AMIA ARCHIVE • View topic - Diplomacy's Game Continues: Blood and Rebirth

At the prompting of Ulrik, Vito Corvus spends a full night within the Demiplane of Knowledge. He reads through the 'History and Threat of the Arcanum and Collin Reyes' very closely, with his face set in a look of both curiosity and concern. As the night goes by, Vito enjoys a fine red wine. His eyes never leave the pages, even as he rubs them from fatigue. When he finally finished reading through the book, he lets out a sudden breath. Though Vito is an avid student in the study of magics of all kinds, there is a look of wonder on his face as a single word leaves his lips.

"...Wow."

Over the last ten-day the forges in the heart of the mountain citadel known as Barak Runedar has been a hive of activity, more so than the usual industrious labour of the dwarves. Day and night the mountain top vents expelled hot air and fumes from the great furnaces below without reprieve. Carts of black fuel are hauled in and carts of assorted metal wares are rolled out.

A broad red bearded dwarf at the centre of all the activity, shouts instructions to his smiths above the ring of hammers as new craft orders come in for various parts of war machines and such. He stops and spot checks the contents of carts as they roll past. Pulling out a helm here or a battle axe there to see if it passes the quality required to stand up to the rigors of combat. He jots down marks on various parchments surrounding him on his forge-side workbench the tallies of ores, metals, and fuel that are being transformed into the tools for war.

Taking a short minute to survey the scene of the dwarven smiths at work, Aaegus wipes some sweat and grime from his forehead trying to remember the last time he had slept for more than an hour at a time. "Perhaps I'll sleep when I be dead, eh" He muses to himself, knowing that day could come sooner than later. Noticing a new role of parchment being trust out before him by a member of the builder's guild. He unrolls it and looks over the design etched into the paper and gives it an approving grunt. "Alright lads, a new ones come in! Get workin' on 'is". He grabs his smith's hammer and goes to help pound some steel plates with his fellow smiths.

The tough dwarf works on without complaint for the endless labours ahead of him.

When morning hits the city a familiar face is seen around Cordor South. The young knight is seen once more stretching in some loose clothing and working on a few warm ups before he meets the militia. To his side is a rather exotic looking woman who also bares Helm's symbols. She too seems to be getting warmed up. As they wait for the others to arrive they are seen speaking to one another and smiling. When the militia arrives Izariel introduces her to the rest of them and then it seems he gets right back into the drills they all seem to know well. Once more the young knight seems to be working but this time he seems more intense and more focused then ever before. With his companion beside him giving aid in new ways that he could not. Time is well spent with these men and woman and the drills go on.

Central Cordor seems a wave of activity as of late, despite the silver orb lingering over West Cordor. Several business-class individuals seem to be gathering into various offices up and down the canal. It is uncertain what the matter of their discussions relate to, but the merchants seem to leave or enter the sector with small chests of gold. A woman in black robes speaks with some of the nearby harbormen there regularly, and helps them load crates onto the merchant class vessels. They do not however seem to be going anywhere any time soon, given the blockade. Occasionally she goes down to South Cordor and observes the proceedings there. But does not otherwise seem to interact with the training officers.

As morning comes the young paladin and his fiance priestess walk out of there house to the South of Cordor. It is there that they meet with the other militia and begin on there stretches. Shortly after they get right into the routine of practice and training and work with the others carefully on defenses and offensive stances. Though today differs some from the others. The young priestess has taken up her own little mantle in the training and begins to show how to endure in combat. She teaches them basics on the way to use your armor and shield to deflect and soak in hits upon them. Commenting on form and placements. The young paladin aids her using his strength to show the others how the priestess can take such hits.

As time goes on the routine becomes like any other and repetition seems to carry on more then anything. It is clear that over time everyone has been improving and learning more. After it is said and done the young priestess then begins something new. She starts teaching them some of the more advanced basics on healing one another and looking after wounds in combat. All in all the duet seem to be in great sync with one another while working with the others.

A small fire elemental is sent ,via the elemental plane of fire, to the Temple of the Flame in Bezantur, Province Priador, in Thay. It carries a sealed message reading as follows:

To the appropriate functionary, in His fiery name.

Glory be to his eminence the most Holy Eternal Flame of Kossuth, may he live another hundred years. Praise be his endless wisdom and may his power only flare up further to new heights.

We of the Amian mission of the Burning Brazier wish to inquire upon most troubling tidings from the homeland, may it reign eternal. We have heard something known as the 'Arcanum' had supposedly vanquished our Great Nation. Naturally, such is utterly preposterous, but as these rumours seem quite persistant, we thus humbly inquire what is known of this 'Arcanum' among the most wise and noble of our Supreme Society and if steps should be taken to eliminate its presence in our current area of operation.

Your humble servant,

Raz'zak Zul'bayek, firewalker.

A handfull of mages has started to construct defensive works around the beach in Wharftown. A young man with reddish hair and dark clothes seems to lead the effforts and the mages seem to be fairly secretive about their efforts, stopping their work when observed by those they don't recognize.
Naturally their work is arcane in nature.

The young mage does often confer with Allanna and the local militia so it seems the Wharftown leadership does at least know of their efforts.

*Over the past days in Kohlingen, TUomas has been working and invoking longer lived spells covering areas in certain high circle abjurations. He seems to work on one building or section of an area every day or two*

The portal in South Cordor locks one evening, ending portal travel between Cordor and Ruathym. Its color dims from that of its usual bright cylinder to that of a soft glow no brighter than a common street lantern.

Off the coast of Cordor, strange lights dance over the Living City of Tarkuul. Writhing and seemingly tearing at one another. They appear regularly, a few minutes before sunset each day for three days before they seemingly come together as a coherent singular ring of brightest gold that somehow at once creates and envelopes the deepest blackness before vanishing once more and not reappearing again.

Upon the cliff overlooking Guldorand, a small figure sits and crafts scrolls, tweaking and adjusting the symbols infused upon them as it gazes up at the silver sphere.

Visitors to the Triumvir's demiplane of knowledge would find the loremasters quite vexed at the recent destruction of the library's control mechanism. Those of a mind to investigate would just find a scorch mark and cracked floor in the place where the magical orb had rested before. If asked none of the apprentices would have seen anyone coming in or leaving the sanctum and all they could say for certain is that a powerful explosion resounded all around.

Those seeking knowledge in this library, it seemed, would be forced to do so the old-fashioned way, now. Or with the aid of one of the helpful apprentices.

A strange occurrence for those who have been around Cordor a lot, would notice that the blood which normally sinks into the stone of the ground now simply pools as normal blood does. It seems that throughout Cordor, no longer does blood sink into the ground. Accompanying this are many rumors throughout the districts about Cordor being doomed, bewitched, or perhaps saved by some mysterious force. Rumors vary widely across the districts, with their own usual political slants.

Andrew re-issues his paper with a slight addendum to the names.

BLOOD MAGIC CONTINGENCY

Roughly two days ago, a coalition of Kohlingen, Barak Runedar, Cordor and several independent agents gathered together with the intention of bringing Amon to justice and liberating Cordor's underground from the Arcanum. Our group made our way through countless blood monstrosities and other hostiles, tripping up occasionally but never being routed. Before long, several hundred feet underground, we were in the sanctum, where a large ball of blood hung suspended in the air. All around us in the inner sanctum was decades worth of blood harvested through the ground to power the contingency.

To our surprise, the ball began to speak with us, and eventually lashed out at us. A rather powerful blood creature, like the one that had emerged from the late Speaker Maximilian, pooled and began its onslaught as the mages with us attempted to halt the progress and disrupt the ball of blood. Our warrior types fought back the blood creature. After it fell, the ball of blood became enraged and the blood began to swell and grow around us, surrounding us all in the small chamber. At this point, I used a scroll to lock the rising tide from moving.

Seconds after I read off the scroll, things went calm and several quaruts (inevitables – constructs who serve to protect the laws of time) arrived and the blood all disappeared from the sanctum, aside from a few stains on the walls of the giant tank beneath us. No sign of the ball of blood. Whether it was because of the intervention of the quaruts or our efforts, the result is the same: Cordor seems to have been, to some degree, liberated of Amon. Though Amon was able to evade capture, the ground no longer drinks the blood and the sanctum is now being protected by Cordor forces and quaruts who are waiting to get Collin Reyes from crimes against time. The blood was witnessed to pool normally, rather than get sucked into the ground multiple times and in multiple locations.

It would seem that, after so many years, Cordor is free of the shackles of the blood magic contingency. It remains to be seen what the long lasting effects will be, but at this time, it seems that we've achieved some minor victory over the Arcanum. However, we must remain wary and on guard even so.

Several Cordorians (from across all districts) participated in the chase, and they are listed below in alphabetical order.

Sgt. Avery
Andrew Fryar
Lt. Elisa Fryar
Law Knight Hector Godric
Law Knight Hennigan
Cpl. Heshgvar
Law Knight Lawson
Aiseth Nosdivan
Captain Philippi
Samantha

// Edited to include re-issue

Within the morning like most mornings the young paladin heads out for his daily ritual and training of the militia. He meets up with old friends and some even new ones. There seems to be resolve in his step this day. A bit different then the others he goes about laying out maps for those around to look upon.

"Swords of Cordor, we know that troubling times are coming our way. We have been preparing long and hard for what is to come. Today will be a bit different then in the past. We are going to train like we used to but I believe it is time to work on formations. You have the knowledge of the basics, you have been working hard to acquire the skills to execute them. So now it is time to put this to the test."

Izariel motions to those around him and begins dividing the militia into squads. Arming them with various training weapons. He uses the basic formations to begin with and they work through the streets of the south as he speaks on advantages to the formations. He speaks greatly on such formations like the "Arrowhead" and then goes into detail on defensive positions. Each having linked to there previous training. The shield men take stances in front, spear men behind. Archers and so forth. Each part of all he has learned through time and experience. As the morning carries on the training continue's until it is time to stop. Then everyone is given some food and drink and go about there own routines. As for the young paladin he walks the streets taking in idea for new exercises to bring to the training process.

As the threat of war continues to loom, the wheel turns in Kohlingen...

A tall and broad man makes a return to Cordor, and begins spending more time in West Cordor. He asks around about members of the Militia, and when he finds them, offers to continue training them. Who is he? When asked, he replies: "My name is Ryrik Follenstein. Call me Harbinger, if you're feeling official. Otherwise, just Ryrik. Let's get the Militia back in shape. We've got a lot of work to do."

Amongst the busy activity of the dwarven army amassed in the Feylake district of Kohlingen did Aaegus, Gothar Goldbuckle and a group of dwarves emerge once more from the portal to Barak Runedar. These were stocky worker dwarves bearing heavy creates, two-by-two the carried them out of the portal chamber to unload them on the grass of the hillock overlooking the lake. They would return through the portal to bring more and set them down besides the rest. Others would be seen helping load them onto oxen drawn carts on the road below ready to be transported to their final journey.

As the oxen heaved off a detachment of soldiers would break off from the larger group led by Marishka Stoneshield to join the carts on their journey out of the west gate of the holy city. At a slow but sure speed the carts and their escort would make their way south passed the ruins of Benwick Hollow to rumble across the Minmir Bridge towards the forest.

----

If finding themselves unmolested by the time they reach the north gate of Bendir Dale, a caravan of oxen lead by a team of dwarven workers and soldiers would roll to a halt in front of the town militia guards. The lead dwarf, a stout red bearded councillor known to the hin of the Dale as Aaegus would greet the militia guards and state they have a delivery from Barak Runedar for the town Treasurer, Vindle and motion to the crate laden oxen.

On inspection of the contents of the crates, it would be found they are full of gleaming half sized mithril arms and armours of fine dwarven craftsmanship. Handing over the inventory along with the goods. It would list two hundred sets. Each set containing a short spear, a short sword, a helm, a suit of chainmail and a shield emblazoned with the sigil of the Dale. Enough it seems to stock a small army of hin and gnomes.

There was one last crate remaining which had been marked for delivery to Angus Bronzebeard, this would contain thirty-odd sets of dwarven weapons and plate armours forged from adamantine. Including most notably a keg of Brogendenstein dwarven ale.

News of the conflict that has for the better part of the last two months gripped all of Faerun continue to trickle in brought either by word of mouth, spell or letter from "the mainland".

The curtain that had fallen around Thay has been lifted - to the regret of most. The Red Wizards' armies have launched an attack of unprecedented scale on neighbouring Aglarond. While the Zulkirs remain, nominally, at the head of the country their ranks have suffered quite a few changes, only half of the original eight keeping their positions (though here the rumors can't seem to agree on which four retained their titles and which four didn't).

In Mulhorand the fighting has been fierce with the priests of the local pantheon on the one side and most human wizards in the country on the other. Some claim that the fighting is still going on while others claim that the armies of the Old Empire have joined the usurpers' ranks and that the country is now ruled by a Wizard-king.

All around the Sea of Fallen Stars, the Alamber Sea and as far West as the Dragon Coast nations and cities have fallen to the tide of the mages' rebellion. As irony would have it, those nations, such as Chondath, whose populations were naturally distrusting of magic fell prey not to betrayal from within, but the unbridled might of Halruaan magelords and their flying ships.

Cormyr has fallen, after four weeks of siege and fierce fighting. The boy Azoun V has retained his title as King of the nation, but his council is markedly formed entirely of human male wizards. By royal decree all fighting is to cease and all knights and lords loyal to Cormyr were invited to swear fealty to the king and his council. Those that refused have been branded traitors to the realm. The not-particularly warlike but very wealthy neighbour to Cormyr, Sembia, surrendered as soon as news of the Forest Country's situation reached them.

In the North the situation seems far better: only Vaasa and Narfell, both countries with a dark history, have bent the knee to the Arcanum. The Anauroch desert remains ominously quiet, with the citadel of Shade having mysteriously broken off all contact and just... vanished. Every other city and nation in the North has maintained its autonomy, though they've not been free of fighting and assassination attempts, the Arcanum's power in the region seemingly nowhere near as strong as in the South, East or West.

In the West, Tethyr's rightful rulers were deposed when the rebellion they had nearly quelled received unexpected aid from Calimshan and Amn. The situation is much the same all along the Sword Coast, as far North as (and including) Baldur's Gate.

More disturbing, perhaps, is the news from the Far East - it would seem Faerun is not the only continent of Toril affected by this sudden, and brutal, uprising. Though more rumors than reliable news, it is said that the situation is not too different.

Much like Anauroch, no news has come from the dark jungles of Maztica, far to the West of Faerun. The island nations of Evermeet and Lantan, neither boasting a large (or at all existent) human population, seem to have been entirely unaffected. Both have taken measures to secure their borders against aggression and have extended an offer to refugees of their respective races.

slkNihilus wrote:

The island nations of Evermeet and Lantan, neither boasting a large (or at all existent) human population, seem to have been entirely unaffected. Both have taken measures to secure their borders against aggression and have extended an offer to refugees of their respective races.

A letter is dispatched to Illul in Lantan.

"Esteemed High Artificer Danactar.

I am glad to hear since my absence not too long ago, all is well and quiet on Lantan's front. I am unfortunate to say all it is not well here. While it is not from the work of the Arcanum, we have not long lost a core technological foothold of the Gnomish Testing Range near Forstakkr. As such, one of the primary places of worship on Amia and near her surrounding areas lies within Kohlingen, an allied city of my current residence of the Dwarves of Barak Runedar.

Amia will soon be facing the full force of the Arcanum, as well as the Amnish army. It is by no means an easy task to not only defend, but dispatch stuff, hence why I write to you personally as one of your Techsmiths.

We need as much manpower as we can muster, do heed my words that if Amia falls, it will not be long before Lantan is targeted and that is something I wish not to see. If you and the Ayrorch can spare anyone, be it fellow Techsmiths, Artificers, Clergy members, raw technology or what have you, it will be nothing but a boon in our war efforts.

If you and the Ayrorch decide this is the course of action you wish to undertake, please send letter and send what ever you can bring forth to either Barak Runedar on the island of Brogendenstein or Kohlingen on the island of Amia. I shall personally see the distribution of such. If you feel this is not a course of actions you wish to undergo, then I completely understand, it is a dire time. I do hope to hear from you soon, High Artificer Danactar, may our next encounter be one of celebration to the Wonderbringer.

-Techsmith Captor, stationed in Brogendenstein and Amia."

An Armoured man in the code of red and white plate adorned with the cape of red combined with a pair of white hands bound by cord has recently arrived to the Holy city, What the man considers as the last bastion of sanity according to the tales he heard at cormyr which he hails from.

As he arrived into the Holy city and with many visits there is talk generated by fear within the city and the pinnacles of justice that are unique individuals stand as beacons of light to the new arrival.. Like a moth to the flame he approaches them to offer his unhinged aid for the suffering.

One may think with this new arrival where priorities lie, and what other newcomers may come to the isle to combat the madness and chaos that the isle has been plunged in.

On this day, Andrew's drilling of the militia grows in intensity. Combat drills are harder, evacuation drills are stricter and Andrew really leans in on sharpening the militia as their window for training begins to close. He is not all task master, however - he is down in the Long and Short a bit more often, and bumps up the free-drinks for Swords amount from two to four.

The large bronze doors of the Commonwealth Center swing open, and three people walk out onto the steps - Xaviera, the Speaker of the Council, Eli Hodgewall, Minister of Finance, and Andrew Fryar. The latter clears his throat and calls for the attention of all within the square. It is a quiet afternoon in Cordor East, and not many are about, but a few passersby gather in front of the building to hear the announcement. The guards stand at attention. The Speaker, clad in the colours of her Goddess, Sharess, unrolls a scroll and reads the contents aloud to those assembled,

Quote:

Attention, Citizens of the Commonwealth of Cordor. Let it be known that the Council of Ministers hereby enacts Article One: Declarations of War.

A declaration of war may only be made by the Commonwealth with the approval of a majority of the Minister's Council. The signing of such a declaration must be witnessed by at least two others. The passing and signing of such enacts 'State of War' protocols.

During a State of War, the Minister of Law is to function as General of all of the Commonwealth's armed forces. Should the Minister of Law be unavailable, this duty falls to the Secretary of Law and so on down the chain of command. The General is granted the following powers:

First, the ability to form temporary treaties with aid of their own chosen subordinates. The terms of any and all treaties must ultimately be shared with the Minister's Council for them to either ratify or reject.

Second, the ability to create reimbursed labor positions to augment the war effort.

Third, the ability to declare states of evacuation in districts, if besieged or under attack or the threat thereof.

Fourth, the ability to arrange cease-fires and prisoner exchanges, and to propose terms of surrender to an opponent or to discuss with an opponent terms of surrender presented to the Commonwealth, either of the latter to be approved by the Minister's Council.

Fifth, the ability to take full control of the Commonwealth's arsenal, armory, and store houses.

All of these powers and any actions taken pursuant to them may at any time be suspended, overruled or otherwise limited by a majority decision of the Minister's Council.

Further, in order to protect the Will of the People of the Commonwealth, the Minister's Council may end a State of War with a majority vote. Additionally, through a majority vote, they may demote the General should the General be found to be in abuse of his power. Finally, these powers shall expire after a period of six months if not specifically extended by the Minster's Council.

The Speaker pauses a moment for breath, then continues:

Under this article, Sir Hector Godric, Law Knight, is hereby named General of the Commonwealth, effective this date.

She rolls up the scroll and bows to the crowd, then turns and speaks quietly to Eli for a moment before re-entering the building, leaning on her bronze staff as she walks.

(Edit: Oh, and the Commonwealth is now officially at war with Amn. Oops.

)

"Two days past, after a sudden and violent summer storm gathered out of nowhere and dissipated out to sea, a particularly loud peal of thunder was heard. From Cordor to Uhm, a giant fireball shot into the midnight sky. From it, a magnificent pair of wings the size of a warship burst forth, trailing embers down to sparkle against the sea. The great fiery Phoenix lingered in the sky for some time, before slowly burning itself out and falling back to the sea.

Across Cordor and Kohlingen, gossip about who was responsible for the flaming sign is a hot topic in taverns and households, and what happened before it flared into existence. Though details are not clear, the consensus seems to be that finally, the Amnish fleet doesn't seem like the untouchable bastion it once was- they can be hurt.

Someone, somewhere, was hitting back."

//DM approved

That stormy night somewhere in the eastern sky, a flash of orange engulfs the sky. Being so far from the shore, the shape may not be distinct...

But to those in the Amnish Blockade the message is clear.

From high in one of the towers of Tarkuul within the blockade, the acting High Captain of the Living Guard watches the attack of the firebird through a looking glass. With only one comment to be made: "Good, now do it again."

After researching the news and olds of the matter concerning Amn and Cordor, Adela Toralynsyr ponders the subject in depth at her desk in the Loremaster's Guild... she does this for a portion of each day for about a tenday, until finally one night she awakens from sleep with a start, sheened of cold sweat and laboured of breath. She looks around in a mild state of panic until she finds her lantern and lights it. She goes directly to her desk. "no, no, no... this cannot be allowed... this must be stopped..." ... and she begins writing feverishly by light of lantern.

Soon after the attack on the fleet, Emilie is seen several times in The Nomad's Return in Cordor East, The Long and the Short in Cordor South, Kampo's Storehouse in Benwick Hollow, Bad Dragon Inn in Uhm, the Slanty Shanty in Wharftown, and even around the campfire in Bendir Dale. Each time she buys a round of drinks for everyone present in celebration. Then she gathers any who care to listen and tells them an unforgettable tale. Though she takes care to pander to her different audiences, the core of the tale is always the same.

“Alright... so you want to know what's worth celebrating? Well, let me tell you...

So, me and my group took a boat out to sea under the guise of night. We rowed to intercept a supply ship. The waves were rough as a storm beat upon our little dinghy. After what felt like an eternity we saw our prize on the horizon, and it strengthened our spirits. When we reached the brig in the pitch black sea we boarded and commandeered the supply ship. Eventually it was decided that we should stay on their original course toward the Amnish blockade fleet."

Her expressions and gestures are animated and she seems to be genuinely thrilled to be talking about the events. Her excitement serves to add a honest energy to her skilled storytelling, "I maintained illusions and divinations to try to stay as undetectable as possible from those bastard Cowled Wizards...

We approached the fleet and Valerius, that's my brother, began preparing spells and a teleportation circle while staying out of sight, of course.. After that was finished, we got out what crew we could and the ones that surrendered have been turned over as prisoners of war."

Her expression darkens as she leans toward the group, “The others in my group took off as we neared the blockade to keep them out of harm's way because it was about to get dangerous. Our plan was simple, we were going to pretend that everything on the supply runner was fine, and then set it aflame and ram it into the War Galleon.

We filled below decks without barrels of flammable liquid and lit a cigar as a crude timed fuse.

The last moments of our journey felt like an eternity. My heart was pounding out of my chest. That's when I heard the lookout for the War Galleon asks for the ship name and password. Being smart o'course, we got that information from the Captain earlier. I yelled into the night, using an imitation of the female Captain's voice. 'Serendipity, Santa Maria.' I called out.” She imitates the voice she used again, cupping her hands around her mouth.

"I hear a reply after a time, 'Drop your anchor, Santa Maria!'” She again imitates the voice, speaking with authoritative conviction. “I respond with the affirmative.

But we don't stop. Again he calls to us, 'Drop your anchor and sails and prepare to be boarded, Santa Maria!' The smell of spirits and fire fills my nose as I stand on the deck beside my brother. I meet his request with cold silence. They knew that we were not stopping.

I knew that damage wasn't going to be enough. I had to get to the War Galleon and get information about their plans and the state of the fleet.

Vale and I decided that we were going to fight until the finish. The boat veered into the galleon with a deafening crack of splintering wood and iron. The flames from our ship lick at their insides and they start to panic and cast all number of spells upon us. Valerius started to return their fire tenfold, giving me an opening.

Amidst then frenzy, I saw a lone shadow on the top deck that I could jump into with my 'dancing, without hesitation I take it.

Now, I'm standing on the upper deck of the sinking Galleon, there are men everywhere running amok trying to kill the mage on the fiery little boat in their side. I was nearly trampled right off, and their screams are deafening, but I kept to the shadows and well out of sight.

But I knew I had no chance of getting to the cabin through normal means.... There were just so many people. And I may be stealthy, but I'm no thief, a locked door would have signed my death in Jergal's book.

So, I'm starting to have doubts about this suicidal plan. But then I think of something. I run to the edge of the ship and I slip climb over the railing so that I am on the outside and hanging on for dear life as the ship lurches. I use every acrobatic bone in my body and I start to descend the railing. One... two... and the third rung down, I feel it against my toe – the smooth surface of glass.

I use the momentum of the ship to carry my foot through the glass, and my aim is true. I break out the window and pray to Tymora that no one is going to reach through and grab my poor foot and kill me.

However, I could hear the wizards and my brother still fighting, and the meager sound of glass breaking was not heard over the crashes and cracks of spellfire.

So, I'm hanging there, right? With a broken window broken and a ship that is rocking violently and still burning. I knew I had to find a way in though. So I try to time my movements with the ship so that I can get a foothold on the windowsill as I slip from the rail... It wasn't a far distance, and I had to give it a shot. I mean, there was not much choice at that point!

And so I let go of the rail and drop.... and then my heart plummets through my stomach, because the ship lurches and my foot only finds the foggy breeze beneath it.” She pauses, drawing out the anticipation.

"As I descend towards the waves that would surely swallow me whole, I desperately reach out with both hands...! I manage to grasp the sill at the very last second! Jagged glass sliced my fingers near clean off through my gloves! My heart pounds in my ears like the drums of war and the wind was knocked clear out of me.

I pulled myself into the cabin. Though all of this was only minutes long, I knew that Vale couldn't have much energy left in him, and the ship was falling apart around me."

"Luckily,” She reaches in her pocket and pulls out a coin, kissing it before continuing, “The cabin was empty as the crew fought with the madness on deck and below deck. I search frantically for my prize, anything I can grab... I spy a notebook on the Captain's desk. My heart leaps with joy, pure desperate energy coursing through my as I charge for the desk!

As I grabbed notebook from the desk with bloodied and battered hands, I see a brilliant flash of orange light. I whirled around in a panic..! I looked out the webbed and broken window of the cabin and I see a brilliant illusion of a phoenix light up the night sky. I witnessed the beautiful flames of the bird as Vale disappeared through his teleportation circle." She pauses, looking up as the memory lights up her features with pride. After a moment, she sobers, eying the group.

“Then the thought occurred to me... I wouldn't be able to follow him through. I groped for my portal wand.. and Beshaba spared me my life as the portal opened beneath my feet as smoke filtered through the floorboards. We did the impossible.”

She pauses for the varied reaction and then points at her audience with a narrowed eye. "So, don't you dare count Amia out of this fight so long as the Branded Phoenix is around. This threat can be beaten, and we are not going down without a hell of a struggle. If you see any heroic adventurer types, send them to me at the Nomad's Return in Cordor and I will make damn sure we win this thing."

After speaking with the patrons for hours after her story ends, she puts a recruitment sign outside of the door and disappears into the night.

Joining the attack on the War Galleon with the intent of resurrecting those needing it, Madrik found himself in combat near the port side aft of the Marinesbane. A burst of energy sent two Amnish and Madrik over the side of the ship.

The aasimar did not join their triumphant return and thus so far has not been seen since.

Emerging from the tide of the northern shore, an armored clad with ivory wings walked onto the beach, an Amnish captain corpse in tow. It was hours after celebrations had died off.

After realizing the soul would not respond to resurrection attempts, he wrapped the body in an old cloak and proceeded immediately to his home through side streets. After a brief report with Ulrik, Madrik utilized the Triad Temple to conduct proper burial services for the fallen Amnish man.

Beyond the dark magic, racial hostility and political maneuvering, the consequences of the Arcanum's actions ripple out far and wide - creating untold different stories of alliances broken, fortunes shifted and lives forever changed.

After having fought and marched the long way from the Dragon Coast to Waterdeep, a battered but unbroken sect of Lathanderan priests, templars, associates and refugees is denied refuge in the Spires of the Morning by the resident clergy - their accusations of heresy (and even of being thralls of the Arcanum) soon returned in kind. Having no other place to go, the Brotherhood of the Glorious Sun occupies the temple grounds and all but blockades the temple while the local orthodoxy occupies the temple itself.

Though outnumbered by the Waterdavian orthodoxy, the militaristic Brotherhood holds a strong position on the temple's outer defenses and a decidedly higher number of veteran warrior-priests than the more traditional temple. Further complicating matters, a number of local members of the Order of the Aster and the Sun Soul order have revealed themselves to believe in the Risen Sun, or support the Brotherhood as a valid Lathanderan sect that holds every right to enter the temple.

Though the situation is volatile, neither side seems willing to engage in open conflict and bloodshed on the hallowed ground just yet - while the Waterdavian guards keep careful watch.

((DM approved))

As undead and demon hordes descended upon Cordor's Tall Tree Beach and filtered into the Festival Grounds, a certain blonde human departed from the guardhouse with a certain elf in tow beside her. They came upon a grisly scene; undead and demons rumored to have been the cause of it; and, after some sort of magical appearance by Amn was made, it seemed that most of the crowd dispersed across the isle.

But one certain blonde ended her night alone at a desk in the Cordorian Guardhouse, with a glass of red wine and thoughts swirling faster than the bloody liquid.

I've done what you asked, and you're gone, and now I'm here... alone.

Slowly, the war was taking its toll. And not all of the sacrifices could be seen.

A disguised knight, clad in golds and blues, leaves the town of Wharftown in the aftermath of the devastation wrought upon the Western Coast.

Covered in blood and scorch marks from battle, he was seen handing bags filled with gold to each of those who fought at his side in defense of a town laid to waste.

Though it took long to come, Amn's first blow fell with the force of a warhammer. The fishing village of Uhm, off the West Coast of Amia, was within a few hours turned into nothing more than a memory by a war galleon's barrage of arcane magic. Though many looked for survivors in the rubble that dotted the blasted landscape where Uhm had been, not a single one could be found - and many adventurers were unfortunate enough to learn the reason for that first-hand.

Two grim displays were made, both apparently with the intent to drive a message home: a massive bird-shaped pyre had been erected just outside of Uhm's walls, a good number of people nailed to its wooden frame, then set ablaze with thirteen other unfortunate souls being set on fire and thrown off the highest mast of the war galleon, to crash onto the deck many tens of feet below.

Though it had cost Amn a ship and dozens of lives, the message had been delivered - a brutal challenge and a warning both. The war would soon start.

Carefully retrieved from the ruins of the Bad Dragon Inn was a a small scroll in a bag. Though it had been burned during the fires and carnage that had destroyed Uhm, it was still recognisable for what it was: The Founding of Uhm. For the time being, this little token of memory of the town has been taken for safe-keeping.

As smoke and ash drifted upon the wind in the early afternoon following Uhms destruction, a small group of men and women garbed in red and white battle raiments are found sifting among the ruins. Their helmed faces hiding the grim features that were quickly burned upon their faces after seeing the utterly hideous effigy left by the amnish invaders. As they sift among the ruins looking for any bodies that may have been missed, either citizen of Uhm or that of any invader that may have been slain, they quickly and professionally check for any signs of life.

They are Salandrans, they knew this war was coming and now it is plain as day that the war has arrived, but they carry out their duty to try and preserve life at all costs...

Amelia Warmglow, a young and promising combat medic and physican of Salandras flock has seen her fair share of combat already but she realizes now, after seeing the warning effigy the amnish erected, that the war she has done everything she could to steel herself for has taken its first step over the threshold and she finds her young naïve notion of relative peace on the island shattered into a million pieces. As she ties off a black arm band around one of the corpses near the "amnish message", a black cloth signifying a non-salvageable medical condition, she suddenly turns and rips her helm off, tossing it to the ground moments before vomiting where she was kneeling.

As she knelt there sobbing out tears and trying to spit the acidic after taste of up-chuck. one of the senior members pats her on the shoulder reassuringly.

"Welcome to the world young combat medic, now you see the world around us".

Following the destruction of Uhm, Amelia arrives in Wharftown to take care of any refugees that have drifted in, within a day and a half of Uhms destruction, a make shift triage camp now sits on the outskirts of Wharftown, over seen by Amelia and largely funded from her own coffers. Any and all are welcome to seek the care of the Salandran healers.

News of the attack swiftly reached Dragonstone Keep in Kohlingen. The destruction of an entire village, as often as such happens in war, was nonetheless noteworthy in one aspect. It signaled the start of more brutal, more bloody, more dire battles to come. As it were, news of the small village's razing reached the Valis estate in the late hours of the evening following the swift carnage. Within the manor's study, a certain grey-haired magician read the news written on a bit of parchment by flickering candlelight with a distinct frown.

"Damnable xenophobes. This could have been avoided."

The bit of parchment was crumpled, and discarded just as the village had been discarded hours prior. In a wizard's flame.

The following notice is in Howness. Copies of it are also sent to Thordstein, The Hermit and even to The Scientific One.

Quote:

To the people of Forrstakkr.

It is my sad duty to report to you that the fishing village near the northwestern corner of Amia, Uhm, was savagely attacked and raised by the forces of Amn and the Arcanum.

Any survivors of this devastating act of war on Amia are now at Wharftown, but many lives were lost to the might of the Amnish warship and their powerful magics.

Should you know any friends or relatives from the region of Uhm, please report to me their identities so I might be able to find out their status for you.

We must remain vigilant as always as this storm rages over Faerun and Amia. We also suffered from the actions of an Arcanum-zealot, who we thankfully managed to stop in the end. Along with the demonic threat. But many other threats face us on our own island and we must prepare to face those threats everyday, together.

Father Snorri and his fellow brothers are always ready to provide counseling to you should you need it. And please do not hesitate to.

Bahamut and Helm give us strength.

Sergeant and Soves Torsten of Howness

In Wiltun, the court wizard busies herself with routine accounting when the news of Uhm's fall reaches the fortress. She nods to the messenger rather mundanely and goes back to her work. At the end of the evening she carries on to the balcony after dark and whispers some incantation in the winds.

After hearing of the destruction of Uhm, from the War Knights and others who were in the thick of it, Crow heads to the still smouldering ruins of the small village, that he passes through so often. His search for survivors is futile, and the bodies found, bring forth bad memories of a dungeon under the tainted soil of Caraigh. Sickened, he returns to Oakmist Vale and sits in the ranger's hut, to pen his call to arms for the members of the druid's Grove. The Grove's Ranger Captain dribbles a gob of black wax at the bottom of his note, and presses his ring of Mielikki into the middle of the small puddle. He hangs the note on the board and blows out the candle. With a sigh, he steps out into the Grove, a hive of activity, his attention soon taken by someone wanting to know where this goes, or which cliff they were supposed to be stationed at, or where their extra quiver was. It was a long night.

Upon reading the notice of destruction, Lady Jacia shook her head slowly as her face flushed red with fury. Her footsteps rang heavily through the keep as she marched outside and into the training grounds where she began thrashing wildly at the combat dummies out of anger. After she had finished, she sat exhaustedly on the ground with her head buried in her hands.

The fools.. If only they had listened.

Abbey and the rest of the forward party return from Uhm escorting several servitors and constructs who between them are carrying a large number of the dead from Uhm. She directs the party to place the bodies in neat rows behind her field station in Wharftown, whilst that is in progress she turns her attention to the wounded and having asked for a messenger to be sent to the Salandran Temple requesting reinforcements the wounded are soon taken care of.

With a weary sigh she turns her attention to the dead and begins washing the bodies and closing the various wounds in preparation for attempts to recall the soul to the body. In this she is aided by several volunteers and through the combined efforts several of the folk are successfully returned, the remainder being wrapped in linen shrouds and left to await whatever funeral arrangements as decided by the powers that be.

//this should have been posted immediately after the event but it was like 4am for me and I went to sleeps

Roughly a few hours after Uhm was destroyed a lone elven scout is seen in the land. Some times he can be spotted others times he cannot. He is seen with a wolf to his side that has only a single eye and many nicks in her fur from battles past. The elven scout gathers what he can from the land and helps a Winged priest cover some of the bodies of the fallen up or at least left over parts. He walks to Wharftown shortly after seeing someone. After that he checks in with the Salandrans before speaking to some people and making his way back to his home.

A short time after elven scouts can be seen in numbers of 5-10 randomly showing up then vanishing from sight around the area. The same man can be seen with them time to time.

After hearing of Uhm's destruction from some residents of Bendir Dale, and Amelia the Salandran's first-hand account, Rain decides to investigate the situation for herself and see if she can do anything at all. Her arrival is nearly a day after the attack, and in that time, the survivors have been evacuated, and the rest, removed or buried. The village still smoulders, and as she takes a breath, she can smell the acrid smoke, and burnt bodies. She keeps her head covered, and walks with it lowered, obviously in reverence to the fallen. After walking among the ruined village for a time, she heads nearer to the water, and simply looks out at the sea. A single tear runs down the side of her face as she watches on, knowing what may be coming.

After many minutes of standing and watching, she moves on along the Northern Road, and disappears into the forest beyond.

~ Cordor West, Tarkuul, Kampo's Storehouse, Underport, Shadowscape, Wharftown, Lowland Delta, Bendir Dale carts ~
=========================================================================================================

PROUDLY PRESENTING

╬ Death of a Blood Mage ╬

The City of Tarkuul is pleased to inform all the citizens and adventurers of the region that Ghazar
the blood mage is successfully eliminated by the forces of the Living City, in a mutual effort with
the forces of Cordor and a few valorous adventures.

Those who oppose the Arcanum, under command of the High Captain bravely ventured into the open
waters and intercepted Ghazar head on as he was sailing towards Cordor. The allied forces boarded
his ship and defeated a considerable number of Shadow Thieves. Casualties on the allied side were
many, for Ghazar used his power mercilessly. The smell of blood, scorched flesh and screams of agony
filled the air, as the whole inside of a ship sank into the chaos of battle. Peaceful surrender of the
blood mage was unimaginable, for he would rather die a fanatic than be captured alive. At the peak of
the battle, a terrifying torrent of radiant energy ripped through the lower deck as the High Arcanist
unleashed a spell of epic proportions upon the Blood Mage, finally bringing down the enemy! Moments
later lifeless body of the mage burst into flames. Victory was achieved!

If you wish to join the battle against the tyranny of Amn, the grave threat of the Arcanum and the evil
mastermind behind it all - chronomancer Collin Reyes, seek the High Captain Gerald Edmund in order
to join the Living Guard, or seek the High Arcanist Lucius Blackwater in Tarkuul and file an application
to the Magisterium Mortis.

"Victory through unity! Down with the Arcanum!"

Previous issues:
| TNN #1 | TNN #2 | TNN #3 | TNN #4 |
| TNN #5 | TNN #6 | TNN #7 | TNN #8 |

=========================================================================================================

Mere hours after the attack, a certain devilkin tiefer trudges through the ashes and debris of what was once a proud little fishing village. She slowly trudges toward what is left of the building nearest the ley node and, once at her destination, stares at the fallen, charred crossbeams which formerly supported its roof. The smell of charred flesh still hangs in the air, a pungent, noxious aroma. She swallows hard before lifting her foot to step over the threshold into the still-smoldering skeleton of her home.

With trembling hand and aching heart, she begins to sift through the ashes of her life in Uhm. Her vision seems split in twain at times - her eyes see the blackened debris and smoke rising from embers not yet extinguished, yet her mind sees her daughters' bedroom, the two girls alternately sleeping and playing in various scenes which flash through her mind. Her eyes light on two solid-looking chunks of charred wood, her usually light step shuffling through scorched leather and parchment strewn about the floor. She barely recognizes the former family library where she used to watch her husband read stories aloud to the delight of their two little girls.

Her step falters. With shaky breath, she reaches down into the charred morass and brushes aside a pile of faintly glowing embers to reveal a small chest, its edges scorched and blackened. Her fingers work at the clasp, trying to open it, but the metal fastener is melted shut. She closes her eyes and pulls the little trunk closer, wrapping her arms around it as one might the side of a lifeboat in a stormy sea. She stays like that for some time before opening her eyes again and daring to take in the sight of the village once more.

All around her lies the remains of shattered and destroyed life - people, families she had come to know over the years she'd lived here. This was the place where her life had made a turn for the better, and now it was a smoking heap of a ruin. Her eyes began to sting, and she shut them tight once more, rubbing at them with the back of her wrists. This was not the time for tears... not yet. After a few moments, she slowly opens her eyes and lifts the little chest from the debris. Carefully, painstakingly, her feet carry her back out of the charred skeleton of her former home, and her eyes turn toward the sea.

"They will pay for this, my friends," she utters to the emptiness around her. "They will pay, and they will die." Her arms clench tighter around the little wooden box she'd retrieved from her house. "But most of all... They. Will. Suffer."

The High Captain can be seen arriving with boxes full of Hurst's latest publication from Tarkuul the West Cordor, ordering it to be distributed by the Living Guard to the vendors in the area as well as any public places of gathering and meeting. If asked to comment on the threat of Edgar Mover and Amn, he whole heartedly agrees with Hurst that a Minister of Law should be elected in place of Mover, and that a leader for the West should be chosen to represent their best interests in light of his betrayal of Cordor to Amn.

Quote:

The clarion of the Commonwealth presents:
LIFE IN TARKUUL:
Dear reader of the Clarion, if you've been wondering how life in Tarkuul has been, then wonder no more! First, let me tell you of the lovely cuisine available in the Ghostly Kraken! Why, Marigath the chef can create such lovely dishes with mushrooms and shark meat that you would never dream of to be so wonderful! Why, have you ever tried a lovely shark sandwich with sauted mushroom bread with onions, cabbage, and mushroom sauce? It provides such a lovely explosion of flavor that makes my tongue sing with delight at the wonderful taste! Such wonderful nights our people have with the ghastly ambiance and decoration, and oh despite it it makes for such a lovely environment! It may look scary, dear reader, as does the fearsome looking bartender, who I must admit makes a lovely swirl of fine Songue Sombra! Or if one has a taste for sweeter fare, a lovely Midnight Nectar, both having a lovely taste which goes quite nicely with Blue Cap Flatbread topped with Spice Trumpet Humus!

OUR SECRETARY STANDS WITH FOREIGN INVADERS!

This is a heavy thing for me to tell you, dear reader, for Jay Edgar Mover was an esteemed colleague and hero of the people for many years, but the truth is revealed for you tonight. It is a shock, I know, but I urge you to continue reading, dear reader, for many things Mover had withheld from me when we worked together and dined together in service to the Commonwealth! He was a man who had many secrets, indeed!
Dear reader, I reveal to you that Secretary Jay Edgar Mover stands with a foreign entity, Amn, who now seeks to destroy Cordor and all we know and love! He stands with the Arcanum, a group of magi that hold themselves above the COMMON MAN! And I have come to know Amn, as a man of my station should know about foreign powers, and let me tell you that while the markets of Athkatla are a lovely sight to see, know that they are ruled by a Council of Six! Not only that, but this council is made up of NOBLES! That' right dear reader! Amn seeks to subjugate Cordor and spell a return of the NOBLES to rule over the COMMON MAN once more! And Jay Edgar Mover, oh, how it hurts to say this to one I once considered a most dear friend, but he now serves them! Jay Edgar Mover serves NOBLES, and the mages who would use their powers to lord over the common man instead of using them to be part of the commons!
Here in Tarkuul, I have seen many a mage, many of the very ghastly and scary disposition indeed! But they all serve the COMMON MAN! They are beloved even as they are so spooky and darkly mysterious!
If you are reading this, Dear Jay Edgar Mover, then don't work with Amn! Stand with your people in the commonwealth, as a defender of the COMMON MAN! It hurts to write this, oh old friend, but I am simply aghast by the betrayal to NOBLES that I have had to see before me! Come back and side with us! Stand against the tyrrany of the NOBLES and their magic wielding goons as you once had! Follow the dreams of Joseph Maximillian and see the commonwealth prosper! But I must weep on deep nights now, for I know that you have chosen to shun those you once protected. Oh, how it hurts to see such a defender of the COMMON MAN fall to such depths. It makes me want to cry when no one can see or hear me in misery to know what had happened to an old friend I knew and loved.

And people of Cordor, even in these dark times, you need a leader, a leader chosen by the PEOPLE! Demand elections! They have been put off for far too long! You need a leader that YOU, the CITIZENS OF THE COMMONWEALTH believe in and love!

Our hearts go out to you, citizens of Cordor, but rest assured that you are not forgotten by those here, and we will continue to support you in your fight for freedom against the Tyranny of NOBLES!

Cordor was the site of an unusual amount of activity this day, as a pillar of red light pierced the clouds, and some say the very Heavens, only to then begin to spread throughout Central and South, forming an inward spiral. Though none dared to touch the wall of red light, a few bodies were found in the places it had covered - dried up husks - and though the death toll is not too high, compared to other calamities that have hit the port city, it still reached a couple hundred, including every soul locked up in the Cordor jail. This was, however, just the start of what was to become an entirely hectic day.

A mage, identified by some as Collin Reyes himself, appeared in East Cordor and proceeded to wipe the Temple of Waukeen off the face of Toril with a mere gesture. He then began another incantation that caused an entire district, namely Central, to tear itself from the ground and float high above the rest of the city, where it remains to this time. Some claim to have witnessed all attacks and spells used against the mage bounce harmlessly off, while some claim he did not as much as seem to notice the attacks. Regardless, once Cordor Central took to the skies, the mage vanished without a trace.

Of course, the shearing of the block of land beneath Central caused quite the earthquake - which helped collapse a few of the older buildings. Even worse, the displaced mass of the newly arisen "flying island" caused a small tidal wave that swept up everything that was not bolted down and further damaged the city.

And just as it was starting to look that the madness was over, cries of alarm came from Cordor West. Some claim that the former Secretary of Law, Jay Edgar Mover, arrived with a host of soldiers and attacked the militia. Others claim that he had arrived to offer Cordor a chance to surrender but was driven off by "lunatics" and "warmongers". Others still claim that the gates had come under attack from Amn's forces - and given the fact that a few funeral pyres could be seen in that direction, there was some substance to this last rumor. Either way, all the rumors, from the mundane to the outlandish, seem to agree on one thing: Amn was no longer content to wait and was preparing to take their long awaited prize.

Following the devastation in Cordor Hallvardr of the War Knights travels to the Salandran Temple to escort Abbey to the ruins to set up a field hospital.
Once she arrives and after a certain amount of slack jawed shock and awe and gawping at the floating land mass hanging above she talks briefly with female Cordorian Guard before taking charge of efforts to establish some facilities for dealing with the wounded.
Soon enough a working field hospital is established with several tents for minor cases waiting triage up to several larger tents for primary care and surgery.

The field hospital and its location in South Cordor

The bonfire where large cauldrons of water are kept boiling all the time, for sterilizing instruments and washing.

Inside the surgical tent, note the operating table

Abbey gives the tour and brief instructions to a new volunteer

Inspects the newly set up field kitchen and discusses a few things with a volunteer cooking up delicious smelling food for the patients

//Removed by player.

Diplomacy's Game Continues: Blood and Rebirth

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