AMIA ARCHIVE • View topic

A powerful whistling sounded through the air as the morning winds flushed across the eastern beaches of Amia. The people of Cordor and Kohlingen going about their merry way, worrying about such things as their wages, their crops, and the infidelity of their partners; such concerns trounced by those who stood before the Temple of Kohlingen.

But a dozen men and women of Kelemvorite faith; and near a dozen more of nearby isles stood fast at their posts. Not the fatigue of time nor the demoralisation of the understanding of the inevitable would hinder them. It was not only their lives at stake, nor that of their home; but their families, their friends, their beliefs and their oaths - all these things they stood to protect against the inevitable battle that waited dreadfully in the distant oceans.

Another cool day upon the tense, and nevous Benwick Hollow. Though before the sun could fully rise; a blanketing darkness covered the area. And beneath this powerful haze, a powerful battle would occur.

What happened that day beneath the darkness, the trials encountered and the challenges faced, remains but a tale to be forever held in memory of those witnessing such a catastrophe; to be told by those who bore witness to the events themselves. As the haze spread and parted, with not a single vessel in sight; the aftermath had become readily apparent.

The Temple of Kelemvor, once a proud structure of the Judge of the Dead and his divine representation of the isle, now lay in ruins. Its form little more than a pile of rubble, its walls now crumbled and its visage now that of a terrible loss.

Yet upon its lands, before the ruins, a single epitah and the flag of Ravensword Battalion had been left; reading a single verse.

IN MEMORY OF THOSE WHO FELL IN THE VALIANT DEFENSE OF BENWICK HOLLOW.
SHALL THEIR NAMES NEVER BE FORGOTTEN, AND THEIR DEEDS FOREVER REMEMBERED.
WE WILL REMEMBER

(( Feel free to post your responses, actions, and whatever else. I purposefully kept the actual playout of the events unstated; so you all can freely present your own views and versions. Please, OOC posts (small comments like this are fine). ~ WonWon))

Atop the tallest hill in Nexus Falls, Cei'ali and the Tinechor en'Evereska, the enormous emerald golem, stood in silence, gaze trained upon the eastern skies. For the whole of the battle, she stood there, watching, hoping that nothing would in turn come to Winya Ravana during this mess.

Others soon gathered around her. Kael'thaes, Amareth, and Orwais joined her in her vigil, speaking at various times, over various matters. When the terrible storm to the south, over Cordor, leapt into the play, the elves began to grow restless. Cei'ali frowned, and when Kael'thaes reached for her hand, she allowed him to take it. She found herself wondering what the humans had truly done to deserve such slaughter upon their lands. It seemed the very gods had come awake to rain holy terror upon them.

Silently, without moving, she prayed for them. Giving no hint to what she was doing, besides the closing of her eyes, to her companions, she prayed that lives lost would be at a minimum.

She prayed that remaining away from this war would not come back to them and bring more harm than aiding would have.

Last edited by Zante on Sun, Mar 29 2009, 13:34 PM, edited 4 times in total.

By all rights, they should not have won. When Rualyn offered his aid to the order in the upcoming skirmish, the possibility of failure was something he expected. Against impossible odds, the order would not flee, they would stand their ground. The elven knight would fight at their side.

He stood beside his allies, as the temple was bombarded from the sea. He saw it crumble, those around him were desperate to find a way to launch a counteroffensive. The antimagic zone made most attempts futile, if not suicidal. A few foolish younglings tried to attack the ships directly. They flew or swam to the ships, only to be slaughtered and humiliated, forced to retreat with their tails tucked in.

Yet the caravan was a group of cowards. They had the army, the fleet, the machinery to take the whole isle. What they lacked was the spirit and courage and sense of purpose, something the defenders had aplenty. After a long time, the temple of the Order finally crumbled. He was not surprised, he expected it. It was clear the structure could not last. He braced himself, getting ready for the next step, expecting to be assaulted by the Caravan's remaining forces. He waited for them to come and finish their job, to carry out their threats, to purge and destroy all brave enough to remain.

He waited, yet the end did not come. The caravan fleet, too scared to finish what they started retreated.

The temple was in ruins, but stone walls could be rebuild. Instead of puring the hollow, of getting revenge against their targets, all they managed was to knock over a few walls.

Rualyn felt a sense of accomplished as he looked around the aftermath. Several dozens of them still stood, they held the hollow. The fallen were being raised, those injured tended to.

Yet their spirits were low. He did not understand, was he the only one to realize what they did that day? A handful of defenders, against a whole fleet. Yet it was the fleet who had to retreat. No war is without loses, this one was not either. But, they prevailed. The defenders had won. They stood their ground.

His eyes fell on Eruriel, the elven maid he traveled with before. She stood leaning against a tree, her expression one of frustration. He walked over, and commended her on the assistance she provided. Without her arcane aid, the day would have ended a lot bleaker. They talked for a while, recounting the events of that night. At the end, they exchanged a faith smile. He was not alone in his view, neither was she. Among the dozens, the two of them were the only ones to recognize what happened, to appreciate their accomplishment.

The two were the only ones celebrating a victory, and not grieving over a defeat.

Next to the ruins of the old temple lies a pile of burnt books. Within the pile of ruins, not a single body or book have been left behind. Valuables that had not been removed before the attack were removed as well. Leaving naught but stone, wood, blood and sweat in the pile as proof of what transpired.

Someone's obviously burnt whatever books they did not take and taken the deceased. None of the Order remain at Benwick Hollow, gone from public eye. Or perhaps entirely.

Eruriel was far from celebrating... she knew of the loss... the defeat.

However... she knew she had to move on.. she knew she had to at least try to see the positive sides. They stayed... they defended. They fought for what they believe in... and prevailed... some at least. They managed to defeat some of the foottroops in battle.. and Boss Sil'yer. They will be back no doubt.

Her gaze fell on the ruins... a deep sigh as she gazed upon the destroyed temple and she falls to her knees, praying for those who did not survive this terrible battle.

The temple... yes it shall be rebuilt... but the lives taken, they cannot be replaced... some damage can't be undone. So many had to flee, so many had to die... a shiver runs down her spine when she thinks about the families of those who died in battle.

After a while she got back to her feet... again she tried to see the positive.. the little there was. Her face grimacing slightly, now was the time to try and help those left behind... what else could she do. Distaction... maybe.. but she had to do something, at least.

Warrick seemed to quietly look in the general direction of Benwick Hallow, his eyes shedding tears as a look crossing Sadness and anger seems to drift within him.

Last edited by Pony on Tue, Nov 05 2019, 14:25 PM, edited 1 time in total.

A large hominid sized red-winged creature, after taking a barrage from one of the concussive bursts and a bit of shrapnel of the cannonade, was seen flying off towards the south, in a bad way, crashing into some trees.

*Saris grins as he looks over the devastation*

Score one for the dark...

Inquisitor Silvarna took a final look at the remaining heroic defenders before opening his Gate to home. The mortal men and women were battered, most carrying bandages of some kind, yet they lived, so many of them lived. They had faced certain death, stood, laughed in its face, and survived.

The mood was sad, yet he knew losing some walls and warriors who had sworn to give their lives in their defense was far from the ultimate price to pay for survival. One could not wage war without losses.

"If Sister wishes us to depart, we will depart, but we will be back strong as ever, for no mortal power can stand against Divine Justice."

Thus the Ravensword Batallion vanished and moved their base of operations to another location, yet those thinking to defile the graveyard or disturb the ruins would be reminded of the price to pay by a distant winged figure in black on the cliffs.

Eir only visits briefly, looking over the battlefield before taking his leave again. He doesn't say anything, nor does he approach anyone, and if anyone were to approach him, he'd wave them off, and direct their attention to the victims of the brief war.

-----------------------------------

Another man, clad in neutral, earthly colors, stops by and whispers a few prayers, before departing again- Anyone in the near viscinity of him, could hear him utter a few words in a light, though not lighthearted tone of voice.

So many fallen. Mayhaps the God of the Dead will be too busy, on this day.

*A small group growing larger is gathering on the outskirts of the ruins not entering the place and at the lead is a figure in a black colored robe with red and gold as secondary colors holding a Scythe looking apon the ruins making sure there is noting more left and then vanishes. All that is left is a note to the Kelemvorites.*

Dear Kelemvorites,
I will be back i will help with any moveing but the Idol of Jergal will be going to a new location other then here. if you would like you can get the other followers of Jergal to see me but there will be tests of the faith. The reason i state this is I will only tell the followers of Jergal where the Idol will go. If you wish to rebuild here i will help but you will not have that Idol there. Thank you for letting me help. If you do not like that i will be taking the Idol of Jergal i am sorry but he is being disrespected being out there and i am going to put him is a place that is fitting for him. Again Thank you.

Dberaitnhger Korvath
Follow of Jergal

*note is sealed in wax with the the Korvath family crest and a scythe over it*

During the happening at the Shrines location, Tu'jol, oblivious to whats happening just a mile or two away from her, is at the Arachnid Valley, collecting spider legs for a stew. In full battle attire, she cuts down a group of spiders with much ease. Her hunt is cut short when she feels the earth rumble and a loud noise coming from the Shrines direction. Her heart sinks as the thoughts of her peoples home being destroyed by war enter her mind.

Tu'jol puts up a greater Sanctuary spell, grabs what few legs she can and runs off toward the forest. Heart broken that she can do little to save her home, yet fearful that if she lingers, she would be killed in the chaos of war. She would not disobey Madisons wishes, nor did she wish to leave her daughter with no mother.

She spent the next few hours in the forest, all by herself. In motionless silence, she sat near a few ruins in the forest. She listens for the sounds of battle, feeling for the earth to rattle with the force of powerful weaponry and spell casting. She heard and felt nothing, though she expected as much. After all, she was now quiet a ways away to feel or hear much of anything coming from Shrine lands. Still, she sat and waited, praying silently within her head. A few tears escape her as the feelings of helplessness overwhelm her.

Tu'jol gets up and whispers to herself:

Life is sacred and priceless. Walls, walls can be rebuilt...

She then walks off, headed south, toward Bendir Dale.

((Written first-person from the perspective of Father Bik'kon of Torm.)) —

After the battle, the faithful Hobgoblin of Torm that manned a ballista can be seen digging in the remains of the Temple deep into the night. He is wearing the red and gold tunic of Torm that Yaston gave him earlier that day. His pace of digging reveals it is not his personal cause to dig among the remains. It is his faithfulness and obedience to someone else that keeps him at this hard labour. Whenever he encounters what appear to be human remains, he carefully puts them aside at the entrance for the Kelemvorites to inspect. Within a few hours of starting his effort, the fatigue of the battle combined with the hard digging work makes even the strong Hobgoblin collapse, and he starts recollecting what happened at the battle.

I do not know what caused our failure today. Just over one score of mere mortals attempted to thwart the might of an entire nation being sent against us. As soon as the first flag of the Calimshani navy showed between the hills surrounding the House of the Judge of the Damned, I knew we were in for a tough fight. I vividly remember the Scalp Scraper's raids on trade from Amn headed towards Calimshan, and the riches of even one caravan could have procured a multitude of what little was at our disposal for defending the Temple. Their powerful weapons destroyed not only the Temple, but brought defeat upon an entire legion and a way of doing battle. The shouts of Sir Richard for unending bravery and a swift death at his sword for traitors were brutally silenced — made irrelevant — by the roaring cannons. When facing this mighty new weapon of Calimshan, undending bravery is synonymous with hubris, and death at Sir Richard's sword preferable to being slain by a ball of pure lead. Of those Eternal Order knights present, I liked that man the most.

Those whom the Gods would destroy they first make proud. I think my companions overestimated themselves from the beginning, but who am I to question that? The Lord demands Obedience and Loyalty; and I have been Obedient to my superiors Yaston and Lisa (what strange names everyone had), and shown Loyalty to the allied Ravensword Batallion. Why then do I question the battle that occured today? Torm demands Obedience and Loyalty, yes — but also Duty. Did I do my Duty? I do not know.

If I were among the Shaman's pupils, I would have told him about what happened at the beginning of the fight. The strongest mages and priests I have ever seen running around like children in the Shaman's tent, as their magic failed them. I prayed to Torm and he answered, so I was confident that it would be alright. Our strategy with regard to the ships was comparable with what is commonly said about lemmings. When the Lady of the Dead called for an aerial assault, mighty dragons were conjured — the first Dragons I have seen in my life — and from what I heard, they fell out of the sky like lemmings off a cliff. Falling hurts least those who fly low.

When the Knights rode out to meet the enemy near the Salandran Temple, I was assigned guard duty at the Temple, already in ruins at the time. I had difficulties controlling my temper. I wanted to go out and crack the skulls of those infidels, scrape their scalps and hang them on my collar like the ancient custom of the tribe. I was held back by the others, which was good. Thinking of the tribe makes me realise the Lady of the Dead, I can hardly pronounce her name, commanded her troops like the Chief commanded the legions of Goblins and Bugbears at his bidding. As the Chief used to separate the hobgoblins from the inferiors, so did this commander separate her own order from the others, and led her peers to battle, leaving the inferior duties to the inferiors.

I do not know what caused our failure today. I will not question my Lord's will. Praised be the Loyal Fury.

The hobgoblin returns to work and collapses yet again after another hour of hard work, resting for a few hours before beginning the long trek to Cordor.

Upon seeing the Eilistrean's leave Bendir Dale for the Shrine, Willow realized that the war was probably over. She made a point right away to go check on the Shrine of her brothers and sisters of Nobanion.

Upon arriving, Willows jaw drops at the sight of the Chapel of Sankt Elizabeth in ruins. She walks over to the stone placed in memory of the fallen. She reads the Epitaph and frowns with a mixture of sadness and anger. Seeing no one around, she makes her way to the Shrine of Nobanion and is relieved to find it untouched. She sticks around for a hour or so, looking around the area to see if she spots anyone. After she sees no one around, she decides to leave for the forest once more.

Word reaches Elithiel in Underport of the goings on in the world above. A day later, Elithiel arrives to see the smoking ruins of the temple. She remembers the hours of torture she suffered at the hands of the fanatics, the Eternal Order and finally, remembers to smile, a tear of joy rolling down her face.

"A good deed hath been done this day. This One gives praise to Ghaunadaur, for smiting revenge and judgement upon the infidels who dared to attack one of our "flock". The Elder Eye works in mysterious ways, perhaps it was our Lord of Ooze whose tendrils of dreams infected the minds of the Black Caravan. Perhaps it was simply that the Eternal Order attacked one too many...one thing is for sure though, it amounts to the same thing. Ghaunadaur be praised, now to plunder whatever's left."

In the dark of night, later that day, a shadowy figure is seen plundering what few trinkets she can find amongst the rubble and smouldering ruins before disappearing into the night..

Last edited by Galenson on Sat, Apr 04 2009, 23:25 PM, edited 1 time in total.

[edit]

*on one of the evenings following the temples destruction, a small, glowing globe of light can be seen hovering over certain spots, then moving into the temple proper, where it would hover over certain areas, then moving to another, until apparently satisfied and then move off into the night, headed west.

If challenged by anything, the globe of light, upon closer inspection, would appear to be a fey. It would not communicate to anyone, and upon the slightest provocation disappear from sight in a flash of light*

Weston hears of the news well into a day after everything had happened. Between that and learning of Cordor's trouble first-hand shortly, he found himself in a minor panic needing to learn anything he could of the events; enough to have a picture of all that transpired while - for him - it was silent in the Grove and life seemed peaceful.

He raced a marching pace in company of two friends. The sight of the Kelemvore temple was staggering.

"I knew it was coming. I didn't expect anything less than this... But to see it having happened. Nobody deserves this. Nobody deserves to be purged to every last man and woman. No sentient life..."

He tore himself away long enough to see his own Temple; that of Salandra, wading over the damage and gore by the gates to see if main structure was at least intact. It was, the grounds had seen a scuffle of daggers compared to Kelemvore's.

After some conversation from a fourth who must have followed invisibly; Weston was horrified. "Necromancers? At least half of the attackers were Necromancers?"

He flung himself to getting self-control back. After one more thing.

Weston falls before the headerstone, the passage left to remember the fallen and the defenders. He prays to Salandra for those harmed both in the battle and in Cordor. But he also prays in thanks for the stories he already hears- less of the destruction and more of hope. Of those saved, tales of six who died and all were revived successfully. But he leaves out nothing, praying for even the unknown fates. It seems that the Eternal Order isn't only gone; but every body taken if not buried already.

Last edited by Pony on Tue, Nov 05 2019, 14:36 PM, edited 1 time in total.

Upon hearing the news travel by word of mouth of destruction of the Kelemvorite temple, a certain Settite laughed.

A lone man is seen looking at the old Kelemvor temple with a scythe his eyes are pure white and he curses that he has no sight now but he starts to gather tools to start to clean up the temple. Though he is is sends word to both the Eternal Order and the Black Caravan.

To the Black Caravan and Eternal Order,
I am here to clean up the temple of Lord Kelemvor's temple and the wall that has been destroyed. I am blind from an event of going to the plane of Celestia but i am going to do it even if it is by myself. I know what done is done but i am going to be here to clean it up because it is next to hollowed ground where it is the final resting place for a lot of people. So the fight you have had is water under the bridge. I do not care that i am not of any order but i am the one rebuilding the temple i was thinking of putting it as a temple of Jergal but now that i think of it the Eternal Order belongs there not Jergal but i will find another place for Jergal. I am going to state some things that i want done before i do a rebuild of the temple itself. I want the Eternal Order and the Black Caravan to say they are sorry to each other i do not care how and when but i just want it done. On the Eternal Order side i would like that they protect over the grave yard and let Lord Kelemvor trial anyone that uses what they Call "Dark Necromancy" and that they do not take the law into their own hands. On the Black Caravan side the best thing to say is the business for you trades would be best suited in areas other then the hollows. I know that both groups will not heed to this. I just want them to agree on a peacefull solution. So i do not here that people are dieing else where and not getting the right burial. It is a lot better then the Kelemvorites and the Eternal Order not having a home to go to. To wonder and to not have peace. I am going to Clean the place up for their return but the rebuild will be done when i know both sides come to agreement. Thank you for reading this and hope all goes well.

Signed,
Dberaitnhger Korvath
(Follower of Jergal)

It had been sometime since the destruction of the temple, that much was apparent to the man who now stood amongst the ghosts and ashs of the once mighty bastion. The man slowly stepped over the ruins and debris, occasionally turning aside detrius with the end of his scythe to see what remained underneath. He came at last to the mainstay of the destruction and what was left of the temple, where he knelt and examined the banner erected infront of it. The mans face was a pale, cold and emotionless visage as he read the words of memorial. He reached for the holy book secured to his waist, one bound and protected in holy wards bearing a jawless skull with a scroll, and ink quill.

He spent the next few hours sifting among the debris and examining the fresh graves, jotting the names of those who had died in his book to make sure they reached the final resting place set aside for them in the great scheme of things.

The stranger looked up as a crow cawed and took flight, and it was then he noticed the stone on which the crow had perched. He walked over to the statue, his plate mail black and grey in the morning mists and brushed aside the debris and soot from the stone figure.

The statue of Jergal, his lord and scribe of the dead stood as mute testiment to the destruction that played out on these grounds. The statues presence spoke as testament that even servents of of Kelemvor eventually reachs the inevitable end and that Jergal watched them take those final steps, Jergal watched them reach the end.

The man continued his scribeing through out the day, uttering no cough or sneeze, nor a single word to the few people who passed through the area.

"So it is that even the servents of the dead lord cannot evade the one cold truth, we all will die, there is no life after death there is simply the end, ashs to ashs, dust to dust" he intoned the holy words over the graves and slowly made his way off into the mists. A day later he heard rumors that there might be surviving members of the order in a desert region called Khem.

"Pity that some have had the misfortune of being denied the opportunity to reach the end". He packed a few supplies and headed off to Khem.

//This post was made by Daniel, player of Aidyn Doomscribe

The War in Benwick Hollow

Who is online