AMIA ARCHIVE • View topic

Last edited by Galenson on Mon, Oct 18 2010, 11:15 AM, edited 3 times in total.

Upon Amia's frontier, near the very outskirts of Cordor lies the unfortunate victim of a brutal killing. The Halfling, unrecognisable and of little importance hangs limply from his position, impaled upon a pike. The Halfling's right eye has been removed, replaced by a glittering diamond stained with the dried Halfling's blood.

Another body, a fey this time in similar condition is found between the outskirts of Amia's Forest and Bendir Dale's most Northern farmlands. Accompanying the bodies on their pikes are two large vellum scrolls bearing the following words:

”People of Amia I bid thee hail,
The purger of faith, the bringer of sorrow.
Pray thee, listen to my tale,
For I tell the future of the 'morrow.

A Blood War General, his command so cherished,
Stained past skies of blood.
By his leadership seven planes perished,
Under the infernal flood.

The world feared the raise of his hand,
It cried in terror before his sword.
His foes outnumbered grains of sand,
All fell before his Horde.

In desperation the Pink skins rallied,
Their sacrifice such a tale.
But the flaws of ignorance they carried,
and caused them all to fail.

For a prophecy spoke, a Herald will rise,
And this day will cease.
The price of fifty Pink skin cries,
Will obtain Thornius' release.

Fifty souls you owe,
Already two laid claim.
That leaves fourty eight to go
in debt to his name.

Fourty eight souls the world crashes,
Human claim over it gone.
His followers will rise above the ashes,
And bring his new dawn.

Cordor's bay will boil,
Kohlingen's keep will burn.
Charred will be the Forest's soil,
Upon Thornius' return.”

Within hours of the body's discoveries, similar vellum scrolls escorted by grubby goblins soon find themselves in the more populated areas such as Cordor, Kohlingen, Wharftown, the Shrine, The Amia Forest, Wiltun, Guldorand, and Uhm. As of this time, no efforts have been made to replace any moved in the major cities, however the main roads and even the sides of caravans become littered with them, blowing in the wind to spread their words.

More vellum sheets find themselves blowing in the winds:

"fourty seven to go."

Even more vellum sheets find themselves scattered throughout Amia baring the words:

"forty six to go" and about half of the sheets have bright red blood smeared across the page.

One of the Vellum scrolls is removed.

The winds of Amia carry with it another load of vellum sheets... not even a day after the previous ones.

They simply say, "Forty five to go" and each sheet is covered in blood this time... some just splattered with blood while others completely soaked that you can barely read the words, as if the victim had died slowly on top of these very sheets.

After noting the grim visage and fetchng others to deal with it near the woods, Toby artfully turns the soft parts of any goblins' heads he sees near Bendir's carts into small holes with a little help from his sling. Letting his bullets do most of the talking from his vantage point up on the hill, he simply taunts the goblins from time to time.

"T'days a bad day ta be a yellowskinned pimple wanderin past!"
Or perhaps singing
"one lil two lil three lil goblins/five lil six lil seven lil goblins/ eight lil nine lil ten lil goblins/ now all the lil goblins are splats!

He continued raining deathly small rocks from above any bands of goblins passing by, falling back up the hill if any give chase and utalizing bags of tanglefoot and smoke bombs in order to get the distance and obtain the shots he needed to be successful. After such successes, he would drag the corpses out to Orc territory and dumps them off next to a small letter of his own bearing a small tally of the number slain.

As the sun began to set, he wandered his way back into town for supplies and to share a drink with his uncles.

*Outside of Cordor, and in the Mercenary Encampment, several of the Vellum sheets are attached to a board, along with a message*

"Any who are caught engaging in this act of slaughter may consider themselves formal enemies of the War Knights. Such actions will not be tolerated. You will be killed on sight.

-Signed
Warlord Calin Katar."

"Cordor's bay will boil,
Kohlingen's keep will burn.
Charred will be the Forest's soil,
Upon Thornius' return.

Fourty four to go."

[Another note is attached to the same sheets placed up by Calin outside of Cordor.]

"You are wasting your time. The 'crystal' will not break due to the offering of corpses - are you really as desperate for power to believe such obvious falsehoods? Anyone taking up this fool's errand will find themselves very disappointed upon the fifty, if you reach that far. Besides that, if you want this crystal, you'll have to find it first."

The note is unsigned.

The body of a mage dressed in a black garb is found impaled on a pike on the Northern Outskirts of the Amia Forest, upon entry to the valley of the arachnid. The familiar vellum scroll is attached:

"Fourty three to go."

//Just a little heads up, I'll be away for 2 weeks due to work. If anyone's got questions regarding this at all, please send your PMs to Maverik00053. But I trust you guys who are interested will keep this alive for me until I get back.

A tiny young woman lays dead over a pile of papers by Nexus Falls. Each of the hundreds, now bloodied, sheets of paper only read...

"Forty two to go"

At least till her body disappears and only the bloodied notes are left to spread through the isle.

"Forty one left"

"Forty left..."

On one of her journeys to the isle, Arwen the half elf finds one of these, reads it, and her brow furrows deeply. "Thornius? Didn't we help kill him once, Belas?" she rests her hand on her wolf's head. "Gods, would someone really want to bring him back? Let's take one of these to Dakkyn. And Jorik'd want to know. --I'll never forgive that General getting the lizardmen to dig under my shop and try to keep me for a breeder."

"Thirty nine to go..."

Davanee Vi’lye is not one to often leave the safety of Kohlingen, nor the shelves, and book piles in which she surrounds herself with there in her room. She decided to take some air and travel into the wild lands of Cordor’s outskirts. Though on this day it was not to be the peaceful venture she had hoped for.

As soon as she reached the bridge outside of Cordor’s walls she ran into a strange, adventurer type. He at once made claim that a fellow adventurer friend had fallen in the outskirts, that he needed urgent healing, and asked of Davanee to aid him. She, thinking to herself of the sheer number of casualties the area can claim, and not one to deny aid where ever possible, went to help of the unlucky soul.

Once lead to the scene of the accident, a very disturbing event unfolded. Stepping in front of the still nameless adventurer, to better see the “body” of his fallen comrade, she soon felt a dagger to her back, pricking her skin harshly. Struggling, Davanee quickly realised what a terrible person she had entered into a game with. She heard the man draw in a deep breath, but it was not his voice which was close to her ear that broke the nervous silence surrounding her. Another man, long sword drawn stepped out of his invisibility and into the scene. Demanding her captor to step away from her, and leave her be. So the tension grew in the air, until Davanee finally found her voice, pleading for the man brave enough to step in to know that there was a dagger to her back, and that she was infact held against her will for unknown misdeeds. Everything went black… glimpses of being lifted off the grass, stepping through a portal and waking up in the temple of Cordor, covered in her own crimson blood were all that she remembered after her scream.

She stood before the man who saved her life, San. Confusion quickly giving way to realisation Davanee nearly broke down, she was healed. But she had been wounded badly; three stab wounds to her back… one dangerously near piercing her lung. Thanking San with all her heart, he let her take a moment to refresh, change and make sense of what had nearly happened in the outskirts. After which she was taken outside and to The Nomad, where she spoke with a two men of the Eternal Order, trusted friends of San, explaining what she saw of the man and the attack. She heard a few exchanged words between the men of other similar attacks, murders, which could quite possibly be linked but never pressed the question further in her shocked and fearful state.

She thought to herself as she fled to back Kohlingen when the men had finished questioning her; “I’m not the only one, a dreadful thought… What are you to act upon such ill thoughts? If there are others, how far, how far stranger are you willing to go until you are satisfied? What must be done." With such troubling thoughts playing over and over in her mind, she slept, restless and afraid. The next day she woke, tired and sore to return to Cordor and warn others of these apparently similar, planned attacks.

"Thirty eight left..."

'A blood war general coming back... Thornious... this could be bad, The enclave needs to know this.' Thought Jobe he quickly Ported away.

*The Horsemen begin to patrol outside Cordor, almost as if wishing the murders would continue. For quite a while, they all go unharmed.*

Leon would watch from a distance at the frontier quite often in the recent days, whenever his patrols put him around that area. As per his normal demeanor, He'd silently survey and then continue on.

Arzira would occasionally travel through the forest, searching for any suspicious activity. A few times she might have even been spotted chatting with those of the Monolith on the matter. She seems to have strong urges to solve who is behind these fliers, and if there are any grizzly murders behind them. The reason for such motives are anyone's guess.

Recently, however, her visits and probing into the forest suddenly ceased altogether.

A bloody mass of what use to be Hin lies dead in Amia frontier, a dagger shoved squarely in his forehead... and his throat torn to shreds by claws. Blood and brain matter litter the floor around him, and off a bit from where his body lies one can see drag marks of blood. The drag marks reveal that a human sized thing was dragged off into the distance.

Sheets of blood soaked paper find their way around Amia...

"Two more are dead... only thirty six are left"

Jobe takes one of the most recent scrolls and Ports himself back to the enclave

"Thirty five remain..."

*A rather blunt message is left on the ground of the frontier.*

You know nothing of death. Come, let me show you...

"Thirty four left..."

// OOC Q: Are these actual PCs that are getting their faces owned?

// How about you find out IC

On several locations in the wild and in varius caverns, either on hides or other material, four lines has been drawn in blood accompanied by a message.

l / \ / Four dead, 30 left.

28 Remain. *blood covered sheets of paper again decorate the back of wagons*

((OOC: http://www.amiaworld.net/phpBB3/viewtopic.php?f=67&t=52213))

"Twenty Seven remain... your pathetic Horsemen and War Knights will not protect you."

Evidence from a majority of the victim's bodies reveals, to any who are interested, that large claws and daggers were involved in each murder.

*notes are passed around by the dozens around the isles, by a small woman who hides beneath a hood and robes. On the pieces of papers passed around, each is elegantly written. The handwriting is done with care.*

Have you ever been pushed down and beat so badly that blood drained from your ears it seemed?

Have you ever been made to feel worthless?

Do you know what it is like to be held against your will and kept from the world as a slave?

Well I do. Every day the monster you fear who appears to be a man goes around daily killing for a reason. Unless I am freed, I cannot help you all track him down. Help me by saving me, destroy this man. For every day that passes a new life is taken by his hands. He is counting down to something worse. So help stop him now.

New fliers are scattered about the isle. Unlike the others, these fliers are too clean, unlike the previous death notes. It is clear to those who read it that no new death has taken place and that the previous number, 27, is still in effect.

"The blood of three you shall shed for me,
Will spark the dawn of the new day.
The blood of three shall reveal to me,
The soul gem and the way.

To those that aid, his hand is kind,
Death comes to who say no.
To those loyal, steel your mind,
Only three more souls to go.

Cordor's bay will boil,
Kohlingen's keep will burn.
Charred will be the Forest's soil,
Upon Thornius' return."

::An official-looking paper is put just beside their posting, on the new 'too clean' paper::

Murderers,

I am Inquisitor Gill Bensbennard, of the Eternal Order of Lord Kelemvor.
You are being warned, now, and no more, that these acts of slaughter are frowned upon by the Eternal Order, and any of Kelemvor's Clergy. You may now consider yourselves enemies of the Eternal Order of Lord Kelemvor, and may He have mercy on your souls for your acts, and His judgement be swift.

You are given a warning period of (10) days to surrender yourself, and come willingly to the Cathedral of the Martyr-Saint, after this, any of you that are sighted, will be arrested in the name of the Holy Inquisition and Lord Kelemvor.

May his will be done,
~Inquisitor Gill Bensbennard

*sees the new posting and grabs her helm around where her nose would be and shakes her head as she reads it, so disturbed by this she leaves a message taking out a sheet of paper she begins writting. Although not professionaly prepared at a desk, the note is still written in a very fine hand and airs on even being an official looking document*

Gill,

Frowned Upon!? It's damn right pathetic! Surely you don't expect these butchers that obviously have no respect for order or peace much less authority to just turn themselves in? The Horsemen are taking a more active stance in such. In fact the invitation to all Free People of Amia, of which I'll state below, includes the Eternal Order as well as any other faction that wishes to finally rid the isle of this menace or impending doom.

Free People of Amia,

Expect to encounter Horsemen checkpoints daily until this threat has been dealt with. We're sorry for this inconvenience, however, under the current conditions it calls for decisive measures. Cooperate at the checkpoints with a quick visual inspection and belongings search and we'll try to make it as expedient as possible. We would also say stand up for yourselves! Any that wish to participate in the checkpoint or setting up there own checkpoint, the Horsemen will hold a brief training seminar on how to set it up effectively and respectively. Training seminar to be held in the south area of the forest at diffent times thoughout the day.

Legion
General Rose Dal'lorn

Pacis Per Ordo

As Eilistraee stopped Thornius once, so shall She stop him again.

Qu'ellar d'lil Rowa recognizes no authority of the Horsemen to check anything of our people.

We will not be detained or abused. Any acts to harm or manhandle our people will be considered an act of aggression, and dealt with accordingly.

Terrorist, find your balls and stop hiding behind pretty prose and meaningless murder. Come out and receive the beating you so richly deserve.

In Her name, and for Her glory

Elrien Rowa

Left beneath is her signet, Eilistraee before a full moon, guarded by crossed wrist-blades.

General Rose Da'lorn,

I understand your concern, and I am fully willing to assist you in this task, IF you do not have Palemasters in your ranks still. I understand your cause, your meaning, and intent, but after the incident of which I was forced to arrest Zee, I am very untrusting of many of the Horsemen. I will set up roadblocks in harmony with yours, my Inquisitorial Servants will be at my side.

May his will be done,
~Inquisitor Gill Bensbennard

*A lone War Knight, seemingly defying the laws of anatomy, can be seen patrolling the Outskirts of Cordor with a greatsword in one hand and a shield in the other. To any with the ability to sense Ki, the Warrior's aura seems to burn with the essence of battle.*

An abnormally sized half Orc with several synbols of Bane covering his black and green spikey armour can be seen often walking around the outskirts of cordor and Bendir. When approached he usually grunts and continues walking.

//this actually happened a couple of weeks ago, but I promised I'd make a post here. so....here goes!//

Maverick00053 wrote:

"Thirty four left..."

Excuse me, miss....can you help me? The voice was a masculine one, but held a slightly frantic tone to it. The diminutive drowess turned her head to regard the thooded man to whom the voice belonged, looking up at him from her seat on the ground as she leaned against a boulder.

What's wrong? she asked in a soft voice, meant to soothe the man's nerves.

It's my companion. You see....she's been badly hurt. I can't move her on my own, and I'm not a skilled healer. Please...you must help me. he implored her.

She slowly rose from her seat and shouldered her pack, turning toward him with a nod. Lead the way, then.

And so he did. They travelled north from the forest and soon arrived in the valley named for the arachnid creatures known to inhabit the area. There, he stopped and looked around as if puzzled. I ...I left her right here. I know I did. Please....help me look for her? She must be in such pain, now....

The drowess took a quick glance around, seeing no sign of another humanoid nearby. Just as her suspicion was rising, she suddenly felt the sharpened edge of a blade at her throat, while a powerful arm wrapped its way around her waist. Do not struggle. Do not make a sound. If you do, I will slit your throat so that your cries only come out in gurgling spurts of your lifeblood. Gone was the frantic tone from before. Now it only held the cool, calculating sounds of a practiced abductor.

Instantly, she froze. She made not a move, uttered not a sound.

Good....now come along, my pet. He began leading her further north along the path. She didn't dare make a move against him, as unprepared as she was for a fight at the moment. All of her combat-oriented equipment was stashed away in her pack, and thus completely out of her reach at the moment. She didn't dare utter one of her chants to magically augment what little fighting prowess she possessed....not with the dagger being held at her throat. Her one consolation right now was the sheathed dagger strapped to her right thigh. If given an opportunity, she would use it. If.

Their little journey soon took them near the Minmir River, just southeast of the bridge of the same name, to the ruins of what was once a small building. Once there, her captor roughly shoved her down into a smallish hole in the ground, from the top of which one could see the uppermost end of a ladder protruding from down below. What he didn't know was that she had been trained on how to roll with such falls. As she neared the floor of the tunnels below, she ducked her head and tucked in one shoulder, using her body's own momentum to shift her weight just before she made her landing. The impact of the fall was greatly reduced as she rolled a few times along the floor. As she came to a stop she quickly rose to her feet, her hand flashing to the dagger upon her thigh and unsheathing it with desperate speed. At the same time, she sang a short refrain she had learned during her first years on the isle, her skin hardening and taking on the likeness of stone once it was complete.

Just as she raised her dagger defensively before her, her abductor finished his own descent down the ladder and turned to regard her with a slight tilt of his head. Ahh, so you do possess some intelligence. Good. I was afraid this was going to be all too boring, but now......now it might prove interesting, after all. His cold laughter after speaking echoed off the cavern's stone walls as he advanced a step toward her.

She merely tightened her grip on her dagger in response and crouched down defensively. In response, the man brought out his own blade and, quick as lightning, cast an enchantment upon it. The acid dripping from the weapon made soft, sizzling sounds at it hit the floor. Time for a bit of fun, my pet.

But even as he spoke, another chant was on the bard's lips, and she reached out her free hand toward the man, calling forth the magic needed to dispell his enchantments.....but she didn't expect what happened next.

The spell did what it was meant to do - it stripped the enchantment on the blade clean away. It also removed whatever spell had altered her captor's appearance to that of a man. The being before her seemed to alter and grow in size and stature, until what was standing before her could no longer be considered human, nor humanoid at all. Her captor now towered over her, his head nearly scraping the ceiling of the cavern. His blood-red skin rippled with the power of muscles which lay just beneath it. His eyes....oh but they were cold, cruel.

It took her completely by surprise....and she panicked. She began back-pedalling away from this...creature, her footing becoming unsure in her haste to get away from him. She stumbled as a loose rock underfoot caused her ankle to twist and turn painfully, and she tumbled to the floor as she lost her balance. The scream she tried to let loose was silenced as the fall knocked the wind out of her. She could only watch as he laughed and dove onto her.

Now this.....is more like it! His voice held a darkly gleeful tone to it now, as his massive claws wrapped around ebon-skinned limbs. She struggled against him, straining at the same time to fill her lungs with air as his massive weight crushed down atop her. I do love a good struggle. You really are more interesting than I first though, pet.

She kicked her legs at him as hard as she could. Her little fists tried battering at his massive torso, but to little effect. He merely grinned down evilly at her as he grabbed her wrists, then pinned her arms above her head on the ground. That slight shifting of his weight allowed her to finally draw in precious breath, though, and she wasted no time in letting it all back out in the loudest, screaming plea for help she could muster. In quick response, he let out a roar of his own....then to silence her, his head descended down toward hers. His gaping maw of a mouth clamped down over not just her mouth, but her nose as well, cutting off both of her airways, yet she struggled to breath still. He quickly found a way to remedy that, however.

Soon...all too soon, her struggling weakened and died down, then faded completely. Only after he was sure that the drowess beneath him was in fact now just a corpse did he release his hold on her to stand over her body. He stared down at the corpse for a few long moments, grumbling about some small wound she was actually able to inflict. Then, with a dawning look of pure maliciousness upon his demonic face, he dug his talons into her lifeless form and began rending ebon flesh in a zealous, bloody show of triumph.

Far more interesting than you first appeared, my sweet little toy.....

For everyone to see.

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