Just a regular day, Kalul patrolled the roads from Cordor, to Bendir - as was his norm, at least ever since there had been drow sighted around there. That was until the storm came, swirling and blotting out the sun - lightning crashing around as if the very sky itself were trying to smite the ground. For a few seconds he was blissfully unaware that this wasn't a freak act of nature, that ended when the sky rumbled and all about fell blood.

What ensued was panic, those travellers on the road, hunkered down in their carts, or made for the nearest refuge. Though it seemed every other man with a sword straightened up at this, this chance to earn a name for themselves. Kalul was no different, he set out immediately. Seeking druids, Kalul found the usually busy grove empty. He moved back on himself, yet indeed even the square of cordor seemed eerily quiet as he attempted to find someone who knew what this was.

"Vampire, Vampire in the inn!"

He picked up his leisurely pace, running towards the inn along with the few that lined the square. A man clad in black sat in the middle of the Nomad, completely unintimidated by the variety of magical weaponry which was poised to strike him and indeed the whispers of half-spoken spells and blessings that filled the air.

"Upstairs, it's done now."

With that the vampire descended into mist - his entire form evaporating and seeping into the floorboards. A few strikes were aimed his way by the more green adventurers, leaving them only fumbling about with the weight of their weaponry that had connected with nothing. In the mad rush that led upstairs, a few pushed the opposite way through the crowd, looking sickened. Peering into the room, Kalul saw why, blood pooled out on the floor - mangled bodys lay strewn about. He did not stop to count how many there were, the sight was sickening even to him. Though even if he had, he would not have had time. The guard shouted for everyone to be about to the temple of lathander - people would find protection there.

He took awhile to compose himself, though heeded the guards words. With some effort, Kalul squeezed into the crowded temple - a few of the more eager and experienced had banded to set out to the forest, there had been more sightings of vampires there - indeed he was headed with them till he saw that amongst those that were behind, he was the only one that could muster a smile. The citizens of Cordor wore grim expressions, the little hope left in them fading away to despair at the sight of all the adventurers leaving. He couldnt just leave them here, not like this.

Squeezing his way to the front of the temple, just in front of the altar he attempted to rally them - in the only way he knew how. Tossing his helm to one side, he raised his head slightly, singing a soft hymn to his beautiful goddess, of his own making - in elven, of course.

"Lady Goldheart, watch over us - warm us with your love.
Guard our hearts from the stillness of death, so that they may forever dance to your eternal song."

His singing, for the most part did the trick - perhaps most did not understand the words, though the tune and the delicate, calming singing from the elven man drew there attention away from the adventurers that were leaving. They calmed, there hope growing - he shooed there fears away.

"Guard our minds from the folly of hatred, so that we may forever forgive."

He would have sung more, but at that a condorian guard burst into the temple.

"Everyone out! Out of the city, it's safer out there."

Following the orders, with much protest, Kalul banded together the citizens within the church and headed out of the city - though he did not sing now. He was far too angry, his mind raced.

The guard had thrown them out?
Safer -outside- than in?
Safer under his -sole- protection?

He noticed that they had assigned noone to help guard the citizens, so it was his job to get them somewhere safe, he supposed. It wasn't like he minded, but he knew should a single person fall to the storm, or a vampire, he would never forgive himself. He knew not what had happened to the merchants and citizens that weren't in the chapel once that order was given, he dreaded to think upon it for long - concentrating on the task at hand. With a heavy heart he lead the people out of the north gate, into the brewery near the farmlands. For a while he sat, staring into nothingness while he thought - ignoring the offers of drinks, or indeed the occasional song request.

He'd do no good here - if such a powerfull vampire did want these people dead, he doubted he alone could stop them. He might be proud, but he certainly wasnt foolish - not when it was others lives he would be gambling with. No, he'd protect them better by not sitting around.

With that, he slipped out quietly - unnoticed he hoped, into the storm and headed north to the forest - to lend his hand with whatever the adventurers had planned.

After a patrolling the island of Amia, Gagis had returned to the Cathedral for a brief rest before resuming the battle against the undead. He was physically exchausted, but his mind was bursting with excitement. Having stopped so many vampires by channeling positive energies had left him full of joy, in an almost extatic state. The small fight had given him such intense pleasure, yet the true battle had not even begun. Oh how joyous it will be to deliver the wrath of Kelemvor, rage of Lathander and the memory of the anger of Amaunator upon the undead abominations.

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

Vaelmith glares at the more recent posting made by Bill Hurst, but elsewise remains quiet. Rising, he begins to pull his armour together.

~It's time to get back to work. ~

Time...

It had no meaning. Unending nothingness was her companion, the only aspect of existence to be had. She had felt this way before. Once in the past, her soul had been thrust into a gem, but something was different this time. This time, she truly feared her captors. This time, she had left behind a daughter, a family. She could not comprehend or even guess how long it had been since Asher's blade had sliced across her throat, but it felt to her as if it had been an eternity. It was this uncertainty that made the fear settle in the consciousness that was her...

Would she miss seeing her beloved daughter grow? Would she miss her first steps, her first words? Would she miss her dear Sui'Aerl's first accidental explosion in the library that would send everyone into a frenzy to save the books? Would she miss the mornings when Sui'Aerl would come to her mother's bed to wake her in the middle of the night when she'd had a nightmare?

The thoughts brought her immense pain. It was pain that centered nowhere and was only real because she believed it to be. Her mind, it seemed, was well intact and in this never-ending emptiness it would be the end of her - she just knew it. She lingered in nothingness and she thought of little else than her family, her friends. Dear Sui'Aerl; poor, troubled Rras; her brother Ulrik... What had become of them? Had she been the cause of their deaths? Had the vampires won?

It was an endless stream of unanswered questions that assaulted her mind. In the emptiness of her existence, she saw nothing. He heard not the laughter of her precious daughter, or the soothing sound of a half-dragon's deep breaths. She did not smell the blossoms that littered the forest floor, or the salty spray of the Trackless Sea. She didn't feel the cool touch of the Ruathym wind or the warmth of the flickering fire in the lounge.

Nothing...

There was nothing, and she had no idea if there would ever again be something. She didn't know if there was anything to go back to.

Nothing...

Emptiness...

She was going to go mad! She wanted to scream, to thrash about and to simply murder those who had put her in this situation! She wanted to go home... She wanted to wake from this endless nightmare and see that nothing had actually happened and that Sui'Aerl was actually just a few feet away, stirring as she too woke from slumber.

Emptiness...

Her prayers were silent, but filled with her every hope and wish.

Nothing...

She wanted to weep. She wanted to just stop being here... Could she die? Could she sleep? No... It was endless... She couldn't just forget the pain and helplessness. She couldn't end the feeling of hopeless abandon, of being lost, of losing everything she held dear...

Nothing...

Please... Her conscious mind called out to nothing. The agony of her loneliness made her feel as if she would crumble into nothing. Had she already done that?

Someone... Help... I can't stay here...

_________________

Gorthod shows up at the monolith just in time to see the departing brigade of brave (Or foolish) adventurers depart for the bastion of Monty. He seems torn with indecision, does he drink or does he nail another bolt in the fiendish Christopher? He watches Rosalinde disappear into a portal, and then he inspects the rather large sack of booze in his pack.

Booze, news, cake and then naps. He thinks to himself, glancing at the Monolith one more time before hopping on the next boat to Wiltun.

"Good m'am, we shall drink till the pitchers empty, pray for the destruction of Monty, an' rutt in the eve in honour of Leon for he is most definitely fighting leeches as we speak!" He thrusts a bottle up at the rather annoyed looking Captain, a short time later he is found below decks drunk and dead to the world.

_________________

_________________
Sir Taelar Ardelyn of Wiltun
Winner of the Razor Tongued Award 2015!

Kira "Penny" Sigers
Better than Boulderdash!

_________________

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

The visage of two ladies, one elven-sized, one human-sized, are seen late into the night at the balcony of the Keep of Kohlingen, keeping watch in cloaks and hoods to safeguard themselves as much as possible from the crimson rain, standing in defiance of the fear that it is meant to evoke, and hoping to serve as beacons of light, faith, and love, in the tide of such gruesome darkness.

After most of the night passes in such a watch, Elle and Emma return to the inside of the Keep, and to their prayers and rest, their friends and loved ones in their hearts and minds, praying for victory at last.

_________________

Ozy'Solis is alerted to the threat but alas no boats can reach the monolith, he desperately try to portal or to find someone brave enough to take him to the conflict, his eyes filled with anger and hope.

Instead he stands on the cliff face of Wilton starting out at a storm hoping his friends are ok.

_________________
If i am not about when you are, but you would like to RP with Valkin, chose a time in red (GMT+8) / add character name PM me ICLY/OCC :http://teamup.com/ks662ccbfedda01eb0/

The Sanguine Rain Ends. Dawn rises above the isle once more!

Already a tale is out: sung by a Bard to commemorate the occasion...


Fifty two wizards and fighters, to war,
Fates blessed the hands in that hour dark.
Into the depths, black chambers far,
The heroes delved to seek their mark.

Though black were the skies and red were the rain,
And thousands of monsters were there to cause pain.
They braved through them all! Vampires to slay!
Our heroes did fight them and won back the day!

So give love to our saviors, Three cheers to the Light!
Drink to their dire many battles fought hard!
They brought back the Sun, purging the blight!
Thus Did End Wreched Count Mortegaurde....

Quickly many such songs spring up, leaving this one among many.

_________________


Those trees won't burn themselves down. (by Maryn)

Vaelmith quietly held onto a bag of ash, seeming to make ready to carry out some final step with it only he and scant few others understood.

((Didn't quite get to finish this but I'll send a PM))

*The First Knight is sending home the diplomats of the Commonwealth, who were "locked" inside the keep of Kohlingen. Telling them that the combined operation of Kohlingen, the Monolith, the Grove and the Glade, the Dawnguards, the Eternal Order, the adventurer division of the Cordorian guards and with aid of some adventurer was successful. Count Mortegaurde is dead...and he will remain dead from now.*

*Ascalon curses the mages that left him behind to guard their precious tower. What foolish munthreki... it isss becaussse they keep company with gnomesss that their mindsss are gone. He is then surprised to see them actually return and apparently triumphant.*

_________________
Eli Hodgewall <{/,~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X
Sven <=={o===========>
Qeelak \ | / ,

A band of three men finish their final lonely task. // we were dead tired, but some of it made sense in some way.

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

A weary but satistfied Triadic Knight returns to give thanks in the Triadic temple for the count's defeat. News of the victory allows the refugees, who had been sheltering there so long, to go home.

He rolls up his own bedroll from where he would sleep near the refugees. His presence was no longer needed to bring them reassurance just as they no longer needed to remain in the temple.

Sir Justin wondered how long the memories of the horrors of the dark maze would stay with him and the others he had fought beside. Still he knew the peace that comes from doing Tyr's will.

It was far from over...

Yet, the blood rain had ceased, and light once again shone through. Count Cristophe Artemis d'Mortegaurde was defeated and destroyed. Asher was defeated and destroyed. While three still remained, it was a victory. But a terrible cost was exacted, as well. There were certain scars, certain wounds, and certain pains that would never heal. Could never heal. Many good folks would bear these long after the bard's songs faded.

...It was far from over, and there was more work to be done. A soul to free. A tower to rebuild, and most importantly, a promise to keep. Yet, for one star-filled and moonlit night, a particular wizard found rest.

_________________
Playing:
Marcus Valis

*a elf on a cliff over looking the woods murmels softly:*

"and now the war between the free minions start... and time only will tell if one will rise again, for now i hoop they wil kill eachother and non wil hear from any again"

*and gone to the shadow of the woods he wend*

_________________
Wheter i control the axewielding walking fridg or the arrow slinging maniac i wil annoy you at some way. Muhahahaha

Theos lifted his divine scimitar high above his head in mute testiment to victory upon emerging from the portal into Wharftown. They had done it; defeated an incredibly powerful foe against terrible odds. And not just a few, but a united front of adventurers and warriors from across many backgrounds and disciplines.

There were still three more out there, but the storm was cleared, the Count was dead; he'd personally witnessed that end; and the vampire hordes they'd faced has been significantly smashed.

It wasn't a Glade victory, nor a Grove victory, nor a Triad victory, nor a Mystran victory.

It was an Amian victory.

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

As the sun peeked over the horizon, a certain mustached mage and a beleaguered sun elf watched from the roof of the Mystran Monolith. The mustached man held the elf close, saying a small prayer of thanks to Mystra for their safe return as his eyes filled with water. Whether the water was from the sun's light or from his own internal thoughts, it was unsure.

The wind swept the roof as Marister could feel the tides of change wash over the islands, blowing away the latest taint to corrupt the land. He stood against the wind and light, letting it pour over him in a shower of salvation, glad to be rid of the latest damning plight. The sun rose into the sky as a symbol of victory for the forces of light and as a symbol of a protector against the evil that still remains.

Did everything go according to plan? Of course not. People were still upset and would always carry wounds too grave to heal, but their victory in this war against the damned had finally taken a dramatic turn, that much was sure to the mage as he thought back on the night's horrors. Even as scared and completely horrified he was during their attack within the Black Dungeon... Marister could still remember the fear in the Count's voice and on his face. That fear gave him the resolve he needed to see the task through.

"No one is invincible...", he thought quietly to himself.

The sun elf looked up at him with a questioning glance, noticing his internal maelstrom, exhausted from the efforts of the war.

"Just reflecting on unimportant things, my dear.", he stated to her. "Come, let's get some rest." He then leaned down and kissed her quickly, gently on the lips and pulled her around towards the elevator to finally get some well-deserved sleep.

_________________

Anea'rhaditen Isla'wynnae stretched in the light next to the Life Stone after her prayer was done. She was rather filthy, though not as filthy as some who had been in those creepy places that the vampires called home. She still clutched the arrow that had managed so much damage and even death to those creatures in her hand. Then she smiled at her bow, Anea's Goodnight, the dark wood shone brightly with its vine and flower design. She shivered as she remembered.

They had defeated the mind maze. Those rather rude vampires managed to steal the minds every one of the many who’d gone to put an end to them. They had been split up, attacked, made to think all form of terrible realities. Anea herself had been forced to attempt to climb a wall to get away from black ooze and biting teeth.

She stopped the madness with a simple song she used to hum quietly all those years lost in the dark, after hearing that brave mage, Ulrik, call to them it was an illusion.

They had gotten through doors only the arcane magics and intelligence for puzzle solving could open. They had dispatched vampires and their minions in the room with that horrid blood fountain.

She smiled then at the memory of the devout of Kelemvor, a monk, who stood alone and bashed the fountain whilst praying aloud to his Lord. Anea rarely saw humans with such passion and commitment. She thought she'd heard his name was Cassius.

They had found the coffins, huge stone ones that took strength and strong damaging spells to break into piles of rubble. Her magical arrows did nothing in those rooms, ricocheting off the stone. Of course, she stopped firing immediately lest an arrow catch a fellow vampire hunter. It would be awkward to have to explain her arrow in someones…. Although proudly she had taken her enchanted sword out and managed to take a few chunks off the corners.

Then it was to the room with /them/. Although from her vantage point at the very back, in a shadowed corner, they didn’t look that scarey. There were five. One called the Count, one called Asher – whom claimed to collect faces, a taller male and two females.

“On our side,” Anea recounted for her boon friend, “up front was a very passionate Hin sporting the color, symbol and mental attitude of the Eternal Order. Our brave knight didn’t mince words putting the fear of his Lord into those on the other side of a fence like barrier. Since our side couldn’t bring down the barrier I would have thought they’d give the Hin knight a boost over so passionate and on fire he was.”

“However, a reasonable voice came out over the other calls for blood and gore. It was Red. Basically he’s all scary claws and teeth so it was amazing to hear him calmly attempting to get the Count to reconsider. He is half a red dragon and you know how they can get. For a few tense moments it seemed that the Count would surrender. Another woman came out. Then the first two females vanished into a portal, the tall male screamed a profanity…well several actually. I am thankful I didn’t understand them all.

Then suddenly the wall was down.

I was ready, those up front surged forward. I backed up having my arrow aimed at that Asher. I thought that anyone whom collected faces needed to kiss the floor first.

Apparently, that Count was ready and from the sudden jolt of returning movement I realized he’d cast a stopping of time. Several spells he had cast and when I had movement again… well, folks at the front were screaming and falling over dead. There were so many tumbling to the ground and it was so surreal I found myself starting a hysterical laugh.

Fortunately I caught sight of Asher headed my way. That was a sobering thought as I mechanically began to fire my arrows with increased speed. I wanted to /keep/ my face. Others blocked his way giving me time to move around a bench and pull out a scroll. One of the fallen near me had spoken in celestial earlier. I thought he might be a good choice to get up and put back in the fight. Besides he was big and I could hide behind him once I got him up.

Then Asher was down and I managed to put a few arrows into the Count and he was down.

The shouts and groans of the wounded… the wails and cries of those finding comrades lying in pools of blood on the once pristine white marble floor was heart wrenching. The smell…the smell of battle…that was gut wrenching. I am certain no one noticed what was left of my last meal, hidden behind that bench.

My friends, Kamryn Kane a stout warrior and follower of Lathander and Sir Borugar Swifthammer of the Triadic Knights were alive when I found them. Although Borugar was muttering about having to miss part of the battle for some reason or another.

I assisted where I could. It was such a mess and I think I was in shock. I was thankful for my natural grace and balance for the floor was so slick with…Anyway….

The next bit of time was spent just watching the mages, the Eternal Order and strong no-nonsense human called Nev attempt to figure out how to get to the Counts coffin. I thought I heard arguing but surely I’m mistaken for we were all there for the same purpose. They mentioned needing a fey and I remembered a lovely shifter fellow….or maybe it was a lass, it’s so hard to tell with the shifters… I’ll go with male. He was taking the form of a large lizard. And I thought that if my friend Brinsar could do a lizard and a fey then this fellow might be able to also. Well that and he muttered something about being able to.

Anyway, I talked to him a bit. And called out to the group that my new friend could be a fey. It was Nev who finally after several minutes heard me. I am rather small so she didn’t see me right off.

He did that thing shifters do, oh he was just adorable as a fey, and he left to help. I went back over to a very strong looking dwarf named Baden. We had spoken earlier and I felt quite safe near him as big and burly as he was.

Well, I was really of no further help. And truly I was thankful I couldn’t turn into a fey as I really didn’t want anything to do with being near that Counts coffin.

I wasn’t part of any of the bigger groups there, the former Weave Knights, Eternal Order, Dawnguard, Cordorian Guard, Dwarves of Brogenstien, Dragonkin, Triadic Knights, Glade, Grove but I think there in those vampire infested rooms we weren’t separate groups. We weren’t different. We were of one mind, one strength and one purpose. We were part of something bigger. Protectors of our homes, our families and our friends.

We were Amians and we were victorious."

_________________
Ari'aerath Dlues'athsha ~ Silver Singer with the Bow of the Sun
Clarette Feohn ~ Magic is Art.
Victoria Marrs ~ "I have an herb for that."

A half-red dragon departs the Monolith's rainy steps, stepping through the portal into Southern Cordor. A sweet blissful rain, yes water, washing down his scales. It was frigid, but it clings to him. And for once.. he let it. He walked to the Nomad and straight past the bar-full of temptation, purchasing a room. Trudging wearily up the stairs to the top floor he made use of it. Sitting on the front of a chair hunching over. He continued writing till the early hours of the morn. Capping a scroll case, then dipping it in wax, and affixing a label with some sinue within. Stepping down with yet more fatigue, claws not the greatest on stairs he finds himself trudging across the square yawning. Stepping into Speedy's Delivery Service.


"Can you deliver this to Bill Hurs's office a' the Paper? With all speed and insurance?" dispensing with with the sum for it, for immediate insured delivery. He would then head Northward, t'wards the gates. He paused, and set down on the bridge, His wings hanging free as his muzzle rests against the bridge support, and there he fell asleep, watching the sun rise.

_________________
Dwagin [Duh-wa-GIN] N. - 1a. Small and cute thingum, particularly fond of four legged scaled creatures of the metalic and chromatic varieties.

-Extraordinarily ordinary in the mostest of ways.

A certain gnome mage sat within a runed circle in the conjuration office after the war party had left. His thoughts went with them, this our moment of triumph or failure. He had written several descriptions of wards and their weaknesses, as well as conversed in length on other uses of tunnelling or phasing spells. If a single word was helpful, that's all he could ask.

But his job was not with the war party tonight. Tonight the Monolith was his responsibility. Keeping the Tower safe, and should the party fail, regroup and rally for a counter strike. Tonight, he would spend his time focusing on the wards in place and communicating with Dominik via regular sendings; should one not be responded to, he would assume the worse.

Within the room, much of the illuminated space was lit by livid red sigils defining the charged formulae. He sat quietly, in his comfortable regalia, cross legged, with his hands folded neatly in his lap. His eyes closed, he sent his senses and thoughts to those about the tower. Brukka, his trusted silver companion would be flying about the tower looking for any counter strikes coming, Selrianna would be making rounds to be sure to notify Wess and the faculty for any immediate responses required. Svan, lay quietly outside of the circle, curled up against the door; his one open eye peering at Bruce.

There was nothing to do now, but wait. Wait for the coming dawn or the first day of a long struggle...

"...skrimishes..."

"...passed the prismatic door..."

"...bloody maze..."

"...wall of force and the Count..."

"...it is finished, but Emma and Callahan escaped; we have pieces of thier coffin..."

The night had been long, the energy invested in the circle whined to be released, the telepathic bonds with his companions severed; "we have won my friends, thank you and get some rest..." He placed a palm over the circle and willed the release of stored energies within. The air in the room flexed, the dust briefly swirlled about.

After the room had settled to silence, the gnome used his stave to help himself up and stretch his legs. "Svan, a chapter has ended... let us find ourselves in peace... Come." The click of his stave echoed down the empty halls as Bruce made his way directly to his room. Once inside, he dabbed his seagul quill into the pot of black ink and took some time to pen a note to the headmaster.

Master Ulrik,

Today a great victory has been won. It's my pleasure to report that the tower remains safe and sound. I will begin divesting the wards immediately, save one.

It is my assumption that Riia's gem was recovered, as such a tragedy it would be otherwise. We have endured much in these last days. Through the faith and determination of our colleagues and allies, this day was made possible. However, I have become a shell.

Through the deviant mechenations of our retreating foe.. I know of Emma and Callahan, I very nearly moved to strike down Ixen'arir'verthicha two 'eves ago when he insulted my honor. I have never felt such rage and betrayal. Now that the Count is defeated, perhaps the red can begin his healing.

For me, I must remove these scars before they become too deep and I loose my sense of gnomanity. I will be away from the Monolith for a few days to perform this process of personal healing. With this letter, I'm providing a gem with my mark upon it, in case of an emergency and you must contact me.

Mystra's light upon you,

Your Adjunct and Friend

Bruce said a few words which caused the ink on the quill to dry up and flake away. He quickly gathered his effects and left the room. Turning his key within the door, the familiar snick of the lock greeted him as he placed his other hand on the worn wood. The gnome murmured a few words to refresh the ward, then went immeditately to Ulrik's office and delivered the note folded about a small sapphire.

His task finished, he began his last... Closing his eyes, he incanted the words for a Sending, "Dominik, tonight words cannot describe how proud and honored I am in your accomplishments. You have come very far. I will return soon... Bruce." He simply nodded to himself, receiving the response.

With a thin smile, he regarded Svan next to him. "Are you ready?" The cat sat on his haunches and looked at the gnome as if he had said a joke. A black tail swished back and forth teasingly. "mm.. let us go then.." Bruce took out his portal wand, adjusted the focusing crystals and left the Monolith of Mystra. As he left the Tower, the arcane reverberations of some dozens of dimensional locks being unwoven permeated the area. Suddenly, the stone seemed a little more gray and the air returned to its characteristic dim haziness.

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

Somewhere on a ledge in the Skull Crag mountains, just below the snowline, a small stone figure sat cross legged, smiling and with his hands folded neatly in his lap, facing the sunrise. Curled at his feet, the black sheen of death for any who approached.

_________________
~Science Transcript~
Bruce Kesselson: [Talk] Channeling a different color.. Vyashir!
Vyashir lndrire: [Talk] Purple?
Bruce Kesselson: [Talk] Prepare for purple!
Vyashir lndrire: [Talk] yes!

Kalin Blake returns as well to Kohlingen, spreading the news about the victory. Also he went to the temple praying to Tyr thanking Him for all the blesses and the well succeeded task.
Laying inside his bag, a little container bearing a vampiric dust he collected on the dark tunnels. After he defeated one of Count lackeys, he collected the remains to drop it on holy water. But it seems we forgot that... for a while.

//Question to DMs: Am I allowed to hold vampiric dust from the event ?

_________________
My Characters:
Yuilith Kethil Menaiivan Garadeth

_________________

Siggy by Maryn

The night the heroes came home, Kurchin went to the Nomad. Exhausted, beaten up, and still shaken from the horrors of the Count's home, he paced up to Griff and got a bottle of sweetberry milk. He then went up to an empty room, drank the milk, had some cake, and laid down on the bed. The cushions felt great on his back. Kurchin curled up beneath the sheets, he silently reflected to himself on what occurred during that time.
At this point, I'm more afraid of inaction than what the vampires can do to me. He thought that before he went. I won't stand idle in a safe corner while everyone I care about marches off into danger, I'm not staying safe this night. He had though of that before and after he went, but not during.

His mind winced as he thought of everything that was there, the bloody fountain, the prisoners, and most of all, those catacombs that were a prison within his own mind... the cold he felt, the horrors that came out of the very wall and floor. He remained strong though, he knew what was on the line, and the presence of so many close friends helped him endure, and remain strong through the worst of it.

And in the end, the count was gone, as was Asher, many coffins were smashed, and his friends all made it out of the place safely. That's all that mattered to him. His thoughts stepped away from the horrors and to the results of what was done. It's all that mattered to him.

I'd gladly do it all again. He put the bedsheets over himself and fell fast asleep.

_________________
I play:

In the following day after his nap he would have tended to his side-bag. Bandoleers filled to the brim of potions and various consumable items obsessively replaced in their storage locations. Enough potions had been procured to ensure he would have had adequate for a campaign that'd last a week. Breaking it down as he sat outside the tower of Mystra, he over heard a conversation from a certain Lieutenant and another familiar voice get out of earshot and round into the temple. "She ran out to the beach, I didn't.. " he got up, and went to move to the golem barred doors, cursing once, yelling inside. Swiftly, tossing a small companion into the air and gave it orders. Eventually it flew within and spoke, and Rras was allowed in.. he rushed up. Words spoken. Preparations already enacted. Madrik was there.. why was he there, why did he come to the room. What... the Nine was he there for. Agitation, irritation, lack of trust. Predatory and territorially he stalked the room the entire time, ready to gut him into a pile of guts and bones at the least little misstep. In time, Riia had been drawn back. And the very fact Madrik was responsible for this was the sole thing which held him back from completely gutting the man all over his newly returned Ertherasvim's meek form. He touched her. You do not touch his things without permission. But he put her down and moved away, in the nick of time. Without ado he would take the body, wrapped in her own bedding and return to the room where he had kept himself for a time. Stepping past an empty crib. And simply setting her down. Neither would be seen for at least a day.

_________________
Dwagin [Duh-wa-GIN] N. - 1a. Small and cute thingum, particularly fond of four legged scaled creatures of the metalic and chromatic varieties.

-Extraordinarily ordinary in the mostest of ways.

Two weeks pass as the island struggles to recover from the bleeding wounds revealed during the days of Endless Night, when men, whipped into frenzy by fear and superstition, made mistakes that they will carry with them to the grave, and reckoned with the reality that immortality always comes at some cost. They are just beginning to process, to cope, when The Amian Recorder releases a new edition. To help speed along the process and put a finishing touch on the story.



Readers of the Amian Recorder near and afar! For a fortnight have we picked up the pieces of our troubled lives, tried to make sense of the temporary death of the sun, and glimpsed what a world ruled by NOBLES who also happen to be vampires might have been like, if not for the brave and selfless actions of several heroic forces, marshalled and directed by our very own Adventuring Division of the Commonwealth Guard.

So it is that Rras, the unquestionable narrator of our truths that may otherwise find circulation only in the seediest of places, the rotgut taverns and near the moaning pillories, in dark alleys, in houses of ill repute or in lawyer offices, has, after facing his own troubles, sought to conclude the great narrative of the Commonwealth's defense of the island of Amia against the perversion of these NOBLE vampires. Recounted here, his exact wording:

~~~

Herein lies my account of the last day of Count Christophe d'Morteguarde.

Abashed I stood upon a great precipus overlooking the swath of destruction which would wait, knowing what pains these creatures had done to the hearts, minds, bodies, and souls of the goodly beings for ten centuries. Ashamed for I had not been able to deal with these creatures as swiftly as was needed to save everyone. The dead, their blood will forever be worn upon me, the guilt buried deep away.

I scouted the isle for the day, working hand in hand with the combined Druidic Glade and Grove efforts, the Hallowed Duir, its magical root system allowing us to move throughout the isle to keep one step ahead of the beasts. Theos Gend - Malandria, and three other druids drew forth and created a tree song, repulsing the evil storm from about this great symbol of Life and Renewal on the isle. Myself - The halfling ranger Belladonna, and a few others keeping vigil over the Heirophants as they spun their Calls and Faith. Once secured we made excellent use, attempting to ferry information between the settlements and cities, gather reinforcements, and direct the combined forces facing, fighting this epidemic, this Horrific Vampiric laden storm, that fell. We continued our work tirelessly throughout the day, until the time to strike drew near.

Rallying in squads in the crossroads of the Amian wood the combined forces of the Cordorian Adventure Guard Unit, valiantly leading those united under Cordor’s banner in defense of the Commonwealth, the Eternal Order of Kelemvor - The Dawnguard of Lathander, The Mages and their security force of the Monument of Mystra, The Druids of the Grove and Glade, The Triadic Knights of Kohligen, Goodly Drow of the Shrine of the Dark Dancer, and the Hin from the Dale. Also there were some of us without a home, a faction - but no less determination, no less a cause, such as an outcast half-red like myself. All in all, two platoons of people with one goal.

In formation each squad moved with righteous fury from the staging point down the road and poured into the Mylock hills where this vile creature's den had been made. At once the beast's forces, were upon us. Ancient Vampire Knights and Priests of Vile Gods of which whatever undeath follow began cutting a swathe. Their foul red glowing scythes, negative magic pulsing. The Swift Commands of Leftenant Nevaeh Tarvencia in the advanced squadron steeling shields and issuing commands - Steeled side by side with the High Knight - Yaston Sylergrad with his inspiring words. Jud'vardas Kenyl, in the Intermediary squadron with his bardic repose lifting up the morale, whilst Ulrik Valis and his magi directed the ranged squadron of the forces taking up the rear. My own expertise in warcampaign - Utilizing my blood's perks.. my wings flying back and forth - falling upon those who were in trouble with my speed - giving advanced warning of the enemy movements and seeing to it no man was left behind to each squad. With everyone's combined concern for others and steadfast dedication we breached into the bastion of this evil Count - Having all hands accounted for. Vampire after vampire falling to dust in the hills behind.

As we settled down into the Constricted chasm of this Maw of Evil.. a horrific wicked Power gleamed before us, a Psychodelic door staring us face to face swirling, A complicated lock such a thing is to crack, but the Magi of the tower were -well- prepared, and they without fail or err, cracking it like a master burglar would a safe.

Behind in these narrowed tunnels, barely large enough to hold us a circular room awaited, barred with a massive heavy gate. Each in their own effort to pull it free, when it was filled with a most Righteous indignation, the former Weave Captain of the Mystran forces wedged his blade and yanked the massive grate open.

Beneath this grate awaited us a most deadly and vicious trap as we descended. A trap meant for the very mind. An unending maze of horrors, agony, pains. An illusion which crept in and threatened to steal us all away.. greatest painful moments of one's past, terrors to the quaking of one's heart. Powerful sympathetic magic. Ulrik Valis made this discovery, and through the combined will, and inspiration of all there who fought it out of their minds, the spell was broken.

Once the illusory world lifted, we stood there in the depths of this Subterranean Manor, this Perverse House of Blood Horror, face to face with a befouled and evil Obsidian visage of the Count, brimming with evil energy. A terrible countenance did it have. One paladin having no use for such - lept upon this statue and without regard for themselves shattered it! We advanced forward, the crack scout kobold disabling the many traps which lay before, whilst I attempted to keep the Righteous fury of the assembled forces in check with the multitude of divination scrolls I possessed as this was done, but there was a hunger for vengeance! A great trap had been unleashed and several beings dropped dead from a torrent of electrical discharge. Clerics swiftly attended them and got them back in combat readiness.

At this point we seperated into two platoons. Due to my counter-intelligence work I knew where the coffins of these vile beasts laid, and instructed to the fact of where they were. The heavy stone coffins laid in three concentric circles. Filled to the brim with the evil we had laid waste to on our way there. Vampire after vampire meeting final death as their recovering forms in their coffins were destroyed completely - Their evil never to be known on the shores ever again.

Within the begrimed, afouled fest-hall, of Depraved and wickedness: the very place where these beasts consumed their victims in a blood orgy twice daily, the entry to the Count's Chambers waited. Warded by powerful magics, I guided the magi to the small library, knowing the way forward had been contained therein. Once it was located we then came face to face with this Dark threat, in our wholeness.

Behind a great magical warding of pure energy they stood. The remaining coven members, The Beast - This white clothed, crimson haired Asher which had abused so many all over the isle - holding twin blades. The Count Morteguarde - Himself! in his terrible masked Countenance, The Child - Shoushana; the strange young one which had aided the forces of right before, The Hound - Calahan, her guardian. The Count's Seeress, no where to be found. - As one would expect of a Diviner of such power.

The Child spoke to Christophe. Spoke to him of wanting to face her final death. Of wanting freedom, of not wanting to live anymore. That they had lived long enough. The Count .. he wanted to live on. He had much to do. He was a troubled man in life... He wanted a family. Evil had turned him away from it, making him a monster. He had plans, things he wanted to do. But the curse of unlife twists a man. It causes his desires to become evil, corrupt, even in the noblest of cases. He having known the pain of slaying his own betrothed upon his turning to undeath, beloved's family, who did not approve of their marriage. This love and desire in life, twisted into horrible deeds in unlife. Turning into the dark visage, which he hid behind a mask.

I too know the pain of having no family. I too know the pain of having a monster inside you. Of doing horrible things when it is out of control. I knew every pain that this man had faced as a result of his condition. I know it is hard to find in one's heart the mind of another being, even one so evil, but it is in my dogma to see. However, in unlife there is no salvation for the soul. I spoke and tried even at that last hour, after all of it, to have the beast he had become seek redemption. Was this wrong of me? I know not, but I am a honorable man, and if a soul can be saved from a fate it does not truly seek, it must be done.

The vampires Covenant broke. The Child, sought not to live anymore. She pleaded, I pleaded, with the Count to give up, to end himself, and seek atonement with the gods for his massive sins. In the end, the curse of unlife had its say. At that moment, the Seer made her move and absconded with The Child, The Hound stood idly by, for it was his duty in life, perhaps even still unlife to protect this one and without her there, he had no purpose. He spoke to us - I am not your enemy, I will not aid the Count in this fight.

At that, the great wall which held the throngs of us back was dropped in tandem with a pair of spells from two Magi of the tower, and the Righteous fury penned back before this tragedy drew to a close was unleashed! It was at this point things drew fuzzy to me, the combat was fierce and furious, Necromancy the power I have never felt before had been tossed, and many were drawn down, but by will, and righteous fury, dedication, the day was won. The vile Asher Unmade, the Count he himself shifting into gaseous form no doubt - retreating to his final sanctum.

It had been a rough fight and many injuries were had. In time we gathered and sought to ferret out the final resting place of Christophe d'Morteguarde. And with the use of Magic the way was made open. Knowing not the evil that laid waiting, I myself and Ulrik Valis went on, intending to bear whatever burden or curse, which may lay ahead. We came to stand before five great evil statues surrounding a coffin most ancient, and adorned. Evil laid before us. Resting in this massive sarcophagus. Prepared for this moment, Ulrik's right hand had moved through behind us, as well as the shifter known as 'Cory', and Lord Yaston of the Triadic Knights stood dutifully on watch.

A great evil permeated from this coffin, and a heartbeat began to fill the room. Energy rising.. there was no time for seeing if it was safe, I had sworn to my God that eve, I would see him dead even if I had to die doing it. I acted. I heaved the coffin open, not knowing what it might do to one such as myself, and came face to face with the count. There, laying, in repose. Injured badly, but.. swiftly his wounds healing due to the dark power of vampiricism. Without fail I yanked open my pack and with a final wish of peace, broke the stool, driving one of the legs swiftly clean through the Count's heart. His eyes opened, and he stared up at us. He.. was without his mask. Looking upon his wide eyes, I stared into them. Had I not known who he was.. I would have never known he was a vampire. His hair still normal, flesh as peachy as any man. He could have passed you in the night, dressed in a fine gentleman's attire, and you would have never known.

To my shock and surprise, the Count’s final words spoken before his imminent and final death were, “Had I but been a better noble in life, or not a noble, and NOT SOUGHT MORE THAN MY NEIGHBOR, and instead wished to BE COMMON IN WEALTH, IN HEALTH, AND IN HAPPINESS, I would not have succumbed to the Curse that is, alas!, my downfall!”

Without hesitation Vaelmith Starshower, The Ex-Captain of the now disolved Weave Knights of Mystra drew his blade and took the head of the Count. Plucking forth from the body, remained the stolen soul of mine own wife, there in his coffin with him, I took hold of the gem which he had locked her away in. And turned his body into ash, with a great breath of fire. Torching the interior of it, burning whatever lay within to ash.

It was at that time, I gave forth a rare and magical ruby I possessed, which had captured the hottest flames of the planes of fire within. Vaelmith used this to render the Vampire Lord's head to ash, swiftly, it burned as if it was meant to. The ashes collected, and contained within hallowed decanters of blessed water. The body later disposed of in a fast running water-fall. And for obvious reasons.. I cannot disclose where the ashes of the head must be interred. Forever must this secret be kept safe, lest this evil be free once more to plague the world.

As this was done, the great construction of Evil began to shudder and shake. With great speed, we all hastened our exit as the very walls around us began to crumble and fall in. Nabbing two halflings on my way up, I flew from the depths and we broke the surface. We saw the moon. And it began to rain. So bitter had I ever been about the rain, its bitter cold sting on my scales. But the water, yes, water.. fell down and began to wash the blood away.

Never forget. We must never let our differences cause our separation. Never allow it to go this far again. Never let our differences be turned into weapons which cause us to fight amongst ourselves. Never let politics trump what must be done. I have always said this, and I always will. What must be done, must be done.

For whatever good or ill words, carried from myself to this paper, so must it be said that this night, the dedication and mettle through action and deed has proven intent of all those assembled. These are the words I have the strength to put to paper.. but this story is not over, and the pain, and troubles which have been afflicted on us all, will be there in the morning. Do not grow bitter or cynical my fellows. Learn, keep your mind open.. never judge. Skepticism, and understanding.. be confident in yourself and that what you will do be done. True Evil still exists in the world and I am sorry I was not able to stop this Count more quickly.

-Yours truly

Ixen'arir'verthicha 'Rras' the Half-Red.


~~~

Yes! Yes, it is so that there are still VAMPIRES! amongst us, those rapscallious members of this unholy coven who evaded the splintering stake of justice to continue their OPPRESSION and PARASITISM of humanity that marks the very nature of NOBILITY! the world over! But Rras, tormented monster of birth though he be, nevertheless considers our welfare - exemplifying the very character marked by citizens of the Commonwealth, who, with citizenship in hand, pledge such loyalty and service to one another - and did, upon his first confessional of this hidden story, supply a communicae WITHHELD FROM THE PUBLIC FOR REASONS UNKNOWN! by the Eternal Order and the Mystran Monolith...whom we have since learned is in league with the surrepitious shadow-skulkers known as HARPERS!.

Reproduced here is the communication, a learnéd document empowering the common man with the capacity to defend himself against these vile undead!


~~~

Rras,

the following information has been sent to us by the Monolith. We would appreciate it if you would fill out any lack of information or even point out false one if it is within the letter. We shall await your reply.

Brother Grégoire de Luscienne,
Inquisitorial-Chaplain of the Order of Saint Elizabeth



~~~

Method of destroying a vampire lord:
Decapitation, Intinction, Cremation, Sanctified Immersion, and Burial in holy ground. Even then, the ashes may still regenerate if removed.

The method employed with the destruction of the vampire lord Atticus, in detail:
Decapitation, his head then levitated over his body, screaming profanity and curses; intinction (holy wafers placed in the mouth and throat); cremation, he was set afire by magical flames; his ashes were then doused completely in holy water. After this, two types of ash remained. Lighter, finer ash of the body and the darker, fouler ash of the head. A mace, enchanted of holy and divine power was held over the ash, and it had the effect of separating the two sorts. Those of the head were buried in holy ground. Those of the body were taken away with haste, and spread in running water. This prevents the ashes from ever being rejoined. For, if the ashes are rejoined, and if they are removed from holy ground, they will be able to regenerate once more.

Background:

This particular coven is almost a thousand years old, with Count Mortegaurde hailing from early Halruua. Their evil designs were stopped by a Chosen of Mystra, Akaroth the White. Akaroth defeated the count and his court of vampire lords, and imprisoned each. However, the passing of time leads to the present, and each was freed by the actions of adventurers of the Amian isle.

Their current activities, and divination to date, suggests activities in the Skull Crags region of the Amian isle.

Court members:

*An accurate sketch of each is included in this file, noting physical likeness and commonly worn regalia and adornments.*

Morteguarde: Turned to vampirism 942 years ago. Ascended to the state of a vampire lord 807 years ago. In life, he was a ruthless, bloody, violent Halruuan noble with a taste for bloody torture and sacrifice. This garnered the attentions of a group of vampires, who quickly turned him. The Count is ambitious, and it is believed his desires are to rule the region, through overt dominance or subtle subversion. The Count is, however, a creature of his word.

Atticus: Turned to vampirism 836 years ago. Destroyed.

Shoshana: Turned to vampirism 812 years ago, at the age of twelve or thirteen. She is an enigma, as she has both helped efforts against the coven in the last raid upon their dungeons to free captives; and did not fight in the struggle against Akaroth.

Asher: Turned to vampirism 724 years ago.

Callahan: Turned to vampirism 650 years ago.

Emmanuelle: A seeress, and perhaps the most vicious, cruel and subtle of the court. It is her influence that leads to the capture of children, as she has 'a like' for them. She has an uncanny knack to sense an individual's weakness, and can use that unerringly. It is suggested that one be aware of this fact, if ever faced her, and to not under-estimate such.


~~~


Why was it withheld? Why do these organization have no desire to see the common defend himself against vampires?

The answer, dear readers, is part of our sweeping investigation here at the Amian Recorder, to be delivered, serialized, to you, in every purchased issue of the Amian Recorder! Buy an ADVANCE SUBSCRIPTION! for one hundred and fifty gold to ensure that you do not miss all of the necessary details that will not only keep you an erudite and informed member of society, but quite possibly keep you from falling prey to the likes of NOBLES, VAMPIRES, HARPERS, and some LAWYERS!.

Tuomas, on his way back home from a visit to Bendir Dale picked up a copy of this latest edition, academically curious about two seperate points.

The first, whom would he have to pay gold to, in order to purchase an advance subscription of the Clarion.

And, the second, a query more asked in his own mind.

~ What in Gond's name do these people expect? I understand the want to be included on things, but at the same time... ~ he paused mid thought, looking skyward. ~How many people would have the ability to act calmly, and rationally to defend themselves and serve a greater good against such potent beings? Maybe this Mister Hurst isn't aware of the concept that great danger comes from opposing anything of this power, and that to have others to help you protect yourself is a boon, not a given. ~

After, he quietly awaited to see where he could purchase a subscription.

//DM Yoss Stamped Approval//

There was a stillness in her uncle's house that made her uneasy. The Lady Emma Vaughn had sent Sarah on ahead to the Monolith with her belongings the day before, so she herself was just readying to take the portal from South Cordor. She straightened her traveling gown and cloak, and look around. She frowned, finding no one, and headed into the entry hall downstairs, calling: "Uncle Gregor? Mister Simon? Nina?"

The stillness felt ominous, and she had a chill move up her spine. She went to door of their stately family home and opened it, pulling it wide. Here was her Uncle, looking somber-faced and grim, standing as still as a sentinal statue, and the steward, scrubbing at the brick of the house, a few maid servants cleaning up broken egg shells and rotten vegetables. Emma gasps. "What has happened here, Uncle?"

He regards her quietly, his face emotionless, and gestures to the wall that their trusted steward is scrubbing. Emma comes to his side and looks. Written in dark red paint-- she assumes it is paint-- she HOPES it is paint-- on the side of her family's home-- the stately brick which has represented the Vaughn family in Cordor for so many generations-- is written "Vampires are nobles - Nobles are vampires."

"No," she says quietly, not wishing to believe it.

"I'm afraid so," her Uncle returns, his voice still and calm.

"They know this is our home-- we who have not taken any part in these politics-- how many of their family's have we tended and employed? We have always been fair--"

"Hush, girl, this is not a conversation for the streets."

She silences herself immediately, her cheeks coloring in anger --but not directed toward her Uncle.

"Where are my cousins and Aunt?"

"I have sent them to her mother's home in Waterdeep. They are on one of our ships as we speak." She stares at him in shock.

"You said you would never leave Cordor-- while you still had breath in you," she speaks, stunned.

"I haven't left it, have I? No. But I cannot risk harm to them in this climate. Especially not while Gwen is ailing. Bertina will tend to her, and I've sent a few men and maidservants along with them. They are safe, and I must think."

"It is just a bit of vandalism," Emma begins.

"No. There was more."

She looks at her uncle in shock. "At the shipyard," he lowers his voice, holding her elbow to bring her nearer. "There was a threat at the shipyard as well."

She gasps. "What was it?"

"Not for your ears right now. Enough. It was enough for me to send them to Gwen's parents. I'll--" his voice falters just a tiny bit. "I'll tell you more of it another time. But you--" He looks over her anxiously. "You are still going to the Monolith today?"

"Yes, Uncle," she replies, feeling small and afraid.

"Make sure Malcom goes with you."

"I shall." She pauses, pulling up her hood against a chilled breeze from the ocean. "I am going to talk to Nevaeh as well," she says quietly. "She should know what has happened here."

Her Uncle merely nods, stoic and stubborn, his stance firm. "We'll keep you informed."

"I shall do the same," she replies, her voice catching with emotion. "P-please. Be careful," she says more quietly.

Finally, he turns his eyes to her, the same kind eyes that she remembers her father had as well. He scoops her into a fatherly embrace and kisses her cheek under her hood. "Stay safe, Emma-beth," he whispers, using the same pet name her father always did. "Get out of this city for now."

She pulls her cloak around her more tightly, nodding, and heads to the eastern portion of the city to see if she can find the guard, and hopefully Nevaeh.

_________________