan, but there was one of its members known to be on Sorikonia guarding a shrine to the Elder Goddess for many years now. After thanking Freten for his time and his willingness to share the lore of his clan, it was to the shrine of the Elder Goddess that we went in pursuit of this member of Heron Clan.
As the shrine was a little distance outside the walls of Sashi Eten, we ran into trouble on the road - goblins, I believe. The battle was over very quickly - but it was the aftermath that worried me most. Persons, who I shall not do the dishonor of identifying by name, then proceeded to begin killing the goblins, which was not only unnecessary but also overly thoughtless. Several of our companions and I quickly dealt with the issue - at least, for the moment - by removing the weapons of the person involved. But as always, the originating problem seems to root deeper than simply something in the present moment. Regardless: though there was trouble on the way, we arrived at the shrine in no particular disarray, and sought out the member of Heron Clan to which Freten had directed us.
His name was Cang Lu Neref. We spoke to him also of the paper we had found, and of what Freten had told us; he then responded by citing to us an occasion upon which, he believed, he had wandered into the Shadowlands previously. It was more than two decades ago, he said, and there was much of it that was difficult to remember. But he did remember a moment, he said, when confronted by one of the creatures that lived there; he had his katana, but had lost his tanto, and held instead in that hand an idol of his deity. Forgetting this, he struck out at the creature as if he still wielded his tanto. It so happened that this idol was made of jade, and the creature shrank back from it; and, to his surprise, it wounded the creature as well as any blade should have done. Later, he was able to escape the Shadowlands, though he did not remember much of it; but that moment remained with him.
We thanked him, too, for his sharing of knowledge; between Neref and Freten, we had been able to discover several things about the Shadowlands that would be indispensable information. Then, as we were already at the shrine to the Goddess, some of those familiar with her took time to sacrifice and practice, while others enjoyed the safety the shrine offered and sat to partake in the midday meal. I joined those sacrificing at the shrine; for though the identity of my patron deity still remains unknown to me, I cannot imagine that She or He or It would be in opposition to the Goddess. Thus, i joined the group sacrifice - though I had little to give, and thus wrote what I could give on paper and added it to the pile on the altar. Once everything had been gathered and each person had placed their own additions, the objects and items there went; and we were presented with a vision.
I did not remain for the whole vision, as parts of it felt too dangerous to remain in, and thus I erred on the side of caution. What I did observe began with (describe) (then describe the whole sequencing, what Torald wrote down, etc)
After this, having completed our intention, we returned to the in and to our other companions to share with them what we had discovered. The timing, it would seem, was fortuitous, for there was a thought going around that it was the time to rescue Chen Panjue.
Aurora Nightsong - Sashi Eten, Sorikonia, Year 15,968
Sixthmoon, Day 18: Afternoon
You know what I hate? When you have a solid plan, and you’re all but committed to carrying it out, but something feels a need to pop up and derail everything. Granted, to some extent, that’s every plan that was ever made; but there’s a difference between some demon deciding to come screw up your day, and political horseshit making an unexpected house call. Between the two, I much prefer the former.
I’m sitting here and writing this - instead of making mincemeat of the Shadowlands with the rest of my companions - because Lake Clan felt some need to conduct an investigation into a handful of us. I’m not even kidding. Whatever this is, they apparently felt it so important that it merited preventing us from trying to rescue Chen Panjue - an important ambassador and member of the masters, I might add - which, by the way, has the side effects of both weakening the remaining party still undertaking the task, and completely pissing off both me and Mong. Which, by the way, I don’t advise under pretty much any circumstances.
So now we’re sitting. And waiting. To be investigated. Which is why I have time to be writing this right now. Because it’s sure as hell taking a long time to get started. They could at least be quick about this, you know? We have a lot to get done, and less and less time to do it in. If I weren’t pretty sure I know what this is about, I’d say screw it, let’s just take off. But unfortunately, I think I have some idea of what’s going on, and it means that we’re obligated to stay.
Of course, politics also dictate that we’re not allowed to talk about it, which means that I don’t have a great deal else to say about anything. So I suppose I’ll shut my trap for now and wait for this process to be over with already.
Kioriel Fealor
We shared our newly-gained information with our companions; this allowed them to prepare further to rescue Chen Panjue, and, having made those preparations, they departed. That left to the rest of us still gathered the question of what to do in their absence; for, with so many happenings that required our attention, why not make the best use of our time by tending to some of them?
That which we chose to concern ourselves with was to visit the southern side of the island. For, with so much happening in the northern section - the invasion of the Grim, the encroaching Shadowlands and the appearances of its creatures, the disappearances of Li Tiesha and Chen Panjue - we have had little time to spare elsewhere, and now the southern villages are needing to be soothed and their array of problems given our attention.
Thus, our group left for the southern villages. We arrived safely, with minimal disturbance on the way; once there, we were greeted by a host of angry farmers. After explaining that we were here to help them in the ways they saw fit, they somewhat dubiously listed off several tasks that needed doing: some ogres were throwing rocks nearby, fields needed to be resown after the tsunami, and a group of goblins had made its den in their orchards and would not leave. We divided ourselves amongst these, and proceeded to let them lead us to the areas where these things were occurring.
I went to help sow seeds, as it was also a task I was curious to know the keeping of; and, as we worked under the guidance of one of the famers, I spoke to him and to his farmhands and attempted to make idle conversation. Understandably, he was at first gruff and taciturn - and who wouldn’t be, when faced with the task of teaching adventurers who are by and large incompetent at farming life, and who have been ignoring the needs of your villages in favor of the capital? But as we spoke, and as I asked questions about his crops and their growing, he became a little less rigid. By the end, though he grumpily reprimanded us for ignoring the common people, I think he was somewhat mollified.
The group attempting to resolve the situation with the goblins was still working when we finished, so we went to help them as well. There, it seemed, an interesting dichotomy had developed: Dedoric had crawled inside their den and begun animatedly telling stories, and they seemed to have accepted him as one of their own; while Scarab was rapidly turning purple in the face, and exchanging threats with some of the other goblins to turn one another into belts or stew or some variation thereof. I asked another companion to explain the situation in greater detail as this continued on: she said that the goblins had made their home there, and refused to leave because they needed someplace to live; but they were preventing the farmers from accessing the fruit on the trees and from working on their upkeep.
Having been made aware of this, upon the suggestion of another companion, I stepped in and ensured that Scarab was detained by other companions some ways away. He was dragged - only semi-literally - away by a small cluster of people, who talked to him and attempted to calm him down somewhat. This also calmed the goblins down, which gave me an opportunity to speak to them in my way - which is to say, politely. Please and thank you are two phrases which will often get you very far if you mean them sincerely, and it was with these that we conducted an agreement with the goblins that solved the problem. The goblins could stay there; but we asked them to pass us several fruits so that the farmers could plant new trees away from the goblins’ den. We also attempted to cause an agreement that would let the farmers step in and harvest from the trees as long as they did not disturb the goblins, but that seemed less successful. However, in time, it may be that such a thing will develop - but we will see.
This dealt with, we joined with the group who had gone to deal with the ogres and returned to Sashi Eten. On the way, we explained to one another what each of us had done. The ogres, it seemed, were practicing throwing stones because they had heard that Sashi Eten was going to be throwing a festival - and they, of course, were practicing throwing so that they could throw the festival best. I hid a smile as they explained their solution: they convinced the ogres to continue practicing throwing somewhere else, and that they would come get the ogres when it was time to throw the festival. The intent seems to be that there may indeed be a throwing contest of some sort in the future in order to appease them, though I am not certain of when.
Thus, we returned to Sashi Eten; and thus, we each went our separate ways to partake in dinner before returning to the inn and see what was to be dealt with in the night. No-one seems to doubt that there will be, unusual that it is - but with the Shadowlands making itself more apparent, and with the Grim and Temnor on our doorstep, it is only sensible. There is always much to do.
Aurora Nightsong - Sashi Eten, Sorikonia, Year 15,968
Sixthmoon, Day 18: Evening
You know what else I hate about getting investigated for bullshit political reasons? It takes forever. It’s dark out now, and very late, and we only just finished half an hour ago. I tell you, an entire day wasted. An entire day..
At least the others got Chen Panjue back, it sounds like. But with heavy losses. Tertiary rescue missions are involved, and the whole situation is about three different kinds of stupid. Mong and I were ready to go test the Shadowlands, too, so that we get some practice in before we really have to be at the head of our game. Guess that’s not happening.
Off to finally get some dinner. No food during that whole process, and I’m ravenous.
Marion Sparrowsong
Here I sit, awaiting the return of the scores of adventures off to get lost in the dark tonight. A tip, for any aspiring bards out there: if you want good stories and songs, figure out which inn the adventurers in your city meet at, and join them. Not on the adventures themselves, of course - too dangerous! - but if you eavesdrop a little (well, maybe a lot), you’ll find you get some extraordinary subjects for stories and songs out of the deal. Truth is stranger than fiction, they say, and whatever convoluted version of truth it is that adventurers dwell in is doubly so.
From my own, ahem, eavesdropping, I have learned that the Sashi Eten adventurers split their party between two projects tonight: attempting to root out an invasion of Temnorian pirates, and that age-old pasttime of all adventurers, spending a night on the town. More tips for aspiring bards: ale loosens lips, but it also loosens common sense. Stick around and eavesdrop while adventurers are getting drunk, but once they start getting rowdy, best to make a subtle escape. Townsfolk roaring drunk and trained adventurer roaring drunk are two entirely different things, and you don’t want to tangle with the latter one.
But I digress - ah, this wandering pen of mine! Upon their return, the adventurers brought with them stories of their endeavors. Temnor - sneaky, sly, slippery Temnor - chose not to invade by simple brute force, but rather tried to sneak in and disguise themselves as part of the Sorikonian population. Now, as I understand it, with Sorikonian honor culture, this becomes somewhat difficult to deal with: after all, it’s very rude to take a peacekeeper with you and simply ask every villager you see whether or not they’re a pirate! This in mind, I suspect that these adventurers have not been as successful as they may have liked; but then, Temnor always seems as if it has to brag that it’s better than everyone else, which is difficult to do when nobody is paying the proper attention to see what cunningly subtle rout you’ve created. So I suspect we’ll be hearing more from them in the future, and they will be caught proper, and all will be well.
And, for all my pronouncements at the possibility of drunk adventurers, it seems that most of them have retired at this late hour; and so it is wise to retire for the night myself.
Of course, even as we sleep, the Grim will be making its move, and Esterock will be trying to move with it... I suspect we will awaken to many stories in the morning.
|
|
|
Post by Celebfealor on Nov 25, 2013 16:28:38 GMT -8
And finally, the chronicle from the last day of the June campout. Happy November, guys!
(Club Campout, Day 4, 2013)
Marion Sparrowsong
Alas! As if writ by the pen of some unwieldy hand of fate, come this morning, Sorikonia awoke to find the Grim having moved deftly in the night. As it is in the stories, it is upon our doorstep. But then, they say that truth is stranger than fiction, and that fiction is merely a mirror of reality; so perhaps, then, it is less that the Grim have conformed to the patterns of a story, but that the stories which we tell around the late-night fire have successfully mimicked our reality. Useful, for us bards. Nobody will believe a story without a measure of truth to it, and if nobody believes it, nobody wants to pay for it! But here’s a tip for all you up-and-coming bards: the world follows the patterns of a story. If you can divine that story’s dramatic arc, then you have found the patterns of the world - and can thereafter make a killing as a fortune-teller, and retire comfortably with fame and renown. Not a bad way to make a living, eh?
But I, once again, digress. It was like the stories: the Grim moved in under cover of the dark; but come the call of dawn, Sorikonia awoke, and battle was nigh. Esterock Keep’s naval forces, the collected forces of the Free Republics of Roekron, and of course (who could forget?) the adventurers assembled, and marched down to meet the Grim on those last miles of shore that remained to them. So the forces of the Light gathered to meet the forces of the Dark - and then, the fighting began. Men met hungry tides of ghouls and trolls and all their ilk; Grim and Esterock ships crashed in the water, hurling destruction back and forth as children with a ball; ashen crushers played their part on land, flattening ranks of Eon Ion elves and Hostorian mages; and Martial Masters handily disabled any ork or ogre who sought to get in their way. What a spectacle! What a battle! But hardly did it end there.
From the tales of excited adventurers, the action felt so near - it was almost as if I were there myself. Now, make no mistake - I surely wasn’t! Me - Marion Sparrowsong, humble bard and excellent eavesdropper - walk onto the battlefield! Hardly! But I have it on good authority what happened next.
As the gathered forces of Sorikonia began to sweep through the ranks of the Grim, a ship moved from its ranks to lock lips with the shore. From the mouth of its gaping hold came the true terrors of the Grim: and the carakwaith Deathwish, accompanied by a brace of other vampiric attendants, took the field. For a moment, the battle stopped, soldiers on both sides waiting silently - breath bated (in the living troops, anyway), awaiting the first move.
A beat later, the battlefield exploded. Adventurers descended on the vampires as vultures on a carcass; within mere minutes, all of them were dead - save one. Deathwish still stood, sneering, unimpeded by anything the adventurers could do. He dueled them, defeating them one by one, as the other adventurers picked off the remaining Grim forces on the battlefield. Time trickled by; even as the Grim were swept against their last fortifications and shrinking back, Deathwish still fought - almost casually. He twisted souls; maimed with morganti; cursed some, and drove others to insanity. More than hold his own against an entire battlefield, he pressed onwards; and for a time, it seemed inevitable that the battle might be lost.
But then, from behind a patch of brush, a man - one known to be a tennant in the service of the Martial Masters - quietly crept around the fight. Unbeknownst to Deathwish as he dueled and felled another ally, the man crept around him; then, just as the duel reached its conclusion, rushed out from his cover and plunged his sword right into Deathwish’s seemingly-invulnerable flesh. But it was not flesh that the man cut, for Deathwish is a pacifist; nor was it some sort of fantastic exorcism strike, which would cut through his vampire nature. No: it was a spell that the man cut, and that spell was Deathwish’s pacifism.
Deathwish knew in that moment that he had underestimated his enemies; and that, without the protection of his pacifism, he was done for. Eyes widening, he fled, a score of adventurers chasing him just at the hem of his cloak. He did not stop at the edge of land, nor at his armada; no, it’s said that so shaken was he that he ran all the way to the Dark City, where he surely found himself greeted by a master who is widely known not to forgive failures.
With the felling of their general, the Grim troops drew back. Those pitiful remainders trailed back into the ship bellies, and the ships turned from shore; as Esterock ships massed to give them their rightful sendoff, the army back on land cheered, triumphant. Deathwish - one of the greatest threats to Sorikonia - was gone, at least for the time being; and the island was returned to the possession solely of its inhabitants.
Celebration lasted well through the walk back; it has permeated every inn and tavern, cried out in song on every street, and perhaps will find itself vomiting gloriously into the back alleys of the city later tonight. The war is not over; but victory has been seized, and this battle has been won. Hope is high for the fate of the island; and, perhaps, Sorikonia will yet survive to see this story through to its end.
|
|
|
Post by Celebfealor on Jan 30, 2014 0:20:41 GMT -8
Welp, I wanted to get my season finale chronicles done before doing this one, but it's pretty clear that's not going to happen. So I'm just posting this now and coming back to the other ones when I get around to them. Sum-Up of Day:- Initially went to deal with stragglers from Dagdeoth Divisions. They were sent back to Dagdeoth.
- Attempted to solve an issue wherein hill giants were stealing/hunting caribou stocks. Bargains were attempted, misinterpretations was had, and things fell through.
- People went out to find magical ingredients for Abel in Dagmenth Forest. Two magic items were given as rewards.
- We also went to fight a Dagdeoth Division on the border in Amen Town. It went so-so.
- Afterwards we looked into ogres who were kidnapping villagers, who it turned out were sacrificing these villagers to an ogreish deity of destruction.
- Last (bday mission), the mine tunnels were cleaned out of goblins (and some turuk orks and a cave troll were pulled up in the process.
Talia Dagmere 5th Firstmoon, 15,996 Axiems - Svodlun Axiems is a small city tucked in a corner on the edge of the Dagmenth Forest; currently it is in the possession of Svodlun, though it has changed hands to Dagdeoth and back often throughout history. It is a very neutral city, and changes sides as often as it changes hands. A necessity, if it wishes to survive. Its emphasis on family values must be noted as well; this is exemplified particularly by Lady Lelis Sentris, an apparently motherly figure and the woman in charge of Axiems. Adventurers have congregated in Axiems, as promised. Many of them are from warmer climates, and are having to learn how to adapt to the cold this far north. I suspect that will determine who is left alive at the end of our time here: who can adapt. The north is not kind, and it is not for everyone. There has been some talk about exploring even further north, beyond the borders of Roekron. It will be interesting to see who attempts it. Most likely, the majority won’t find it in accordance with their personal sensibilities. After briefly meeting Lady Sentris, we were sent to go deal with Dagdeoth stragglers wandering across the Svodlun border - mostly lost fragments of Dagdeoth Divisions cut off from the rest of their groups. Unsurprisingly, the first thought that most of the party had was to beat them into the ground. An unnecessary measure, which was quickly done away with in favor of other methods. It is much more agreeable to simply explain to these groups that they are going the wrong way, and that if they want to return to Dagdeoth, it is behind them. Even the (understandably) aggressive units were largely cooperative, once the skeletons in charge were done away with. Ogres and trolls are more agreeable and worthy of much more respect than most give them credit for. I hope this is a lesson the party will learn as they grow accustomed to this place. Another conference with Lady Sentris occurred - this one not quite so brief - and a group of adventurers left to deal with hill giants who were disrupting the caribou ranches (a mission which Lady Sentris wanted dealt with particularly). My understanding is that they initially helped rescue some caribou, but subsequently bargained them away as free food for the hill giants as part of a deal to try to get the giants to work for Axiems. An interesting approach, but ultimately unsuccessful. Perhaps better work will be done next time. Afterwards, another group went to find Abel (one of Lady Sentris’s sons) and discuss with him the ingredients he needed harvested from Dagmenth Forest. He is apparently a very talented crafter of magical items, and requires unusual ingredients for his processes. Among the ones he requested were ent sap and crushed bones. These were procured by the group who went to find them, and being pleased at what they brought back, Abel awarded two magic items to members of the party who participated. Clearly he has worked with adventurers before, and is familiar with the sorts of things that motivate them. Afternoon saw another group of adventurers venture down to Amen Town to assist Broncis (another of Lady Sentris’s sons) in holding the line against Dagdeoth. I observed the battle carefully. Broncis is a talented fighter in the way that Abel is a talented crafter; I can’t say the same for the rest of the party. Some ground was lost, some was gained. It always is as such - one of the eternal struggles of the north. I hope that the party doesn’t tire of fighting these battles over and over again over the next months, otherwise they will very quickly find themselves mired in the inevitable. The mission afterwards was to look into a group of ogres in the nearby Cugmenth Forest who seemed to be kidnapping villagers. I wonder how many were surprised when the information came to light that the ogres were likely not eating the villagers, as ogres are often stereotyped as doing, but instead moving them to a shrine to be sacrificed. I had assumed this from the point at which we were told of the initial information in the morning - this is the way of things in this area of the world. A group went out to look into it. We encountered villagers on the way who took exception to the face of one of our party members. It never ceases to amaze me the extent to which people are willing to judge others on such shallow matters as scars, and how quickly they leap to assumptions that they have often not bothered to understand. Unfortunately, that’s the way of the world, not just here. People will always find a way to be prejudiced. A little ways ahead of the village, we found the ogres. They were indeed sacrificing the villagers, to an ogreish deity of destruction. Once this train of events was confirmed, I left - it’s smarter not to get in the way of such things. Most of my party members didn’t seem to have realized this yet, and attempted to intervene. It should be noted that this is often how one becomes a sacrifice one’s self; it is generally not advisable to be the one on the altar. However, as I said, adaptation will determine who is left at the end of this. Those who learn this will survive; those who don’t, won’t. Lastly, in the evening, a final group was assigned the task of cleaning out the mines of goblins. Rather than simply slaughter them all, someone had the foresight to bring a long length of rope and tie the goblins up to be released later in the forest by Abel - of which I approve. The rest of the group managed to dig up some Turuk Orks and a cave troll further down the tunnels, which had to be dealt with by some of the military forces in the area. Unfortunate, but unsurprising. A final note - as my purpose here is to teach others about the workings of this world we inhabit, I have been giving lectures on pieces of the whole while we walk. I will be copying down my notes here, so that those who were not able to attend may still have access to them, and those who heard them the first time may reference them later. --- The Rules of Magic1. The Rule of Innocence. This rule states that some doors are only open if you don’t know what they are. Many greater powers, in order to protect themselves, will not make themselves available to those who understand them and thus could potentially abuse or misuse them. Therefore, these powers are often only accessible to those innocent to their meanings. Furthermore, it is a process of learning: the growth gained in the process of discovering the information for one’s self is greater than that of someone who has simply had the information handed to them. 2. The Rule of Three. Three is a number that is often repeated in the workings of the universe. Trios of deities are a common motif in mythology. We also separate time into three sections - past, present, future - and stories into three parts - past, present, future. Magical things often come in threes. Just as one should pay attention to when things start showing up in threes, one should also pay attention to when things that should appear in threes do not. 3. The Rule of Names. The rule of names states that some beings, generally of a divine or near-divine status, can hear when their name is used and in some cases respond to it. This has a connection to the nature of Elder Sorcery, as the aforementioned is a True Names language. This is why we often use subnames in place of the names of these beings - so as not to attract their attention at crucial moments. Invoking the name of these forces at the wrong moment has seen the end of many adventurers, and is not advisable. Elder SorceryElder Sorcery is a true names language. The reason it is so powerful is because you are, by definition, speaking the truth; and the reason it works is that when you say something, it must become true. This makes it very dangerous, which is why mages are required to undergo very careful training before they are allowed to use it. Misuse of it can end with a fumble, with a death on the part of the caster, or at its worst a paradox. Elder Sorcery is also the native language of dragons; and other creatures, such as elementals, are born with the knowing of Elder Sorcery innate to them, which gives them status as particularly magical beings. Rules of Elder SorceryEach type of Elder Sorcery has rules associated with it that are not to be transgressed without consequence. They are below. a. Storm Magic - Above all else, affecting time magic on a wide scale is taboo and in extreme cases merits interference by Astengrad directly. This is because it can cause interference in the timeline and result in dangerous paradoxes. Storm magic is also cautioned about controlling people or changing them against their wills. Weather magic is sometimes permissible but generally discouraged under the jurisdiction of Pinnacle, though it was outright outlawed under the Wizard’s Trade Order, b. Life Magic - Life mages are cautioned not to attempt to heal morganti. Many have tried, and these attempts most often result in the permanent death of the caster. c. Necromancy - Necromancy comes across issues of slavery and control over extended periods of time - what happens when a necromancer binds an undead for longer than a battle. It is also a very corrupting form of magic in general. Necromancers are also advised to be careful about interfering with spirits and with disease. d. Nature Magic - The primary concern of a nature mage is unbalancing the eco system. Modifying creatures or plants with magic can upset the natural order of life, and wreak havoc on the stability of everything in the area. The other concern is with transformation; nature mages who are polymorphed for too long will begin to forget who they are, to the point where they are unable to revert themselves. e. Flame Magic - The caution of flame magic has to do simply with scope of destruction. The rules here are simple: do not commit Elder Sorcery of Mass Destruction. Do not spend mana that you do not have on powerful spells. ManaElder Sorcery is powered by mana. There are different colors of mana which go with each mage type, and these colors of mana are often produced in different locations. Large producers of mana are called mana wells. a. White Mana - Found primarily in large areas of plains. b. Blue Mana - Found primarily on islands. c. Green Mana - Found primarily in forests. d. Red Mana - Found primarily through mountains. e. Black Mana - Found primarily in swamps and marshland.
|
|
|
Post by Celebfealor on Feb 3, 2014 17:22:59 GMT -8
I recorded the song from the ritual yesterday. Here it is. Disclaimer #1: Forgive my incredibly sucky computer mic. Disclaimer #2: There are going to be occasional spot of terrible dissonance. Be prepared. Disclaimer #3: I wanted to do something way cooler than this but my harmony-writing skills are not up there yet. So the harmonies are pretty simple/consistent. Disclaimer #4: There may be incorrect words in there - it was hard to understand some of the ones from yesterday, but I did the best I could.
|
|
|
Post by Celebfealor on Feb 9, 2014 23:19:23 GMT -8
Disclaimer: my descriptions of the other groups are probably fairly inaccurate, given I was generally in other rooms and thus going off of scattered bits of commentary. - Group #1 went dungeoneering to help Abel out with dealing with the shrine to Abbethor, which previously spread cursed coins around the city. They also went to collect ingredients for Abel later.
- Group #2 dealt with large gatherings of giants (probably the consequences of promises made last event), and helped the Showdrifts scout along the northern border of Roekron.
- Group #3 attended an elven Ulalina ("Twilightsong") ritual, during which songs were sung at twilight. There was slight miffery when the last of the Lagmenth elves took attention away from Lord Orixriel, but otherwise everything turned out fine.
- Due to the presence of wood troll ambushes in the forest as well as actual groups of Dagdeoth troops in the northern part of the forest, we can assume that Dagdeoth is making moves to take the area over.
- People have to get specific permission/give a donation/pledge loyalty to assorted guilds or groups in order to get training. Slightly more detail is at the bottom of the chronicle.
Talia Dagmere 2nd Secondmoon, 15,996 Axiems - Svodlun Due to the difficulties posed to us by the weather today, we were unable to approach as many tasks as we would have liked. From my understanding, our efforts were split between three tasks and thus three groups. One, a group supporting Abil, which included both attending to mistakes surrounding a shrine to Abbethor and also collecting a usual array of strange ingredients for him. Two, groups attending to miscellaneous issues - resolving another previous mistake regarding the giants, and joining with the Snowdrifts to patrol around the northern side of the forests. Three, a group attending the Uialina ritual in specifically the Lagmareth Forest. Regarding the group attending to Abel: prior to this day, many members of this same group helped him by bringing a sacrifice to a shrine of Morden for him. They were warned to beware Abbethor, as the aforementioned is very good at mimicking the shrines of other deities. Though they made the sacrifice successfully, they were sidetracked on the way out towards another shrine bearing Morden’s symbol as well as harboring many magic items and a pile of gold. The items disintegrated as they left, and the gold they took cursed the owner with greed as well as duplicate whenever spent. Some of these coins have made their way into the marketplaces of Axiems. I believe this group was attempting to resolve this issue by interacting with the shrine to Abbethor again, though I am only informed through scare rumors and may be incorrect in this assessment. It seems this did not go well, and they later went to collect zombie feet and flesh from wounds given by ethereal beings. Regarding the second group: the giants in question are the same that were encountered a month previously, which were given promises of free caribou if they would work for Axiems as men at arms. Given that many giants were massing, it would seem to result from this foolish form of bargaining. My understanding is that most who attempted to solve this mission died in the process. The same fate was met by and large by those who attempted to help the Snowdrifts later - but who could expect otherwise, when the particular company requests are those who are good trackers or who have access to magic? I hear there are undead involved, which doesn’t surprise me at all. The group attending the ritual is one I can recount with much more clarity and accuracy, as this is the mission I attended to personally. This took the entirety of the day, as - not realizing that the ritual was set for sunset - we set out for it first thing in the morning. On our travels through the forest, we were ambushed by a group of wood trolls; Lord Throlis and Lady Ruby Crownmark Unwizaste hypothesized later that they were of Dagdeoth, which would not surprise me - I had come up with the same idea during the battle, though not seeing any particular insignias, didn’t wish to be certain of such judgements. Clearly, we survived the ambush, then arrived at the outpost of the aforementioned Lord and Lady after cautiously making our way through an area that had clearly contained large spiders in relatively recent times. We continued deeper into the forest after briefly checking in at the outpost, this time with guards given to escort us after our encounter with the wood trolls. After some time we came to an incredibly steep valley, which was remarkable for several reasons. One, this valley was filled with coniferous trees so tall that their canopies were even with the canopies of the normal-sized trees at the top of the valley. Two, this valley is not marked on the map of Roekron with which we are familiar with, and it calls one to wonder why. It took some time to reach the bottom - this was an area closer to the village in which the ritual was taking place, and it showed several signs of a local elven population. In particular, this was indicated by the stump of one of these great trees - a mana well harvested in the logging of the Lagmareth - turned into a shrine. Small, crafted objects were placed around it in the manner of sacrifices, and it had the feeling of a shrine, though after the initial feeling it felt more as if it were leeching energy from us than filling the area with it as shrines are wont to do. A consequence, I suppose, of wantonly taking energy without making sure to maintain the equilibrium of the area. Soon thereafter we reached the village. They call it a city, but a place with no more than forty or so families can hardly be deemed more than a village. In typical elven style, the living spaces were in the trees themselves, as was the ritual - large sheets of thin, shimmering cloth, likely spidersilk, were stretched across the trees so tightly that many people could walk across them without them bending in the slightest. As I said before, the ritual was in the evening and they were still preparing, so those of us who were not involving ourselves in these preparations patrolled around the forest to pass time. Save a small group of unaffiliated goblins, we found ourselves facing exclusively small Dagdeoth groups - mostly ogres and bone warriors. We were a fairly even match, it seemed - in terms of winning decreed by “last man standing”, the wins were largely equal, with our failures occurring mostly at the beginning and theirs at the end. There was a skeleton who possessed magic items - not glued, so clearly recently stolen - apparently off the body of an Elder Goddess follower. The items were distributed among those who wanted them, after which point we returned to the village. Closer to the ritual itself, we ascended to the treetops and sat on various cloths according to our affiliation with it - which is to say, elves sat closer to the center than nonelves. Such arrangement is often a source of disgruntled resentment in nonelves, but we must remember: elves, particularly at this time, are fragile. When it comes to gatherings, especially of this gravity, it is only natural to wish to protect one’s kin from outside influences which may come with malicious intent. That they would allow nonelves to observe the ritual at all is quite generous of them, and they risk the integrity of their ritual by doing so. Thus, we must be grateful that we were allowed to attend at all. About the ritual - Uialina translates to Twilightsong. It is practiced only during certain years, during certain phases of the moon, when the correct conditions are aligned; and it is observed by singing in the twilight hours of the ending day. Elves of many places participated; some came from Eon Ion, which is a considerable distance to travel. The treetops were full, yet not so full that each person could not see each other person in attendance. This became apparent during a short episode consisting of a transgression in the attention directed towards Lord Orixriel upon the appearance of another elf of darker ambience, who it would be identified later as the last of the Lagmenth elves. This was quickly resolved, though emerged once more when this elf sang for the ritual and then departed. His song, I have transcribed below. Ulalia ulalia ulalia ulalia Ulalia ulalia ulalia ulalia Ulalia ulalia ulalia ulalia Ulalia ulalia ulalia ulalia O cloud of white Of silver and of gold The sky lets go tonight The stars are growing old I walk alone Over earth and under bow My way is now long This life I’m left to now I’ll soon to be On roads that never end For on old dreams Each way and every bend Ulalia, ulalia, ulalia, ulalia Now breaks the dawn And with it, to my eye For all my friends are gone Therein we stand apart.(For the inquisitive, “ulalia” appears to translate to something approximating “abyss”.) Other companions performed somewhat earlier in the ritual - Avalous, Kyrin, and Isanna. Many other elves participated as well, of course - and as none but elves were allowed to participate, the rest of us watched alternatively in attentive silence and appreciative clapping, snapping, and other such rustles. Yet there were others still in attendance - spirits of elves, whom Siguld and I were both able to see thanks to a useful gift or blessing from the hobbit Stariln. The elven spirits looked on, and at some points, sang - certainly, they sang harmonies to the Lagmenth elf’s song. We also noted a change in the ambience of the setting as the ritual culminated - the leaves of the trees turned first silver, and then gold, in the slender streams of remaining light. Once the ritual was completed, we waited later in the evening for guides who were able to bring us out of the forest - those of us who had not lost interest beforehand, at least. Some performed assorted errands in the interim space, or else took pleasure in the resounding after-atmosphere of the ritual and song. Once guides were available, we departed for Axiems, and arrived after nightfall. Many of us have gone to seek out training since. The rules here are that you seek out the approval of a specific guildmaster of your chosen class, then present them with appropriate reimbursement (an equipment set or an amount of gold). Once you have fulfilled those requirements, you are bound to that guild with varying degrees of loyalty, depending on which guild it is in question. The punishment for transgressing on this binding has yet to be explained, but I would assume that it, too, is dependent upon the guild in question. Lastly, I have no lecture notes to transcribe at this time. As our visit to the forest and the ritual took the entirety of the day, there was little chance to give lessons to the group at large. Thus, more will have to wait for next moon.
|
|
|
Post by gamemasterchris on Feb 10, 2014 0:09:54 GMT -8
Great chronicle- a note on the song however, that I can offer given levels in your trade crafts and history. There is a rhyming pattern going on and in certain places your transcription does not match it. It looks to be an ABAB rhyme format, and if that is the case, the words may be different then you have here (I know you are aware they were different, but that pattern may help you figure out how they were different).
Christopher
|
|
|
Post by Celebfealor on Feb 10, 2014 13:57:55 GMT -8
Bah. I still have no clue - I did the best I could the first time, and further attempts to figure it out have not yielded much of anything. I suppose I'll post a bunch possibilities below and if people would like to try to help pick it apart they can.
Ulalia ulalia ulalia ulalia Ulalia ulalia ulalia ulalia Ulalia ulalia ulalia ulalia Ulalia ulalia ulalia ulalia O cloud of white Of silver and of gold The sky lets go tonight The stars are growing old I walk alone Over earth and under bow My way is now long (alone, lone) This life I’m left to now I’ll soon to be (Of, On?) roads that never end For on old dreams (For on O (tree, sea, ??); or For Onodri/Onodrim, which is elvish for ent/s) Each way and every bend Ulalia, ulalia, ulalia, ulalia Now breaks the dawn And with it, to my eye For all my friends are gone Therein we stand apart (stand by... why/cry/sigh/high/try//any number of other words that don't sound right but actually rhyme)
|
|
|
Post by Celebfealor on Apr 2, 2014 0:09:06 GMT -8
Chronicle for March 2014. Sum-Up: - There was a special dwarven ritual going on in Krodigros.
- The group of ogres outside the city has gained 2nd tier assassin abilities and are not showing signs of slowing down.
- Scouting up north with the Snowdrifts yielded that Dagdeoth is occupying a fortress that usually means they're about to invade.
- More missions for Abel were done.
- We have been banned from exploring the forest because somebody killed a rabbit and the elves didn't like that.
- A shrine that forges magic items has been found.
Talia Dagmere 2nd Thirdmoon, 15,996 Axiems - Svodlun The party was rather smaller than usual today; a group of notable size went to accompany Lord Boro Whitehills and some members of his family to Krodigros (the capital city of Svodlun), wherein a dwarven ritual of some significance was set to take place. Interesting, I think, to have a ritual such as this right after the elves in Oriri have had their own ritual. Each of these rituals occur infrequently, and that they would happen so close together seems if not significant then at least a very tidy quirk of chance. I chose not to attend the ritual; Axiems has its own problems, of course, and while I think it’s a very enriching thing for members of the party to attend rituals or religions ceremonies outside of their normal experience, I think it’s also important to keep the assorted issues around the city in check. I attended the elven celebration, so in evening the scales, I stayed behind. Speaking of problems that haven’t been kept in check thus far, the ogreish shrine to their destroyer deity has only gotten more powerful. Now, this isn’t for lack of trying; we have confronted the group every time we convene, and some days (such as today), multiple times. It’s just that not only do the ogres have no need of weapons, but they have given sufficient power to their deity that he has granted them the ability to tear the heads off their enemies’ shoulders. Needless to say, this is very popular with other ogres in the area, and they seem to be growing in number. I believe our party made the mistake of thinking this would be easy. Do not underestimate the capabilities of other beings, even if they are frequently and unjustly assumed to be inferior; and do not underestimate the fierceness of those fighting in the name of their deity. It will not serve you well. There is much else to examine beside the ogres. Certainly, we did much besides. Once the initial group departed to travel to Krodigros, those of us remaining behind were left to choose what merited attention first. This, it turned out, was accompanying the Snowdrifts on a patrol north along the border. Those of us going bundled up in cloaks, knowing that this would take us above the snow line and thus would be very, very cold. Initially, we met a few Dagdeoth patrols; unsurprising, given that they also have claim to territory far in the north. My understanding is that, further along, there was a fortress of some kind that was found occupied. I’m not entirely clear on this, as I ended up bundled in rope and tied to the back of somebody’s mount, and thus was unable to do much more than spectate from a distance. Several party members have decided that, because I have an inclination to heal people who are objectionable to them, I am a traitor. This prompted them to turn on me, apparently initially attempt to drown me, and then turn me in to the Snowdrifts. A very reasonable reaction, I think, from equally reasonable people. In any case. It seems that historically, whenever this particular fortress has been occupied, it has been followed shortly thereafter by an attempt on Dagdeoth’s part to invade. I wouldn’t be surprised. Dagdeoth has its patterns, and now seems about the time. I’d give it maybe two months before the few of us who still possess them will be up to our necks in Dagdeoth Divisions. We returned from patrol and I think at that point the group decided to split off two separate ways: one to attempt to deal with the ogre situation, and one to go what I have decided to deem “Abelling”. That is to say, helping him acquire his rather unusual materials for the crafting of magic items. As before, I’m not entirely clear on what happened; I was otherwise preoccupied with getting clearance to return to the party. The Snowdrifts and I had a nice little chat, they threatened to make good on my companions’ attempts to drown me, and we went our separate ways. Upon returning to the inn, I found it empty, my companions having left shortly before I arrived; this, of course, gave me appropriate time to contemplate my mistakes and to revise my attitude for future encounters. Both of these ventures ended up taking quite some time, and by the time everyone returned, it was the usual time for everyone to disperse and pick up a midday meal from a tavern or market stall. We went, we ate, we returned, and then set out on another end - north again, but this time to the Lagmareth Forest. I made use of our traveling time by continuing to teach our companions about the world and the forces in it, the notes for which are below. Upon reaching the forest, we met briefly with Lady Ruby Crownmark Unwizaste to acquire permits for exploring the forest. The terms were that we were not allowed to harm anything belonging to the forest, lest we suffer... unfortunate consequences. Anything not belonging to the forest was fair game, and in some cases preferable to deal with. Initially it went well - there was a group of harpies, which fell on the “preferable to deal with” side. A little further into the woods, we encountered a camp of ogres. Unusually enough, these ogres seemed to be of a mind more akin to my companions than most; they had set up a camp and initially attempted to tell us to walk around and leave them alone. On the whole, they seemed fairly peaceable. This did not deter my companions, however, who in addition to the usual bloodthirst also had been instructed by Abel to kill ten of the same species in a row with a longsword for his latest project. Unsurprisingly, they had chosen ogres. Upon finding the ogres at the shrine too much to handle, they decided to take it out on these much less surly individuals instead. Such a pity, really. They could have saved themselves the trouble and decided to kill ten dwarves, or ten humans. It needn’t even have been illegal - they could have just stood in for the prison executioner for the day. That would have been a much more practical way to go about it, I think. In any case, I did what I could for the ogres; a couple of companions helped me heal and calm down a couple of the ogres who had escaped death so that they could take their companions somewhere safer. Shortly thereafter, we proceeded deeper. Thus was our expedition cut to a short end. A patrol of forest elves stalked out of the trees, pointing bows and blades and all other manner of weaponry. Apparently, somewhere in the scuffle with the harpies, a rabbit or some other small creature had gotten killed, and they were holding us responsible. The elves gave us ten seconds to hand over the one who had done it so that they could kill him - else they would kill everyone, just to make sure. We had about six seconds of everybody looking around confusedly and trying to figure out who had done it, and four seconds of trying to tell the elves that we didn’t know who had done it but that we could talk it out and didn’t need to resort to killing. Around the eighth second, I sprinted towards the lake and hit the water. These encounters always end the same way, I find, no matter who’s behind them. Needless to say, they killed all but two of us. One person, I hear, outran them; and they managed to put an arrow in me, but I was already far out in the water, and they had no way to get at me to finish the job. Once resurrected we were forbidden from entering the forest again, permit or not, fault or not. There were quite a few muttered complaints amongst the party on the way back - why couldn’t the elves have just listened when we talked to them? There was no reason for everybody to die. On the whole, the consensus was that the elves had been quite unreasonable. I’m inclined to agree. What kind of people would slaughter a well-intentioned group trying to mind their own business, without listening to their pleas to solve matters without weapons? Upon our return to Axiems, we found that another group had gone out to visit a shrine to the dwarven gods of some kind while were wandering the forest. A subsection of us left to follow the other group into the shrine; the rest of us disbanded and went about our business. When the whole group returned later in the evening, they brought back interesting news: inside the shrine - to Morden, I believe - they had discovered a forge which had been built specifically for making magic items. Something about the hammer being special, and the anvil being saturated with souls. They had made one out of Isanna’s stiletto, though last I heard they were still trying to figure out what it did; they had no idea what they’d made. I imagine it’s lottery, as it were, with souls - you don’t know which one is going to take to your weapon. A week or so later, the group who had gone to attend the ritual in Krodigros returned. If you’re interested on reading up on it, I would suggest looking into Alais’s excellent chronicle detailing the ritual; I found it quite informative, and I assume other interested parties will as well. That’s it - for now. I’m sure there will be plenty more in a month. In the meantime, as always, my notes are below. ---------- The Creation of the WorldAs said in Artano's Footnote, the world is said to have been created by a being called Wurlangdemedes, the Ur-Dragonna. The world was spoken into existence by her using something akin to Elder Sorcery. Some say that the word she spoke was "Dragon"; others say it was "World". Given that words may have multiple meanings (for example, "row" means an argument, a line, or the action of paddling), it may very well have been both. Once the world was created, Wurlangdemedes then created the First Beings, from which all other beings native to this plane have evolved. Deities were not always a part of our world; they were let in later, in an event called "The Passage of the Gods" or "The Folding". Rules of DeihoodDeities must have three characteristics to be considered a deity: 1) They cannot be killed. They can be exorcised, banished, or forbidden access to a particular plane; but they cannot be slain, and cannot die of other causes such as illness. 2) They must exist on multiple planes at once. 3) They must be capable of moving through time at will. The cost for this may, of course, be great, but they must be able to do it. The Elder Goddess and the SistersThe Elder Goddess is said to be the first deity to set foot on Roekron, and the first deity which Wurlangdemedes allowed into the world. The Elder Goddess also has daughters; these daughters have at times either been paired as three unicorns and three demons (Love/Sorrow, Justice/Prejudice, or Truth/Deceit), or as the three Nomad Sisters (Passion/Law/Perspective). The Elder Goddess is a protector of women and a deity of all the magics. If you are interested in learning further, Turastar has volunteered to answer questions about her. The DagdemarThe Dagdemar is a rival to the Elder Goddess. It is said that he was not always a deity, but was able to become one by sacrificing his world to his deity. He is tied to both necromancy and life magic, and is the patron deity of Dagdeoth. Followers of the Dagdemar seek to sacrifice the world to him, though different sects seek to do so in different ways. The Fundamentalist Cruceptian sect, which is most common in Dagdeoth, seeks to do this through conquest. If you are interested in learning further, I am able to answer questions about him. The Elemental GodsThere are also a set of five elemental gods who are also important to Roekron's functioning; each corresponds to a type of magic. They are as follows: The Sky God (Life) The Swamp God (Necromancy) The Earth Goddess (Nature) The Water Goddess (Storm) The Mountain God (Fire)
|
|
|
Post by Celebfealor on Apr 24, 2014 17:01:02 GMT -8
I feel like I've written all of this before. Several times. *sigh* Actually, I'm pretty sure I have written most of it before. Anyway. Summary of Talia's lectures, January-March. For easy reference and searching.
This marks the completion of a unit of lessons - on the Divines, Basic Magic Theory, and Operations of the World. Before moving on to the next unit, I will sum up the information I have given thus far in a more collected form, and fill in holes that were left in the lectures themselves due to the limited time available. -Talia Dagmere 15,996 Axiems - Svodlun Rules of the UniverseThe Rule of Innocence. The rule of innocence states that some actions can only be done if one doesn’t know what one is doing in the moment. To use a metaphor - some doors will guard themselves by remaining locked when someone who knows what’s behind them approach, and will only open for one who doesn’t know what is on the other side. The Rule of Names. The rule of names states that certain beings have names which, if called, will sometimes attract that being’s attention or presence; as such certain names should be avoided (such as names of deities that one is opposed to). It also states that true names can be used to control that which the name is attached to (see Elder Sorcery). The Rule of Three. The rule of three states that significant things often come in threes - three Fates, three Demons, three Unicorns, three guesses to a riddle, and so on. One can find interrelated patterns through the rule of three. Rules of RealityEqual/Opposing Reactions. Every thing has its opposite. By making a light, you cast shadows. If a good deity acts, it gives an evil deity an opportunity to act with the same strength. The world has a way of balancing itself out. Conservation of Energy. The energy spent on a task will be equivalent to its outcome. If you spent one mana on something, you will get one mana’s worth of output. If you sacrifice something, what you get in return will equal its worth. Energy does not disappear, it only changes. If it seems like your energy has done nothing, then it was just not enough energy and more must be supplied. Elder SorceryElder Sorcery is not just a form of magic, but a language. It is a True Names language, in that every word of Elder Sorcery is the true name of whatever is being called - the Elder Sorcery word for “fire” is the true name of fire, which is why we are able to control it with the language (see the Rule of Names). Because it is a true names language, one can only speak the truth in Elder Sorcery; if one says something that isn’t true, the language will try to force itself to become true, thus altering the nature of the reality surrounding the statement and making it true after all by “fixing” the lie. Elder Sorcery is the language of the dragons; they speak it innately. Some other beings, such as elementals or fey, also have a more limited innate capacity for Elder Sorcery. Stormwatcher was the first mage to learn how to use Elder Sorcery and to teach it to the rest of the world. The OverlayThe Overlay was cast by Astengrad, an apprentice of Stormwatcher and the man for which the school was named. It falls over all of Roekron and to some extent beyond its borders. It is known that in the east in Teriock, the overlay starts thinning; there are a series of “metas” past which certain magics - first summoning the dead, and then resurrection, and then all magic - fade. It is assumed that similar boundaries occur in all directions, not just east. The overlay allows for the use of the standardized (non Elder Sorcery) spells: fireball, lightning ray, medicine ball, and so on. When one identifies something, the information is stored in the overlay. If one is able to observe the overlay in certain ways, they can actually see where standard spells are being cast on it - what the spell is, where it is being cast, and who is casting it. This makes the overlay an excellent spying tool for those with access to it in this way. In addition to the large overarching overlay, most mage schools generate their own overlay as well. During times of war, this allows them to take themselves “off the grid” and operate their magic without observation by others. Mana, Mana Colors, and Mana WellsMana comes in a variety of colors. There is colorless mana, which is the kind of mana generated by living beings such as humans or ogres and so on. This might also be termed “celestial mana” - just as there are celestial words in Elder Sorcery that are connected with no particular magic type, this type of mana is unconnected as well. Mana also comes in other colors, each associated with its magic type. Each kind of mana is generated by a particular kind of landscape. - Red Mana: Associated with flame mages and Elder Sorcery. Generated by mountains.
- White Mana: Associated with life mages and Elder Sorcery. Generated by plains.
- Black Mana: Associated with necromancy and associated Elder Sorcery. Generated by swamps.
- Green Mana: Associated with nature mages and Elder Sorcery. Generated by forests.
- Blue Mana: Associated with storm mages and Elder Sorcery. Generated by islands.
Mana wells are places where concentrations of this magic are strong - the aforementioned locations are usually the mana wells for their respective types. A healthy mana well generates this mana in incredible amounts, though it may do so slowly and over time; some mana wells can be harvested all at once or tapped for more mana than it is putting out, but this generally destroys the mana well. Unhealthy or overtapped mana wells sometimes have the feeling of leeching energy away from their surroundings rather than putting it out. The RaustkuruThe Raustkuru is a being created in the aftermath of an overtapping of a mana well (an island west of Svod Town). The tapping process was done incorrectly and caused the mana well to explode, thus resulting in the release of a great deal of mana - called then a “mana wave” - and eventually leading to the formation of the Raustkuru. The Raustkruru is understood to be an extremely intelligent sentient Elder Sorcery spell which hunts non-native Elder Sorcery users. It has been hypothesized to travel using the overlay, although it doesn’t disrupt standard spells. Creation of the WorldThe creation of the world, and thus by extension Roekron, was not - as many religions would have it - due to the workings of any sort of deity. It is understood that the Ur Dragonna Wurlangdemedes created the world and perhaps the universe as well - see Artano’s Footnote, first two pages, for more information. It has been said alternately that the world was dreamed into existence or spoken into existence with Elder Sorcery; and it has been debated, in the spoken hypothesis, whether the first word was “World” or “Dragon”. As a personal note, there are some languages in which the words “world” and “dragon” are represented by the same word - much as in this language, the word “table” may refer either to the surface upon which most eat their evening meal, or a sort of chart made to find information more easily. It is possible that the two coexist. Deities were only allowed into the world later in an event called the “folding” or the “passage” of the gods. Wurlangdemedes, it is said, was not interested in the development of the world, and left the gods to watch over it - on one condition. This was that deities could not intervene directly with the world, but must rely on mortals to make their own decisions (perhaps with the deity’s guidance). DeitiesA deity is understood to possess three traits that define it as a deity. Immortality. This is not the elven sort of immortality, wherein one is immortal but not invulnerable (will not age, but is subject to disease or injury). What this means it that a deity cannot be slain, fall ill, age, or in any way fall prey to what we would understand as death. It can be banished from a particular plane, but cannot be killed outright. Planar Presence. A deity must be present on multiple planes of existence simultaneously. Time Travel. A deity must be able to move through time at will. What it may cost the deity to do this, of course, is not strictly known - it may be very simple, or very difficult. Sometimes it has been said that to deities time is as a sea, whereas to us it is a river - all times exist simultaneously and wash together, whereas for us time follows a linear path. Assuming that one were able to follow all three criteria, one might be able to become a deity - according to myth, it has been done before (see The Dagdemar). One might also be able to destroy a deity if they banished it from all but one plane, thus causing it to violate the second trait and become less than a deity and perhaps then slayable. The Elder GoddessIt is said that, in the passage, the Elder Goddess was the first deity to set foot in Roekron. This has sometimes been used to explain why she has so much power and influence over this world. The Elder Goddess is a deity of women and of magic, and she is associated with the moon. The SistersThe Sisters are daughters of the Goddess, and are said to have originally been the Unicorns (Love, Justice, Truth) and Demons (Sorrow, Prejudice, Deceit). They were merged an age or so ago to become the Nomad Sisters (Passion, Law, Honor). The DagdemarThe Dagdemar is the patron deity of Dagdeoth, and is in direct opposition to the Elder Goddess. He is said to have once been a mortal who sacrificed his own world to his deity and was thus able to become a deity himself. In turn, he demands the sacrifice of other worlds, and his followers seek to meet this challenge. He is a deity of world-slaying. The Elemental DeitiesIn addition to the assorted magic types and their mana wells, there is also a pantheon of deities associated with each mana and magic type. They are the Swamp God, the Sky God, the Fire God, the Water Goddess, and the Earth Goddess. The FatesThe Fates are beings that are understood to transcend even deities. They are present in most if not all mythos, and determine the lives of mortals and deities alike. They are understood to have had some sort of association with the Yavanna Tree; they also may have some hand in prophecy and those we call “children of fate”. OutsidersOutsiders are a class of beings that are not native to this world. There are many classes of outsiders; powerful outsiders - such as elementals, demons, or angels - often have traits that include an invulnerability to non-magical damage and innate use of magic. Less powerful outsiders, such as those who come in from the portal to Crestfall, do not display these same traits. Outsiders have been known to slip in through tears in the world, or through passageways to other worlds - they are more common in places where the metaphysical side of the world is unstable or thin. Those more willing to violate the rules of the world are more likely to force their way in through these cracks, which may explain why demons are far more common than are angels.
|
|
|
Post by Celebfealor on May 22, 2014 1:46:41 GMT -8
Chronicle for Club League, April 2014. - Looked into lots of orks in the mining tunnels, found a whole orkish city down there being exploited by dwarven slavers.
- Bodies from people up north were appear in the snow; they had messages on them that, when searched, would trigger the bodies to animate as ghouls and shambles.
Talia Dagmere 6th Fourthmoon, 15,996 Axiems - Svodlun Today’s actions were centered around two primary projects: one, looking into a large orkish population in some of the mining tunnels; and two, looking into a series of bodies buried in the snow. As might be expected, neither were quite what they first appeared to be. Initially I set out with the half of the party intending to look into the tunnels - partially out of a curiosity to see where the tunnels led and whether or not they might be a threat to the city, but mostly out of a desire to ensure that unnecessary harm to the aforementioned orks was mostly avoided. On the way there, I spoke with several party members I had not yet interacted with much; primarily in this case, Higgin and Baron Von Schnitzel, to whom I apologized for upsetting during the last series of events. We reached a truce, as it were, but further discussion was quickly cut off upon reaching the tunnels. The tunnels were filled nearly to bursting with orks. Certainly hundreds of them. We could not get to each other in full due to the limited space of the tunnels, which I suspect is why we were able to progress forward as we did. Thankfully, most of the party did not seem to have a particular taste for killing orks, and were happy to disable them and move on; Isanna made sure to treeform most of them to keep them from incurring further harm from the more wanton members of the party. On the whole, however, it was only a precaution. The party has improved greatly since the beginning of the year in its attitudes and tolerance towards such beings - surely, there is room for improvement, but it is moving in the right direction. One particular member of the party - Ygsmir, a priest of Aphrodite - in attempting to convert the orks to his religion, said that they surely must do so because, in his words, they were so ugly; perhaps she could help them. Of course, not only is shaming someone an ineffective way to convert them to your religion, he was being particularly bigoted towards them, and I informed him as such. Orks are ugly only to his standards; they, of course, think themselves quite attractive, and find us just as ugly as most do them. Clearly, he had not thought of things quite this way before; later, he attempted to convert the orks again, this time proclaiming that they were all beautiful and that Aphrodite welcomed them. As I said - progress. To work through the tunnel-length of orks took time; and as we proceeded down the tunnel, they seemed to be in worse and worse condition. One would begin to see gaunter faces and bones peeking from places they should not be visible, and a greater amount of scarification than is normal on orks. Some had bruises or other abrasions; some seemed to have been downright beaten. It was around the time of this observation that the wave of orks stopped coming - for so had the tunnel. Instead it opened up into a wide, spacious cavern; there was much clamoring from down below, though it was so large, the torchlight did not even begin to illuminate it. At this point we chose to go back and prepare for the next portion of exploration, and to report our findings to the officials on the other side. We also briefly checked in with the other half of our party to trade information, discoveries, and members. The other half had been investigating a group of bodies found buried in the snow by the road. The bodies were of humans, all of them dressed in thick furs and bearing a strange insignia of an eye with a droplet or tear. From the party’s description, they had attempted to search the bodies - as adventurers often will - which in turn triggered the bodies to animate, revealing them to be not simply bodies but a horde of ghouls and shamblers. It sounds as if they were taken by surprise by this and that, as a consequence, most were unable to escape. The few survivors ran back to town and alerted the men at arms, who came out to deal with the undead. The bodies were taken back to Axiems, several officials alerted, and it was roughly this time that we returned from the tunnels. Ruby Crowmark and Lesil Sentris were the primary officials involved; we watched them work, and in some instances helped. Sentris was able to deduce that there were papers - a piece of a paper, that is to say - on a shambler, and that it was indeed the searching process that triggered them to animate. She enlisted hobbits to deal with the searching and the rest of the party to take down the undead. Crowmark spent time looking at the trigger spell once the searching was done and determined that it was a spell that functioned off-overlay, likely crafted by a high-level storm mage and necromancer. Discussion followed this discovery. It was agreed upon that Frost was likely behind this, though what that meant was and still is unclear. The bodies are clearly from the north, and likely of his enemies; the question is, what gain would he have by giving us information in this way? Hypotheses were that he is attempting to plant false information; that he is attempting to waste our time by focusing on this issue; and that the information is true, and there is some reason he wishes us to have it. Either way, it is intentional, and that cannot discounted. We correctly deduced that because we only had a piece of a paper, there would be more papers on more bodies; so when the group split again, half of it went to look for more bodies, while the other half went back to the tunnels. This time I went to the group with the bodies. The process of obtaining the papers was lengthy and tedious. It involved stationing searchers on as many bodies as possible, letting the trigger happen, fighting the undead into the ground, and then repeating the process until each body had been searched. Furthermore, there appeared to be only one paper per group - I suppose having them all in the same place would be too convenient. Several more pieces were procured, and given that they were in some odd language, more time was taken to puzzle out what the meaning was. The transcription is as follows - note that the break in paragraph signifies two separate papers. Something went wrong these past few years at Skyeyes et Necrenef. There was a great host of the Frostbitten before, and now but a handful remain. At first we were unsure of the situation, as nothing is as it seems. But after a year it was clear something had changed. Hosts had altered their course and ran wild or fought each other. The storm which raged ever as a cloud of opposition ran rampant across the planes. We met and fought Brightscar, Silverstrand, and Bluefinger, and beat them all! Something was not right. We found at least a dozen Frostbitten, face down, cold, and frozen. The titans spoke to us on one occasion, and I am still to make sense of it. "He has shattered the eye- now he chases his shadows." Could they have been speaking of the Ominous. We have seen them a great deal now, not just the rare stories from long ago. It is as if the paintings in the caverns have come to life. We had an encounter with one directly, and I'm ashamed to say I was the only survivor. Everyone went mad, some froze, others killed themselves, it was awful. I just remember the sound of voices in the wind, shouts and cries. There was a man I think, looking at me from the vortex of the Ominous. We are moving on the city now, as I do not know that we will get another chance. I will send word to the south, and those that might assist us there. But I have little faith in the powers beyond the snow. This land is cruel to those who do not know it. All beyond are frozen out. Wish us luck. Abraham Ferris Odil-Sim, Mourners, Sum Send We have little idea of what it means, though there is some to be gained from it. One, Frost’s dark city is called Skyeyes et Necronef, which is not insignificant information. Two, something had disrupted his city and his carakwaiths - perhaps these humans, of a group called “the Mourners”. Three, there is something greater up there than even the city, pulled from legend, and it seems to cause madness of some kind. All of this, of course, must be taken with a grain of salt, as we cannot be sure of why were were intended to have it - it may be falsehoods in part or complete. Further research must be done. Then, there is the other half of our companions. A sum of their report upon returning was that the cavern contained an entire city, full primarily of orks in as bad or worse shape as the ones we had gone against during the original excursion. It seems there were also a number of dwarves who did not speak the regular languages well - they had their own - who were beating these orks and putting some of them in shackles. Predictably, the party sided with the dwarves, assuming that because they were of familiar races they were on the right side of things. Of course, I doubt that many of the party would consider themselves particularly racist; yet when assumptions based on one’s race trumps that of physical evidence of ethics, one has to wonder. After by and large, by the sounds of it, helping the dwarves beat the orks into submission, the party returned to us. We exchanged our sets of information, and at this point went our separate ways. Certainly there were other things that needed doing - with the ogres attacking Amen Town, Dagdeoth on the move, the gang warfare in town, and similar such situations, one might even put the need at “dire”. It was getting dark by this point, however, and these things are not best dealt with in the dark. For future days -unless the party would like entities such as Dagdeoth to take charge of the city, it would be wise of them to act sooner rather than later to prevent it. ---------- Lecture Notes:Natural vs. Created UndeadUndead fall into two categories - created and natural. Most natural undead is of the spiritual type, and may be native to the spirit plane. Created undead is the sort that we're familiar with: undead animated by necromancers or other beings with an animation spell, such as necromancy elementals, demons, or other undead. The animated dead spell taught by the guild is a very basic one that only animates zombies; animating more complicated undead, such as skeletons, requires a specialized spell. Bindings and ControlWhen an undead is created, it is not necessarily automatically bound to its creator's will. Unless a binding or other control is used, the undead will be under its own willpower and will do as it would have in life. The standard animation spell taught by the guild includes a binding, so if one is only animating zombies, they needn't worry about it; however, it is important to include in a custom spell. A binding is much like a charm, except intended specifically for undead. Undead are immune to mental effects (and thus normal kinds of charm) - a binding is a more spiritual form of control, which they are not immune to. Undead HierarchyUndead follow a very strict hierarchy. If a being such as a litch (A) creates several higher-class undead (B), who in turn create more undead (C), who in turn create more undead (D), the hierarchy is established. All of these undead are bound to their higher layers of command - most closely to their creator, but to the upper levels as well (thus C is bound to B but also A). They are not under the influence of the lower hierarchy, however (in C's case, D), and in fact are generally the ones who are giving orders to that layer. Each of these layers is interconnected; if you destroy an animator, generally its created undead will fall apart shortly thereafter unless taken on by another undead (if an undead from layer B is killed, all of its animated undead from level C, as well as their respective undead from level D, will fall apart). This means that, if one can destroy the head of the chain (in this case, the litch), all of its created undead will be destroyed as well shortly thereafter.
|
|
|
Post by Celebfealor on Aug 1, 2014 0:24:03 GMT -8
Very late chronicle for the June Club League campout, Day (well, night) #1...
Talia Dagmere 15th Sixthmoon, 15,996 Axiems - Svodlun
Note: Given the unusual business of the following few days, I elected to eschew my usual lectures and instead focus on the myriad of tasks at hand. Thus, there are no transcripts to include here. Lectures will be continued on further, less busy days.
---Night---
It should be noted that some tasks are better taken care of at night. Haunts are a good example of this; at night, haunts tend to be more aware of the world around them and as such are more easily interacted with and solved. The drawbacks are that other beings also find darkness advantageous - especially undead. It is easier for them to hunt us while we are blind in the darkness and they can see as well as ever. Adventurers working after dusk would do well to remember this and prepare accordingly.
Despite the discovery and then disposal of the wyrm demon in the Lagmareth Forest, elves within its borders have been continuing to disappear. This is worrying to some. After all, if the elves don’t simply leave their bodies and return to be summoned, something must be keeping them there, whether dead or alive. The elves who remain are, understandably, unhappy with this; as such, we decided to look into it. We were met with the same undead animals as last time - some spectral, others more corporeal and skeletal - and, it being nighttime, they were much more active and numerous than they had seemed previously. Everyone dealt with them as best they could. I simply evaded them. They were sourced to a ritual space further back in the forest; the space was guarded by a juvenile wyrm demon, which I neglected to notice several times in the course of flying back and forth between the ritual and the battlefield.
To sum up the preceding events of the wyrm demon situation, as I neglected to chronicle it previously: some moons ago, a beast demon wielding a morganti rod was discovered in the Lagmareth Forest. It took the form of a wyrm, which is an unusual form for demons to take. Inspection of the area led to the discovery of a ritual that had been used to summon and bind a demon into the body of a wyrm - tidily explaining the abnormailty. We also at the time discovered the remains of a nest - though the eggs were missing. The eggs, it would seem, had since hatched - the young demon being one of the original wyrm demon’s spawn.
Eventually my companions dealt with the demon, though they paid for it - several people died fighting it, especially given they were outmatched and blind to what it was in the darkness. Afterwards, the necromancers in our party - primarily one Baron Von Schnitzel - inspected the ritual space that the demon had been guarding. They took notes on it before they would allow it to be disturbed, after which they gathered up the several shards of stony tablet that had been placed at the center and brought them back to Axiems to be studied closely in the morning.
The second group ventured north to investigate a localized storm at the Roekron border. They reported back saying that at the center of the storm was a strange, spiritlike being with blue eyes, which had been guarding a chest. It spoke to them and attempted to learn more about them, then attempted to convince them that it was their ally using what appeared to be manipulation techniques or possibly some sort of more subtle charm. As they feared the being might be a blue wraith, the eventual decision was to leave it for the night, return to Axiems, and attempt to get a better look at it in the morning.
|
|