AMIA ARCHIVE • View topic

Elrien keeps mainly to the Asylum. She will fail in battle, as she knows only too well, so she stays right where she is useful. Tending her husband and seeing his slow recovery, though incomplete as it is, brings her some joy. When he becomes quiet, and tense, and when Yudann stops coming inside, however, she knows something is wrong, and seeks her "brother" out among the troops to speak to him...

A message from Father Darian himself is left at the resistance camp outside the Asylum.

People and offlanders of Caraigh, I request audience with your leaders. There are things of great concern we must discuss. Between what my scouts have found and your own. I hope we are able to develop better communication and organization between this camp and the Asylum's men. I wish to only speak to the leaders of the various factions, things are chaotic enough and I wish to only speak with those who lead their people.

~Father Darian

//I hope to do this this weekend, as well as focus on those who still need IC treatments at the Asylum.

Elrien is seen leaving, and taking her husband with her.

Nothing further is seen, at least of the drowess.

//I'll be on after the reset and hope to have the meeting sometime in that session or the next. I'd like to go for having the meeting within the next two hours, but I'll try to see that we get the most people possible.

From the Forests Edge near Ceyrens Mill, emerges a dark robed figure, with a slightly hunched back. Pulling himself along with his staff, he places himself in the centre of the Mill. An eerie silence is broken by the Dark Figure, as he begins to chant some vile ritual. With negative energy coursing around him, he slams his staff onto the ground, releasing a wave of negative energy. Shortly after, the ground rumbles, as two people appear from a portal near the Crystal node.

Suddenly, hordes of undead begin rising from the ground, the two begin to flee. One manages to escape, but the other becomes surrounded, and trapped in a corner. She then releases a hellball, and several other spells to deal with the undead.
However on her way out, the Necrophant strikes her down with powerful Magic. He then walks back to near the bridge, calmly as always, and raises a fallen figure.
After a short conversation, they part ways. The Necrophant returns back through the woods.

//After seeing no one was really able to make it, the meeting is moved to 6-7 PM PST (GMT-8) or in 2 hours of this post. If again people can not make it, we will try tomorrow at the same time.

*The crow’s nest bar seems to be growing in momentum.. Travellers drift in and out all the time.. Some odder looking ones spotted around would include drow, kobolds and fellows in black cloaks.
A new door has been bought for the bar and all the signs outside removed and replaced with the crow’s nest signs...

Oddly enough the undead and worse still the cultists seem to be leaving the bar for the most part alone.. For now..*

Shadow: Approved

The hour was late when the leaders of the seperate groups gathered with in the Asylum. There were many of note such as Sir Yaston, Eldania of The Glade and Lord Shadowflame, and then there were others who were not so noteworthy like Samantha and Jard of Ceyren's Mill.

They spent many hours sequestered in disgutions that were unknown to the rest of the resistance, however when they emerged it was obviouse some changes had been made. Samantha could be seen making her way around the camp, while Eldania spent time speaking quietly with the other warders of Caraigh.

After some time, perhaps an hour or two, Eldania big good byes to Samantha and some others and left the encampent slong with the other warders of Cariagh., making there way back into the forests silently.

The looting in the mill seems to have dropped in frequency, Considering that there are now living corpses wandering the eerie town of Ceyren's mill?(DM Validation Plx) Coincidentally there's also a new visitor at the Crow's nest tavern and it wasn't surprising. There were an abundance of ready steel and manpower hanging in the 'New Tavern' to make it safer than any other place of the Isle, save for the fort. But the major setback of the Asylum fort was the constant attacks from the lands around, The Crow's nest seemed to have been spared from it save the new corpses that roamed outside so it was the obvious choice of the new visitor.

And very coincidentally - Most of the sprites were paid in silver cutlery and the likes.

Feeling well that the camp had enough to defend it and that there were good procedures in place to help keep the peace within it, the smaller figure bid warm words with those she felt of as newly formed friends in the camp. She had wished to let Vincent and Aisling know that they would be well and of the changes to come but had not seen them after their shift.

She had wanted to thank Justin for his kind words over the body of the fallen foe as well as assure the gentle healer Sylae that the camp would be in good hands now. The attack from the sea had made the elven woman worry again, worry far more tan she had in a while and what she worried the most for were the sacred places on the isle.

Things were more steady and there had been far less fighting save for that against the common foe but it was coming to the place to try to plan and move forward. She only hoped that the darkness would soon end for them all.*

Janna decided to go see what this "Crow's Nest" she had heard of was about.

Inside she had found Natia.

After a heated discussion, Janna set about casting fire wall spells into the remote corners of the bar, leaving the exit's open.

"I refuse to let my enemies derive any pleasure from my Homeland."

She turned to leave, with Tyrus.

"The way I see it, you have two choices. Conjure up a great deal of water, or leave."

She then left the bar.

Quote:

Janna Ogder wrote:
Janna decided to go see what this "Crow's Nest" she had heard of was about.

Inside she had found Natia.

After a heated discussion, Janna set about casting fire wall spells into the remote corners of the bar, leaving the exit's open.

"I refuse to let my enemies derive any pleasure from my Homeland."

She turned to leave, with Tyrus.

"The way I see it, you have two choices. Conjure up a great deal of water, or leave."

She then left the bar.

Quote:

Natia quickly rushes to the nearest fire throwing a pitcher of water on it. She then remembers the three sleeping downstairs and quick rushes to awake them. She shakes awake the Captain, "Fire! Wake up!" then shakes the mage and kicks the quartermaster. "Hurry! Help me get these fires out!"

Quote:

*Almost a moment the quartermaster was kicked, a scimitar would shoot itself near the source, planting itself into the ground about him.*

"Baghhh!! What're ya blubberin' bout nao! Why tha feck're ya-"

*Upon being told himself about the fire, quickly the one legged pirate would hobble his way upstairs, throwing open the door, letting out a low and angry huff, and trying to think on his peg. Without a word he bumbles back downstairs, grabbing the barrels below the stairs, dumping them of their contents, and chucking three to the top of the stairs, carrying three under each arm as he slams his way back up. He proceeds to kick the barrels across the room, trying to work with what little he could do, hoping if nothing else, the mage and the Captain could keep the magic from spreading. He's kick the barrels outside, making his way with them to the broken door lying upon the ground, placing the 9 empty barrels upon it, and tying a hemp rope to a hinge. What was going on inside at this time was but a mystery, but he continued working, none the less, dragging the door with the barrels to the conveniently close river, that leads to the falls, dumping them in, filling them as fast as he could, using his only benefit, his strength, to attempt to drag the door loaded with 9 waterlogged barrels, back to the inn, spilling one over on a bump, and leaving it behind.

Provided he made it in time, again, without more than an angry grunt, he would begin to launch water from the barrels at the walls, quite ready, to go down with this ship.*

*a rather angry bar man and a sour faced captain put out the fire useing a mixture of ice-storms and other such spells.. They then proceed down to the captains office to talk about what should be done with this.. Attacker..*

In perhaps the strangest of things, any passing through the north west forest of Amia and very keen of sight or hearing would overhear a lengthy and repeated prayer.

Kneeling on the ground before the shrines of Oberon and Titania would be a figure garbed in emerald, white and golden attire with a helm of stag horns atop her head. She would have brought offerings of gems of light, fine seeds and honey as well as her best candles. It seemed that she was only making an offering unless one came close enough to hear the whispered sylvan.

It was not a prayer.

It was a plea.

~Lady and Lord of the Bright Courts, one who honors your people begs of you, call them away from Caraigh! For their lives, call them all away!~

Janna had arrived at the Mill, and saw the poster declaring the bounty on her head, As well as the following responses tacked around her declaration. With a crooked smile, she had formulated her own tongue in cheek response. Hopefully those she responded to would understand the full scope of respect she had for those who would give succor to Carraigh's invaders, and those who claimed to be neutral, yet were likely here to feed like vultures from Carraigh's suffering.

Yes, some might consider her a fool, but Carraigh needed defending. It needed those who loved it to slow the spread of the taint. Carraigh would not fall from lack of her effort. She owed her very life to this land. She would give it back, willingly, to save it.

The dark mage had decided to take one last look at the forsaken island, and when he did he discovered the bounty on Janna's head and laughed at her calling her self "Janna the red"

"She ought to be careful, calling yourself that can have... concequences" With that he left the island to his fate, caring not fro its inhabitants, be they alive. Or dead.

There is constant activity around the dark island of Caraigh. Whether it is from the lone mage's tower as he studies his demonic stones he discovered in a crater, to the moans of the undead in the crypts. The island seems to never sleep.

The Scath Crann hedge had been destroyed, the spirits of the Witches that once inhabited the place had found their runaway sister, Laisa, and haunted her for her return. With the help of the Glade, the witches spirits wills were done. They gained their sister back, water again flowed through the canyon flooding out all that were there. Laisa was killed that day, her soul taken to be bound back to the Witch's Hedge. It was not until two others had ventured through the flooded canyon in water elemental and iron golem forms that they reached the hedge where its dark magic was taking effect to bind Laisa's wailing spirit forever to the hedge. Alarmed at the intrusion by the the two shifters, the Spirits of the Hedge attacked the two "heroes". After a long battle between the two forces, the hedge was brought down, crumbled and washed down the raging river it had formed. Shortly after, the waters had stopped, the canyon was left soaked and moist wall-to-wall. The two "heroes" then reunited the old woman's spirit with her body, somewhat grudgingly, and in return the old Seer gave them information of Cabain Blackmoor once they returned to her hideaway.

- - - - - - - - -

At the Asylum, the group of collected offlanders resisting the taint have a new leader, Samantha Lockheart of the Mystic Blade. She has been elected by the leaders of the gathered groups to lead the resistance.

The new and official leader of the Caraigh resistance, Samantha Lockheart, it is now your duty to *grounds shakes* What in the hells? ~Father Darian

The meeting however was cut short, an attack from the sea caverns below the Asylum had closed the meeting prematurely as everyone needed to rush below to meet the hoards of undead and demons, lead by none other then Everlast. Everlast's army had come free the prisoners the Asylum held and collapse the caverns on top of all who chased his minions below.

After a rapid paced battle, the resistance pushed the demons out of the cavern before they collapse the caverns, but not before all the murderers and insane individuals were freed. The remaining demons fled into the ocean while being chased after the resistance. But... they had found it was a trap! A giant abomination of bone and dead flesh rose from the sea. A winged creature of death that appeared to be made from human remains attacked the resistance at the shallows of the beach below the Asylum. With the assembled forces from the cliff tops hearing the battle and joining the fight, the giant beast was crumbled under the resistance's might. Many of the bones had been pulled back under the tides, those that were not, were burned with dragons fire into ashes.

It was the largest undead creature I've seen on the island yet Looked to have been assembled of the fallen inhabitants of the island and reshaped into a monster... ~Asylum Guard

- - - - - - - - -

The blocking of ship traffic has not continued, those attempting to speak to Lord Wiltun on the matter are asked for the large sum of twenty million gold coins to have his Navy block all traffic to and from the island of Caraigh, save for those who pay him. When asked for him to spare his men to set foot on Caraigh, his prices rises...

The day I have my men set foot on Caraigh, is the day I claim it under my command in expansion of my power. All of the island shall be under my command. ~Lord Wiltun

In Ceyren's Mill, an act of defiance leaves a building burning, but not the tavern.

Janna had hit the tavern once again, set as many fires as she could, and left, but she was struck down by a mage, and her body taken to the laboratory next to the Crow's Nest. Her body was immolated by several fireballs.

The fire did not fully take, and, miraculously, the shrine to Gond remained unburned, probably due to the stone content of it's construction. Janna's body, however, had been burned beyond recognition.

Last edited by Krado on Wed, Apr 27 2011, 0:50 AM, edited 1 time in total.

Fire at the Nest!

*It seems somebody tried to set fire to the nest and the building next door, the crew at the nest seemingly trained and ready for such an event has stopped the fire before it spread however the building nextdoor was slightly burnt however the damp wood and stone walls stopped the fire spreading thus the building is doing great! *

Quote:

We dunno wot the ells append ere! It be too early te say it was them Necromancers again! What de ye mean this is some kinda attack fer not paying em?! Get the fark outa ere an we nay want any more o' yer questions! - Head Barman Hiroto

::

While the noble clearly has no love for father Darian, who again gave him reason to see him as a cowardly egocentric incompetent man, it seems this personal distaste of the man has little influence to continue to work against the taint. Sir Robert clearly supports Samantha Lockheart, a woman he is fond of and has always seen as having the great ability to work for the best interest of the land. Every now and again he visits the camp to seek her out, speak to her and then coordinate the efforts she bestowed upon him, before he returns to the wilds to continue strikes against the enemy that are asked of him.

::

Various members of the Glade seem to be bustling here and there even if their work seems quiet. Druids are inspecting the cliff walls between Dormenwoods and speaking in hushed and ancient tongues as they walk the path and clear it of demons and various creatures. They seem to be planning something though what is anyone's guess but their own. Briefly, a stag helmed figure pauses to talk to them, offering a man attired in heavy cloth of a deep forest green and accompanied by a wolf, some items in a bag. The items clinked together almost musically.

A hooded woman attired in rich olive and pine is handed a few stacks of metal and then spoken to in Endir's near a forge. A spool of thread is shown to her by a stag helmed woman nearly a foot beneath her height. Hands move as words continue to be exchanged before an item is pulled out of a bag. It is a spoon. A simple spoon but upon looking at it someone nearby could see it was a spoon carved of stone but the bowl of it glinted dully with metal. It seemed to have been dipped in silver as a decoration. The two continue to speak in low tones before the hooded woman takes the thread and goes towards the forge for her attempts.

Elsewhere, a red haired elven woman flanked by two massive wolves walks the snow encrusted paths of Frozenfar. She seems to be searching, ever searching until she stills and sees what she had been hunting for. It is a tree, both straight of bark and thick of leaves. What she seeks are its seeds and with the aid of the blessings of the earth, she goes about climbing the tree and seeking to find some.

Later, two women clearly of Elven descent are seen speaking. A strange sight as one wears the horns of a stag and the other a helm not unlike a hawk's visage. They are discussing something in the lyrical tongue of the elves beside a loom in the distant town of Thordstein. A piece of shimmering cloth-of-gold is held up as though explaining it to the hawk-helmed woman before a spool of thread is shown as well. Their quiet discussion goes long into the evening.

Near the cusp of midnight, a full moon is the only witness to the exchange between a figure garbed in the colors of snow and sun, and a smaller woman clad in deepest forest green. They speak only briefly, a bag given to the smaller and a hug returned with a word of thanks before both vanish into the night for their respective places of safety.

Something is indeed in the air.

//Neither Mahtan or I approved the burning down of the Gondite temple. Please adjust your entries accordingly.

Last edited by The_Tanman on Thu, Apr 28 2011, 1:19 AM, edited 1 time in total.

A figure makes his way around the island...searching. He has been on the isle for some time now, combating the blight and working with the Glade in doing so. However, he does not appear to have the same..nature? As those who are of the Glade. This particular hunter has a more savage look about him-a necklace of trophies such as ears, fangs, fingers, etc, as well as old blood that still stains his armor. Nonetheless this being can be has been seen working with the Glade to put an end to the blight afflicting the isle.

"I must seek the Worg's and challenge them to show their strength in aiding us to defeat the affliction...but where are they?"

Surely they all could not have all been slaughtered by now...ther emust be at least one, two, maybe even three packs left? If there were any "weavers" that could speak to such beasts, it would definitely be Valithorn...

Something was wrong.

That was all Tyrus could think as he went about his day. Janna had not returned overnight, and he had not heard from her at all. It was most unlike her to leave him to worry quite so. A message of some sort usually found him in some way, or else he would end up stumbling upon her. But not this time. This time, something in the back of his mind was bothering him... heavily.

And so he set out in search, the island first as it was where he was, then slowly onto the mainland. Nothing... nothing....

But as he looked, he watched and listened. Tales and rumors always spread, such was the way of living beings. On at stop in Cordor, whilst shrouded in invisibility, he found the only clue he so far had: A fire...

Nothing out of the ordinary, but the location was what gave him pause: The Mill...

Someone had attempted to burn down a structure next to a tavern that was slowly growing infamous, even with the commonfolk: Crow's Nest...

Janna is gone... Fire at the Mill... Crow's Nest... these thoughts sped through his mind as he crept into the house under that invisible cloak. Karind was not home. Nothing from Janna. The Hells! he thought in frustration, and suddenly realization sparked in his mind as he put the only pieces he had together Janna! his mind cried out as his vision clouded. He now knew his destination, a singular purpose now reverberated through his soul. But, he did not rush off just yet.

No... no, not yet... I will get the others. I will know what has happened to you, Janna. By Hoar I swear that justice will meet them, whoever they are. The scales will balance... and they will pay...

A night that had started out slow and quiet quickly became busy for Samantha.

Trying to make rounds, ensure all had their needed supplies and were adiquitly prepaired for the jobs they would need to perform had kept her busy for a while.

With a steady stream of incoming voloteers Samantha felt safe to send out what would be one of the first patrols, and that would be the start of things.

Reflecting back on tghe night Samantha was reasonably pleased. Although they had discovered a previously over looked hole it the defences of the asylum, at least they had done so now rather than later at a much more critical juncture. The woman that had been captured.. Natalia did they call her? She had escaped. But atleast they knew her for what she was as well as her brother. Both were now exiled from Caraigh, to return only upon risking pain of death.

Then there was Janna. Sam sighed as her thoughts drifted to the woman. The chared flesh and bones of her body had been recovered yesterday... they would of coarse have to attempt to return her from the netherworld. Perhaps he spirit would heed the call... perhaps she was to far gone. Samantha sighed again.

Well, new orders were in place, and the moral of those present seemed to be steady, if not improving. Samantha looked around and thought, perhaps ironicly as her gaze passed over sevral men and women in gold and white armor, perhaps tomarrow will bring a brighter dawn.

It was done. Such a spectacular gathering of arms was extinguished with a snap of reality. Janna was home, though pieces were still missing. What had happened? Where had she been? Slowly through the night the broken bits of the picture came together. The confirmation he needed. What had occurred was now clear. Tyrus knew what must be done.

And so they began to prepare.

Meanwile, in small smithy in Endir's Point, wiry sun elf stands over the anvil, hammering at the white-hot metal, trying to shape it into the form of fist-sized caltrops. A half-dozen of failed attempts seem to be littered around the room, but decent stack of cold iron ingots and determined look on elf's face show that he's not backing down from challenge. He made much more complex items than this, wonderfull armors even kings would wear with pride, surely he won't be stopped by something so trivial as some caltrops.
On a couple of boxes near the entrance, some papers could be seen, filled with sketches of small strips of metal in different shapes and sizes, and some notes concerning strange alloy of cold iron and mercury and things necessary for it's production.

Diamond talked to Grace (Ta2d) about making weapons from two metals, one being cold iron.. Grace a weapsonmaker said that it wasn't really nesassary to do that, it would make better sence to apply the cold iron to the blade that people currectly have, much the same way of a poison would be places on there weapons.. also the cold iron could be placed on sheilds and armor, to protect the fighters if they were strucked. grinding the cold iron into a powder and applying it wouldn't be that difficult, in a powder from it could be placed on weapons with many differeant things helping it to stick. This wouldn't diminish the effectivenice of the weapons and would cause the demons to be hesitant to attack, though very powerful demons it would unlikely have much effect. Diamond a miner and refiner, thinks he'll be able to grind the cold iron into powder by useing diamonds as a grinding tool.

In certain spots, specifically known by those that are meant to find them, a trail sign can be found. The sort woodsmen use, or hunters. It is subtle, and direct, and simply reads Return.

The Eternal Order is moving about their Cathedral in a busy manner again.

Several long nights were spent in Endir's point near the forge and anvil for the weaver of the Glade. She was a trained armor smith and so had been asked if armor plating could be fashioned out of cold iron to be fit over existing armors. Though she was not sure at all that would not mean she would not at least make attempts to do so. Through out the nights she hammered out sheets of cold iron plating of various sizes and thickness to see how well they would fit on armor and if that hindered the wearer at all. There were also attempts to forge bracers, helmets, greaves, and almost anything else that she could fashion the metal into that could provide some level of protection. Though she was careful to be sure that her attempts did not interfere with the innate magical properties of the iron itself.

Something out the corner of the eye or perhaps a bird, a silouette of a what appears to be some type of humanoid winged creature may be seen from time to time day or night over the isle of Caraigh. It does not land, it does not approach, it does not attack. Forboding, it hovers here and there at high altitude vanishing from time to time behind a cloud, only to appear leagues from where it was last seen. Some might see it, some may not, some may argue they saw anything at all. Others may see it as something much more sinister, a forboding sign, or a menacing omen of something just over the horizon, something dark. All that is apparant is this unknown watches.

Link for DM's

A soldier in black and obsidian armor moves about the resistance camp, his equipment showing itself to be worse for the wear but still functional. He usually stands very long watches at the south side of the camp, and otherwise mostly keeps to himself.

* Something Hides in the grass and trees, watching the developments, and sending letters to his employer *

A newcomer can be seen around the camp near the Asylum, told of the idea of Cold iron Fibre's Foilinar heads back to Runedar, his mind troubled, but focused.

The hour was late in The Resistance camp when the commotion started. Some heated comments and debate could be heard here and there. What was happening with in the palisade walls? Something definately had the volonteers stirred up.

Two figures stand along the cliff edges near the asylum. After some moments one of them can be seen drawing his bow back and letting glowing arrows sing out across the night sky. They land, planted in a scattering on top of each outcroping that dot the shores of the north western coast. Soon each small Laredo of land glows with contiual light, steadily dismissing even the faintest of shadows from their tops.

// done with dm approval. This will prevent any shadow jumping to the pillars of rock that line the coast.

Quote:

Shadow: I'm a dm and I approve this message.

Meanwhile, deep in the forgotten mines of Barak Tungstuk, four-member expedition reaches their target. When they clear the area of wayward spirits of dwarven overseers, Malatril, Foilinar (dayfer3), Moria and Usha(puresoulX2) start working on restoring old forge to working condition. After hours of hard work and several mending spells to speed up the process, forge is brought to working condition once again. Stocked with decent amount of both cold iron and mercury, they proceed in their attempt to create alloy that could be used on light armor and clothing without impeding their mobility.
While Malatril and dwarves work the forge, melting the iron and adding the correct amount of liquid mercury, Usha tries to control the amount of heat inside strict limits to keep cold iron from loosing it's qualities while allowing mercury to correctly meld with iron and give it necessary flexibility.
Alloy is then poured into molds, making thin strips that are gradually cooled, to prevent brittleness.
After hours and hours of work, first batches yeild no desired results, and after short rest, process continues with adjustments...

//Just a little RP to keep idea going, I'll post some screenshots if necessary.

The nights of Caraigh have been eerily quiet as of late. The feared demonic raiding parties and shambling groups of undead haven't been seen as regularly as they once were. The isle itself would see an odd state of peace, interrupted only by the scream of a fledgling adventurer as they are slaughtered by lesser demons or the zombified remains of once plentiful bandits.

The war isn't over, yet, however...

A subtle glow can be seen over the ruins of Aigheshed as of late. Those who dare to wander close to cursed lands would hear the primal grunts and chantings of the very demons that inhabit their hold. The cultists of the Undead Prince have been hard at work bringing in various 'supplies' for their master, and they have not gone unnoticed.

Night by night, the tireless mass of demons and undead are hard at work, directed by an unseen entity. Felled trees are crafted into crude but effective barricades, while grotesque monuments are risen to honor their master. Most notable of all are the new structures that are beginning to take shape. 'Lodgings' are slowly coming together for whatever is stationed in the ruins at a time, crafted from trees, bones, and even the very hides of man and beast.

As all of this goes on, a lone figure stands on a cliff facing those ruins. He wears heavily woven robes dyed a shade of grey, and around him are an odd assortment of minor demons... each of them turned to stone, blasted to bits, or both. His arms are crossed and he remains standing in that one spot for hours, just... watching.

"The game will come to an end soon enough... but the pawns will need to make a path for the greater pieces to take."

If any were to approach this man, he wouldn't spare them even a glance. Instead he simply reaches his right hand up, snaps his fingers, and disappears without a trace.

Foilinar seeing the glow from the acursed place, hurries off "We need to get tha' Alloy workin' soon."

As of late, small patrols made by a lone Eternal Order Inquisitor would have been noted by locals

::

While not vocal, to not undermine the unstable order in the ranks of the defenders, sir Robert seems to be at a point he is fully fed up with how things are being dealt with in the encampment. The lack of discipline, lack of initiative and the ego driven insults and quarrels that forced others to leave seem to paint a very bad picture in his mind.

Regardless of this, likely due to his participation in many military campaigns, a difference of opinion does not waver his loyalty. His support remains with Samantha Lockheart, chosen to conduct the endeavor for better or for worse, who requested his aid and received his word for it. Anyone undermining her authority seem to quickly fall into the disfavor of sir Robert.

::

The lone figure of a large young tiefling clad in obsidian armor covered by a tabard depicting a lone blue griffin rearing defiantly against a field of black can be seen standing on the lonely wind-swept path to the sea below the Asylum, watching the cold gray waters below as they crash against the rocks. He is almost motionless except for the occasional twitch of his hooded head to one side or the other to direct his gaze at this or that random motion of the waves or the weeds that cling stubbornly to the rock face. But though his body is idle, his mind is not, and even as he maintains a stubborn and mostly silent watch over the broken rocks and crashing sea, his mind races along elsewhere, thinking over what might have been, and what might yet be.

The small figure spoke to the man of near the same height as she, thanking the one known as Storn for the items he had piled carefully for the use of others in the camp should they have need of it or even the few remaining of the Mill's guards.

The other supplies were offered to the use of the asylum wardens or refugees, the selection being quite a large gift from the good folk of Barak Runedar. Amongst the wagon of meats were an assortment of finely butchered selections sitting in a cart. The oil cloth covered at least the meat of 1 cow 12 chickens, 33 pigs, 10 gators, and one mean grizzled bear.

The offered items for the asylum wardens to used were also varied. A good quarterstaff, some sturdy boots which could take a blow, a bastard sword which seemed almost to hum should that be favored by anyone, a thick leather belt which seemed resistant to heat, an amulet that held a blessing of wind, a page of magical runes, three sturdy tower shields emblazoned with the work of a dragon in flight. Two shields were of strong adamantine. One was for the good of heart and aptly named "Glory". A rapier with an edge as sharp as wit and three small enchanted rods which would offer a ghostly manner of protection were also included. Not certain of who could make the most use of such, she thanked him and then moved the items to a place where the defenders could frequent and take what was needed along with the asylum and remaining Mill guard.

*An old man in greyed robes of the Eternal Order and a white beard can be seen walking around the area outside the asylum as if patrolling or being on watch, one may notice the symbol of Kelemvor and Torm in a chain across his neck*

James picked up the tattered remains of his camping gear and threw it into the pit, where six other complete sets now rested. He sighed heavily.

"Have they no decency?"

In the past several days there had been a repeated number of raids. Somehow, several times a day, an attacking force had made their way past the demon and undead guards, directly into the heart of camp. To destroy tents.

To destroy tents.

James mulled that thought around in his head. If they were good enough to make it into the middle of a heavily guarded, heavily fortified camp, why would they destroy just tents, and chairs?

James wanted revenge. He thought about doing the same thing. He could quaff an invisibility potion and just walk into the camp at the asylum and destroy their tents.

No. He could not. He would be seen as he entered, and slain.

James sat down heavily and pondered the problem. How were they getting past the guards just to destroy tents??

More importantly, why?

In a flash of red light, Othello Deaman had returned to the Mill after a few short months abroad. The magical journey spanning many miles had taken its toll on his body, leaving him slightly weak and extremely irritable.

The scene took awhile to register on the sorcerer whose arrival at night also found his vision impeded by a thickened fog. It was a shock for the man who had found little comfort in his travels until he came to settle in this small village.

No stranger to death and no fool, Othello quickly called up the Weave in order to wrap himself in a veil of fog and went about the area trying to learn what had happened in his absence. He wondered if it had something to do with the undead that had began to increase in frequency in the area about the time of his departure.

"Perhaps Aiden can enlighten me..." Othello mouthed another incantation to allow the winds to swiftly carry him to the wizard of the woods.

A smaller human woman with a head of blonde curls and very thin is welcomed into the Asylum camp. She was recommended to be looked at by the physicians by a man of Lathander called Aylomen.

To anyone who would ask her name, she'd reply; Winifred.

A demon blooded Tiefling in black and gold clothing is seen around the camp, standing guard at the gates and sitting on standby with his spellbook and mage's staff in hand. He can sometimes be seen under the guise of invisibility on the southern road and near Ceyren's mill, scanning the area like a hawk.

Rose lay on her cot, still breathing hard and fast from the chase, though it had been hours since the chase had ended. Perhaps it was the fact that those who chased her were often much stronger than her that kept her racing. But once again she had escaped the members of the cult after being attacked by them. Rose thought about all those times she had been forced to knock on death's door, but nobody had answered.
During the ritual where she was nearly sacrificed to the demon king, they cultists had only bound her with hemp rope. She easily shifted into a spectre and escaped her bindings, then opened a portal away from there. She had been followed, but she had reached a safe haven long before the emerged from the portal. She thought briefly about how the ritual had already been started when she escaped. Maybe that was why the necromaster had placed a bounty on her. If she had escaped before the ritual, there probably would not be a bounty, for the evil god would not have been angry with his servants by promising a sacrfice only to have her escape. Instead, the demon king had been called, but there was nothing waiting for him.
Then there was Lilith. Rose smiled as she thought about Lilith. Lilith was strong for her size, but she was agressive, reckless, and relatively stupid like her white dragon ancestors.
Twice Lilith had failed to kill Rose because Rose had opened a portal. This last time had been a closer call, but Rose survived.
Rose giggled with like a mad woman with the ecstasy of life so close to death. She thought about how she felt more alive being in all this danger, but her last thought before she fell asleep was, "Gods, I hope this bloody war ends soon."

Creeping Death over Caraigh

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