Travellers to Ankh'remun's tomb notice subtle changes about the area. A light crimson fog hovers through parts of the tomb, moreso towards Ankh's Chambers. The undead generally seem more vicious than normal, and slightly more powerful. Every now and then a single undead beats on the entrance to the tomb, as if trying to escape the wardings.

The Lathandar Temple warns people to exercise more caution than usual while they try to figure out what's going on to cause these things. Historically the ritual bindings have kept the undead at a lower threat level.

_________________
Davion Telemos - Monk of the Four Winds
Korthan Isharnos - Dragon Shaman of Thunder Spirit Zamasham

*Mers is seen to be in excellent spirits and gleefully tells any he encounters that great things are afoot*

_________________
Working on tastey new adventures!
Playing: Theos Gend, Perry Sawmir, Mers Larin
Good? Bad? I'm the guy with the two giant wolves.

A dark night, in the Ankh'remun desert.

A small camp of nomads rests around a fire, in the shadow of the cliffs that contain Ankh'remun's tomb. They banter to each other around the fire, talking about the desert, and the spoils they have claimed today from travellers. The night is young, and the sun has just gone below the horizon, casting a final crimson shadow before fading into quiet night. As the nomads stoke their fire to stave off the cold desert night, they hear a rattling noise, and a loud booming voice.

"FREE! I am free! My revenge on those who abandoned me, sealed me away for years is at hand! Arise and go forth, and we shall overwhelm them!"

~~~

Meanwhile....

Si'neela the Lathanderna cleric has been in intense introspective prayer for the past tenday. She has worked tirelessly to preserve the failing wards. She has, depe down, resigned herself to the fact that they will fail, but she has been dedicated to holding them up for as long as possible. Finally, as a rumble shakes the desert, and the booming voice echoes outwards, the small sun-globe on the pillar that constitutes the focus for the ritual explodes into shards, the mist coalescing into a crimson skull before wisping off into the temple air.

Si'neela falls to her knees, and quietly weeps. The Temple guards immediately begin to scramble, and set up increased patrols.

~~~

Back in the desert...

The Nomads look up towards the source of the sound... and immediately begin running away as a writhing incorporeal mass of wraiths and bats comes pouring out of the Tomb. A Tomb once thought sealed to prevent undead from exiting. The cloud of bats lands, and forms into a quintet of vampires, that usher the wraiths forward into the night, to haunt, to hunt, down everything they see. Behind the mass crawls mummies and other unwrapped corpses, shambling down the steps, some simply falling off the cliff and pulling themselves out of the sand, moving forward.

The final one to walk out is Ankh'remun himself, surveying his new lands before walking back into the tomb to prepare for something... greater.

Across the desert night, yells and combat erupts as the Nomads are beset by undead erupting from the tomb. The majority of the Nomads hole themselves up in the defensible city ruins, or their cave entrance, only venturing out in the day time, and even then, needing to fight off the undead that still hang about.

At night, one can see vampires slinking across the desert sand, quietly stalking anyone who comes out, before leaping to the attack.

Day or night, Temple Guards stay near the edge of the city, and occasionally fight off the odd undead attack. Thanks to the Morningcrystal in the center of the city, Nes'ek is largely safe from the undead. Vampire ssy away, and only the mindless zombies and mummies shamble towards it, only to get either incinerated by a pulse of light, or by the Temple Guards when the alarm is sounded.

_________________
Davion Telemos - Monk of the Four Winds
Korthan Isharnos - Dragon Shaman of Thunder Spirit Zamasham

==== Stirring the flames =====

The day had gone like most any other day in the market square in Ne'sek. Most of the merchants had just returned from their lunch-hour breaks, feeling full and happy in the hot, dry air. Business had been good, the constant light stream of adventurers with coin heading to the tombs had resulted in many a merchant, and his family, to be more than well off.

Considering the Bendine, who, camped just outside the city's outskirts, had managed to keep the area relatively clean of any other prospective.. developers (for those politically correct amongst us), most of Ne'sek contemplated these days of quiet, calm and serenity. Most gave the credit to the Morninglord.

On this day some, if questioned, would remember noticing a slim figure moving through the merchant stands. Drapped in light brown coloured robes, with several leather straps criss-crossing the outer robes from which slung leather pouches of different sizes, the cowl of the robes almost completely obscuring the man's face - although some white whisps of what could have been once luxurious hair could be seen escaping the cowls confines. He was a most civil gentlemen, gripping the Ornate staff covered in runes and encircled with five curious metal rings at it's middle while pulsing a green light from the ovoid crystal clutched in it's tip as he barted with the different merchants. His voice - whispery and soft - seemed curiously easy to hear (although some would also later comment on the strange manner in which the figure spoke) and in more than one exchange he was seen reaching forth with a leather-gloved left hand to offer his thanks to the different merchants as their transaction was completed.

As first loud rumbling first made it's way through the town and it's folk, some looked to each other in wonder, others in fear. Most could sense the growing.. discontent from the tomb outside the city's walls even from here, within it's protective womb. Now, as the stones leapt and settled, such fear was stoked and fanned.. and that figure seemed to be in the midst of it, sparking a word here, a rumour there, carefully saying just enought, but not too little or too much. Quickly, the fear became began to circulate and the citizens and merchants of Ne'sek became fearful. Some would remember a fiery glint in that figures eyes, the only thing seemingly visible from the depths of the cowl save the aforementioned white whisps of thinning hair and a pale, white gaunt jaw that occassionaly slinked from the darkness it seemed to bath in as he spoke.

As the final, and most severe rumble was felt many of Ne'sek citizens glanced towards the temple, and then towards the MorningCrystal. It's luminescence - pure and white, godly and calming- still shone boldly and many took great comfort in such, murmuring prayers to the Morninglord for a short night, and a quick rise in the morn. There were those, however, more than before, that remained questioning, and fearful, cowering amongst themselves and talking of plagues, infestations and the likes. The figure, circulating rapidly spoke of hearing some lore in regards to the Return of the Desert King, and his revenge on those whom entombed him, denying his rightous wrath. The fear in the air was at it's crescendo when all heard the booming roar, and those echoing words so clearly:


"FREE! I am free! My revenge on those who abandoned me, sealed me away for years is at hand! Arise and go forth, and we shall overwhelm them!"

Some realized later that the figure had moved counter-clockwise, from each stand to the next, stoking the flames of fear until he had gotten to the last closest group, standing next to the path leading to the tombs outside the city, timed some would even later say to coincide with the Sun's setting. There, he stood for a small bit of time, seemingly lost in his own thoughts as the echo's of the voice died down, reverbating throughout the merchant's yard. Then, the figure began to tread slowly, leaning on his staff towards the entrance to the outskirts of the City.. towards the source of that terrible, horrible voice.

"Sir!! Do not go, it is death that awaits you!!" called out one woman from the group he had left

"Yes, Sir, go not, for we wish not to have to recover thy body should these things you say be true!! Come, to us, and give us your wisdom, for you speak with such authority!" called another.

The figure said nothing, but simply moved off through the gates, motioning aside the guards as he nodded to them. He disappeared into the dust of the Desert, the green gleem of his Staff slowly fading until it could be seen no longer.

==== Purely malicious =====

Outside the city's gates, within the nomads inner circles, the Bendine could not believe their ears as they, too, heard the booming words and felt the ground quake and heave. Yosef was running, out of breath, towards the Elders tent, and could hear different nomads questioning each other as his footfalls drilled onwards.

"What -was- that!"

"The city was suppose to have ..."

"For all these years.."

"Are we in danger?"

Finally arriving, he ran into the tent, past the guards who recognized the boy to address the Elders of the nomads as they had gathered hastily when the first rumblings had made it's way through the sands of the desert and almost directly into a figure, dressed in brown robes and holding a staff with a glowing green tip who was sitting with them. Apparently he had been found by some of those who still lived and had returned to the settlement from the outskirts, and spoke of having seen and heard the happenings first hand.

"Elders!" Yosef called out, short of breath "Reports of undead are coming in as those survivors from the groups settled on the outskirts of the tomb have managed to reach us! It's Ankh'remun !! He's free ! He has sworn vengance upon us and all those who breath and live !!!"

THe figure stated softly, with a voice as quiet as night but as clear as day "The boy speaks the truth. Mineself saw such with mine own eyes."

Each of the Elders stared at each other, grim and fearful looks playing over their faces as the occassional eye twitched or the lip danced as each realized the terrible meaning of the words Yosef brought forth. "Then we must defend the settlement ! Every warrior and mage must stand to the front and staunch the oncoming horde, or our people will be o'er run.

Yosef, after seeing first hand the horde as he ran from the outskirts of the tomb, looked to the Elders and said "Hurry, we must hurry, for there is such little time! The undead move quickly.. so quickly.. mother..Josef.." the tears began to form in the corner of the boys eyes as he said this. One of the Elders reaches down, and rests his hand on the young boy's shoulder

"No...Did they fall, young Yosef?"

"Aye ... to those accursed nightstalkers! I saw them myself, feast upon their necks and ... " he chokes a bit here, the memory so fresh and vivid in his mind " tear them out when they were done.. Oh Father, why? Why !!!!!"

"And thy sister, Yosef? What of her?"

"I know not, but I will find out! Now that I have discharged my duty I mean to return to our tents and rescue her if I can!!" with that, Yosef ran out of the tent before any of his Elders could protest.

Looking to each other, they seemed unsure until the finally the one Yosef called "Father" spoke again, his face hard and full of grief, his voice shaken but firm.


"Action, then, we must have action or we will be the reason for our entire people's demise!"

They then nodded and spoke to their own tribesman, who ran out of the tents and into the night ordering, yelling, and mustering their forces. The sounds of many could be heard, the clang of swords and shields and other weapons as the foremost of the Bendines rushed forward to defend their settlement and peoples. "I will attempt to assist thee, although mine powers be so very.. very limited." the figure stated, rising from his seat in the tent with the aid of his Staff, white hair falling out of the cowl as he did so. The elders watched him depart from their tent, and this would be the last time they saw him.

Minutes later, back at the outskirts, cries began as the first of the lines of the undead marched merciously over the hastly erected blockades and into the front line of defenders. Grunts, screams of agony, and the sounds of .. feeding proliferated the battlelines as the the nomadic warriors and mages desperatly sought to provide the rest of the settlement the time they needed to gather the children and old into the safety of the caves while the undead sought nothing else that to feed - feed on the very life of the living. Yosef had ran back in record time, and hoped to find his sister before the main contengency of undead engulfed the outskirts and they had to fall back. Yosef could see lights of all different colours flashing in the night, arcane words being shouted in unison, flashes of brilliant light then darkness. He scrambled into the insides of his family's tent, barely missing a large spear as it sailed through the air and impaled one undead, pinning it on the ground through the midsection. As he entered the tent the last sight he had was of the undead attempting to... rip itself in half in order to free itself from the spear.

Suddenly, a huge ball of flame lit the night sky. The explosion rocked the formation of those defending the front line, and scattered them like so many twigs before a storm. Burning bodies, some still moving (though likely not for long) could be seen, as could the undead as they were consumed by those very same fires. Yosef exited the tent, staying close to the shadows and as low as he could - as he had been taught, not finding his sister and still determined to continue looking. Avoiding the direction where he heard the most.. groaning, he moved to the right, he came up on another tent and thought he heard a small cry - was that his sister? He dashed into the tent whispering her name "Sasha - Sasha!, are you hurt!" and again, almost ran directly into that same figure that he had seen in the Elders tent - the one in brown robes with the Staff, bent over a small figure.

"Sasha? You there, you were in Fathers tent... have you found my sister?"

"Her name be Sasha, hrmm? Aye, mineself hath found her... come, see for thyself."

Yosef moved forward, relief spreading over his heart and the anxiety finally beginning to let go. His sister, atleast, was safe, and Father would bring revenge to the one responsible for his mother and brother's demise.

"Oh Sasha, I was so worried... Father asked about you when I told him of Mother and..."

Yosef's words caught in his mouth as the Brown robed figure moved back, and swept his arm around Yosef's shoulders to bring him close in to his sister.

"No... oh Sasha no"

His sister's form lay on the ground, her neck torn asunder. Gore and blood stained the ground underneath, as well as her tunic. Her eyes, wide open and full of terror, were glazed and devoid of any signs of life, her face locked in a rictus of fear and horror almost terrible in it's own right to behold. Now, the tears began to fall from Yosefs eyes, unbidden, as he realized his sister, too had fallen to the Nightscourge - those cursed vampires. He sobbed, leaning into the figure as he was pulled closer, taking comfort in the brown robes in his sorrow.

THe figure leaned down, and reached towards his sister, setting .. something ... inside her mouth.

"What are you .. " he sniffled " doing, mister?"

"Hrmm? Yosef, do thou wish to see thy sister rise, again? What would thou do if such was possible?"

Yosef could scarecly believe his ears - but knew that some of the clerics in town could actually do just this - bring back the dead to life. He looked at the figure resting on his laurels, supporting himself with his staff in his left hand, his right arm around Yosef's shoulders, into the depths of the cowl where he could see but two piercing blue eyes, sparkling with an almost green glimmer (surely from the light from his staff) and the tip of his white, pale chin, lips in a firm, thin line, coloured almost as bluish-purple as his sisters - and said

"Oh mister.. please, if you posses the power... return Sasha to us.. I would pledge you my very life."

"Indeed, Yosef? Then it be done. Thy word, given. Now, watch, young Yosef, and know mine power."

The figure tapped his staff once, quickly, and released it. To Yosef's amazement it stood, upright, seemingly of it's own accord, and he watched as the figure's left hand left the staff and came around, crossing his chest and ... curiously, the figure's right hand (still around Yosef's shoulders) began to tug on the leather glove that covered the figure's left hand. Slowly, the glove came off, and Yosef, being the helpful sort he is, reached up to help the man take off his glove. He had heard that some clerics must actually touch those they heal, but never thought he'd be actually able to see such wonderous acts in person! Maybe things are not as bad as he thought, he said to himself, feeling almost relieved.

As he finally got his small fingers inside the robes sleeves to grasp the edge of the leather glove, he felt something strange. The figure's arm was very hard - brittle, almost - and cold.. so cold. Yosef suddenly had a feeling of intense dread as his small fingers felt two distinct bones where flesh should be. Perhaps it was that he stiffened, perhaps the figure simply sensed his sudden dread, for the arm around his shoulder tightened suddenly, pulling him even closer, and the figure completed removing the leather glove. Yosef, his eyes wide with disbelief, the horror growing inside him, watched on as bone digits were revealed, yet still animated, staying connected just as a real hand would.

"You... your..." he stammered, frozen as the figure's gleaming ivory appendage stole forth and hovered over his sister's mouth. He heard arcane words, and literally felt it as a small red gleam began to appear from the skeletal hand, almost a steam rising from it's palm, which seemed to defy gravity and actually flow down into his sisters mouth.

"Mortius, Nefrato, Canda... Canda... Canda.." the figure murmured.. and his sister moved! Jerked, more appropriately, her leg and.. and then her arm. But the wounds on her neck seemed to not disappear, as Yosef had heard happens when a cleric heals someone or brings them back from death... no, they glistened still, ichor slowly oozing out of her neck. Suddenly, Yosef's small mind finally comprehended what was happening. He realized it just as his sister began to twitch even more, and as the figure held him close and beckoned his sister to rise.

"Thou art almost correct, Yosef, but not yet. Mineself be not like this, or those that now devour thy people.. but close enough. So, thou said thou would pledge thy life for thy sister to return to thee, hrrm? Methinks thy sister intend on collecting that debt, dear Yosef. Oh yes. Mineself thinks she doth, indeed." the figure said, and Yosef's eyes grew so wide, so white, in their horror as the figure of his sister rose jerkily, a small amount of black dust rolling out of her mouth and over her gums and teeth as she did, and reached forth towards him. All sanity left his poor mind as her lolling head began to move towards him, her slow, dead fingers reaching out to him in her hunger. Yosef's body jerking spasmatically, then quieted as his mind left him.

The figure held him firm, as his sister feasted.

_________________

"Come under the flag of truce, and brook no treason... for mineself is Death, and care not whom knows mine touch."
- Frey Asaid'De Majere

Deleted

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I play
Crystalitharion:At the core, a beast.
Velkyn Skikudis:Merchant of the "Laughing Skulls"
Owen Belmont-Long vanished Archmage and savior of the clockwork plane of Mechanicus.
Octavia Celestyr-Soldier of Doom

*A letter from Kohlingen arrives for her*


Lady Octavia Celestyr,

you are not alone on your watch. Sir Yaston, a Triadic knight, left Kohlingen for Ank'Renum some moons ago. He keeps watch there for some time now. See if you can find him, he might be able to supply aid and information to you.

Sir Hector

_________________
Playing atm Eowariel (Elven archer) / Gwendolyn (Monk)
Inactive: Hector (Triadic knight)

A dark skinned Halruaan can be seen frequenting the Winyan and Cordorian libraries and the Plane of Knowledge; and always he takes precarious notes, ignoring or at best scolding any who dare interrupt him.

Riia muttered under her breath as she once again shielded her eyes next to the Morningcrystal, trying to look upon it. She was unused to this hot, dry air and the scorching sun constantly boring down upon her. Her eyes could scarcely take it, and she'd already been temporarily blind once.

Despite this, and the pains she's gone through on this mission, she was not going to leave. She'd promised Lady Si'neela that she would see this to the end, and so she would.

With that final thought, she turned away and made ready to prepare for the next expedition. The drow Captain of the Weave Knights can be seen by any who visit and/or frequent Nes'ek village, either ordering around mages or busily going through notes with a small pseudodragon on her shoulder.

_________________

A tall, red figure sits on a rock in the middle of the desert.
´hee hee...so the king finally found his way out? well, more work for me then. Back to the grinder, and so on...

The figure Hops off the stone and walks through a large round area of ash and charred bones.

´Hee...Hee´

//OOC: Corrish will be patrolling around the desert and the ruins any time he/i can, killing undead, so any shifter who comes into his proximity while in undead form might be killed/damaged/turned to stone and left to rot

_________________
Technology, no matter how simple, is magic to all those who do not understand it. ~ Florence Ambrose

If one were to see Lady Octavia it would be more than likely that one were to see an average heighted salandran with her, togther fighting against the undead who venture the area and the ones who dare come out of the tomb.

Both Basin and Lady Octavia have a camp set up just underneath the steps leading into the tomb, there they spend there days and nights guarding the surrounding area's and warning passers by of the increase in power that the undead happen to be getting.

One happy sunrise over Amia, the world lights up in glorious Divinity as Lathandar graces the world with his warming embrace.

Except for the region of Ankh'remun. A massive stormhead of clouds has covered the region, effectively blotting out the sun, and covering the area is eternal night, a supernatural eclipse.

Residents of Ne'sek have begun to ... panic, to put it gently. Without Sunlight to power the Morningcrystal, every day tat passes, the Morningcrystal seems just a little bit less vibrant, a little bit less awe inspiring. It fails to incinerate undead as they approach, and when they do, the more powerful undead are actually surviving the immolation. Not for long, albeit, but the fact that they are surviving has the Guardians of the Lathandar temple worried.



Si'neela is seen praying fervently, now more than ever, in her cloistered room of the Temple.

~~~

Meanwhile, out in the desert, the Nomads have gone into deeper hiding altogether. Abandoning the City ruins, they hide in their caves, attacking anyone who comes near, living or dead. They become more desperate, more worried.

A darker power, blacker than the eclipse that enshrouds all of Khem, approaches.



"Zan'thun is arisen once more, to take what is rightfully his by Divine Right! Only this time, your precious Prince fights at *my* side, instead of against me! Behold the glory of Set, Lord of Lies, Serpent King!"

_________________
Davion Telemos - Monk of the Four Winds
Korthan Isharnos - Dragon Shaman of Thunder Spirit Zamasham

Any who come to Ankh'remun can see a female drow sorceress wearing the robes of the Weave Knights. She is seen either directing others, or pacing near the northern part of the village, which often ends with her blasting some Undead that wanders too close.

Her presence, judging by the locals' ease with the drow's proximity and the cluttered mess that she calls her tent, is certainly not something new, and not likely to change in the coming dark days.

_________________

With the Drow female Sorceress is a White Haired wizard who seems to be lending the best hand he can in anything she is doing.

A messenger leaves a letter for Riia by her bedside, from Kohlingen.

Kelemvorites, Triadites, Defenders and Lathanderites have declared the defense of Nes'ek the first step of the Crusade.

Inquisitor Lord Justice Gagis Silvarna moves his war camp to Nes'ek as the Divine Crusade moves in on the area.

_________________
Gagis Silvarna, the Robocop with wings who shoots lasers from his fingertips
Lily Havthorn, the Waukeenar
Silwe, the elf

---

*Aniril sneaks around the place, in hes own during, keeps walking back to report the activities, and some times he just stand as a statue (him in stoneskin) outside the city. yet you can easily spot its him*

_________________
No more blood in my veins, cause im not a living conduct.

Aniril Latoneia -"The Green Dragon"
Izzton d'Tinnerai - "The Silent"
Pifral - No title.

Heavily armed Salandran Templar are seen joining the crusading troops. Salandran medical stations are also set up in Ne'sek to help aid the wounded and to provide assistance if plagues are unleashed from the undead that inhabit the desert.

_________________
Plays:

"I'll think of something once Amia:EE drops."

A bevy of Dawnbringers in heavy plate, wielding hand-and-a-half swords, spears, maces, axes and carrying golden shields are seen in and around Nes'ek. Supported by similarly garbed archers and wizards, they all wear the tell-tale golden cloaks of the Army of Light, displaying the white sunburst of Lathander on their backs. The cloaks snap and wave in the now too-cold desert air.

They often make patrolls into the desert and in and around the tomb. They often return battered, covered in dust, grime and what can only be described as grave-flesh.

Quick reports are made and runners are dispatched back to the base of operations in Cordor whenever they return to Nes'ek.

These men are seen talking seriously, with worried expressions to any Kelemvorites, Triadic Knights, Weave Knights and Salandrans they encounter in or around the village.

Frequently, they check on the Morning Stone, their faces clearly reflecting their concern in it's slowly dying light...

_________________
*********************************
Current Character: Garath Dawnson
*********************************
'Hokey religions and ancient weapons are no substitute for a good blaster at your side'
- Han Solo

---

All the while, in the background, a dark-skinned wizard conducts his research and experiments, attempting to find direction to the great gathering of holy warriors.

And despite his considerable efforts already, in times when his head is uncovered, he reveals an expression of worry.

*in his Office in Tarkuul, Frey Asaid'De Majere looks up at Galduil as he enters*

Magus, mineself would commit thee to finding all lore relevent to this "Zan'thun" our spies hath learned of.

As it appears this one now leads the Desert King, we must find out all we can.

Also, distribute these pamplets around the different districts. And prepare the banquet hall, we shall use that area for the War Room. There have been many responses to our mercenary recruiting, we shall meet them there... now GO !"

*Magus Thielle moves quickly out the door*

_________________

"Come under the flag of truce, and brook no treason... for mineself is Death, and care not whom knows mine touch."
- Frey Asaid'De Majere

Delarwyn walks by the desert and feeling the negative energy that makes her neck stiff, she searches around the space, cleaning the desert from some cruel broken souls and speak with some of the people present.

She enters the tomb and studies the portals, thinking about the reason Riia would be searching for mages with a foremost knowledge of portals. She then walks home to her family thinking that she should go to Tarkuul to research their library about the situation there. Who better than them would have resources against this dark lord?

_________________

Signature by Qualiz

Del's Characters Entry - Amiawiki.

*A one-eyed figure scowls at the elven female and mumbles about a lesson when he keeps an eye on her walking around the desert examining it.

While not battling the undead or walking around the Kelemvorite-Salandran camp checking all possible places for anything harmful to them, Daren cleaned his armour of the guts and goo that's splattered all over his full plate, and the cloths containing the coat of arms of the Eternal Order, from the numerous mummies and zombies he slayed with the other members of the Eternal Order and the Salandran temple.

Always with zealotic rage he assaulted at the swarms of undead with the others and swinged his hammer to bring down the abominations. After the battle he looked around and sighed, said a prayer to bless the dead and headed back to the camp to clean his armour once again and to see if the camp was in the state that it could be shown to other people. Order and tidiness were to be kept, even on a warzone.*


*Hunie came to see what was going on over at the desert, but after a moment of discussion with Sharina, he decided the dwarves weren't really needed at the scene and they could focus on more important matters for their kin.*

_________________
Characters:
Hunar Iroff, The red-bearded, grumpy dwarf with a bastard sword. Chair of Military Issues
Daren Sten, High Inquisitor of the Eternal Order of Kelemvor on Amia

Warrick quietly sat, reading the most incidental reports written by Fiddlemoxzillious along with the other prior notices tied to this. Walking away shortly after, he continued the process of gathering funds which he hoped to turn into supplies for the efforts in Nesek.

Passing frequently back and forth between the Hold and Nes'ek - often in the cover of Invisibility to both pass with haste and test the awareness of their own guardians - a slight, elven figure with an avian sharpness to her features might be seen spiriting papers or hushed words to a particular dark-skinned wizard. She rarely lingers long, soon moving on with haste and a strong tail wind.

((Consider the Dracolich event retconned.))

_________________
Davion Telemos - Monk of the Four Winds
Korthan Isharnos - Dragon Shaman of Thunder Spirit Zamasham

*Bryce stands guard at the entrance to Ankh'remun's tomb, carefully keeping watch and making sure none try to enter at present, especially Qirlan, Vaelowi, Veldrium or any who have shown support with them. When he himself can no longer remain awake, he summons Alodessius to watch while he sleeps. During this, he writes a brief entry in his Journal.

If Riia or Seth'rinyon order him to allow entry, he will but only on their direct order.*

*A large quantity of lumber supplies arrives via portal from Guldorand, setting up shop just near the outskirts of Nes'ek, as ordered in by the band of soldiers in a recent battle. Mynna and a couple of others from Guldorand have also taken a position in the front lines to help with the cause*

_________________
Character Status:
Mynna- Guldorand
Samrael Cymere-Winya Ravana
Laika-Unknown

The last winks of energy fade from the Morningcrystal this day. The Lathanderan clergy gathers for one last prayer, and though the light of as Sunbeam spell hits it and washes over it for one final time, it does relatively little, to nothing. The light fades entirely, and all that remains is a grey-white dull crystal.

_________________
Davion Telemos - Monk of the Four Winds
Korthan Isharnos - Dragon Shaman of Thunder Spirit Zamasham

*a scribe runs to the Speakers office, and after running in without a knock, he whispers something into Frey's ear"

What is this? The MorningCrystal's light wanes and those in Nes'ek fear it to be gone by morning? This is unfortunate... unfortunate indeed.

Here, thou, take this to our contact in the Cordorian Paper. Have them publish it, for tis ready. Mineself shall also send out our usual agents to post the document for the public to pervue.

Also, summon the Consulate. It is time for our Emergency meeting to occur. Now is the time to take action, these fools know nothing.

*the scribe takes the offered document and runs off immediately to do as the Speaker asked*

_________________

"Come under the flag of truce, and brook no treason... for mineself is Death, and care not whom knows mine touch."
- Frey Asaid'De Majere

An official document is placed up on the Temple of Lathander, in the most obvious place its poster can find for those who come to help in the cause.

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With a brief message to Sharina to be left to Riia an elven ascetic known as Iaide Amne has left the camp. His message is short, he is leaving to one-two days to spend time with his wife and a half-a-year old son Iaidra. At best two days pass until the usual sight of glowing red eyes is seen in the darkness of the night. No certain sight of iaide is seen, just two eyes in the dark desert and a slightly reduced number of vampires in the desert.

//Forgive typos, runk in a bar atm.

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In-Game: guano

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Current Character: Garath Dawnson
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'Hokey religions and ancient weapons are no substitute for a good blaster at your side'
- Han Solo

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"Come under the flag of truce, and brook no treason... for mineself is Death, and care not whom knows mine touch."
- Frey Asaid'De Majere

While on a frequent survey into the shroud that had blackened the desertscape, a bird took note of a very large turbulance in the standard currents within the cloud. It alighted to the crown of a cliff to wait the much larger flier out, beady eyes observing until the wyrm was out of sight.

Deleted

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I play
Crystalitharion:At the core, a beast.
Velkyn Skikudis:Merchant of the "Laughing Skulls"
Owen Belmont-Long vanished Archmage and savior of the clockwork plane of Mechanicus.
Octavia Celestyr-Soldier of Doom

To whom this may concern,

This is a recommendation letter for one Willow Maynare of the Oak Father, currently from the Oakmist Vale Grove to be invited to recieve the highest Healer's training currently made availible for non-worshippers of Salandra.

She was a valuable assistant in a recent field Surgery which saved a life elsewise which would have been taken, where Healing magics would not have made the difference. She was calm, collected and possessed a great deal of knowledge already through her experience as a Druid, I presume.

I feel under Salandra's offered hand, this Hin woman of great talent could excel and save many lives.

For reasons of protecting the patient's privacy and the sanctity of the efforts at Nesek I cannot reveal full details about the surgery itself, however if required I can make myself availible to the Church for query.

Signed:
Sir Christophan Warrick of House Kenlyl,
Head of Investigations and in Service to the Defenders
of Kohlingen.



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*As Warrick finished writing this letter, he hand delivered it to the Temple of Salandra, quietly musing to himself in consideration*

~Darvin old friend, Sarlis m'dear .. where are you both? Us, along with Elina could show this new generation of adventurers and such what heroism really is about. It's not about charging into battle even against overwhelming odds, but being willing to tend to the small tasks, the tasks most people would stick their nose up at and say 'tis not worth their challenge. Something tells me this situation in Nesek will not be resolved in a glorius charge across the Desert sands, but in small steps.~

In the very depths of the Crystal caves, a part of the cave wall appears to have been broken off by a piercing weapon, bits of earth and mineral scattered across the cold floor below it...

Eir leaves a note with Thrar at the Eillistraeen Shrine. The note is for Christophan Warrick-Kenlyl, and reads as follows.

Lieutenant Bryce requests that you seek him out. Do so at the Nes'ek Defenders' camp, or at the Mages' Tower.

Eir Shaji.

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Profiles: DakoDako & ElWacko

Characters: Currently trying my best to stick to Beridoc Brushgale

During one of his brief visits to the Shrine, Warrick recieves this note and blinks quietly taking inkpen to paper and having a reply sent.

Lieutenant Bryce, I apologize but have been busy for the past few days checking into some paperwork I've been doing and trying to find the best place to continue securing supplies. If a meeting is require I can arrange one as soon as possible.

Signed:
Sir Christophan Warrick of House Kenlyl.

Xavi arrives at the barricades to see Riia, Kald and several others talking with a shadowy figure who claims that someone - the Defenders? the Kelemvorites? - tortured his child. It becomes obvious that neither side is completely innocent, though the Sharran's story appears to be mainly hyperbole. Nevertheless, Xavi takes it upon herself to cross the barricades and speak to the figure, away from everybody else, and after a time prays to her Goddess for various protections and walks off into the dark desert with him, saying "I'll be back later, I hope."

After a short time, the shadowy figure returns without Xavi. An hour or so later she approaches from the Nesek side of the barricade, crossing it again to stand near the other defenders of the town. She looks at the figure and nods, to which he replies "Is it done?" "It is done," she answers, and the man turns to those guarding the bridge and speaks. "Do what you have to do," he says, at which they fall upon him and slay him. As he falls, his body disappears, leaving only his robe.

When asked by the others what she has done, she replies only "I helped a child". Standing over the spot where the man fell, she says a prayer to Sharess, then turns and walks back into town without speaking.

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~Sharess on AmiaWiki~
Priestess, politician, prostitute
"[They] were moving in on me like Sharessans on a new broad in the bath house" - Tracer Bolt
AmiaWiki mod (mostly inactive)

Working on a Greater Machination:

Bryce sat quietly in the Nesek Temple of Lathander, looking over his fatigued beloved Riia, bowing his head in contemplation as he pulled his notebook , charcoal notations implement, and Scroll of Greater Restoration, secured in no small part thanks to Eir. He took a while, carefully copying the scroll as he read it into his page, yet not completeing it as though he was trying to copy it into his spell book, instead merely to set up a worksheet.

"Riia, my dearest.." Bryce whispered to Riia softly. "I know how this wears on you, so I am going to prepare this plan, irregardless of acceptance, or lack thereof. I want this to be ended, so you might be free to return to the Monolith and only Paperwork for the most part, perhaps with the odd arrest of personnel in the Monolith, as opposed perhaps to the madness which seems to come with defending Nesek." he sighed, continuing to copy the notations down for Greater Restoration, by his reckoning and understanding a seventh Circle Spell. Carefully, he took that copy, and made an additional copy on another page of his notebook in lighter writing, which he could in turn wipe and alter as needed for what he sought to do.

Slowly, he began to change the various characters, rebalancing them into the format of a Ninth Circle spell were it of Wizardly origin, pondering how some of the characters in the scroll which he did not have an innate value for in his ordered system of the Arcane arts would mesh in with the rest. Sighing, he contemplated as he continued to whisper to Riia.

"I did not tell you of my dream, because I knew that you had so much to deal with, to have to tend to my own personal troubles would only aggreive you to a point of no return. However, so long as you promise not to worry yourself, I will tell you now, seeing as we are, well not doing much." he said, pausing before beginning. "I launched a solitary assault against the Banite temple, using powerful arcane magic fueled even moreso by my Hatred inspired by the Banites, for what they had done to you , my love. I showed no mercy and was particularly grotesque in my treatment of their leader, a rather tall Daemonic blooded individual. I uses one of Bigby's hands to crush him as though he was naught more then paper." he said, pausing with a shiver. "Afterwards, I was overlooking a Temple Fortress of Bane , proclaiming my hatred for them loudly and in black robes, before I unleashed a Greater Ruin that would completely engulf it. I woke from that with a shiver, and mortal dread, asking myself if I was indeed capable of such atrocity. Then, I realized yes, if I allowed myself to fall to darkness, I would be. Thusly, love I have chosen to follow a path of Hope, Peace, and Good. It will not be easy especially in these chaotic times, but I promise, I shall not be the one to slay without first being attacked myself , and even then if I can preserve life I shall." he said, sighing softly to himself and continuing to carefully work at the formula in his book, considering.

"These unknown aspects of the spell, I know not what should belong there. I suppose that is what makes the difference between faith, and the Arcane. Faith is free flowing and dynamic, whereas the Arcane at least as I have studied it is very formulaeic and rigid. I walk an odd path in doing what I hope to do , Riia but if this works, we will be able to retrieve the Sceptre. However, I know I cannot do it on my own, and can only hope Lady Si'neela will be able to make up for the aspects of this spell which shall escape my own understanding." Bryce finished to himself, continuing his silent notations, looking to Riia as she rested quietly, eventually writing a brief note to leave for her, which reads.

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Riia,

Firstly, Ky'irael wishes to apologize for leaving camp. He seems fine and is tending to matters outside. You were, according to what could be told merely fatigued, so I brought you in here to rest. As well, I have been working on the alternative plan I mentioned. I do not want to supercede what is in place, but I would like to be able to offer you another option. It will require consultation with Lady Si'neela though so that should be arranged, as soon as possible.

Signed,
Lieutenant Bryce Aldemann

PS: I love you, no matter what happens and no matter if Nesek should claim my life if that is to be what is required for it's safety, I love you.

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After that, he leaves the note for her in a place which she could easily see it, and himself quietly began to rest on the cold, hard floor of the temple.

Upon hearing about the pull of Kelemvorite support from the defense of Ne'sek and the region, the morale in Ne'sek plummets. Commoners are seen leaving the area with little regret, despite the Lathanderan's pleas for them to stay and fight, and show courage.

Unfortunately the common man is not a warrior, and not a priest, and more than a few flee the area, settling in Guldorand for now, and dispersing with the cart roads to their own devices.

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Davion Telemos - Monk of the Four Winds
Korthan Isharnos - Dragon Shaman of Thunder Spirit Zamasham

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Character Status:
Mynna- Guldorand
Samrael Cymere-Winya Ravana
Laika-Unknown

The Salandran Templar have pulled out alongside the Kelemvorites for protection of their temples.

Salandran medical teams still remain in Ne'sek to perform their jobs to the goddess.

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Plays:

"I'll think of something once Amia:EE drops."

Riia stands next to the Morningcrystal, watching the people leave with a degree of sadness in her eyes, though the cause of the sadness is not as apparent as it seems to those who may look upon her. The strong, unyielding drow sorceress stands firm, watching the people leave as she had long decided they must anyway, however their reason for leaving is the cause of her sadness, rather than that they are leaving. In one way, at the very least, she had failed them. It was beyond her control, she knew, but she couldn't help feeling as if she could have done something to keep the Kelemvorites with them.

With a bow of her head, she quietly whispered a prayer to her goddess, Mystra. Her staff, a beacon of light next to the dead, black Morningcrystal, lit her features in a warm embrace, her silken, curly hair glistening a silver hue. She had nearly given up hope a few times, but for these people, for her duties as a Weave Knight and as a servant of Mystra, she would remain strong. She would lead the men and women, the hin, the dwarves, the elves... Those who would follow her, those who -could- follow her... She would lead them through this to victory.

Her eyes narrow briefly and she flicks her wrist, a whisper sliding off her tongue. An instant later, a small pseudodragon slips out of a pouch at her hip and climbs up her cloak to rest on her shoulders, its tiny claws finding smooth footing and stability.

"Let us see to this, Rik'dan," she says in Draconic to the creature. Rik'dan simply hisses quietly and briefly touches his snout to her cheek before he tightens his grip on her robe as she turns away to head back north out of the village.

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Another group of people flee the city with the Salandran Templars, taking up residence in the Temple for now, essentially using the place as sanctuary, refusing to leave.

Si'neela seems frustrated, annoyed, and curt with anyone who isn't of her own faith at this point. The emotions are written on her features plainly.

At this point the city is looking rather barren outside the Lathanderan regulars of the faith, and a few merchants, along with some of the braver townsfolk...

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Davion Telemos - Monk of the Four Winds
Korthan Isharnos - Dragon Shaman of Thunder Spirit Zamasham

*Sally leaves the lines late in the evening, looking only a little tired, and not angry, which seems her usual manner of leaving lately, and passes through the chequered square, which even until recently was full of burning torches and life at this hour, but now is silent and near deserted. She begins to frown, and then frowns deeper and deeper, as she has to wait her turn to pass through the portal, and deeper yet as she sees the gathered folks trying to gain shelter in the coldness of Guldorand. After sharing two cart-rides with folks carrying their goods, and even some with livestock, she gets off at Bendir and enters the gates with a face like thunder by now. She passes Bemmi the baker, Dunkar the Trader and even Fendel the Innkeeper with hardly a word and goes straight up to her room, closing the door with a slam*

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"Never ascribe to malice, that which can be explained by incompetence"
~ Napoleon Bonaparte.
- Clearly, Napoleon never envisioned the Internet......where I'd judge it about 50/50.