"Lost Continent: Flight From Muurdaan" (BeckonCall's FNB!)

[Beckoncall]

"Mud Elf Autopsies"

Doctor Flemming had plenty of mud-elf corpses to choose from... but they were in various states of disrepair... many lay out on tables and more still lay covered by swathes of surplus sail tarp to retard decomposition. most of the specimens had been laying out near shadowfields for days already and were a bit.. ripe... to say the least. Little could be determined from these specimens except (besides a large number of them missing heads from gnoll raiders, collecting their debt no less, while the attention of the colony was turned inward. one thing was consistent -- regardless of where the body trauma sufficient to kill the subject, there was undeniable damage to the heart and chest cavity in all circumstances. because of the state of decay, little more could be learned from this, except some mephitic sludge was often found in the heart or the surrounding tissues. Then Fleming came upon a bit of luck...

It turns out casualties inflicted in the healer's guild... a few at least, had been slain by a very strong wood elf poison. As such, these bodies had an extremely impeded rate of decomposition as only the heartiest of corruption was not too killed by the poison of the victim. Where other bodies were turning to soup, the Doctor was able to get his hands on specimens that were merely showing langour (pooling of the blood in low areas) and deterioration of the eyes and softest tissues.

Before long Doctor Fleming Eschewed his simple face-cover for a full-on plague-doctor mask, complete with a repository of scented herbs to mask the smell of death he'd brought into one corner of this building he had fit for this express function -- it would likely have to be burned afterward but what harm is there in ruining a bit of ruin? Intrigued at the prospect of getting an earlier perspective on whatever pathology was in the mud-elf heart, he set to cutting...

WORMS.

the hearts of the mud-elves were replete with them... from a fading green glow to grey and melting -- the mud elves by every reckoning should have been dead already, not taking to the field against them. Fleming removed three different hearts and found scar tissue indicating the worms were long-time residents of each mud-elf.... not something like blood-borne eggs fruiting in the absence of a healthy body's mysterious and as yet not fully understood ways of defending itself. The worms literally pumped the blood of a mud elf for them... and were they to cease, the mud elf would die as the organs no longer are able to function on their own. Fleming was as fascinated as his attendant was mortified and faint -- clattering to the floor taking a cart of tools and one of the more ripe corpses to the floor with him, where it promptly burst... sending all but the doctor scattering to retch outside.

The worms were only seen one other time -- when one of the highborn EXPLODED with them at the end of the battle of the 'Platz.

What meaning could be drawn from this study the Doctor had yet to discern... he walked from the building, turned the corner to be upwind, and removed his mask to dab away the curtains of sweat on his arms and face.

It had been a long night, and only more questions...

...Like is there really a vault filled with worm-infested hosts on colony premises? What kind of threat might they pose outside of a humanoid body? how are they transmitted? where do they come from?

He would report to Caelis. Then he would finally allow himself to vomit, wash up, and retire for the night...

 

[Beckoncall]

"A MUSICAL SYNOPSIS OF THE SPRING AND SUMMER, PREGNANT WITH SYMBOLISM AND SIGNIFYING EVERYTHING."
(to be immediately followed by the summer orders and the arrival of the new colonists!)



AS SPRING GAVE WAY TO SUMMER, THEY MOURNED AND HONORED THE COLONISTS LOST:



The Imperial trading company, The wood elves, The Corvus, and most celebrated the loss of Maeder Dratic... So many had already paid the ultimate price! So wept and whooped by the believers of dracos -- Exiles no more, Attolians or Freemen all! Wood and bone made a great festival-ship... and the "Exiles" burned a great ship of driftwood, bones, and the feathers of food-birds. Though many saw a feast before the coming winter foolish -- the "Exiles" insisted, and used the money they earned to fund and build it. The temple of Dracos was built on the sandslope -- some would say foolish, some thought while it went up that it would roll right down onto the beach -- but built it was, the Architechts were consulted to find a spot on the slope close to bedrock, and the building was moored to sand and stone. At sunrise, the temple was flooded with light from the beach -- striking the great ruby that hung above the altar and pulpit, bathing the enclosed space with red and radiant light -- The eye of the Dragons Goddess. Behind the eye lay part of the sandslope, which contantly caused the facet of the eye to weep small amounts of sand into the temple -- The great murderer Baez, now redeemed -- and his first priests constantly had to put labor into sweeping the sand from the temple... the goddess' reminder that if the colonists stop to rest upon their laurels... to invite trouble, and to be buried or blow away...

TEMPLE OF DRACOS ERECTED : THE GODDESS DRAGON IS THE FIRST ESTABLISHED GOD IN THE COLONY (though it's adherents are relatively few and entirely human) PRIDE IS TAKEN BY ALL IN HAVING SURVIVED THIS LONG, FOR ALL HAVE NOT, AND THE PRICE HAS BEEN HIGH...

AS SUMMER CARRIED ON, THEY STRETCHED THEIR LEGS IN THE LITERAL RUINS AND SAW THE PROMISE OF FREEDOM OR DESTRUCTION:



As new Colonists in the Old World began to draw infant plans of joining the colony -- and discoveries and small triumphs piled even by the day, a prevalent sentiment of melancholy nevertheless falls over many of the already-landed colonists -- The closest neighbors after all, are a trackless ruin filled with the haunted bones of the dead... not oft seen since the market-day in the haunted agora which laid so many to rest -- but still there all the same. It was the CULL that waited for them all -- that a whole season had passed and they saw subtle signs of it everywhere but nothing concrete had yet been found of their supposedly certain whispering doom. Sadness for the yet-haunted, and colonists in their dreams haunted themselves that the first year of the colony would soon enough be over -- and the second year, if the mystery of the Cull could not be resolved could be their last. The "Frozen lake" they called it -- the silent fear of the first hard winter coming, and the second hard winter quite possibly being the quiet herald of their inexorable and coming doom. The colonists had pulled together... but the warm embrace of friends did not promise deliverance... and that the warm embrace of the next spring would bring a horrible and sudden end to the colony, and silence this lands new heroes, sung and unsung!

OVERALL MORALE OF COLONY IS POSITIVE, BUT A FEAR IS STARTING TO GROW. If the summer does not bring some promise of security, suspicion and fear may give way to panic, and panic may give way to death. Survival is far from certain, despite amazing successes...

AS SUMMER GAVE WAY TO FALL, MYTH AND PROPHESY SEEMED TO HIDE YET DARE FOR A GREATER TRUTH, FREEDOM AND UNDERSTANDING... AND A VISION OF SOMEHOW OVERCOMING ALL... HOPE.



This was the dream of Tyren Minotaurs and hopeful Ratkin -- That the heartless eyes of the Muurdaan did not exist here, and those that were lost in the great old world were truly found, and FREE, in the New... The metaphor they used was "Birds" -- they were as the Birds now... free under the sky, and generations of them would trail behind them many tales... or tails, as the ratkin said in their imagry... for the new world brought hope of many new young, not just of the ratkin, but of all peoples. That there was a great evil to be faced, but a banner of birds would be held aloft by a great Minotaur chief that would rally peoples behind him. That the wood elves might have left them on their dragonfly, but that the youngest had stayed... and "Harun'Taras" was a symbol of unity despite race, of defiance yet peace, a herd that might trample through the twin winters of cold and fear. The eldest storyteller of the ratkin had spoke her vision of it -- not just of a Tyren and a banner of birds, but that "Dirty paws" of Ratkin, and "Creatures of Snow" -- Men and Highborn of cold Mithril and steel, Aymaran beasts of coldest blood -- would be united and deliver them... Together, and not alone. "The story of the beast" became the first great myth of the new colony, but such great deeds were far from writ. Only whispered in the dreams of the colonists, and the hearts that beat yet free in this new world...

THE THREATS ARE REAL -- Food supplies to last the winter STILL remain uncertain with the promise of new arrivals, forseen by the wisest of the colony. Beyond hunger lie the mud-elves, the Gnolls and the Longdead, and more nebulous threats such as the snakemen of the northerns swamps, and yes... the looming shadow of THE CULL...

...AND AS THE FALL (AND NEW POTENTIAL ALLIES) ROSE TO MEET THEM... The colony would stand in defiance. Each ally to one side was a king in this new land, each one to the other was the heart of a lion. Newcomers were arriving -- Them that were here already -- they'd not run. Them that rushed to arrive -- They'd not wait.



The Summer was a rainy season, smiling on the new crops and industry of the fledgling colony. It also saw the end of the Spring Thaw's meltwater -- most notably evinced in the lowering of the river's roaring flood lowering to a mere but swift channel in it's riverbed -- the river once seemed a fearful boundary, now thin it was a barrier to be missed with all that was unknown in the trackless woods beyond.
Advancing, Bold and Fearless -- the new factions would come to call in the colony's first heart "The market'platz" and a new heart growing from the colonists themselves -- "The learning square." An Order of knights would make landfall soon... and with them, a new bright and inventive people, and perhaps behind them, cast in shadow -- yet stranger could be friends or rivals crept over the horizon... This would be a season of immigrants, a season of trade, and a season of even greater adventure!

THE EASTERN BOUNDARY RIVER LOWERS TO A COMPARATIVE STREAM. Clay becomes a readily accessible resource to everyone, but the defense the river once afforded is gone -- the natural barrier between the colony and it's less than friendly neighbors is fed only by the welcome and frequent rain... and like so many new precious droplets of water for the colony's crops, so too fall upon the shores of the new world the Factions of the Order of St. Victoria, The Reinen, and... and are those other ships? A third colony ship also comes behind the rest, and with the new colonists a new element and aspect of the struggle: IMMIGRATION AND TRADE. Old-world trade ships will arrive during the Fall to sample the treasures of the new world, and perhaps to spark demand. If fortune and wonder are promised, it will bring neutral ships of manpower to this distant shore -- to be bought with wealth or influence of the most resourceful or diplomatic of the colony!


OOC: And with that, treasured companions -- the new season begins. Old faction orders will be processed APACE, with maybe some flavor text from new factions salted in before, amid, or after. THEN... it's EVERYONE'S GAME AGAIN! With highest affection, -Beck.

 

[Enemy Standoo]

Spoiler: Moozic

Port Cestus bustled with activity and much of it centered around the docks hosting the ship belonging to the Victorian order. Squires in beige and tan tunics were scrambling back and forth like so many day laborers, each one showing the basic amount of restraint needed to stop themselves from barking back at the cassock swathed monks as they tutted and chided them over every reason under the sun. The devout stomped along the groaning wooden boards in their somber black surcoats and clinking metal coats like brooding golems as they stowed their equipment and helped with the heavier pieces of lifting. It was truly all hands on deck as final measures were taken before they set sail for the new world. All except for the knights, who stood by the sidelines, as pristine and stoic as statues in the blazing orange and white livery. Most had already set about safeguarding the supplies and tools linked to their own trades and were taking the time to reserve their strength before the voyage began. Such was the right they'd earned upon acending to the knighthood.

All except Sir Tarkus who was overseeing the transportation of the limestone they'd purchased from the quarry outside of the town. On the surface it looked self defeating to haul piles of heavy stone into an already crowded ship, especially when one considered the trio of horses who considered themselves too good for the average stable they were trying to keep contained in the bowels of the ship. But Elien couldn't know what they were going to find when they got to their destination, or who would be left to meet them. They'd need building materials for shelter, defenses, and when the time came a church. Whichever project came first would set the tone for the chapter and the orders presence there and Elien intended for it to give the right impression.

Tarkus' square jawed beard was almost as white as the stone he was handling and served to make his ever scowling face look even sterner. He wasn't one for samll talk or happy greetings but he seemed to take the chapter master taking a position by his side as a signal to speak.

"This is some fine stone, Chapter Master." He grumbled.

"Thank you, Sir Tarkus. I'm considering it for the lighthouse of our garrison." It was open knowledge that Elien was studying the finer points of architecture. She hadn't been in her spurs long enough to master a trade to the same level the knights under her had managed but she was hard at her studies whenever she had the free time. Unfortunately for the antisocial mason that meant that the two of them would be working together a great deal in the early days of their chapter. In theory.

"A good choice. Nice and similar to the citadel. You'd need someone working the fire pit more than a usual one though. The ash and stains tend to stand out more on the stone."

Elien wasn't so sure that would be an issue. The day she and the council had gone over the letters given to her by the Muurdaan representative they had gone over the runes shown to her and the offer of a tear. It was the same offer made to all the colonists they believed but the Victorian order did not make choices like that lightly. Word was sent out and old tomes were dusted off for whatever knowledge the order could offer on such matters. In the end all clues pointed Elien to one place.
_____________________________________________________

Spoiler: The library in the mountains

Elien consulted the canonates of a secluded order that supposedly bore knowledge of what she sought. Mounting a trail that was more of a climb, she saw more than once both goats standing on near vertical surfaces, and several places where canonates, seeking to retire here – saw their bodies fail them in this final challenge, dashed on the rocks or laying dessicated at self-made shrines or quiet vistas. Supposedly the eldest of the monks retired here, trapping themselves at the monestary for however long remained them. The climb was no task for her however – and upon reaching the tower of the convelescent saint she was brought before the Refectarch, one of the wisest of the canonates.

Utterly toothless, the Refectarch and what few other persons dottered around here had taken a vow of silence, though a child-like glow and happiness seemed to follow them around. Every time the Refectarch opened his mouth his tounge reflexively fell or lolled out, something he laughed about for a few instances before growing a bit more serious and gathering together a small collection of tomes and boxes. As Elien expected, she was forbidden to touch anything, and was shown a mural of an ancient chapter master – none other than the fabled lord miles of eastlake, being chided by a younger incarnation of one of the monks here. It was like seeing your childhood hero being pulled by their ear. Eileen did her best to be reverent and make her stay brief. Word had been sent ahead, by divine means, to expect her coming. She was pointed to a sentence here, a passage there, fat tomes being arduously re-shelves for showing only the tinest bits of information.

"Before the Mage Kings and Queens of the Lost continent closed their borders for good, they had traded as a show of goodwill and of their superior craftmanship many of the so called "tears of divinity" – less than a decade later they had sealed their borders with the barrier and the gems, however coveted, would be garnered no more except by those that sought to aquire them at priceless cost of those already in the old world."

"Tears indeed, but their divinity was dubious. The essences within the gems were powerful, yes – and in some rare instances with a dweomer of the divine... but never of any god worshipped in the old world – no god familiar to men or perhaps even all but perhaps the elves."

"Their powers could only be harnessed in the lost continent – the greatest mages sweat and fainted in labours that only whispered of their true potential. The gems seemed to mock the Underlords – the means of making them unknown, of utilizing them, impossible. The Mage Kings sought to cement eternal autonomy from the Muurdaan, and perhaps it was these gems they traded for the last things they might have thought they needed before closing themselves from this world, and locking themselves in their own."

"With the death tear their theories were confirmed – nowhere else was it more obvious the nature of the power from when the gem flowed. Some speculated the jewels were inexorably tied somehow to Tartarus...." The book was quickly grabbed away at that point.

At the conclusion of the study of the texts, only the boxes remained on the table. Three separate, undecorated, and mundane. However, when the boxes were opened the dim and musty study was bathed in light. The Refectarch gestured that one of the boxes was for her to take and for her to depart immediately... there was a red gem of dancing fire, a white gem of swirling wind, and brightest of all a gem that gleamed like a night sky, and within could be seen the stars...

_____________________________________________________
That day had stunned Elien. She had faith in the order and she knew that the Knights of St Victoria had gathered a formidable collection of artifacts and pieces of ancient knowledge but to have their own collection of magical remnants of the mage kings that the Underlords had worked to keep to themselves was staggering. She made her choice, leaving two of the gems for the order and made her way back down, feeling light as a feather, with her faith rewarded and nourished to greater heights. One of the most common compliments members of the order gave was saying that being one of Victoria's marshal followers was feeling like they were a part of something greater than themselves but this made Elien feel as if the Order was something truly massive, its power far beyond her comprehension.

'And they made this alley cat a chapter master.' She would prove the faith they had placed in her was well founded.

The fire jewel would light the way for all to follow in their wake. She had kept the two gems under lock and key for the meantime, both for secrecy and safety until they knew how to use them with a degree of control. It was for the best since they'd come to the coast the blue jewel had glowed with such obnoxious intensity it hurt to look upon. With one they would serve as a symbol and with the other they would serve as the lifeblood of the colony.

Elien was snapped back to the present by the loud squabbling of the squires and braying of horses. First they would have to set sail and the voyage ahead of them did not promise to be a pleasant experience. But Elien trusted each member of the order to be worth two regular men, their chapter would be built on strong foundations. Pure and strong.

 

[Heyitsjiwon]

Another Day in the Lives of Jav and Tomaz

"Oi, Jav. Pay attention. Lord Lothar is coming this way."
"It's okay Tomaz. We're on guard duty. We're not doing anything wrong."
"Shut it you dolt. Still gotta show the officers respect even if this ain't the barracks."

As Lothar walked closer to the two soldiers, they stood at attention and saluted. In clean, practiced and synchronized fashion, the two lifted their right hand and placed them on the brim of their helmets. Lothar turned to look at the two and walked closer until he stopped, right in front of the two soldiers. Still the men didn't waver and maintained their salute.

"At ease lads. No need to be so stiff."
The two nodded and returned to their original stances.
"Anything of note to report?"
"No, my Lord. All seems calm."
Lothar nodded in silence.

...

"You lads have any family?"
"Oldest of three brothers, my Lord. Both are still too young to hold a profession."
"Just me and my mother, milord"
"Just you...Gods bless your mother, Jav...must be a strong woman."
Lothar chuckled and said "Joined the military to provide for your families... admirable."

"How about you, milord?"
"Oi Jav, the matters of the Lord is no concern of our..."
"Please, Sergeant. I do not mind. Well, you two know that I am the 2nd son and know of my older brother."
The two nodded.

"Well, I also have two younger brothers. My younger brother just became a man recently, but as expected he was raised as a scholar. Hell, he fits the Attolian tradition perfectly, a firm believer and follower of St. Nash. He embodies scholarly wisdom and is a good lad. But, he is still young and much to learn. A good boy, but... a good boy does not always make a good Lord."

Tomaz and Jav just continued to nod and listen to Lothar's story

"Then, there's the youngest. I believe that my parents want to raise him as a man of the cloth, a pious priest. But, a man's belief is up to his own volition. Who knows how he'll grow and what his ambitions will be."
"Your family is very proper, my Lord. A prime example of the ideal Attolian family."
Lothar nodded silently. "Indeed..."

"Any ladies you fancy, milord?"
Tomaz slapped the back of Jav's head and said "What are you, a bloody gossiping harlot? That's the Lord's own business."
Lothar laughed and said "The politics and marriage game is all the responsibility of Caelis. I only have one love in this world and she's always by my side." as he rubbed the pommel of his sword, which hung by his side.

"But, isn't a man's love up to his own volition as well? People love who they want to. Even though Tomaz says that I shouldn't keep thinking about that Elf Lady..."

Lothar looked at Jav and said "You know, if fate were kinder, than perhaps it would have been better if you were the a third son in your family instead of the only son. Well then lads. Thank you for entertaining me, but I should let you two return to duty." Lothar carried on and went on his way.

"What did he mean by that, Tomaz?"
"It was a compliment you dolt. He implied that you're smarter than you seem and should have been born as a scholar... although I'm not sure if I agree with him."
"Lord Lothar called me smart? Well, would you look at that. Hehe. That must mean that I'm smarter than you if I should be a scholar instead of a soldier."
"In your dreams Jav, now get back to work."

 

[Beckoncall]

Summer orders: (feel free to react/negotiate as these come out)

Aymarans try to “train” brutes not to blithely eat fellow colonists:


An amount of drilling was spent each day attempting to create some kind of “friend/foe” recognition that was simple enough for the stupidest of brutes to understand. They didn't have many inspired ideas, but they tried a few different concepts (clever as they were) with varying success. A symbol or color-coding idea proved impractical because it required all citizens to wear them at all times, and cunnings kept asking questions like “If symbol fall off, good to eat, right?” as well as anyone without a “friend” symbol on them was quickly interpreted by brutes to be food… There were some close scrapes that were not appreciated by the human population… though to learn that this was a problem was mollified somewhat by the fact that a solution may be forthcoming. This failure culminated when Tyren workers brought LIVESTOCK to market in tandem with a “Farmers Guild” – Brutes from everywhere descended on the first sheep and goats released from their carts (the Tyren would normally walk their flock to market but for the first time decided to take what appeared to be much needed precautions. Only a handful of livestock were eaten, (or rather SWALLOWED WHOLE) but it became clear that all they had taught the brutes was that animals were fair game under some mysterious new rule.



It was Teqti who had an epiphany at this, however – they saw how the Tyren, once creating a barrier to protect their livestock, were able to quickly direct them back into their carts, and was further intrigued by how fairly wild animals, even if these were passive herbivores, could be tricked and trained to behave. Whether the Tyren would teach them or not, the Aymarans would learn the secrets of herding their brutes… special shepherd's crooks, which could be used to turn the head of a brute, thwack it into momentary confusion to be redirected, or spur them on with small meat rewards would, at a pace undiscerned, come into use – but when fully adopted new levels of control of the brutes may become possible. (Solution is mastery of brutes (and others) as one masters cattle – this endeavor will receive a bonus if Tyren support it at the learning square, but is make difficult by the fact no Aymarans speak common)



(Relations with Aymarans by human and Tyren citizenry takes a hit – but Tyren cooperation to teach herding to the Aymarans is sought to herd THEIR OWN PEOPLE.)





The SEAWALL:



This was an amazing achievement for the colony over the course of the season – A small number of Aquatic Aymarans offered a hand in the endeavor, and Attolians joined forces with the highborn to design, frame, support, and embellish it – the Aymarans provided protection from sharks (which the Aymarans called “snacking”), and the movement and placement of heavy materials, (especially work at depth). Boulder field saw a vast removal of troubling debris that previously made farming the area less than ideal, but Aymarans, with herders in training, pulled up chunk after chunk of rock and pushed it to the 'Platz. Once there, it could be loaded on cables in the depression and made into the sea-wall once at the beach. The Aquatic nature of the “Lurker” Aymarans, coupled with their being a higher notch on the food-chain than the common shallows sharks made the project not only faster than anticipated, but more ambitious and less costly. Once complete the structure looked like a half-hexagon that enclosed the entirety of the shallows almost as far as the “shark holes” – the strange pits in the sea-bed that seemed to be full of the aformentioned “finner-sharks” – counterweighted netting could be used to easily fish the sharkholes from the wall, bringing great new yields (especially for the Aymaran's simple diet of ANYTHING.) As well as creating a secure holdfast for ships in a storm – an actual PORT – that would keep the worst of storms at bay. The broad-sloped walls of boulders, given additional strength seals of pitch, quickly became awash with sand creating a clean-and semi-sparkling outer slope to the structure. At the front it was only broad enough for two people to pass each other (as space was primarily given to strengthen the structure) but at the broader sides it actually created places for ships to rapidly tie ashore and offload goods in addition to the pre-existing docks. It was a huge endeavor – but the season saw it done. Trouble with Aymarans on the project was minimal as they were almost always glutted full on these shifts, and sought to “work” this task even when relatively idle as a means of capturing food.



The over-fishing did reveal something of interest however – proximity to the shark-holes allowed netting that grabbed larger fish from deeper than had been seen in the shallows – Great Finners, they were called for lack of better title – they seemed to be sharks that thrived purely by eating smaller sharks… and something else that puzzled the colonists. “Great Finners” – when they were rarely caught (to attempt to catch one was to risk a whole net to repair when one could otherwise be sure of a good catch) – were found to have their stomachs full of smaller finners, which was to be expected – and massive blubber-white chunks of flesh – which at first was thought to be from some type of whale until things such as massive nails or yard-long tracts of scalp had been found. They seemed to subsist, at least in part – on some kind of giant humanoid(s)? Or at least, they had as long as the colonists had been catching them. Rotten and partially digested, the Aymaran found these chunks of flesh to be a kind of delicacy… it quickly was called “God-Rot” – as the chunks of stomach contents was described as the closest word a brute could comment meaning “divine” – “God Rot” would be a luxury commodity (at least to Aymarans) and it rapidly became clear that Aymarans that ate it gained mass and bulk especially well.



New Commodity: “God Rot” – there is no organized endeavor to capture larger sharks, or find out what they are eating, but the rotting stomach contents of great finners is both an aphrodesiac and weight-gainer for Aymarans… at least for now.



EFFECT: Aymaran brutes get slight boost to already considerable health and size. The scarred talk of seizing all such flesh for the highest Aymaran – to fully maximize it's potential.



SEAWALL GAINED: Because the Aymarans entered the arrangement “pro bono” and indeed had no clear way of communicating (or fathoming) anything relating to it's business purpose – the Seawall is considered a wholly-owned structure of Attolians and Highborn. They may levy taxes on ships coming into port, or exercise other elements of influence on trade. Passively, the sea wall protects the beach and all ships of the colony from bad weather, and is useful in keeping sharks, and maybe even other hostiles, away from colonists. (+3 Influence for Highborn, +3 Influence for Attolians) – These players may wish to recognize the contribution of the Aymarans, but the Aymarans, like so many other things other colonists do, understand very little about the whole arrangement.



THE ROAD:



With Tyren, and their well-paid day labor (-1 WEALTH FOR TYREN) the people of Harun'taras make a spectacular contribution towards connecting the far-flung north colony at shearcliffs with the more centralized factions of the 'Platz. At set intervals they set up Bonfires which are policed by Their wood elves and the remnants of the Imperial Oriental Company Mercenaries – trouble along the gravel track is reported by blowing of horns at half points between bonfires, or lighting the bonfires themselves. As an additional innovation, a “Great Bonfire” is placed at the midpoint of the road, at the Tyren Ballista's maximum range – if a lit missile from the ballista hits the great bonfire, the entire road is to be put on high alert and the entire colony roused. The distance from the Platz to the LEARNING SQUARE that united the north and south was completed at a somewhat slowly pace by attolian unskilled labor with proper oversight. Without hills, and the boulders of boulder field being removed at a near matching pace to build the sea-wall, the Attolians made short work of the assignment of completing a unified track from the depression to shearcliffs. (ATTOLIANS GAIN +1 INFLUENCE, TYREN GAIN +1 INFLUENCE)



High Elves engage in negotiations with Coutnrymen of Dracos to reach larger human community:



This endeavor did not meet with great success. “We humans see your lofty ways, but we are equally proud of our own. That's a beautiful dock and sea-wall we've all got now thanks to that art – but we can't be accepting your offers, however generous, to be designin' our temples and such. The Countrymen of Dracos have made our fate with the so-called “high-burn” – but we didn't slip the yoke of Muurdaan to slip into a new yoke of ancient culture either… we want self determination. You have our ears, and we'll sow and harvest the word that the high elves stand with Dracos' faithful – but if there were more exiles to be joining factions… they wouldn't be lined up round the clock taking silver as freelance from the Tyren. What remains of Maeder's men are fiercely protective of their independence. That could change, but I don't see what the Highburn (meant as a complement by the fires of Dracos, though the Elves find the bastardization thoroughly distasteful) are doing to make a new world for humans. Perhaps we'll see.



High elf propaganda and courtship of free humans falls quickly cold. No gains in personnel, but discovery of how much potential influence they have with “the one faith” is promising, as only Baez has more influence with the church than the “countrymen.”



The High elves also sent an expedition to the “barrier hills” that separate the area west of Harun'Taras with the deeper swamps to the north. Most interestingly, a rock formation growning out of one of the discovered hills seems to have grown massive protrusions of Quartz Crystal, which while of questionable value is still a commodity with potential for Exploitation. (NEW RESOURCE DISCOVERED IN HILLS: QUARTZ) Where the barrier hills transition into the swamp, the high elves also locate a huge coal deposit, which for reasons that were not readily apparent is also covered in a thin layer of (mostly?) mundane animal bones. Apparently the swamp was much deeper in this area and when the waters receded a great amount of water-borne creatures were suddenly beached… initially feared to be more evidence of “the Cull” these bone-fields are virtually devoid of non-animal forms, though the ocassional snake or fish humanoid skull is found. (NEW RESOURCE: COAL) The coal is especially welcome with the coming of winter, doubly so in light of the fact that there is not nearly as much wood on the colony's side of the river as what lies in the hands of the gnolls and mud-elves.



AYMARAN SALT MINE - (+2 Influence!) - due to the considerable strength and labor investment of the Aymarans, the full potential of the salt mine reveals itself. Formed from condensation of sea water over at least centuries, in certain places where the salt is thickest it has been percolated to an almost alchemical purity. Called in the far north “Purity Spice” – this extra refined salt, when saturated to wax, creates a sealant for produce and other perishables that preserves frail substances for far longer than normally expected. This will not only help with preservation of Winter Food stores, but any perishables traded overseas with Purity Spice will arrive much fresher, and potentially more valuable!

While purity spice is harder to find than common salt, there is plenty of salt to take to market – enough salt that could (with intent or by accident) ruin the fertility of terrain that was salted. Salt comes to market and improves overall health of colony. “Purity Spice” is a rare luxury commodity upon which the Aymarans have exclusive monopoly – though they understand it's value not so much.



While occupying the salt caves, an alternate food source emerges for the Aymaran: CAVE FISHERS. While to other races they would pose more danger, these carapaced tentacular ambush predators are little more than hiding treats to the croc-men… who may add them to their diet. Quetanka told the tale that cave fishers are actually the larvae of a much larger creature – massive and hemaphrodidic “Fisher Kings” – a hunt for such a creature would indeed be exciting, but at the moment the Aymarans cannot begin to know where to look. Elevated consumption of sharks, god-rot, and cave fishers put the hunt for harvesting bats on a low priority… still… Bats are on the menu, and can also be brought to the market as a surplus to other factions who may find them palatable… if the Aymarans cared to join the grocer's guild. Teq-ti's plan was a simple one – as they constructed their new holdfast in the sewer, bats were routinely disturbed in certain places where they could easily escape and left alone in areas which could be sealed. Once bats settled permanently where the Aymarans desired, they only needed to seal the bat-chambers and wave poles at the things until they collected on the ground exhausted. Quetanka also learns that Bat Guano is a plentiful source of fuel in the sewer as well, and while before there was SERIOUS concern about how the Aymarans would experience the winter, the cunnings, scarred, and those in charge had already entertained the idea of a great heated pool in the “Holdfast”… warmed season-long by a shoveled river of burning bat-shit. Just the thought of it made most Aymarans bellow and growl with anticipation or longing.



MAGE GUILD FOUNDEd :Originally built of modest size with a great degree of polish by the highborn, The Tyren quickly attach their own wagon-pavillion to it, which is oft visited by Harun'Taran' Minotaur War-Mage, Bruul. While humble at the moment, it is hoped that with additional mages participating this guild will become more important. Guild is joined by Cassandra of the Attolians, bringing the mage guild into full effect.

MAGE GUILD FORMED -- +1 Influence for Tyren!



HIGHBORN WINDMILL: With a considerable investment of labor initially which only grew as the season wore on, the footprint of a particularly suitable ruined structure laid the foundation for the mill, which, facing the winds blowing over the cliffs, had tremendous power matched with the elegance of the elven ingenuity making it almost silent – It was only discovered by the larger colony when the windmill at the base of the Platz grew taller than the guard tower the attolians and built nearby on the haunted ruin's slope nearby. The highborn knew that crops would be harvested at the end of the season – and a will would be a worthy enterprise. In fact, it was tall enough and well placed to keep a fine eye on the sea during the day as well as a means to survey not just the sea, but into the ruins to the west… the so called “haunted theater district”...



AYMARAN “HOLDFAST” – Ayamarans during the summer were seldom seen above ground if they were not hawking salt, buying food, or milling frustrated in the newly developed “learning square” – more than anything they were preoccupied with making a central part of the sewers under the platz an area all their own. Located roughly under the very center of the 'Platz, this “Holdfast” was basically a series of refurbished chambers that seemed to serve a central custodial purpose in earlier history, the holdfast (until it could be named something else) enjoyed a steady stream of garbage from the Attolian housing district, which helped to feed the laziest of the brutes and lurkers – who were prone to laziness by nature unless harshly motivated. Outside the holdfast was “The Great Grate” the largest entrance to the sewers near the central of the platz, though the Rusted and fused covering could only be slid seveal feet in one direction with the effort of at least 20 Aymaran. This allowed the Aymaran the ability to leave and enter as well as move material in and out of the sewer quickly, but it would not be so easy for other folks to enter or leave the way the Aymaran did, which appealed to the nature of the Aymaran mind quite nicely – the idea that it was a trap for prey, but a door for them. Within the holdfast were humble living chambers and piles of equipment and nesting – and distinct chambers for the harvesting of Bats. At it's center, a large deep chamber with elevated platforms on both sides was the focal point. The lower area of the chamber was flooded and sectioned, with a central pit containing a heated sewer-pit, with colder breeding pools beside it, those for brutes the farthest out, the pools for the cunning and scarred were closer to the heated pool, of which only Toxchol and his personal retinue were allowed to freely come and go. Come fall, it was hoped the pools would be awash with a layer of egg-scum, then after that, the pitter-patter of the largest young devouring the weakest. Ah, the excitement of Aymaran youth!



LEARNING SQUARE: Perhaps the greatest Achievement of the colony so far – it was accepted (and even contributed to) by every faction officially or unofficially to some extent. The bard lindar often played music, and Phadra of the Attolians held a forum for different factions sharing their culture in songs… something that created not just a greater understanding between various peoples, but was a free source of entertainment many humans and Tyrens in particular enjoyed. Elves, while proud to sing could have difficulty containing the disdain for the non-elf range of sonorousness… conversely elven music was highly sought for amid humans and many others among the factions – increasing relations considerably in ways unanticipated. The ratkin, also, became popular for having exciting plays and also satires of almost every race the ratkin had lived unseen among.



The Tyren Shaman, Shul – was of particular contribution to the success of the learning square. While not entirely understood, he sought to attract only the most conducive and peaceful of spirits into the learning square while barring or binding lesser spirits that might spread confusion or tension. By the end of the season Various clay vessels laid all around the learning square – filled with water and light food for the students, but also serving as traps or lodges for countless spirits and lesser ethers congregating in the sprawling plains that were once more aptly named “Boulder field”...



Shul was not the only personality to make his presence felt in the language square, the Attolian Linguist, Ratkin storytellers (and plenty of pupils) and Highborn instructors taught cultural exchange, basic language for foreigners to their factions, and a strengthening understanding of common amoung the populace.



IMPACT: Relations between all factions stabilize in whatever degree there was previously tension.

(+3 INFLUENCE FOR TYREN, +2 INFLUENCE HIGHBORN, +2 INFLUENCE ATTOLIAN, +1 INFLUENCE RATKIN.) – propagation of elven language not particularly successful, but propagation of better common among all factions (except Aymarans) improves drastically… a “new world common” begins to emerge which is a Patois of Tyren trade languages, formal Attollian, and the easiest but also elegant grammars and syntax of “children's elvish” … Of the Aymarans, Only Tocxhol and Teq-ti learn an appreciable amount. Learning of common, especially the spoken word, is an utter failure among the reptilian populace. That said, by seasons end there are THREE aymarans that can communicate in common, though Tocxhol can only write it – as speaking it sounds horrible and makes him uncharacteristically angry, even by his own measure. Teq-ti can only be understood by writing AND talking, as she is utterly physiologically incapable of making most vowel sounds… which when attempted generally sound like burps, heartbeats, or farting.



RATKIN WARRENS:



For being so initially social, the ratkin became almost unseen for the better part of the summer as instinct took over and they went into a FRENZY of nesting behavior. Quickly using the Attolian mineral assay information, the ratkin found a vein of iron running perpendicular to the road that while broken in parts, created a solid roof of metal that, properly and fastidiously supported, complicated ease of entry by intruders, conducted sound for them to listen in places near the learning square and elsewhere from shadow and boulder-fields. Burrowing along the track of Iron also made their collusion with the Attolians extremely fruitful – where the seam was most broken and exploitable, THERE the ratkin would tell the Attolians to mine. When the Attolians did, they left behind new warrens to inhabit. .. a true win-win for both parties. In addition, proximity to the iron deposits helped make the Ratkin ESPECIALLY secure, as gnawed discs of cold-iron could be placed anywhere to impede or at least advertise one's advance. The relative quiet of the new warrens was unsettling to some of the older ratkin, but it make for a more peaceful living arrangement, as the normal pushing pash and clamouring over of one another gave way to something the ratkin had never known before – an occasional expectation of privacy... While ATTOLIANS gain 3 units of raw iron during the excavation, aid and assistance by the Tyren in exchange for excavated stone produces a surfeit of building materials for the minotaurs. Much growth happens in the season – many houses rise up in the 'Platz, but the Tyren get all the Gravel they need for a most impressive road...



MARKETS LEVERAGED! (TO THE HILT!) – +3 WEALTH TO TYREN, +2 WEALTH TO ATTOLIA, +2 WEALTH TO HIGHBORN.



In response to the glut of funds floating unsecured in the economy, and the documented loss of a good share of those funds, Various factions use whatever official means of control and influence in the colony to bring things back under control before Inflation, theft, or crime becomes the de-facto solution. Tyren, with their ties to flow of goods, Highborn influence in the market along with Attolian accountancy (and the propensity of much of the colony's wealth having few other places to be spent than at their INN, give each faction the ability to levy the market in their own ways – with the three of them all doing so at once, and without collaboration, tax plans, or a central authority, end up depressing the market by overdrawing 1 wealth. This slowly, unintentionally, but over the season obviously has an almost punitive effect on small merchants and many of the common folk.



EFFECT: MINOR RECESSION! Resistance to centralized authority or government begins to ferment in the common populace! (Tyren,Attolian,Highborn factions get fatter coffers)



The “VAULT”: – in a large root cellar outside the Attolian housing district in the platz, secure from below by aymarans and secure from above by attolian and ad-hoc exile security forces, the treasures of the “1st battle of mud-elf aggression” languish for the most part undisturbed. The colony must find some way as a whole to identify and utilize these treasures, or find a way to divide it equitably.



“The Search for Goq-Quet” :



The Aymarans, after days of their only interpreter and loremaster gone missing – begin a search – Only Tocxhol and Quentankha are considered trustworthy to leave no stone unturned, so the Aymaran Elites wander the sewers near where it was known Goq-quet was supposedly working, having chastized brutes repeatedly to stay away, pity that brutes were horrible witnesses when it came to telling where they'd been 5 minutes ago, much less the better part of a week. In several places thought in more ill repair the Aymaran Chief found clean lines, old but pristine stone – layers of dust lay where one might expect… but the Algae and other signs of staining did not. It was as if not only was all traces of Goq-quet's work whitewashed over, but various places in the sewer were similiarly treated so that there could be no certainty which FOUR WAY JUNCTION IN A SEWER was where Goq-quet was last seen. In one place far away from expectations were 2 units of RUNED STONE that Go-quet obviously excavated for later study, but they were at a far junction and there was no signs in the area of where the loremaster would no doubt had made a mess pulling them free. If The Chieftain wanted, he could take the stone as a commodity or perhaps find a way to learn what the loremaster was studying – but it seemed beyond anyone besides Go-Quet themselves, at least among the Aymarans. Here or there Quetanka thought he heard a humming noise almost following them from below – and the distant peering of ruby-colored imps remained every present from safe distances. The Zebani watched them, and eventually – they watched the Aymarans call off the search for the time being. Go-Quet was not a beast to be eaten by secrets… if the loremaster was beyond their reach, there was no saying Go-Quet might not have them in the reach of theirs. They would have to up the ante and really start breaking stuff in the sewer, or wait and see if Go-quet could return on their own…



ELVEN QUARTER: All surplus highborn labor went into the beautification of practicality of their quarter of the 'platz, near the cliffs to the Southwest. Their Manor house, now fully refurbished from the outside could use some work, but from the inside one began to feel like they were not in some god-forsaken ruin, perhaps not even in the new world. The best that the elves and the luxury guild had to offer in art and finery decked and hung in every hall, Areas of repose allowed highborn to recline and discuss matters of the day with leisure, even if the matter of such talks involved little time for leisure indeed. Herbs were smoked and deals were made where outside the same elves drilled endlessly to maintain their martial discipline. For once, the highborn council felt the slightest taste of what could be confused with a home, and their splendor promised to grow farther out into the district as time permitted. As the beautification of the Platz begins to radiate slowly from the center of the Elf Quarter, there is soon no denying where the Upscale place to live in town is…. (+1 Influence Highborn)



SPREAD OF FOOD SOURCES! :



Both the Tyren and Highborn put forward initiatives to propagate wild-growing mushrooms and food plants, to great effect. Vertical “Pillar Gardens” of fungi and edible plants pop up all over the high elf quarter, and the old wood elf glades, now abandoned – proved for the Tyren a great place to take grafts of all sorts of plant food and herbs and migrate them – though they relied on their wood elf allies to navigate what traps and wards were left in the scattered glades… Initial attempts to farm these plants in the growing fields expanding Attolian domain was less than successful – but the plants and herbs took rapidly and well to the inside of the Tyren's seat of power – the Stockade wall of “Tree-sung” wood – a living barrier that surrounded the center of their community. It was speculated that even if Harun'Taras was besieged, food would become an issue only long after water and sanitation, as they had healthy wells, but it was speculated they drained more quickly than the water-table filled them. Still, there was no denying if the High Elves had the most Upscale place in the colony, The Tyren most certainly had the Safest…




“WAVES OF BARLEY, WAVES OF GRAIN”:



Attolia had broke-away with their crop expansion, now planting as many as twelve plots of grain and barley, much of “boulder field”, once cleared of stones, became to a small degree grazing land for Tyren Livestock, but most territory west of the road became the fevered acres for the Attolian plow.

Between local food security for high elves and Tyren at opposite ends of the colony, and the central “bread and beer basket” in the middle, fear of a lean winter – even in the face of possible increased population and some setbacks, began to fade as a concern… the first year's harvest would show a surplus, perhaps even AFTER winter!



Boulder field, though now almost bare of stones, still held onto it's name however – but now only because one giant boulder remained… first thought some kind of batholith for how it seemed to rise from the earth, it later became apparent it was, like all the others, Ejecta from the larger city when it was destroyed in some calamity… stranger though was that it was not made of the same rock as the rest of the boulders on the plain, and that the rock itself did not even seem local to geoform in a region like this. The elves discovered most of this in their scouting, but it was just another mystery that swept about the colony without answer. Concern for Tyren herds turns out unfounded however, as pasture in “shadowfields” is plentiful now the river is somewhat safer, and the surrounding Tyren land rapidly degrade in quality with regards to farming, though for grazing herds they remain exemplary!



COLONY FEAR OVER FOOD SHORTAGE DISSOLVES – THEY'LL NEED TO WORRY ABOUT OTHER THINGS THIS YEAR!



TYREN -AND- ATTOLIANS FOUND FARMER'S GUILD:

ATTOLIANS BRING WHEAT AND BARLEY,

TYREN BRING LIVESTOCK.

GUILD DOES NOT GENERATE INFLUENCE UNTIL A 3rd FACTION JOINS!





HIGHBORN EXPLORE, FIND POTENTIAL ANIMALS FOR HUSBANDRY:

To the North and Northwest lay territory unscouted until time permitted during the season – and beyond what the Tyren had already found in the north (trackless swamps beyond shearcliff, and such)

The Highborn found a few points of interest of their own – Most notably some scattered forests divided by a collection of muddy lakes – of which small herds of hind-running reptiles seemed to gather. The “Runners” as the colonists rapidly began to call them as rumor of their existence spread showed potential as labor animals, for at least light work and as beasts of burden. Only the largest specimens could even be speculated to bear a rider, but of these there were few. As a food source they were unsucculent but a surprisingly clean-tasting meat… but if attempts to capture, tame, or add “runners” to the Colony diet were to be made, they'd have to be organized indeed…



In addition to the “Patchwood Lakes” two particular points of interest were found in the northwest –

One, a great crack in the earth – formed an unevenly lit hollow that was filled with both oddly adapted surface foliage and plants and roots that thrived underground. Exploration would wait, but the dimensions of this area and it's location soon became widely known…



Secondly, a great tiered quarry was hewn out of the ground in an area well north of the city ruins… cube-like chunks of soil, some 10 feet in diameter, melted by rain all around this quarry, seeming to stop everywhere in unearthed a kind of leveled structure that seemed to have been buried in the ground.

At one end of the giant excavation a kneeling giant stone statue seemed to gaze down into it – speculated at more than four stories tall, it seemed to dwarf it's own enormity sitting next to the excavation. Across it's lap lay a great stone tool, that one might use to dig such a hole – but if this statue once walked, or dug, the trees, grass and algae that grew upon it told the story that it was just a statue, or if it was ever something more, it had not acted as such for centuries. Within the Quarry and sunken-tiered structure were numerous doors, each filled with packed with soil and promised to be filled with ages of natures will to bury it forever. Perhaps the digging Goliath, once confronted with the fact that it could not do the finer work of the excavation, it fell into slumber… though broken automatons scattered around it may tell a different tale...







OOC: I am aware this is a HUGE post, but you can consider that which does not pertain to your faction (use Ctrl-F to scan for your faction alone) and the rest can be considered news you can care to absorb or not regarding the city. There are still Tyren and Attolan orders left to process – but I wanted to get THIS MUCH out before it was overdue and get the rest done this afternoon/evening.



FOR NEW PLAYERS: A map of the explored area so far is coming soon, and I will provide the new players with a “tourists description” of where everything is relative to everything else for your “mind's eye” on arrival in the new world. Feel free to post the circumstances of your departure and the selection of your magical gem if you have not already in the IC thread, and when the summer season is processed we can begin exploring what is known and unknown with fresh eyes!!!

PS -- DON'T BE INTIMIDATED. I DO A LOT OF HEAVY LIFTING IN THE RP SO THAT OTHERS MIGHT NOT HAVE TO -- Get your feet wet at your own pace and don't think you have to read or know everything to play the game... just to maximize every possible advantage.



-Beck

 

[Beckoncall]

SUMMER ORDERS (CON'T AND FINAL!) :

The Bark-Bound Tome:

The great and mysterious Ummush, with healer Anuc to do the more rustic chores of preparation and legwork, began their study of the Wood-elf Text left by the Autumn-Lord and his Mages in the season passed. The book crawled with vines, and pages that were empty leaked sap from the spine of the book to make mysterious runes spring to life uncannily with the eye of the reader, only to dry when one took one's eyes off of them. Small sprouts held the pages, and occasionally turned them. Ummush did not know elven, but the book – seeming to realize this whispered to him, and to Anuc. Often on the same page Ummush would delve into some inscrutable secret of tree-shaping while Anuc learned to see and feel the circulatory systems of plants and animals with just a series of gestures. Ummush seemed to be studying something called “A greater containment dream” – but was having little success without a tutor that was also an elven mage… perhaps the new personage at the just-formed mages guild could help him? Ummush had never needed help, even to this day – though he'd accepted it often enough – though only from Orm.



The book taught Anuc how to diagnose and stabilize systemic and area-specific injuries, first starting on her own physiology and then on those of other races. It was testing her, and she felt she was failing, though even failing opened more and more doors to read. All proceeded without incident for weeks until the day Anuc sought to diagnose Ummush, in a moment he seemed far away and deep in concentration.



Ummush was VERY sick, Anuc scryed. SCRYED – magically read! – However as she sought to diagnose him, Ummush suddenly dropped the ever-present hood from his obscured and ancient face – his greying pelt, his skin so brittle and thin on so many places on his face. Anuc's hand seemed to harden, canceling her spell.



“Secrets of the Book, Orm has commanded be ours… Orm has said NOTHING about my secrets, Anuc. Leave me NOW.”



Anuc, scared and shamed – and worried for the high shaman to boot, burst into tears and fled the tent. A deep and dark breath bellowed slowly and balefully from Ummush as his hood snapped back over his head and he pushed away the book with a gesture from his hand. Ummush did what he always did, he took his sadness to a place of contemplation. Anuc would not be back to study with him for a week – and he would be profoundly welcoming in their further studies, though there was no doubt Anuc felt them awkward. Anuc confides in Orm that the high shaman is NOT AT ALL well. Progress on the Tome is SLOOOOOOW without elven help, and the springborn are not up to the task.



Another secret-delving project had yielded better fruit – After their encounter with all the undead in the platz speaking as if they knew who the Tyren were and mentioning their being an embassy of Minotaur folk Shaman Shul, the spirit speaker is sent with a party to scour the abandoned parts of the platz to see if they can find any relics of these lost minotaurs and any clues as to the nature of the cull. (1 Shaman, Shul. 4 fighters. 10 Springborn. 5 Skilled workers. 10 unskilled workers. Spend 1 wealth for labourer help)


With a whole district cleared of ghosts and skeletons, and such a well financed and prepared group – Tyren Warrior confidence began to manifest in the unearthing of a mosaic here, a fresco there, places where spirits whispered unbidden that Shul, in only his deepest stupors could hear. More than once the “Watchful Dead” as the Tyren started to call them were seen to examine them from varying distances – but the presence and the posturing of the Tyren warriors kept them at bay, if something else did not. Tyren labor was fast with heavy lifting, and thorough and quick when called upon the scrape dust or other junk that caked on promising archelogical prospects. They would never have such objects without the keen eyes of the springborn, who were almost drawn to various finds… needles in haystacks compared to a wealth of art or remnants that was outside the scope of their studies. Perhaps their best decision of all however, was to spend a Wealth point hiring Exiles to freelance and bring them “anything interesting looking like a minotaur” – this would normally cost 1 wealth point, but the discovery of various buried finds in the vein of golden cutlery and dinnerware, gem embossments, and fancy house-fittings more than cancelled this inventment. (0 net loss of wealth)



What the Tyren found that was potentially the most telling, is what the exiles brought them – not from the ruins, at least not originally – they earned their gold sifting terrified under the tree of raining bones… and in the deeper layers they found “things that were interesting looking like minotaurs” – it seemed if there was a Minotaur culture at one time in the city, the Cull had taken their bodies ages ago – Three skulls, unmistakably minotaur, with faded and cracked carvings into the very horns – minor to medium decoration for Tyren horns was normal, especially in rutting season – but these skulls told an entirely different story. They beared the “splinter-patches” of healed bone typical of Tyren Blood-Touched Warriors, but the horns of these minotaurs were shaped in two instances to cover the eyes as if blindfolds, and in one case wound into the eye-sockets of the largest minotaur skull entirely. In all cases the signs of growth were natural, and over a long period of time. Similar to Tyren in almost every other aspect, this horn stylization and what amounted to self-scarification was utterly alien. In addition to these, was a horned skull that was not of a Tyren, but was twice as broad as even Orm's skull, and had the horns of a Ram… a small depression in it's thickest forehead area contains flakes of Bull Iron – as if there was some kind of armor or even perhaps a small “story plate” akin to those that Ummush carries with him teling the records of their people. This last skull, like the others in the deep layers of bones beneath the great tree, seem to whisper a story unheard – like looking into the eyes of distant cousins, or fathers – or perhaps a lying pantomime of such things, the toothy rictus grins kept their secrets.



In summary, There was a culture of minotaurs that lived far to the east of this city ruin – likely high in the mountains in great cities of their own right. The culture was not only of minotaurs, but of various forest kin – all cloven hoofed, some smaller than Minotaurs, and in a few scraps of artifact a few much larger – even centaurs were counted among them, a seeming confederation united in purpose. In one bas-relief fragment, which was sadly destroyed while attempting to accentuate all of it's details – it showed a collection of minotaurs blinded by their own horns, leading an increasingly smaller following through a moonless darkness… though their numbers thin as they crawl across what remained of the mural, and their destination remained as uncertain to those they left behind as them that pondered the image now... One image, or character appeared again and again – that of the giant bipedal rams, holding a hanging Human skeleton in one hand, and their hands pointing ever forward. What were they? What type of being could demand the seeming fealty of a minotaur's free spirit?



THE MINE OF VINES:



Odd and forboding at first, the tunnels constantly echoed with the twisting of fibrous cables – as if the plants, now deep in the rock, curled and probed at their own volition. Occasionally through the walls the sound of great shifts of sand are met with a strangling of vines, and a hissing settling of ground. The mine kept itself stable… it hummed with magical energy Anfel and the Tear of divinity had invested in it, and when the Tyren hung the lightless bramble-gems here, they hummed to life – filling the tunnels with reddish glow to complement the green of the magic of the mines – the magical light did not disrupt and seemed to improve night vision – the cliff face opening into a central chamber where a great seed, almost 30 feet in diameter, hovered taught as if being drawn and quartered from all eight cardinal directions by massive stalks that moored it into the shale walls itself. When Tyren attempted to do their own digging, they often found a thin layer of rock with SPIRALING COILS of vines behind it – which comically, almost akin to a being caught naked taken a sun-shower, pulls it's covering back over to hide it. From this main chamber were seeming wells of coiled vine holding back loose sand and hewn-away rock. There were four such silos, only one of which, at it's deepest level almost too cramped for a Tyren to reach, were strange odds and ends… small pools of liquid silver, traces of strange spiraling rainbow metals, a small block of black material that seemed to crackle in the area around it. Kelleree, one of the springborn leading the expedition, patted one of his staff to withdraw from the chamber – a clump of long hair coming loose in his hand at the shoulder as if to answer the question as to whether the room was dangerous…they fled the mine before collapsing where shepherds quickly found them. (Five springborn seriously ill!) The last elf to leave, Daesychas – had gone a different way – into the central chamber of the mine. There grew great roots vertifcally from the rock, strange tables of fibrous plants… The chamber spoke to her – “The mine awaits. Awaits instructions. We will grow the bramble-gem… but what must be twisted from the forbidding ground?”



This fact was an afterthought to taking the rest of the springborn to immediate medical assistance.



As if to answer this silence, a spiral chute of vines poured nothing but solid stone from a spout near the base of shearcliffs… a LOT of stone… perhaps more stone than the Tyren would ever need… (Stone for Tyren is a Renewable Resource as long as Mine of Vines is not directed otherwise)


CLAY (commodity Renewable resource for all): With the gnolls seemingly on an unspoken pact of non-aggression, and the defeat of the mud-elves driving them deeper into their wood, the land along the river became safer to work along. Even with the water level considerably lower few feared, nor suspected malign eyes in the woods beyond. Clay was dug by the enterprising of several factions, out of necessity for containers or water vessels, or as more artistic urns and decanters – none took immediately with more care and attention than the Tyren and the springborn – Who created beautiful containers worthy of the luxuries guild. Overall, the abundance of clay enabled the colonists to raise their quality of life – food would keep longer, water could be kept cleaner and in greater volume, and a wide variety of tools and enhancements could be made, not the least of which were Attolian Clay ovens, and the Highborn “Chiminea” – which both simple and elegant could make personal warmth and cooking more widespread, if marketed! (New Luxury commodities: Attolian Ovens, Highborn Heaters, and Tyren Earthen-Ware)



ATTOLIAN HOUSING DISTRICT:



The cranes of the Attolians, and the wisdom of their architect were taxed to their limits – but the results had been worth it. Clay drains and water-pipes adorning several 2 story and even a few 3 story houses went up, and relatively quickly to boot. With so much gossip about the development of the colony, the highborn may have the fanciest dwellings, and the Tyren the safest, but the Attolians hands-down held the MOST. Room for their people and then some, they had room to grow into, and potentially housing to sell if they kept at it. Where there were not at least the crudest dwellings of piled ruin-stone, many footprints of once-were buildings now had neat stacks of rock and other building materials to make near pre-fabricated homes. (MORALE OF ATTOLIANS INCREASES TO VERY HIGH, AND DWELLINGS ATTRACTIVE TO OTHER HUMANS ARE READY TO GO UP.) Even with a relatively small investment of labor, efficient use of time and the establishment of consistent and well-monitored best practices made at least one corner of the Platz look undeniably like a town. Some had wondered if it ever would.



ATTOLIANS: In addition to the initial 3 units of iron pulled from startup-mining, a new crane over the iron view makes IRON A RENEWABLE RESOURCE FOR ATTOLIANS.



HIGHBORN AND ATTOLIANS IMPLEMENT TAXATION: The attolian Castlellan, or “Great house Planner” as many less educated called him, offered his services pro-bono in tandem with the highborn most versed in mercantile sciences for establishing practices for the preservation of wealth and the fight for a stable econonmy's rapid growth without well-founded fear of theft, hoarding, or inflation. Early adopters quickly see the benefits of stabilized market and barter prices… which sows the seeds for a working means of Taxation in the colony – though collecting taxes with full cooperation of all remained to be seen, the start of the process seemed promising. If you conformed to the Highborn/Attolian standard, you could anticipate how much you'd spend and how much you'd profit… though the Attolians would know how much you made. All Exiles and Attolians happily opt in, but other factions must opt in of their own Volition.



DECISION POINT: ALL FACTIONS EITHER DECIDE TO IMPLEMENT THE ATTOLIAN TAX CODE OR LOSE TWO WEALTH DUE TO ECONOMIC INEFFICIENCY. THIS PENALTY MAY OCCUR YEARLY, OR EACH TIME A GREAT EVENT OCCURS AT MARKET. Factions not interested in Taxation of the colony can do without it, or try to develop their own solutions. For now this gives the Attolians and Highborn a one-time influence and wealth bonus of +2 (wealth and influence) but if the tax code is well-adopted these bonuses may drop as they are not running more efficiently than anyone else.)



THE EXILES GET PAID: Non-affiliated humans, previously seen as scoundrels, tramps and thugs-for-hire, find themselves in the THRONE POSITION for the long desire for extra labor and the shortage of free hands to tend to it. The Temple of Dracos is said to have a full coffer of it's own, though of how much wealth it is uncertain… but most exiles tithe generously to the dragon goddess, and attribute their new freedom to her. Many Exiles build slightly finer houses in the depression, and some move into the Attolian housing district as true signs of status. (Attolians gain 20 unskilled workers OR “Exile Police”, who are eventually won over to the faction)





MESSENGER BIRDS: First began almost simultaneously by Attolian Falconers and Springborn that were entertaining the idea prior to the wood elf diaspora, Highborn animal trainers and talents in other factions soon brought to the fore another suddenly common appearance: The messenger bird – These vivid colored birds of paradise were left homeless when Paradise Island sank, and after a particularly windy storm the land from Tyren hills to shadowfields was full of exhausted resplendent birds that knew not where to roost. By every faction creating decorative bowers for them, the birds rapidly divided among the factions, even the ratkin in their warrens had nests! While not very bright, the birds were easy to manipulate… by changing the color of objects in the bowers (which the birds decorated themselves to attract mates and allies) the birds could be sent flying high above the colony looking to steal shiny objects of similar color – be they metal seals, painted pottery, what have you. To send messages one dishevelled the bower of your own birds, who would immediately scatter to other bowers in search of decoration – after attaching a paper to the legs of one's birds. Upon landing the messages could be removed and the bird rewarded with some shiny trinket, or a factions own messages, attached to shiny bits – would be “stolen” by the birds and brought elsewhere. With practice, you could even get a bird to go and return to specific places, or even all over the colony. (DEVELOPMENT: Rapid, but yet unproven rapid communication via messenger birds is implemented colony-wide)



OF PRISONERS: The must-despised “House Men” of the Attolians, fearing not, and caring less, the stench of the mud elves, take residence in the silo for much of the season they are not patrolling at times of low traffic (distaste for them proscribes their being seen about town without causing friction with other factions) – For doing so FIVE MUD-ELF PRISONERS ARE KILLED – having eaten small pieces of metal on the battlefield they… ahem… Expelled them and had begun chiseling in some bizarre plan. The housemen killed them, and their everpresent glowering, as the season wore on, seemed to liquify the courage of even the maddest of the remaining 18 prisoners. Of the 5 killed, the tallest one was used to crucify two others, and the remaining two were literally disemboweled and thrown into the sewer in bags made of their own intestines for the waiting mouths of Aymaran brutes below. House men were quiet – but they knew how to make a point with prisoners...



“KUMIS AND KEFIR, EMPTY BOTTLES OF BEER” : Attolians attempt to make a luxurious alcoholic drink from livestock milks that the Tyren bring to market – but with their experts otherwise preoccupied and without their own “starter cultures” brought from home – their attempt at making the drink is a catastrophic failure. While recognizable as an alcoholic drink, far too much sugar needs to be added to make it worth producing for profit and the initial results are TERRIBLE… nobody, even the Aymaran find it palatable… it becomes clear that if a “Milk-Wine” is to be successfully produced, it will require the help, or at least the starter-cultures, that the Tyren keep for their cheeses, and even then certainty of a quality product is uncertain…. Likewise, without an expert glassblower, The attolians first attempts at producing quality glassware, even with fancy new clay ovens – is less than spectacular. Sand is basically tortured into a brittle, sediment-filled raw, generally only needing a cold windy evening to shatter itself. Either more workers would be needed, more experts, more money, or more help!



One thing the Attolians DO succeed in bringing to market is a use for all the discarded Capybara fur and shark-skin stripped from the primary food sources of the infant colony – Cured and tanned, “Cappie Cloth” was very comfortable and worthy for sale in general market, with the best specimens making small-niche luxury items. Shark skin, while not at ALL stylish or comfortable, made SPLENDID gloves and boots, the outer surfaces, covered in myriad tiny “teeth” made for superior grips, easier climbing, and surer footing on difficult terrain. Demand for sharkskin gloves and boots rapidly spread among the colony, particularly among soldiers who saw the survival potential of such gear… for now the Attolians gain +1 wealth mostly from exile police and tradesmen, who most rapidly see the potential in these goods. It is wondered if such things could be profitable for long however, considering cappie fur and shark skin was in EMBARASSING abundance from the beach to the depression by the 'Platz… (Characters from any faction may choose to adopt fur or shark-skin gear)



OOC: Factions make sure you update your guild personell and commodities/products on your faction status page, as it is used to generate wealth and influence!!!

 

[SpiralErrant]

Coming together in fang and claw.

"This is a bad idea I tell ya." Rahg snorted, his ears twitching in impatient anxiety. "This aint gunna end well for no one." He'd been complaining like that since they'd come down from Hrun'Taras.

"Well you can always go home and brag about how smart you are." Anuc shot back, more than sick of her brother's whining.

"Would rather go to the inn... not that I'm gunna anyway!"

Rhag wasn't the only one that was nervous. All the tyren involved here were on edge, that was why they had a warrior escort in the first place. The shepherds had spread the tale of their close call with the Aymarans and how some of their stock had been swallowed whole during the chaos. Anuc didn't believe it, herself, the lizard folk had big mouths she'd seen that much but Anuc was sure it'd take them two bites to finish a sheep at least. It had taken everyone by surprise when the croc elders had come to the hills and asked for help from the Tyren. It was something they still didn't understand fully, how they could treat their own like herd animals but nobody could deny that there was something off about most of the Aymarans. The ones that hung around the learners square seemed to live in a world of their own and the others... well they wandered about like stray goats. In the end Orm had put his hoof down and decided to offer the lizards a hand with their 'Training' problem. He told folk that if they were going to be living near the lizards for the future then it'd be better if they weren't livin' in fear of them going mad and trying to eat everyone at any time. That they'd have to eat their way through the other Platz dwellers first wasn't much of a comfort.

Some elders had volunteered to help. Others had needed the chief to order them. Anuc had volunteered and Weome had followed after her. Folk had said that they were being reckless but Anuc was sure she was in with a better chance than the shepherds. Her and Weome had worked with the crocs after the battle and even managed to teach them a couple signs without getting eaten. Rahg and some of the other warriors had come along too, there wasn't that much trust between peoples of predator and prey just yet and Orm couldn't be trusted to come along himself. There was a little of that same anger Anuc saw in the lizards eyes lurking behind her chief's ways too. But he was a nice fella, so maybe there was a chance for the crocs too. There was only one way to find out.
__________________________________________________________________
Other tyren had a much calmer mission of diplomacy than those that traveled further down the bonfire road. The summer sun was still shining strong and the village on high ground was making use of the soothing winds to keep busy before the herds came in together to brace against the cold.

Now with the rats here they knew where they stood. They were a clear folk who knew how to talk in trade and plans. Yes they were a little odd with their running about in the dark... but then again they were very small. They'd done a good deal for the bulls ever since their deal with the chief as well. Most weren't really sure what it was all about but ever since then Orm and Bruul had spoken pretty highly of them.

A lot of the tyren held their communal homes dear. None of them had ever thought to settle down in their lifetimes and with the elves about the longhouses had turned out better than any of them anticipated. The elders of each of the wagons - now the longhouses - were plenty pleased with the wild veg they'd helped gather and how the trees they'd planted kept it all close to hand. It was wile going over it all and taking stock of supplies for the coming winter months that the Tyren had to face an uncomfortable truth. None of them knew how to run a town. They'd spent all their lives taking what they needed from the land and moving on to let it recover. When it came to working it all regular like they were just copying what they'd seen done by the folk in charge when they'd hired out their work for the few days.

The ratkin on the other hand, well they worked the earth like nobody's business and full on dug their homes into it. If they could help sort things out in Hrun'Taras, maybe fancy the place up like a proper city, then they might be able to make a real power out of their little claim of land in the colony.
__________________________________________________________________
And Orm got the even nicer job!

The colony was coming together in force thanks to the learners square, the black furred chief had even managed to pick up some of the common tongue folks were talking around the square. The black bull strutted with pride once he started to catch on to this later in life learning. Yeah, he'd make a scholar student of himself yet!

That was where his latest plan came in. The leaders of each group had met together in this same field once, trying to decide on things for the future of them all and they hadn't managed much from it. So Orm decided for himself that there was more to be managed by just doing something instead of talking it over all day. Apparently he'd discovered himself to be a small government leaning minotaur... whatever that meant.

So he presented the learners there with the bright coloured sail cloth marked with charcoal symbols that had served as a flag for Hrun'taras had gone down well as an idea for a shared symbol for the colony... and then no one had come along to make their mark. So if the bull wouldn't go to water, then Orm would bring it to them.

He laid the flag marked with tyren and wood elf symbols down in the square for all to see and he gave that same talk he had before. It came more easily now, with more confidence, born from practice and language learning. About how the bottom stripe of blue was the sea they crossed to get here, about how the top blue was a clear sky they ranged under and in the middle were the golden fields of plenty. That one worked extra good now that the humans had planted grain. And how that new land was theirs, theirs to live in peace. So Orm offered up some charcoal to the teachers of the groups to make their mark should they choose, then everyone from the colony could be shown with pride.

The language man of the Attolians still hadn't apologized for the insult he'd given though, and his leaders had only offered excuses. So when it came the turn of the humans Orm offered it to the Dracos folk first, saying how Maeder had been good to the tyren in the crossing and the exiles had helped them greatly since then and the tyren helped them build their church house... and since they'd come here for similar reasons it seemed right that they make their mark for themselves.

Spoiler: ACTION SUMMARY

Tyren experts are sent to assist the Aymarans in their attempt to train and herd the brutes. A warrior escort is sent along too just in case.
(Anuc and Weome the healers [2 skilled] who have worked with the brutes before. 3 other skilled workers for herding. 10 unskilled shepherds. Rahg and the escort)
Total 5 skilled workers. 10 unskilled. 5 warriors.

Tyren go to the ratkin to help teach them how to survey the land and how to dig proper earthworks. If they accept then they'll work on a joint project of digging wells and sewage works for Hrun'Taras and the rat warrens. (More details can be given for logistics if this goes further)
Total 8 Skilled workers. 15 unskilled.

Orm presents the flag at learners square as a proposed symbol for the colony. Every faction has a chance to make their mark on it next to the Tyren and wood elf symbols.

 

[Enemy Standoo]

A knight of the saints was expected to take many vows on their shoulders, all as displays of devotion, as ways of clearing the mind and spirit of distractions and to teach themselves the value of hardship. One of the most common across the order was to deny one's self wealth and material possessions. Every member of the chapter had experienced this minimal way of life for themselves and embraced the freedom it offered one from the smothering embrace of excess. But on this voyage they were given an insight into what true poverty felt life. The ship swiftly became overcrowded and below decks was turned into an oven by the tightly pressed bodies and the heat each person generated. Personal space became a thing of distant memory and tempers frayed and broke on a daily basis as each member of the chapter found themselves tripping over each other. Then there was the smell! As if the horses weren't bad enough it was almost impossible for a person to bathe.

Sir Abel did his best to keep spirits high, plying his lute on the top decks to add rhythm and rhyme to those at work on the rigging. It went without saying that his chosen songs were of a religious nature for music that brings the voice to be raised should do so in praise of the gracious lady and her cohort. But to Elien's surprise Abel Sancroix did not open with the understated and long form hymns that the chapter master was familiar with but instead favoured tunes of such up-handed tempo that they sounded more at home in a tavern then amongst the knights of Victoria. Yet his lyrics still spoke of her glory and the exploits the saints were famed for.

When Elien questioned him about it on a quieter patch of their journey Sir Abel brightened from his sea addled stupor, happy to oblige. "We must remember, Chapter Master, that it is the duty of the faithful to spread and revere the word. Now I love to hear the choirs echo through the chapel halls as much as the next man, how anyone could not astounds me! Have you ever heard the castrate of the citadel choir, they are simply-" He would go on to ramble about his preferred theories about musical composition until Elien brought him back on track. "Of course, please forgive me, yet this does support my point. We must admit to ourselves that the monks and their more solemn works are not what could be called accessible. The common man lives a tired existence, he looks to the bards to lift his spirits and the uneducated lack the vision to see the subtle beauty of the older songs. When creating music I always ask myself what I am trying to convey and in many of these it is the joy my faith brings me. We each espouse our love for the saints to the heavens so what wrong could there be in expressing that joy and love. Faith is something that should be celebrated, not mourned."

It was an interesting way of looking at it. Elien had never worked as a missionary the way Sir Abel had, she had spent the majority of her years among those that had already accepted the word, having no one to preach to but the metaphorical and literal choir. Sir Abel's brand of philosophy was a more chipper thing than what Elien was used to but she could see how his methods might be a learning subject for her once the chapter's halls were founded.

Then the crow's nest rattled to life. "Land! Land ahead!" The squire shrieked and the deck burst into a maelstrom of frantic activity as tired hands struggled to see the pinprick of shade on the horizon until the knights and senior retinue members cowed them back to their places. It seemed those foundations would be set down sooner that Elien expected.

 

[SpiralErrant]

"I'm starting to rutting hate that cliff." Orm sighed, leaning up against one of the trees dotting the hill.

The cliff opening in the distance was glowing a sinister looking red since they put the bushels in there. First it'd almost buried the hills in gravel and now it was poisoning the elves that went in there or making them sick or something. Orm didn't get it, every time he thought he understood the magics that other folk flaunted around with ease. It was hard enough for him to learn words that the merchant wagons called on from the thin air and all their know how. Didn't stop everybody from looking at him like he was supposed to know everything. That was being chief for you. They'd called him great when Hrun'Taras was getting set up, who knew what they'd call him if those elves died.

The springborn had been rushed to the healers guild. All the best healers in the colony were already there and the tyren had to send their magic that way anyway. Orm had heard from Anuc about how the secrets of that book had helped her healing arts... along with some other things. Ummush hadn't been too happy about it and the two of them had taken to sulking in the shade. At least he hadn't sent anyone to their deaths.

["Anuc tells me you gave her quite the fright a while ago."] He started up in their own tongue.

Ummush just gave that wheezing sigh he so often gave.

["I always figured you were just old."] Orm offered again, swishing his tail around the sitting shaman's horn in playful jest. Ummush never laughed much though so it fell flat on the dirt, leaving Orm to awkwardly try and shoulder the conversation on. ["It's magic or somethin' aint it? I know... I know we said we'd have secrets from each other, chief and shaman, year and care are tough things to be and all that... but is there more you need to tell me?"] Damn, he didn't know how to do these kinds of things. Every day Orm had to wake up listening for the deadly things that were waiting for them in these lands and nothing anyone said could shake the feeling that each life in these hills was on his shoulders. Not that anyone had said anything to calm those nerves anyway. The three graves far off stared him down each day, now it looked like the child elves in their care were on their way out too. He didn't want to even imagine placing Ummush into the ground, not for a long time yet. The shaman had been old since Orm had known him and that was all his life... and Orm wasn't a young bull anymore. Living without him around just wasn't something the chief's blunt imagination could do.

["I'm just meaning... if there's anything you need... anything you want you can tell me. Other folk don't need to see what you don't want, it can all come through me. We're not tent folk no more, Mush, you don't have to set up far off from everyone else anymore. I wouldn't want you to... and I don't think they would either."] Maybe he was rambling now. Orm thought he was anyway. ["Anuc'd help you if you asked her, I think she's charging to."]

["She's a stronger one."] Ummush finally let out in a deep whisper.

["Yeah."] Orm said, taken aback by the sudden reply. He was too used to their conversations being one sided. ["She's a wizard now, right?"]

["No."] Ummush didn't bother shaking his head. ["But getting stronger. Folks look at her like a good one. You look at her."]

["Well I aint dead."] Orm muttered, looking down at his hooves and moving the dust around them awkwardly.

["A chief's mate should be strong. Makes a good line if you want them chosen. If you want to be a king in a town now."] There was something like an accusation in his tone but Orm wouldn't call him on it.

["That aint happenin' anyway."] He'd also fallen for the old bull's way of changing the subject.

This wasn't the first time they'd brought up this subject, of Orm taking a mate. He'd lived of course, though he'd never made a yearling of his own. Ummush didn't have to ask why. Orm went out of his way to avoid it, because he was afraid, scared that if he did then the kid would come out like him. Living under the gloom of the same shadow that walked at his back. For all his size and strength Ummush saw what really fueled Orm's unnatural rage. Fear. As a yearling he'd feared the whip, feared the knife, feared being left alone in the dark by all those that didn't want him. Bruul had seen it too, the anxiety that riddled the chief like worms and he worked so hard to hide. The second ring had put forward his idea that it was this weakening emotion that had helped Orm take control of the blood like so few of his kind had before him. Ummush had snapped at his aprentice that day and told him to not speak of things he didn't understand. They didn't speak of it to him much but they saw that Orm's worries had never left him, they'd just changed and grown. Now instead of fearing for himself he did it for others that he saw as too weak to survive without him.

He took these things too personally, Ummush always thought. He'd take the elves close to his heat too. He only hoped that the healers would find something for them. Or Bruul and the elf mage in the town as they went over the bark tome. They had sent the tome to the starting mage guild and they'd met Ummush half way in travelling to see him when they could. He had his pride and didn't care for being coddled... but he didn't mind having this comfy house and getting to rest as others came to him.

["We will work things out."] He said to Orm. ["We'll get by."]

Spoiler: Action summary

The 4 sick elves are sent to the healers guild under the care of all those that work there.

The bark tome is sent to the mage's guild in hope the elf mage can translate. Ummush works with them where he can but preferes not to stay in the platz long. Orm asks Bruul and the elf mage to work in Hrun'Taras when they can for the elderly shaman's sake. It's his hope that they'll be able to teach new treesingers among the elves and keep the wood elf way of life.

Edit to previous post: I forgot to add the twin leaf plants to the farmers guild. The tyren set up little stone walled patches of farm land on their hills early on for it but haven't brought the light foods to market. My bad.

 

[Beckoncall]

"Fruits of Attolian Research":

Nicholas' scope of projects had him spread waaaaay too thin... but he was having the time of his life. Caelis apparently had not wanted to abandon many avenues of exploration for the artificer's research, so he had every piston in his brain working overtime and multiple experiments going at any given time all through the Fall season... the scope of his task would have seemed impossible if it were not almost absurdly well funded (-3 wealth!) and the very best skilled workers, in decent number were assigned to him to accomplish his tasks. Still, Nicholas felt that fewer applications for study would have produced greater results, though he hoped useful applications for each avenue Lord Caelis requested would be useful in some respect.

The first discovery made were prototype Piston-Reactive weapons -- basically lances or pole-arms that were spring-loaded to provide extra punch. The first working models had been fabricated and future armaments if produced by skilled smiths could all be assumed to adopt the technology. Sacrifices in power were made for reliability and durability -- and sadly the pistons would only fire once before needing to be re-tooled for longer than was likely practical in melee... still, they did not compromise the weapons use after discharging so they would give Attolian lancers, pikemen, and halbardiers an impressive and surprising first strike receiving or making a charge...

Spar-Crystal spell storage as a project did not pan out -- while power words could be stored in the crystals, the associated mana did not infuse or when it did, faded too quickly for practical applications. A far secondary application was that if the words could be stored, messages could be inscribed on the crystals, which might have value or merit for archival or communications purposes... If anything were to come of it, it would be for Nicholas to decide.

Automaton-Augmented Constructs -- There was simply too much to do, even over a whole season to give enough love to this project. Not only did Nicholas not have time with all his experiments to get on building constructs Caelis ordered if time permitted, the only constructs created were the ones associated with the piston project. The good news was that six had been designed, and all six were functioning. Small stone golems, approximately 3 feet tall -- they were reinforced by a primitive endoskeleton akin to the clockwork soldiers that inspired the research. As such they would likely prove harder to destroy, and require less engineering and/or mage involvement to keep them active. For what applications they would be used for, Caelis had given no word -- They could be fit with slightly articulated stone paws or more dangerous blade or morningstar attachments....
(ATTOLIANS GAIN SIX (6) SMALL AUGMENTED STONE CONSTRUCTS -- They can be fitted (and refitted) for labor or battle purposes)

Thermal Hydraulics -- THIS project yielded the greatest results, in no small part to Caelis at least indicating this project was a priority. So far, the technology had created a "lift boot/saddle assembly that enabled plate-wearing knights to mount their horses quickly without use of a miniature crane or ample manual labor. It took practice, but it gave the Sundered Kings new freedom in getting into and out of the saddle rapidly. A second project, which didn't quite work yet (or at least it's safety could not be assured) was the mobile elevated guard platform. Basically a hydraulic lift elevating a metal platform above a lockable-wheeled base, this could quickly enable soldiers to create or akin to a mini-siege tower capture higher ground. While the supports accordioned out to full height it was vulnerable, but once locked in position it could enable pikemen to not only strike from out of range or attackers, but from higher ground and relative safety. So far the prototype didn't work yet -- or if it did, it would have to be field tested or baptized by fire in a moment of need...


Peaceful Augmentatives: A scroll-copying machine was invented by Nicholas during his first musings with the automaton arm. By syncing various wires and pulleys to one's arm and a mechanical replica, you could write two copies of a scroll in the time it normally took one -- as the arm would copy every gesture via the odd contraption. Besides that, Small "piston-lifts" further augmented building efforts, able to rise building materials to heights easier than brute manpower, and also support structures while they were being built to enable more rapid assembly. Nicholas wondered if this technology was better kept soley in the hands of the attolians, or shared with the entire colony... Rapid growth in housing might encourage increased immigration or at the very least make sure all present colonists had dwellings of their own and not cramped conditions as they waited for adequate housing!

"Bramble-Gem Lighting" : This was a project more associated with Lady Cassandra and Attolian Engineering workers -- the first batches of "Continual Lanterns" would soon be ready for sale at the luxury guild. Simple bramble gems infused with mana cassandra channeled from the blood fountain, they could be tapped to emit a reddish or more wholesome white glow in as far as a 30 foot radius, making them practical as house lighting, street illumination, and portable (inexhaustable) lanterns.... definitely a product for the LUXURIES GUILD... though supply was not likely to meet demand unless the Attolians found a way to harvest them themselves, or could motivate the Tyren to go get more from the swamps they were found in!

 

[Beckoncall]

"Freelance Hero for Hire -- Ask for Helesoune!" --

Taking up residence in a suite above the strange but aptly named inn "Donkey-Rats!" -- Helesoune, Heroine and champion of the Imperial Trade Company had, since being healed and let free by the Ratkin, hung a shingle at the inn...

"1 wealth retainer for specific tasks -- no adventure too small, few tasks too perilous. I quest 'til the problem rest!"

 

[Beckoncall]

Enemy Standoo NorthOfOrdinary :

"THUMBNAIL SKETCH OF EXPLORED TERRITORY" -- (this is information new settlers would quickly get from maps and/or initial exploration -- it is basically a canvas for the areas you can begin to wander and the best picture I can give until a physical map is complete (not THAT far off):

"There is a beach with various colonial vessels, some beached, some wrecked, some anchored. There is a great shark-fishing operation at the beach, and an impressive dock. Above this is "The sandslope" the only way up to the top of the cliffs for miles in either direction -- it's basically a near 45 degree slog up the slope to an area called "the depression -- which is actually a mysterious footprint, where the heel formed the beach and the depression is an area below the top of the cliffs that is a valley of sorts -- There is a shantytown here where the poorer people of the colony live, there is also a cargo lift here where freight can be moved from the top of the slope to the beach and vice-versa. Each "Toe" of the depression is a small cul-de-sac a couple of which are sufficiently shady most of the day -- one of these cul-de-sacs contains a graveyard. The "Big Toe" slopes up into a flattened ruin that is the current central area of commerce for the colony, "The 'Platz" -- Attolians and some Exiles live here, as well as a central market for the colony. From the platz (which is the top of the cliff) the land stretches out a forward 180 degrees as far as the eye can see. There is a fountain of blood in a plaza in the north part of the platz, there is also an Inn on the south-side. In the center of the Platz is a massive grating that is the main (but by no means only) entrance to a massive sewer complex beneath the platz which also assumingly spans indefinitely west under the deeper areas of the ruins west of the Platz -- Ruins which are HORRENDOUSLY haunted. The sewers are occuppied by large numbers of Cappybaras (donkey rats) which are a primary protein source for the colony. Also in the sewers in a centralized area live the Aymarans -- extremely stupid and hostile crocadile people that joined the colony relatively late. If one explores where the sewers lead back towards the cliff, in various places it DOES turn into salt-lined caves containing made from force of waves and salt air percolating up the cliffs from below. It is unknown how habitable these caves are, but they are occupied by some predatory fauna, though nothing a fierce and wary colonist might not be able to handle. The sewer itself is enormous and vaulting and might be perfectly appropriate, if territoriality with Aymarans can be negotiated. Also in the sewers increasingly observed imps of some kind are rumored to be spying on the colonists... so bear that in mind.

To re-orient, put the 'platz in the center: Below, the sewers. West, sprawling ruins (mostly flattened, with more intact ruins far far to the west. East of the Platz is a stand of 4 ENORMOUS TREES (several hundred feet high) beyond which is a river-valley, but it is well known that in the spring meltwater from higher lands in the north completely floods this riverbed to the top. By fall the river is narrow in the riverbed and calm, in spring it is deep and torrential. Beyond the river to the east is a deep wood, the area closer to the cliffs is populated by extremely hostile "mud elves" -- the primary enemies of the colony, and the north part of the woods upriver is populated by an unknown number of gnolls -- who are unstably teetering on hostilities with the colony.

Due north of the 'Platz is "Boulder Field" which is an expanse of farmland that is being cleared of boulders by the colonists -- it's assumed this is rock ejected from the ruin when the former city (now ruin) was destroyed. In the shade of the giant trees is an area called "Shadowfields" because it is never quite sunny there at any time of day.

North of boulder/shadowfield is a hilly territory occupied by the Tyren and their livestock -- Minotaur nomads. North of that is a sheer slate cliff, aptly named "Shearcliffs" which serves as a steep border to the north running east beyond the river (there is a waterfall there, and the river again becomes a falls at the cliffs) Living with the Tyren are minority of wood elves.

West of here are more hills which eventually give way to swamps further north where the shearcliffs no longer block the way inland. There is also a strange tower/spire amid these hills.

West of the Platz is the ruins, as mentioned -- but before the deeper haunted ruins are more intact structures being restored by the high elves amid their temporary pavillions.
The deeper ruins (and the platz itself) are riddled with entrances to the sewer, but the haunted ruins also lead to various underground areas and structures. It is rumored that parts of the ruins had recently been cleared of restless spirits, but there are plans to develop housing in those areas -- perhaps you could negotiate ownership of some of the larger sub-surface non-sewer areas (likely would need to be negotiated with the high elves or Attolians)

Somewhere beneath the fields supposedly the ratkin have their warrens -- but nobody but the ratkin seem certain where the entrances are or how extensive they are -- they were the last faction to arrive at the colony (but they will have months to burrow before you arrive!) so communicating with them could be fruitful. "

 

[Beckoncall]

Enemy Standoo :

"Land! Land ahead!" -- The Order of St. Victoria had MADE IT! -- the lost continent rose up like a wall before them, seeming to devour the horizon as completely as it devoured the attention of all on deck, and all that could get up to it... wisely the sailing folk and regular discipline was quickly brought back into order for it was barely much time later that the GREAT BARRIER -- a SHIELD of GOLDEN LIGHT only visible at short range, suddenly loomed high in the sky above the ship. Crew at ready, a lesser force might have ended their voyage abruptly then and there, but instead they corrected course for what was obviously a large wavering triangular slice in the field of light that must be the "passage" they had been aiming for. Far behind them they'd hoped the Imperial Trading vessel and Immigrant Transport still followed -- but a strong wind and what threatened to be harsh weather had separated them days ago. Seeing the one slope in the cliffs was a dead-giveaway as to where the colony must have made landfall -- and the Order was initially greatly impressed with the port that seemed new, pristine, and build to greet them -- a strong and artfully erected sea-wall enclosed much of the shallows of the landing beach -- beyond which beautifully crafted and sturdily assembled docks waited invitingly for them to make landing.

It was almost in moments the full company of new settlers were on deck, then off the ship with all of their equipment on this strange new land and shore -- Elves, men, and Great Reptile creatures all seemed to be fishing from the sea-wall... though whether the reptiles were "settlers" or some kind of beast of burden was not immediately apparent. Off to one side of the beach seemed to be the footprint of a beached vessel that had been stripped for wood to the east, and to the west a fully intact, sail-less vessel had been run aground and now seemed to be lit up from within as some kind of barracks for rough-looking people, totally not out of place for a port-district. The back of the beach meeting the cliffs had all sorts of improvised fishing constructions, and equipment, and apparatus, but the central focus seemed to be a great cable-lift that the "Exiles of the Port" as they called themselves welcomed The Knights and their retinue to use to lift their supplies off the beach and up onto the cliffs.

"High Elf Shinies dun made this lift, but everybody so far hasn' been held offer of it's use! Ye all welcome, we simpler folk here, down at the beach and the depression above. You want politics and a caring for naught than fish? You go up until you reach DA PLATZ!"

...And so it was. The Order marched (or rode as befit them) up the steep sandslope, many holding the freight-cables themselves for purchase as they climbed. Hundreds of feet to the top of the cliff, the devout and many other newcomers stopped to rest at what seemed to be the only real structure built on the ascent -- It was a Temple to some West-Pagan Dragon cult... unremarkably named "Dracos" -- But despite it being obvious that St. Victoria's men and women were of a wholly different faith, they were still heartily welcomed.

"The Dragon Goddess, and the people who worship her value freedom and independence over all, respect our faith and we shant be making hell for any of y'all holy holies... in fact we have water and humble repast for them that need... we just concluded our services for the day so we've got 'freshment for the rest of yer climb!"

A giant of a man, his body a maze of veins crawling boundless tracts of muscle came out of the temple and strode to the knights of St. Victoria, and Lady Elien in particular:

"I am Baez. Once Barbarian of the north, scorned for murderous deed -- now first priest of the Dragon Goddess Dracos. Who or what is your faith, and doth it have any standing on ours? We are freedmen, and above all want to see men free... it is my hope we can leave gods to sort out their own agendas in the heavens and leave us to relate with each other in peace. However, if it's a fight for "A true faith" you're after, you've been warned that neither or god nor us will bow. We'll offer you water, we'll shake your hands as friends... but if it's some struggle over heresy yer after... well the freemen try to oblige in all things."

The giant of a man stands waist-high with the mounted knights and cracks the knuckles of both hands on a wind-beaten holy book. If he expected a reply he gave the impression he certainly didn't need one, resuming conversation with his flock as the more affluent seeming made their way up the slope and the sailors at the services began their descent.

They would later see that the Seawall-port was in stark contrast to the "colony" above -- that seemed more than anything a patchwork of stone structures rising in defiance out of a giant ruin, a disturbing blood-fountain, and some town crier trying to lure everyone to the Inn with promises of a local delicacy... "Shark a la Rat" ... or was it Rat a la Shark?

...It was both. What lay before them was at the same time awe inspiring to some, a shocking if not depressing reality for others, and others still just drank in the scent of land, that the order was finally here, out of that accursed wooden latrine, and surely in for the adventure of their lives...

 

[Beckoncall]

SpiralErrant :

["Well I aint dead."] Orm Muttered...

...There was a brief spark in the conversation from Ummush at this juncture in the conversation... something else that curried out the almost accusational tone of the great shaman as he lead the conversation away from himself and onto the Chief. It had been a long time since anybody had been this curious about how... about WHAT Ummush might be doing, what he might be dealing with... but the older he got the more he expected questions. Just how old was he? He was the oldest Tyren in the caravan... but by how much? Ummush loved Orm, and truly believed in his potential and grand but undiscernable fate -- so when the conversation took it's next pause... he decided to, this once, refrain from his eternal stoicism. He spoke more seemingly in one breath that night than Orm had ever heard him talk when not relating stories from the plates. It was Ummush the Tyren, Not Ummush the Shaman that spoke to him, for the first time to him, to anyone living today among the tribe.

["We are both Tyren with Curses, 'Great-Chief' -- you have spoken words that a high shaman should not worry his chief with, and you have spoken them right, We are both stubborn and both Cursed. For you it is as all know that you are blood-touched, you bear the mark of rage that will always haunt you... and I? My curse is... well, Great-Chief.... it is a Curse by any name our folk would call it. The last Tyren to ask me of my health as you have, I delivered his difficult birth into this world, and I too calmly escorted him from this life as well, and somewhere in-between those sunsets I told THAT 'great-chief' much as I'll tell you. I have been great Shaman longer than even I remember, and I, being the holder of the Caravan's record have been careful custodian to the effect that this is not a fact of note. I have gone by many names in the plates -- but it was always Ummush, going as far back as great Ssur (an ancient one indeed!)... Great Ssur grew tired of his burden much faster than I, though he bore it long... I have carried it ever longer than any Tyren was meant to graze in one world and perhaps longer than any other high shaman... but since the beginning of the caravans, our baggage-train carried this special burden -- back when all the caravans were one -- and it was the duty of the great shaman to bear it for his chief, his circles, and his people. It is something we brought with us from a forgotten past, and carried with us long before we saw the Muurdaan rise up to run us about, maybe something we'll carry after the Muurdaan melt back into the soup they rose from... There might have always been elves, but Tyren have seen lands of men rise and fall before, Great Ssur had said... and I've seen enough to believe that. Never worry about my health again, never ask me if I suffer. My burden is not some Black that you can label, limit, or envision. Shul's ghosts are bound or blind to it -- it is my mystery, and until a day comes that this must change, we both will carry our curses keeping our own worried counsel, and a stern brow about it to them that wish they could aid us carry what is soley ours to bear. Great-Chief... keep my secret, carry it to your grave, so that I might be there to ease you into it, as I have done for many a Chief... not many I've had as high hopes for as you. Could I dare a dream of rest, or resolution, it would be at the crossroads of a Tyren born under your stars -- but I do not see salvation of my curse in any chief any more than you'd expect salvation from yours by taking the strongest of brides to sire your line."

He paused again.

["Keep the secret that I am Dead, Orm. I have been dead for some great time... or at least this creaking husk is... I will not do what would be called for to breathe more life into it. I carry on, I serve the caravan, and I serve my chief, and the next, and the next if such is my fate. One Winter I will pass on my burden, and woe betide the next Tyren that shoulders it. You have spoken the words, and spoken them rightly -- exactly as I had been asked those hundreds of years ago... the only other time I had been moved to explain. Keep my secret, great-chief... and take it to your grave as your grand predecessor did."]

Orm had no words to answer in that moment... he'd not find them before The great Shaman departed.

"Time to tend to those springborn... maybe we get the help we need from the outsiders. Pity for a lifeline like that to be cut short!"

And in that moment, Ummush did something else that night that Orm had never witnessed in all his born days. He laughed loud and long, before he limped into the night towards the mages guild....

 

[Enemy Standoo]

They build in grandeur on the sands while squatting amid ruins. Elien thought to herself as she took in the patchwork offering of a settlement before them.

A truly bizarre dichotomy after taking in the beautiful appearance of the white wood docks and firm masonry of the seawall. All through the voyage Elien had been mentally bracing herself to be faced with the worst. A land overrun with man eating horrors and the desiccated remains of the poor souls that had unwittingly consigned themselves to this damned voyage. At best perhaps they'd devolved into some renegade state of brigands and buccaneers. The greeting she had been met with had almost put her mind at ease, seeming like any port district in the empire, almost anyway.

The hedge priest from that dilapidated excuse of a church had been quick to mark his territory and as anuninformed fresh arrival Elien had been in no position to open on the aggressive. The savage hadn't even waited for a reply, still the chapter had acquitted themselves well to the congregation, graciously accepting aid and exchanging pleasantries. The order had learned to exist next to other faiths in foreign lands and knew when to be friendly and when not to be.

A dragon of all things. And naming it Dracos, which of the uninspired wretches thought that up? Yet despite its lack of creativity the name did ring a bell. Elien had been certain to learn all she could of her knights when their roster was being formed and made a note to inquire with Sir Magda at a later time. Until then they would let the word of their faith speak for itself.

For now they had more basic needs to tend to. The squires and other retinue members had crowded into the common room of the slap dash tavern known as "Donkey Rats" and were testing the dubious menu in their free moments. Others explored the streets, getting a lay of the land and simply enjoying the feel of it under their feet. The knights with their own mounts ranged and came back with what sights they'd found for themselves and what couldn't be learned from talking to the locals.

With their next direction clear, Elien called an assembly of the knights. "The state of the colony is perhaps not what you were each suspecting, but this may still prove beneficial for our chapter. This 'Platz Settlement' as they call it has had clear work put into it, yet still lacks form and calls for guidance. This is a duty and a chance that falls to us. It has always been the calling of our order to spread the cleansing influence of law and civilisation and here we find a land in dire need of Victoria's presence."

Their first task was to establish a chapter house and lighthouse tower. The latter especially struck out to Elien. The frontal façade of the colony had come along splendidly but these docks lacked their guiding light, especially with knowledge of the ships following in their wake. A rota of duties was drawn up as Elien entrusted the scouting of a prime location for the lighthouse to the more experienced members of the order. All the appropriate materials and labour that could be spared was given over to the knights with knowledge of construction.

With all the shattered foundations making up the town it appeared that they wouldn't run short of stone. It was even hoped that they might find some half standing remains of what they designed to build upon. Elien would have liked to carry on her own trade's fledgling education, and perhaps she would have a chance in the coming days but as chapter master it was her own duty to announce their arrival to the governor of the colony, whoever they may be. From what she'd seen it appeared there was still hope of a proper hierarchy of order in this patchwork town.

She would not go alone for now, with an escort of the devout and a brief accompaniment of other knights before her orange garbed cohorts split off. Know the land and the people, those were their orders as they tentatively began the search for the Corvus magistrate and a gap in the power structure the order could occupy.

Spoiler: Orders

The Big Job
The knights are sent to scout out the best location for a base of operations and placement for a lighthouse (somewhere overlooking the beach) and to begin construction.
The project can be split into two, the garrison building and the lighthouse, however the two are linked with the lighthouse tower being joined onto the building in a similar way to a church steeple.

Staff list includes:
75 Squires
20 monks (directing the squires, handing out water ect)
Knights with specialties:
Sir Arran Hawe (mining)
Sir Tarkus (Masonry)
Sir Prisha (Engineering)
Sir Margaret Kinsey (Metalworking)

Resources: 2 units of fine limestone. Usable stone from ground level ruins.

Side jobs
Some of the other knights are sent to scout the current state of the colony in more detail and mingle among the people according to their specialty.

Staff list:
Sir Ravalla (Lawyer)
Sir Abel Sancroix (Bardcraft)
Sir Domision (Economist)
Sir Zita Karkov(Woodsmanship)

 

[Beckoncall]

NorthOfOrdinary :

Ambience:



"SIXTEEN MILES!!!"

The calls went about on deck of the Reinen ship -- it had been a SPLENDID voyage -- gentle rains kept water stocks high, Ample fishing, and despite a week of strange lights occasionally seen behind the Transport -- nothing became of it... Some even went as far as to refer to the voyage as "A day by the lake.", such was the high spirits and warm hearts of the Reinen. Discipline got a bit lax, and beer kegs started getting cracked in anticipation for the arrival at the barrier. At this point proclamations of devotion and intent to work hard in the new world went up in rousing choruses. The grim Defenders of the faith, usually all too quick to enforce a stiff upper lip on deck -- stayed their hands this time. If arrival brought disillusionment, better to have the people enjoy this high while it was still on offer... nobody had illusions that the new world would be easy, many wondered if any would be heard from again. But the divine had seen them safely to this foreign shore -- and as their craft glided through the crack in the barrier -- exactly where their maps predicted -- it was an almost spiritual experience in that alone, crossing a golden thresh-hold into an unforseeable adventure -- a beautiful beach, towering cliffs, and the promise of greenery hanging from the top of them. They were coming home.

The holy Princess, Charlotte -- seemed aglow in gold even before, and ever more after the passing through the barrier. The previous Prince, her father -- had run afoul of the Muurdaan, and her congregation was left with a choice of this liberating exile, or some kind of diplomatic marriage for their leader -- a prospect neither Charlotte nor her retinue would consider. Her eyes beamed meeting the eyes of her followers, singing and praying excitedly for this the final leg of their journey. They mourned terribly for her father -- who was a grand leader and not only the cornerstone of the groups faith, but an aspirant to so much more... dreams and prophesy that the pricess hoped she might see come to pass in her own reign. The loss of her father almost destroyed their community -- but Charlotte was their silver lining. She put all she loved in the old world behind her, and in her golden gown (one of the vestments of her authority) she had taken her own oaths to carry her people's faith the new lands and new heights. Her people had seen her grow up gracefully before their eyes, and was well loved before the voyage set sail -- but she came into her own as a leader during the voyage. Taking shrewd counsel, inspiring in deed and word as best she could -- she was more than a figure for a cult of personality -- she was the absolute ruler and guiding hand of her people. There was too much proximity to each of the faithful, an ear or a word for every Oberst among the families -- Her power cemented, accepted, embraced... and she'd do the best she can.

Now the new world flew forward it seemed as their ship raced to meet it. The high-cliffs, the sandslope... an impressive seawall and docks made up a rather striking and artistically elegant port -- with a tiny fishing shanty town behind it,
mostly seemingly grown out of a beached ship that has since become what looks like either a flophouse or a brothel.

Despite the smell of fish (it seems sharks are the primary catch her on the colony's coast) the beach is strikingly well kept... the mess of the fishing generally kept in and around the business dwellings.

Charlotte and her people are greeted warmly by "The Exiles" -- worshippers of "Dracos" (not they can't stop talking about their goddess!), they seem free spirited, generally warm, a bit proud for their lank and filth -- but decent people. The exiles are happy to see more colonists arriving, saying "The Tinners of St. Vector" had arrived not long before them. Indeed, she could see the other ship, it's sails and flags flying the banners of "St. Victoria" -- some kind of lore-monestary that the Muurdaan seem to leave alone.

Like hotel porters, the "Exiles" almost insistently help unload the Reinen and their baggage -- Which considering how generous the sea was, seemed plentiful -- they had a good bit more extra food on hand than they anticipated to land with, and scant repairs left plenty of wood and tools and other construction materials for them to start their new lives. Their cargo, and even some of their people, were lifted by cable up the sandslope to the top of the cliffs high above, and were thankful for not having to make so much of the rise.

At the top of sandslope was "the Depression" -- which as it's name suggested, was not just a pit at the foot of the clifftop, it was a pretty depressing clutch of wood and stone-cobbled huts, hutches and lean-tos... the humble "exiles"
lived here also -- some men and women brought freshly cracked nuts that apparently grew somewhere around in this ditch, and they were delicious! -- The Reinen were still in high spirits, but they wondered if this was the entirety of the "Colony" -- or if it would fall to them to make one themselves.

Above the depression they found the 'Platz, and the beautiful high-elf music the bards sang at the Attolian Inn -- the wind rumored of watered-down ale and surprisingly fine wine... seemingly the central gathering place in this literal ruin that was slowly being reclaimed by humans, elves, and whatever other strange folk dwelled here. They were told about the immediate area - the vast farmlands north of the platz, something called "the learning square" where the different races strove to understand each other. Here in the 'Platz besides the inn it seemed one side of this ruin was a growing clutch of fancy elven houses on one end, and a much larger spreading sprawl of human stone structures to the east. Beyond the ruin to the east three trees, hundreds of feet high with trunks as thick as towers -- easily the biggest trees any Reinen had ever seen, even in the deepest parts of thier black forests.

The ruins seemed to span endlessly to the west -- getting more intact the further one looked inward. The smell and sound of a river blew in from the east... and the Reinen found themselves standing in the merchant district -- all manner of strange food -- mushrooms, herb-plants, giant rats, shark-meat, and more -- tastes offered to them by minotaurs and even what appeared to be a frustrated crocodile standing upright trying to speak common. "Break of Salt! You Lick! You Like!" it barked. The Minotaurs seemed miles from the creatures of myth and vague history -- painted as violent berserkers and raiders, these Bull-men and Women seemed gentle and pastoral... one of the their healers, "Weome" rubbed some kind of slick off of her dress and curtsied for the Princess, an attolian gesture done in perfect form.

In the plaza ahead it looked like some giant forbidding tomb-like structure (the only indigenous structure standing amid the ruins) -- a vault of some kind, brooded it's shadow over a park square that... No kidding -- was spouting and trickling BLOOD. Everyone seemed to go about their business around it. A Tomb and a bloody fountain... a few blocks east was the biggest sewer-grate the Reinen had ever seen -- belying a great sewer beneath the ruin that long ago ceased it's stenches and now just ran it's waters peacefully.

Charlotte and her group came to a stop pretty much in the middle of the Platz, with all their belongings and people, and assorted gear, and began to regard their surroundings and neighbors... It seemed the ruin was trying to raise itself -- while farther to the north it seemed people preferred to build, farm, and live on the plains and hills to the north.

All Reinen eyes fell on Charlotte and her Defenders. Where would they settle the first night? where might they settle for good?! The exiles seemed to eye longingly the fresh supply of beer the Reinen brought -- but none were uncivil -- and not far from here it could be seen a great collectin and whirl of activity of the other new arrivals... those "Knights of St. Victoria...."

What to do? Where to go? And what of all to say of all this?!

Out-tro:

 

[NorthOfOrdinary]

Charlotte looked upon her followers, awash with excitement. They were here, in the new world, and the time had come to make their place. One of her Defenders provided a soap box and helped the young woman rise above her congregation. She was small, dwarfing the minotaurs in the market, but her soul was bold and her voice attention-getting. "Let us pray!"

One of the Elders led the Reinen in thanking their god for the safe and pleasant voyage across the sea. They sought mercy, strength, and endurance for the coming tasks. They pledged themselves to purifying this new land. Afterwards, Charlotte's voice once again sung forth.

"Men, women, and children of the Faith...my Reinen brothers and sisters! We have escaped the empire, but our hardship does not end yet. Rest today, in the name of our lord, and be ready to rise early tomorrow. At dawn, we shall set about finding our new home! Be careful. Be faithful. Rejoice in our new future together."

Finding board for the night would be simple; they still had the ship. It wasn't a permanent home however, and they needed to find a place to settle and build while energy was still high. She conferred with the elders on the details of their plan, worked out over the voyage, and set about finding the rulers of the city.

The Defenders, save for the one that followed Charlotte, set about organizing the Volk and the Miliz before leaving on their own mission.

Charlotte kindly approached one of the street vendors, giving a warm smile as she looked over the wares and offered coin for a fresh fruit. "This land, can you tell me more about it?"

Spoiler: Orders

All Reinen are to continue living on the ship. Contact with the other factions is to remain friendly, but minimal. No one is allowed to leave the ship in groups smaller than five, or without justification important to maintaining the community. All Reinen are to be kept away from the blood fountain, under suspicion of it being evil. No one, save for the Reinen, are allowed aboard the ship.

The Volk and Obersteinen are tasked with preparing their belongings for travel. Rest is encouraged. The Elders will remain with them.

The Miliz is split between defending and enforcing rules aboard the ship, and protecting the supplies that have already been unloaded and cached on the cliffs.

The Kesselflicken are tasked with preparing communal cargoes for travel and planning how best to take apart the ship for its lumber when the time comes to leave the port. They may begin disassembling parts not essential for it to remain a seafaring vessel.

The Defenders of the Faith have the most important task to date. One, will accompany Charlotte for her protection. The other four, will travel together north and scout for a place to build a settlement.

Criteria for finding a spot is to be judged on the following grounds, ranked in order of importance.

1. Plenty of clear land for farming, ranching, and growing food.
2. A river flowing through, or alongside the tract of land.
3. Forests skirting, amongst, or otherwise near the tract of land.

Preference given to a spot of land closely matching the old country.


Princess Charlotte and her guard will seek audience with the government of the current colony to discuss their plans. She also wishes to find out more about the population, various factions, and the surrounding geography, from the people on the streets.

 

[Beckoncall]

NorthOfOrdinary

Charlotte looked upon her followers, awash with excitement. They were here, in the new world, and the time had come to make their place. One of her Defenders provided a soap box and helped the young woman rise above her congregation. She was small, dwarfing the minotaurs in the market, but her soul was bold and her voice attention-getting. "Let us pray!"

One of the Elders led the Reinen in thanking their god for the safe and pleasant voyage across the sea. They sought mercy, strength, and endurance for the coming tasks. They pledged themselves to purifying this new land. Afterwards, Charlotte's voice once again sung forth.

"Men, women, and children of the Faith...my Reinen brothers and sisters! We have escaped the empire, but our hardship does not end yet. Rest today, in the name of our lord, and be ready to rise early tomorrow. At dawn, we shall set about finding our new home! Be careful. Be faithful. Rejoice in our new future together."

Finding board for the night would be simple; they still had the ship. It wasn't a permanent home however, and they needed to find a place to settle and build while energy was still high. She conferred with the elders on the details of their plan, worked out over the voyage, and set about finding the rulers of the city.

The Defenders, save for the one that followed Charlotte, set about organizing the Volk and the Miliz before leaving on their own mission.

Charlotte kindly approached one of the street vendors, giving a warm smile as she looked over the wares and offered coin for a fresh fruit. "This land, can you tell me more about it?"

Spoiler: Orders

All Reinen are to continue living on the ship. Contact with the other factions is to remain friendly, but minimal. No one is allowed to leave the ship in groups smaller than five, or without justification important to maintaining the community. All Reinen are to be kept away from the blood fountain, under suspicion of it being evil. No one, save for the Reinen, are allowed aboard the ship.

The Volk and Obersteinen are tasked with preparing their belongings for travel. Rest is encouraged. The Elders will remain with them.

The Miliz is split between defending and enforcing rules aboard the ship, and protecting the supplies that have already been unloaded and cached on the cliffs.

The Kesselflicken are tasked with preparing communal cargoes for travel and planning how best to take apart the ship for its lumber when the time comes to leave the port. They may begin disassembling parts not essential for it to remain a seafaring vessel.

The Defenders of the Faith have the most important task to date. One, will accompany Charlotte for her protection. The other four, will travel together north and scout for a place to build a settlement.

Criteria for finding a spot is to be judged on the following grounds, ranked in order of importance.

1. Plenty of clear land for farming, ranching, and growing food.
2. A river flowing through, or alongside the tract of land.
3. Forests skirting, amongst, or otherwise near the tract of land.

Preference given to a spot of land closely matching the old country.


Princess Charlotte and her guard will seek audience with the government of the current colony to discuss their plans. She also wishes to find out more about the population, various factions, and the surrounding geography, from the people on the streets.

Charlotte's orders take to the wind and with them the hearts and hands of those she commands. As the Reinen mobilized, she conducted her initial inquiries with the local merchants.

"AYMARANS KILL! EAT! GET FAT! YOU BUY SALT!" an Aymaran "Cunning" exclaims... the other merchants explain that Aymarans are NOT generally smart -- but they're ALL dangerous. The ones that ARE smart are doubly so. This one is selling very refined preservative salt... it smells clean and almost anticeptic.

Attolian and Exile merchants are easier to glean information from:

"Right honorable lady, most of the humans that arrived first for the colony are Attolians, subjects of the just and good lord Caelis Wulf. He leads with a light hand... some would say too light -- but I tell you I think the task of combing the scattered bits of colony together is hard and takes more time than the common folk appreciate. We got no formal government -- every group of colonists gets along pretty well, at least on the surface... the elves are a bit high in their seats for many folks tastes, but that's because they can't appreciate the Highborn of the West 'Platz and the Springborn Woodsies to the north are on a different kind of schedule as most other mortals... we're too kurt for their tastes I guess, because our lifespans don't give us the luxury of such grandiose custom and frippery. They're good folk tho -- and skilled. They want to be friends with humans, and fought beside us to repel the mud-elves... heck... if you don't cross the river you likely don't have to worry about them, the whole colony taught them a good lesson the last time they tried to attack us... but we reckon they'll be back to see if we got weak over the winter. We certainly took a chunk out of them we did!"

A lady exile merchant steps in at this point, eager to make commune with this new and gilded stranger...

"See you noticed the Blood fountain. We was spooked by it when we first got here too. Blood magic, right? Not much wholesome to say about it, right? Well Lord Caelus and his Seer Cassandra have some kind of arrangement with it, so it hasn't done anything bad to the colony, and in fact many saw it gives the Attolian lord and his seer power!"

She offers charlotte a sweet, syrupy mushroom before continuing...

"So yeah... we ain't really got a formal system of government... in fact the... the..."

The Attolian interjects: "The political situation?"

The Exile stammers forth again -- "Egg-zackly. Purrlitical Situation... we ain't got no formal system of government. Lot of leaders trying to get everyone together, but so far it seems like we share our gifts as different peoples, but if you ask me it's 'Too many cooks' -- Attolians and High elves are rebuilding the ruins around us in this here 'Platz, and the Tyren and Woodsies and others are taking roots further north of here... there hasn't been a real CENTER of town until the "learning square" popped up at the midpoint of the road leading from this here marketplace ('Platz!") to the cliffs up north... the Tyren -- thems the minotaurs -- they call their land Harun'Taran... or is it Harun'Taras? Means high ground. Well, bunch of colonists live up north, but of colonists live here so we're kind of spread thin. The Tyren want everyone to sign their flag as a symbol of peace and cooperation and..."

Attolian: "Collective Identity!"

Exile woman: "RIGHT! Corrective Identify... or whavum yah kno, right? Well, the flag only got a couple symbols on it which doesn't sell unity to a folk like me. The high elves and the Attolians want a formal law and system of government -- but the northies I don't think they either cotton to something that sounds like the old ways, or they don't understand the invitation. The Aymarans got their own problems. They had ONE member of their whole number that spoke common -- and they're missing. Their chief is at the learning square right now trying to figure out how the hell his people can interact with the rest of us that doesn't involve biting.

Aymaran: "BIG SCARRED THREW CAELIS! ATTOLIAN BOSS TOUGH! BROKE SOME BRICKS WHERE HE LANDED! THERE WAS A BATTLE! MUD-ELVES ARE TASTY!"

The Attolian steps back in: "So m'lady, the political situation is kind of a mess. I think everyone is keen on the idea of unity -- or most for the most part, but the only thing that brought the colony together so far is the fact that there are scores of gnolls and mud-elves across the river, and I guess there aren't a lot of causes worth unifying for that don't involve killing. Whole ruins to the west are horribly haunted, by the way my lady -- do be careful if you decide to go east. We've been putting the souls to rest there but it's dangerous to wander there, especially at night. Big Trees seemed really inviting, but one of them rains bones from it -- and that's spooky full-stop. There's a river east of here, running as far north to south as anyone has seen. Was loud and fierce during the spring thaw, but it's gotten pretty tame over the summer. The west bank of the river used to be more dangerous but the as we'd be saying our would-be rivals aren't keen on crossing since recent diplomatic and military overtures during the spring. There's a creepy spire to the north in the hills west of Harun'Taran, there's woods all east of the river thick as thieves but it's as dangerous for us to cross the river into their territory as it is for the 'natives' to cross into what we've carved out as ours. I don't mean to pull your ears, good lady -- if you got other questions I'd be happy to jaw with you as you examine all these fine wares, but it's awful presumptuous that your time wasn't more valuable...."

Her people set about their work -- and they'd report back shortly.

 

[Heyitsjiwon]

(First of many posts to come.)

"My Lord!" The Castellan cried out. Caelis turned to look at his newest addition to his council. "Have your lordship seen the recent status of the market recently? It is a travesty." Caelis looked at his Castellan with a perplexed look. There didn't seem to be any dire emergency... in fact the market seemed to be functioning like it normally does. "My Lord must know about how many of the various faction leaders have drawn wealth from the market? There is a clear and ever present danger from taking such extreme measures! The economy is a frail and feeble being... when left to its own it flourishes, but too much force or stress from outside sources will render it infirm." Caelis nodded. He understood the basics of economics, and started to slowly follow along as to what his Castellan was saying. "So, what you're trying to explain is that the market is under too much stress from the recent taxations that have taken place by numerous leaders." The Castellan smiled and nodded "I know that your Lordship would understand the issue that is at hand. There is simply too little money in the economy that people are not able to buy things as they used to. In fact, in the last week, we've seen an approximate 18% drop in transactions in the market! This is not a good sign and additional stress to the market may be crippling."

Caelis nodded. The market was a fickle thing. It needed a bit of a guiding hand, but too much force will snap the stem. Caelis then proceeded "I suppose that you would like me to take action then?" The Castellan nodded "Indeed, if your lordship were to help boost the economy, then I'm sure that the entire colony would benefit." Caelis nodded. A poor economy was something that could be crippling to the colony, and needed to be addressed. Caelis replied "Very well, you have my permission to use some of the treasury. A business subsidy to promote private commercial endeavors will provide an injection of cash that the economy needs to get out of this slump." The Castellan replied "You have made a wise choice my lord. I will see to it that this is carried out."

It was then that Caelis noticed a rush of Tyren and Wood Elves approaching the healer's guild in the distance. This bode ill news. Caelis rushed over to see what had happened. There was no sign that there was another attack or fight... otherwise the fires would have been lit or at least some message would have been sent. Perhaps, by the birds if the news was that urgent. However, for there to be several major injuries... this was concerning. When Caelis arrived at the Healer's Guild, he saw 5 elves seriously ill although there didn't seem to be physical wounds or injuries. These lands were dangerous, even without the mud elves trying to kill them. It appeared that the elves needed to have access to better healthcare. Thus, Caelis called over for his chemist. Too many lives had passed these last few months, and he refused to see another. There were too few friends in these lands and too many enemies. They needed to cooperate with each other in as many aspects as possible.

Thus, Caelis began to spread word. There needed to be a united effort among the colonists to work together, and a colonial government seemed to be the answer.* A government, not formed by the various faction leaders, but by the colonists themselves to work towards the benefit of the colony. He wanted to meet all the faction leaders so that they would all be an agreeance to work towards a better future together. In fact, Caelis had heard of a flag that the Tyren were trying to make. Perhaps, this could serve as the colonial flag? Also, he had heard of new arrivals who just landed and are trying to figure out the terrain. This was opportune since they could participate as well in forming a government. However, this would all need approval, and so he set forth to try to make this happen. For now, the new arrivals needed a place to stay. Thus, he sent for his brother to meet them on his behalf and to offer them a temporary place to reside in the surplus buildings that the Attolians had while offering greetings.

---

Orders:

The Castellan is to begin a subsidy program to promote private commercial endeavours within the Attolian District and get the colony out of the recession. 2 Wealth

The Chemist is to help the Healer's guild to cure the elves and offer his expertise and knowledge to help create medicine and antidotes.

Cassandra, the Oracle/Blood Mage, is to join the Mage's Guild with her staff, Bloodscourge.

Caelis asks for the faction leaders to meet in order to properly form a colonial government.

The two new factions are invited to temporarily stay in any surplus housing that the Attolians have while they figure out where they wish to reside.

*Emphasis added by Beck. The colony is behind schedule if it is to become a united entity and not a confederation of settlements.

 

[Beckoncall]

Prince Vaethorion , SpiralErrant ,
Heyitsjiwon

"Medicine, Chemistry, and the selective poisoning of the blood" :

The Tyren SMASHED into the infirmary, laying the Wood-elf patients on the tables of the infirmary. The warrior Rahg was ALMOST given pause when he brought his hoof down on what was OBVIOUSLY a human skull fragment left behind under one of the tables since the mud-elf fight took place here... apparently the best attempts to clean the area had still left some scraps of the former warfare. He kicked a handful of other bone fragments under a medicine chest, where it likely wouldn't be found for however long hence.

"THEY ARE DYING!! The Soft ones! Reeds that bend hang limp!!! SAVE OUR KIN!!" -- Anuc and high elf attendants rapidly drove almost all of the larger Tyren out of the building, and Weome, arriving from her pleasant conversations with a rumored "Gilded Princess" quickly became crestfallen and sprung into action. Doc Flemming was here, but he looked grim. The high elves likewise looked like they had an idea what was wrong in short order -- but this lowered their optimism rather than rose it.

"Certain metals and magical elements exude auras that are poisonous to various degrees to living things -- or in small amounts have a warping nature on them. Elves, in our purity can be particularly susceptible without proper enchantments, ablative vestment, or special lodestones that absorb such energies. A Tyren probably wouldn't even notice a problem, and excrete the corruption by routine -- a human with this level of exposure might lose their hair and suffer some corruption decades later -- but this is a grave case for elves."

By this point the extent of Tyren Tribal and wood elf medicine was done, and it had only eased their pain. The elves, fully bald as even ancient elves never are, looked so pallid in areas they seemed blue or green. Doc Flemming and his chemist were whirling a STORM two tables away... Other wood elf kin arrived and immediately began BAWLING in horror at the status of the springborn... The Highborn Cleric Amandil, who arrived noiselessly at some point, spoke through gritted teeth -- a single bead of sweat ran the length of their face -- from beneath their holy diadem, to their eye, which seemed to take on a new identity as a faux tear as it travelled downward. Amandil was clutching their shield with both hands from the top, as if it were a focus of some kind. The cleric's already pale fingers were ghost-white in it's tightness, and the shield floated by some divine energy.

"I can keep their souls here - but with present resources their agony will only grow. I have bought us time, which is of course, the most valuable commodity of all. Let us see how this odd collection of souls shall spend this treasure..." Amandil's eyes slammed shut, and a stylized eye on their shield seemed to glow in turn.

At Doc Flemming's table the chemist and the doctor screamed at each other as porters brought more and more bags of material. "Lodestones!" ... "Elemental Decay?!" ... No! No! "element resonance, not elemental resistance! This isn't a burn unit! They're poisoned by a metal!"

The doors of the infirmary swung open violently as Cassandra descended from the sky having leaped from somewhere in the Attolian Quarter... the air and earth beneath her whipped disturbingly as her blind eyes, solid red flicked open and she reached outside -- where a tumbling skull-topped staff -- Bloodscourge -- fell not to earth but to her hand. Attendants parted like a biblical river as she hovered over the assembled patients. She scanned the room, and looked back into the immediate past to hear all that was spoken.

Her Presence caused Amandil's eyes to once again open, and to TRULY sweat maintaining his soul containment. From the cleric's bared teeth, a droplet of blood seemed to form, before Amandil commanded it to return to his service. The blood-mage offended him at every level... but what happened next, would have him tolerate their profanity...

The Seer Cassandra Drew the Staff of Blood magic over the bodies of the springborn... the discolored patches below the skin seemed to be tugged about by her motions. With a few gestures, she coalesced the corruptions and pulled them to hands and feet, trapping it in extremities. It was then the Chemist ran to the table -- "Reactives! denatured elemental decay! We have the solution -- but the heat of the reaction will be considerable -- those limbs are GONE, sadly."

Amandil interrupted... "They are NOT, man-fool. Work your quackery and I will contain it's crude excess and damage. An elf is a perfect machine built of the divine -- fear not that I let you take a butchering human hand to it!"

Cassandra marched the assembled poisons to the flats of the patients feet and to the palms of hands... where Caelus' inspired quacks held their "reactive lodestones" strange decay and burning energy seemed to swirl... where it did, Amandil prevented the perversion of the pristine elven flesh...

Everyone watched amazed as the blue and green corruption died into a glinting black mass -- inert, spent. Amandil cured the burns as they occured second to second, and Weome and Anuc assisted the high elf attendents who quickly removed this dense, sandy metal that now stood where there was once corrupting energy. It took a Tyren to hold the bowls comfortably once they were filled with the black depleted masses -- and the fine fingers of the highborn field-surgeons -- which Doc Flemming watched with amazement, sought the tiniest flakes of the expended corruption and flung them into the Tyren Bull-Iron bowls. (Doc Flemming Gains additional surgical knowledge)

...The patients would live. All of them. The pass of the season showed that the collective magical intervention of many cultures would have a standing effect on them -- they were stronger... though Amandil feared this was the corruption of blood magic. They grew more muscular, and their hands and feet, the focus of great healing energies, gave them a tireless spring to their step and a fierce celerity to their bowfire. With their new strength they grew closer to their Tyren brothers and sisters though they kept the most company with their wood elf kin. Their hair grew back, and as it did, they cut, stiffened, and coiled their locks into impressive brown and gold protrusions at their foreheads, adopting horns that in their own way were quite impressive, if the expression of the rutting Tyren males was any indicator...

...They took on the name TyrenBorn. Though only five, they felt a need for their own identity. Training with the Tyren warriors, a Tyrenborn could balance on the off-hand shoulder of a Tyren warrior and turn a formidable tree-armored warrior into a mobile arrow platform capable of crushing that which dared penetrate the threat of arrows.

...The only question was how this intervention effected their lifespans... something the highborn and some amid the springborn whispered... but for now there was more to be happy for. The colony -- THE COLONY -- had come together and with it's divergent ways, herbs, holiness, chemistry and surgery... had seemingly done what was impossible to any one group.

Proud were the Tyrenborn, though it was thought that the mine of vines should be the domain of Tyren henceforth until it was fully understood.
(-5 springborn, +5 "Tyrenborn" troops for Harun'Taras -- also known as "Harun Hrull Tahk Hraz'shuk" -- "High wind that burns over one's shoulder" -- {if allowed to tandem with Tyren warriors as missile support})

 

[Beckoncall]

Enemy Standoo :

"Some of the other knights are sent to scout the current state of the colony in more detail and mingle among the people according to their specialty."

Each of the Knights reported back to Chapter Master Elien in turn:

Sir Ravalla (Lawyer):
"We're sitting IN a powder-keg, Canoness -- There is no established law in the colony save the myriad and individual laws (with questionable oversight beyond security forces) of each particular faction. Law enforcement seems at least partly voluntary -- with the most "standard" law in the south being a loose bastardization of Attolian Common-Law. Punishment is usually meted out by forfeiture of goods or a beating by constables commeasurate to damage done by the offender... as is typical of frontier and marshal law. There is NO courthouse but ad hoc airing of grievances happens at AN INN or some "Learning Square" more recently. It's a miracle everyone hasn't killed each other yet. There's no courthouse... and no recognized adjutant to enforce the law for when something bigger than a tiff between pioneers finally rears it's head. In the north the "government" is some kind of nomadic trade culture, and it's law by that standing -- which actually seems sufficiently complicated and elegant... but the cultural rift between minotaurs/elves and humans not to mention other humanoids is doubtfully a positive solution overall, though it's fine for them, at least for now. I doubt most leaders even know how their justice is meted out... just that it's not that big of a problem yet. I also smell organized crime... some of the lines Economist Domision has shown me are too clean... though I'll say good things about the Attolians -- they are really interested in the idea of centralized authority and law and have been willing to be unexpectedly transparent with us so that we could get a better picture. The high elves share whatever info is convenient, but no man is fool enough to think you'd get anything sensitive out of them without their own good reason.


Sir Abel Sancroix (Bardcraft):
Not a bad little town, for a backwater in the shadow of a haunted city surrounded on all sides by potentially hostile natives. The makings of a booming music scene is stewing between attolians, various elves, and some Tyren folk-singing. The brightest star of course is the highborn bard "Lindar" -- who a few centuries ago in the old world was actually a bard of some reknown in the eastern expanses before vanishing into obscurity in the High Elf homelands and I suppose, to wind up here. The fact that I have actually already sat and played with Lindar himself is almost a dream to me. There is a slow melting of cultures happening here and there that is very pleasant to behold... but with the exception of the common market and the new and unproven "learning square" the current peace is rather fragile. I expect rioting to coincide instantly with the advent of a shortage of wine and beer -- which is forthcoming due before the end of the season... everyone's drinking, and nobody is brewing. We've brought some beer with us, but the monks won't be happy if we share what little we have. The Reinen -- other new arrivals seem to have plenty of beer... we might profit from taking (or sharing) it's speculative value with them. Either way, when the Kegs are tapped, a lot of people are going to forget their manners in the south. Northerners seem more laid back, but they won't take kindly to sudden aggression in the absence of "social lubricants."

Sir Domision (Economist): "I won't have a handle on things here for a while -- I need to watch the market and really get a handle on what is going on here... the economy IS vibrant, but ill-managed and fragile. Cursory assessment saw the market swell with real and perceived value recently threatening inflation, followed immediately by levies that supposedly required outside corrections through economic stimulus... mind you the attolians have a standing offer to all citizens (even presumably us) to start new businesses through subsidies. Amazing! Otherwise of note is the de-facto currency of the colony is not Muurdain scrip but instead a heavy silver coin called "The Orm" -- no idea what that means but it makes the Minotaurs the central mint of currency in the colony and I doubt they have any real idea of how the mining and minting of more coins over time is going to impact commerce... and that's another thing -- There are things of great potential for sale here but nothing is going back to the old world -- and as far as I can tell the only people they have to barter with is each other. Privateer traders and Muurdain Traders should arrive during the late fall or Winter, that being soon -- I wonder what kind of circus that will turn this place into... but it might get unruly."

Sir Zita Karkov(Woodsmanship) :

"Wood, Wood, everywhere, and not a log to chop! On the other side of the river is so much wood it's daunting -- yet locals say all of it is claimed by one hostile power or another. The south wood is infested with feral elves, the north woods are full of VERY unfriendly gnolls -- with a supposed haunted "Wisp Wood" no-mans land inbetween. We just got here, but is it possible the locals are just really superstitious? Do you believe in cities full of ghosts? Woods infested with angry spirits? It's a little rich, isn't it? What I can tell you is that there is VERY little wood on this side of the river compared to what will soon be a demand -- unless recent word of wood discoveries in the Northwest by high elves is as fruitful as hoped come winter we're going to HAVE to face danger to get wood or we'll be clearcutting every scattered tree on this side of the river just to keep warm... much less build anything of consequence. Lastly, The great trees to the east, they're not natural -- I've never seen a tree four hundred feet high and thick as a castle spire, have you? There's three of them. No perceptible means of germination, either -- which is a relief, because I've considered many a way to die in the forest, but being crushed by a blighted PINECONE wasn't one of them until we landed here."

 

[Beckoncall]

NorthOfOrdinary :
"1. Plenty of clear land for farming, ranching, and growing food.
2. A river flowing through, or alongside the tract of land.
3. Forests skirting, amongst, or otherwise near the tract of land."

There really was only one place that met that criteria -- it was the midpoint of the "rushing river" -- which while named in the spring (when mountain meltwater to the north flooded the riverbanks to the brim) was more of a middling calm this fall season -- Where half the river's width was now an empty creek-bed which seemed to fill itself with patches of flowers, and where the flowers bloomed, strange bee/wasp/firefly hybrids made their hives -- The Reinen could smell the honey over the flowers. Smoke made the insects sluggish and docile, which was a good thing handily discovered or the settlers would have more than their share of stings.

This place would be chosen to settle (unless Charlotte changed her mind -- there was word of a small lake in the west that otherwise met criteria, though it was recently discovered and not known if there were threats about.)

One thing the Reinen immediately inherited for settling at the midpoint in the river was a back-yard that allowed plenty of space for their own crops, but if one went any real distance to the west you came upon Attolian crops and the collective colony's "Learning Square" -- presently a place for mages to get together and for citizens to exchange language.

A secondary benefit was an old dock that despite being centuries in tenure, seemed solid -- whether high or low, this dock was constructed for the launching of riverboats -- though travelling too far south might be dangerous with a precipitous drop from the cliff-falls.

The west riverbank was sparsely peppered with trees, but would serve the needs of the Reinen for the time being... on the east bank, like forbidden fruit, was a deep and thick forest, which while alien, in small ways reminded the Reinen of the deepest and darkest woods of their homeland. The part of the woods over the river here was nicknamed "Wisp-wood" -- because supposedly "ghost-lights" could be seen over the river all spring and sporatically during the summer... come fall nobody had seen the "wisps" -- least of all the Reinen, which lead some to think perhaps it was the seasonal congregation of flickering bee-wasps and not the souls of folk trapped in the woods. It was a bad myth to inherit in one's backyard, however... though it was worth mentioning that true or not, the supposed hostiles of the wood gave the "wisp-wood" a wide berth. No gnolls spied from there, no mud elves sought to cross, or were even seen despite proximity to their territories.

Yes -- The Reinen could settle here if they wanted... and indeed, if they desired, the honey in those hives could be theirs as well! (New Resource found: Fall Honey.)

There was much to do -- what shape would the reinen settlement take? would they recieve the help of new friends in this land? would they spend some of their initial wealth currying favor, labor, and materials from other factions? Time would tell.

Charlotte would have a dream that night of leaving her home in the old world to descend into a strange world of beasts where received the invitation of an ancient king... or something like that. The dream left her with a sour taste in her mouth:

 

[Beckoncall]

Enemy Standoo :

"Where will they finally rest, they who house the light?" :

Elien heard the various musings of where was best to settle -- several choices, many consequences. In the end she spoke:

"We shall build our garrison and lighthouse into the cliff-face itself -- with the garrison holding a doubly-high spire that connects both the depression at the bottom and the 'Platz at the top. From here we can grow into the 'Platz for needs urban, and grow west towards the great trees along the cliff should our needs be otherwise."

The Lighthouse and Garrison began construction with great fervor and purpose, even the Devout put in more of a hand than folk who would normally avoid labors of the hand for labors of the sword, and of the spirit. The base of the lighthouse was PLANTED FIRM in the east-most cul-de-sac of the depression, like a deep root in the cliff of living rock. Additional funds were spent to gain materials, odd extra labor, and for rites to motivate the order. Rations were doubled, and the folk of St. Victoria soon became acquainted with the odd but flavorful pastiche of Capybara and shark dishes -- often in the same meal. (-1 WEALTH FOR ADDITIONAL WORK, SPEED, AND HEIGHT OF LIGHTHOUSE.)

The Garrison quickly rose from Fine-white limestone and the amble stone laid about in the ruins of the 'Platz. Stone reclaimed, moved, reconditioned, sanded by monks under litanies of constancy -- their fervor despite the factions size was impressive... though the whole project would take more time to complete, it was apparently quickly and to all what the Knight Order was shooting for... A sturdy fort complex which encompassed a small outer courtyard and a larger open space behind it. Behind a second gate, the Garrison rose as a single two-story building -- with some of the more artistic recoveries amid the ruin-stone accentuating the edifice. The roof of the garrison had a functional battlement, and the windows, like slits, bedecked the whole length of the lighthouse shedding fragments of the light that would reign above it's full length to where it's stairs terminated in the depression.

It was only at the Lighthouse Spire reaching half-height it's full that they realized the "depression" looked like a giant footprint... with the lighthouse occupying what was essentially the "little toe" --

Their strong beginning and forceful showing on the new continent filled the faithful with heart, though the gravity of the full construction began to wear on them... without more help the project might take longer than expected once the fury of new morale began to wane... at his stage the garrison was functional, but the lighthouse merely looked like an arm without a hand -- it's stair terminating on a rainy sky that blew in...

...And there was the question of how they would be welcomed by their new neighbors -- the "exiles" were friendly to everyone, and so were the Attolians, it seemed... but it was an entirely different matter to see how they would react to the Order making it's home in what was essentially a stone's throw past their backyard...

Summary:

Order of St. Victoria's Garrison is built quickly to minimum spec and will improve over time to completion... actual completion of lighthouse is in the air depending on variety of factors, but will be updated as time carries forward...

 

[Heyitsjiwon]

Enemy Standoo

Seeing several new arrivals, Caelis noted a particular sight that he had not expected to see in these lands, Knights of the Order of Saint Victoria. These Knights seemed to have arrived just recently and were exploring the area around the beach landing and gathering information from the colonists. As was Attolian custom and courtesy, it was time to go meet these new neighbors. Caelis then set on his way to meet the chapter leader of this branch of the Order. He accompanied one of the Knights on his way back to report to the Chapter Leader. At first, Caelis was confused. It seemed that they reported to a rather young woman, but they referred to her as Chapter Master. There must be something special about her, or perhaps her youth is her value... building a settlement was not a fit job for the old after all. When the Knights were done, Caelis stepped up towards the Chapter Master.

"Hail, Master Waters. I wish to bid you and your chapter welcome to the New World. I am Lord Caelis Wolff, Heir of the Wolff Dynasty of the Kingdom of Attolia, and leader of the Attolian expedition to these new lands. I am glad to see a familiar people in these foreign lands. Often did the banners of the Order of Saint Victoria march alongside the caravans and flags of the Kingdom of Attolia to bring peace, order and prosperity to ravaged lands. In fact, my younger brother, the third son of my father, is a rather devout follower of Saint Nash. Regardless, as you can see, there is much to do around here. It has only been a few months since we have landed and while we have made progress there is much left to do. I wish to extend to you and your men an offer to temporarily reside in the surplus housing that we have available in the Attolian district of the platz if you need. I would also like to invite you to join the colony in forming a proper colonial government. Currently, I and the High Elves, are willing to try to form this government, but it is not enough. We need one more member at the very least to make this government a legitimate entity that reflects the colony." Caelis then looked at the flurry of Knights and Squires, rapidly building the foundation of the iconic lighthouse of the Order.

"Ahh, it appears that you are quick to find yourself at home. I welcome your presence, but offer a bit of advice. Many other factions have landed and made claims and interests in the colony. It would be prudent to avoid stepping on others toes, so to speak as it would create unnecessary conflict. Otherwise, I look forward to working with you to bring civilization to these rather... strange lands. I would be happy to help you establish your chapter's tower, but I am currently undermanned in labor. Thus, I cannot offer many hands to help with your construction efforts. However, I can offer some of our cranes that we use to build. I assure you that they will make lifting heavy stone a much easier ordeal. In addition, after a project that I have in planned, I will be willing to also offer my architect to the cause. I do ask that as a new member of the colony that you help contribute. I currently have a guard set up to patrol the platz and protect it, but they are not enough as I learned in a battle a few month earlier with some savages. Thus, if you could have some of your chapter to help protect the platz, then it would be much appreciated."

Summary:
Caelis meets and welcomes the Chapter Leader of the Order

Extends temporary offer of housing in the Attolian Housing District

Invites the Order to help form a Colonial Government

Offers the use of a few construction cranes to the building of the Lighthouse

Requests that the Order provide some guards to help protect the platz

 

[Prince Vaethorion]

Beckoncall Heyitsjiwon

The High Born and Attolians formalize an alliance/pact between the two factions. Discussions had been ongoing for sometime and the two factions have a good working relationship in building and administrating the port. This alliance extends to matters of trade, diplomacy and military. Details may follow.

Beckoncall SpiralErrant

The Highborn accept their sigil on the Tyren banner for the sake of better relations. The Highborn are pleased with the learning center, the developments of the road, the improved security and warning system.

Heyitsjiwon NorthOfOrdinary Enemy Standoo

At the Attolians suggestion, with the idea that values of lawfulness, order and for the greater good of the colony the High born and Attolians present the idea of joining the colonial government to the Order of St.Victoria and to the Reinen.

The Highborn send their Linguist to parlay and welcome the various new factions. RPG and details will follow.


ooc: Did not realize the game had caught up. I am still catching up on the thread and will post soon in greater detail. Just wanted to let you all know I was still around and to say hello.

NorthOfOrdinary Spacekitty Enemy Standoo
Welcome new players and factions! Expect a post directed at the new factions.

General Deth Glitch

Welcome back!