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

[Beckoncall]

FENNEC UPDATES:

1. CLASSIFIED (SUCCESSFUL)

• • • 
      2. Hitmen + 1 Capo +the rest of that 1 wealth and some “Purple Slime” consumed to produce slightly spiked beverages)

No additional moneies required, underground excavation chamber used to produce needed resource.

3. Spare laborers are ordered to fish the Muddy Lake in an attempt to start stockpiling meat for winter. Fish not given to their “Business Insider” and not needed for immediate consumption are to be dried, smoked and stored in cellars. (2 Hitmen, 10 thugs)

Fishing in Muddy lake is surprisingly rewarding. Food security for Fennec increases, BRING ADDITIONAL FISH TO MARKET. (update status thread.

4. FENNEC BRING BEER, "HEAVEN'S AROMA" TO LUXURIES GUILD (update status thread) Need to source gems and/or precious metals to make jewelry in appreciable amounts.

5. Metallurgist and 5 Skilled Workers are tasked with studying the automaton parts gathered to see just how the gears and systems may have worked and attempt to recreate them in usable forms to help “industrialize” Finecian work and tech. (8 Skilled Workers + 1 Capo)

Metallurgist is not appropriate professional for this task, as such, merely the intellect of the skilled workers is applied to the task. Theoretical design plans begin, but a real expert and/or more help will be necessary for project to succeed, but all agree project has merit.

6. Excavation of the Arena/Buried Pyramids continues. The goal is to completely unearth every square inch of the place so renovations can begin. The old artwork and decorations are to be polished, repaired and redone, the bones found to be made into jewelry to be sold and decor for the arena.

1. Due to sufficient labor and heavy lifting, the upper tier of the excavation is completely renovated. Stylized bone decor is actually masterfully done under the direction of capos and skilled workers, as is construction of seating rows. Trolls move massive amounts of earth out of the excavation and salvage stone for facility construction and brick-laying. It is speculated that when complete, the "Ossuary decor" will be quite impressive...

Perhaps unsurprisingly, there is little market for jewelry in the colony made from HUMAN BONES. Until another faction contradicts this with vested interest, FENNEC LOSE 1 INFLUENCE!

Upper tier arena seating is completed, as well as a pub/gambling hall in one of the chambers -- sadly, without knowledge of these facilities and a clear and safe way to them, they presently only serve the Fennec Public (FENNEC MORALE IMPROVES!)

7. More plots are added to the farm that will contain barley, wheat and brewing materials. The rest of the farm is simply maintained. (1 Troll, Seven Skilled Workers, 10 Thugs, 1 Capo) : Fennec farmland expands somewhat, but concern remains for volume that will be ready before first frost kills the crops.

8. Teams lead by Master Biologist are sent out into the forests around “Muddy Lake” tapping the trees for tap/syrup and looking for sources of honey. Side tasks include foraging for hallucinogenic/addictive mushrooms and the Master Biologist will gather local FLORA to determine usefulness in crafting, brewing, medicines, drugs food, luxaries and the such. (5 Skilled Workers, 5 Thugs, 1 Capo) :

MUSHROOMS and WATER-PLANTS are added to Fennec food supply and are able to be brought to market should they join the grocer's guild. No narcotic flora (or fauna) are yet located in this area, but comprehensive searches are hard without more workers, a troll, or something else to repel territorial "Alpha Runners"... Trees appropriate for sap and appreciable honey supplies are NOT found... yet?

9. Cultivation of slime mold, Brewing of Dream Soda and wheat/barley Alcohol, processing of herbal medicines (much of which has yet to be grown but is drawing on current supplies) Begins in designated chambers. More time and labor/wealth will be required to progress this industry on an appreciable level.

 

[Beckoncall]

"The sin of Sloth" :

Prince Vaethorion

The Slavers, even if they were not given the authoritarian riot act and letter of law, were loathe to put up resistance in the face of the sheer number of irate elves that came to "Acquisition" Their remaining Slave -- The Cave Cyclops. If they were completely truthful, they'd be glad to be rid of it -- nobody wanted to sail to the next destination with that brooding thing on board... even if in their eyes the colonists were effectively stealing it.

Then again, they hadn't lose their most valuable minerals and gems to such theft, so the consensus was to never mention it again. The highborn would have their prize and perhaps soon enough they would be allowed to leave this accursed place. the longer they stayed, the worse stories they heard -- of cannibal savages and armies of the dead that passed as neighbors. They just wanted to get back out to sea...

The Cleric indeed was able to soothe the savage beast, and the Tamer was able to pacify it as it was taken away -- asserting a strange form of Animal Kinship with it. It would take time and patience to cultivate it into something more than a spectacle or loose cannon... but the highborn were not great worriers over such problems as time...

RESULT: HIGHBORN GAIN POSSESSION OF CAVE CYCLOPS (8 point unit for future reference)

 

[Beckoncall]

Heyitsjiwon :

Lord Caelis sat with the Champion Helysoune, and a bargain was struck. She downed her beer and gave a deep bow once the ink on her contract was dry.

"I go to the Spire, to see answers -- if the Cull never wiped them out, successful communication with the clockworks could give us real answers about what this thing IS, why it selects or ignores certain prey, or at least give us some first hand accounts. I know you Attolians are studying the creatures so I'll scale back hostilities to last resort. If diplomacy fails and I have to defend myself, I'll bring you the key parts of any automatons I must destroy for my own safety, and forfeit half of my retainer. Professionals don't make messes, and I'm a Professional."

Helysoune dropped her tankard at the door before leaving the establishment, tossing a small but substantial coin-purse at the barkeep.

"My tab and then some, in case I don't come back!" She scoffed. The barman was just happy he needn't ply the woman any further with what day she could be expected to pay for her drinking...

 

[Beckoncall]

SpiralErrant :

RESULTS:

Anais' growing reputation as an empathetic problem solver as well as wise sage become an object of much attention and interest in the colony.

(+1 INFLUENCE TO TYREN, Slight Morale Improvement colony-wide, +1 wealth gleaned from populace who give offerings {it is customary to 'cross a fortune-teller's palm with silver' -- and anais has no need for bits of metal turning her home into a wishing well)

Of the Cull:

"Oooooh... this one is a doozy to answer... but I actually know quite a bit about the Cull, or at least what it WAS before it came here. You see, All of existence happens in cycles -- gods become greater and more powerful until their creation is so small to them they enter realms and states of being beyond the comprehension of gods, much less mortals -- when this happens, lesser gods, great beasts, allies and old enemies of the previous gods -- they all rise and fight for whom will be the next single diety, or pantheon of gods, that will rule creation -- or more likely creation will be destroyed in the war, and the victors will decide the new creation... The Aboleth are one race to survive numerous cycles of divinity. One does not exist since the beginning of time just being strong -- you have to be smart, and you have to know how to make yourself scarce, or if not hidden -- not worth the trouble. When gods war over control of creation, often there is a judgement, cataclysm, holocaust, reckoning, whatever you call it. Sometimes its a plague. Sometimes it's a meteor that wipes out almost all life. Sometimes the skies darken with baleful angels -- but once the world ended when THE CULL was loosed -- it is a singular entity comprised of a swarm of creatures -- think of it as a locust plague that devours the world. Well, once it did -- and it made room for a new creation without the worry of other pretenders aspiring to godhood or undesired remnants of previous creators. Generally when the world ends, Dragons and Aboleth are the only things off the menu... though sometimes a race or three survive a cycle to be lost in the next. We expect the elves to be one such race in the coming oblivion... whenever THAT may be."

Anais knew she was not drawing to a point yet where she could be helpful... she sighed.

"So -- these world ending creatures or powers? What happens to them when they are done with their jobs? Usually they have no place in a SANE creation, or may even be a threat to the new creators -- so they are bound and banished -- cast into the jail of dead gods, which you may or may not know of as Tartarus. Well, At the pinnacle of their power and rulership, The mage kings and queens found ways to access Tartarus -- it was filled with dead and forgotten powers desperate for worship or bargains for power... In the new world, coinciding with the creation of the barrier to isolate them from those who would learn their powers -- the age of bound gods, tapping of slumbering divines, and manipulable agents of past creations got well underway. When the Mage Royals finally got to warring, they found Tartarus to be full of broken, sleeping, weakened or vanquished forces once used to end worlds. Thus the Cull was brought back to the world, to be a ravening weapon not on a global scale, but sufficient to fight against armies of other divine powers and their agents. Sent by the (or a) legitimate creator would loose a cull so large and powerful that the world would be grazed bare -- as it stands, it was comparatively weak when it was loosed by one mage-city against another, and even weaker still for surviving the apocalypse of clashing apocalypses. Still, it is mighty even in it's diminutive state, and the longer it cleanses it's area of life, the greater it's power and spread is becoming... It's been stripping most everything alive from the area every few years now and then, after which it goes into long periods of deeper slumber where it musters it's strength. So yeah, it's a hive-mind created to murder the world, but it's been busted down to private from it's lofty heights. Now it just ends the world around HERE. Understand?"

Orm didn't know how to answer.

 

[Beckoncall]

SpiralErrant :

"Silver, I need silver. Damn I'll take gold if you have any."

That was the order given to the mine. the vines churned all around them, as if straining the vines at distant points far off. Then far below they could hear the vines, like the weighing of a great anchor, and the walls shook in the mine -- reflexively, the myriad stalks and thicker vines turned, rolled, and grew to reinforce the area. a bit of sand fell on Shul and Uumush, but the tremors quickly subsided.

"Rarified Alloy is Wished. Gold/Silver mix."

A sound of vines breaking the surface outside the mine, accompanied by sounds that greatly likened to projectile vomiting, came to the Ears of the shaman... when they emerged, the Tyren outside were gazing in awe as great stalks left their bounty on the ground and pulled the earth back over them.

The Equivalent of TWO CARTLOADS of alloyed gold and silver lay in chunks varying from a speck of sand to a wagon wheel.

"Wishing for alloys yields far less material than normally capable. Wish for singular metals or minerals to ensure high yields."

Various knots on the great control table seemed visibly smaller, as if expressing the relative power the vines had remaining, or the amount of rest they needed, or who knows what those dials and displays really meant?

Shul scratched his head. "I wonder how much silver we would have gotten if it didn't get mixed up?"

Uumush did something he didn't think he'd be making a habit of since Shul was old enough to join the circles, though old habits die hard with the trouble Shul got into when he was little more than a yearling...

...He SWATTED Shul on the head with his cane.

(TYREN GAIN +2 UNITS OF ELECTRUM, An ALLOY MIXTURE OF SILVER AND GOLD, RARELY FOUND IN NATURE)

 

[Beckoncall]

BLACKSMITH GUILD FORMS! -- Highborn and Attolians bring Forge and Smith facilities, Tyren bring secrets of bull iron and raw materials.

(TYREN, HIGHBORN AND ATTOLIANS GAIN +1 INFLUENCE!)

Weapons can now be sold at market in steady supply. Silver and Bull Iron equipment is now available to characters!

 

[Beckoncall]

COMING SOON:

Fennec/Highborn/Countrymen gather intel on the mud elves!

Tyren seek to learn more about applications for ancient wood!

Helysoune Visits the Spire!

 

[Beckoncall]

"Eyes of Spies, Knives, and light on what lies"

Ambience:


Oliv, The only woman of "the countrymen" -- musician herself (and some would say the most slavish and insatiable of the Bard Lindar's Groupies) Sang a war song to bolster the spirit of her brethren, before their Highborn Spy-commander put them on their first true stealth mission since their training began. The Spy Master kept his eyes narrow, but perhaps appreciated the bleeding edge of the unit he cultivated.

A small number of Fennec were detected approaching from far off, were these the anticipated stealth auxillaries? Contempt almost took the Highborn when he wheeled and saw 15 more coming from another direction. He wouldn't call it surprise, but it was good tactics. The fennec would be welcome.

The Highborn leader and his guerilla unit of countrymen moved quick and low to the ground in their camoflage. The fennec barely needed such conventions, but their dark stealth outfits and their small profiles didn't break the soft cover and high grasses as they let the humans make their own slow pace.

the highborn had arranged for some spearmen to be standing by the south end of the river -- they could hear the waterfall from here. The spearmen had just moments earlier at their appointed time contrived a bridge of canoes chained from one end of the river to the next... though far less strong than in the spirng, it was still an obstacle not for the unskilled...

The Spymaster sommersaulted over the river, landed quietly in the last boat, and then held the chain stable on the far end with his spearmen confederates before dismissing them. The Countrymen did immpressively, though there was flailing of arms and rebalancing on the move, not one of the countrymen fell in the water. After the Countrymen all crossed, the Fennec agiliy raced across the makeshift bridge, but then they started upstaging each other. One hopped across the shaking chains, another one took time to scoop water to style his hair before pulling on his hood in a final sommersault. Two fennecs crossed almost impossibly SIDE BY SIDE on the chains, each the others counterweight, so that one might CATCH A FISH and greedily eat it as the last fennec ran across the obstacles.

"Fibsh sbimmin' (chomp chomp) against the current of (NOM NOM NOM) Wabber-Fball eesh beeghest n' tastiest (smack smack)" Tuftin said to he spymaster, mockingly offering a "bite" of a massive river fish he needed to hold in both hands like flailing log of lumber in his arms.

"Some people got no sense of humor -- how you 'sposed to plot the absolute surgical death of your unexpecting foe on an empty stomach?" Tuftin Lamented to Groomer -- so named because of his boundless festidiousness -- you'd swear he hadn't got a drop of river-spray on him.

"I knicked one of your onyx cufflinks during your shenanigans, Tuftin." Groomer hissed playfully. Hope we encounter some hostiles soon. "Hate the Clam before the storm, don't you?"

"It's CALM before the storm, Tuftin whispered -- you touched or something?"

"It's gotta be clam, Tuft -- why else you think we're all locked down and small, buried and sifting?"

"You know, hadn't thought of it that way, we is REAL clams before the storm today, we are!"

...and the group proceeded.

Far to the north, almost as far as the newly cleared cherry-wood, small camps of mud elves could be made out, and the recon team even saw (and allowed to pass) runners coming from deeper in the wood.

At one point (almost all activity seemed to come from the southeast) a column of more conventional soldiers ran perpendicular to them -- troops similar to those that attacked the Platz -- there was no doubt this entire side of the river was mobilized for war -- clearly heading to clash with similarly brutal forces of Gnolls.

The Highborn and his men had hidden themselves perfectly in dappled shadow and the smells of the forest. The Fennec, almost as an afterthought rubbed dirt on their fur and quickly reapplied "dust-baths" to disguise any scent they might telegraph. But it never seemed to be an issue. The enemy units STANK of anger-booze...liquid courage and crude berserker potion... they were hardly vigilant so deep in their territory, at least the ones on the move.

Penetrating deeper, sentries were detected, but they were lax. Clearly evident of traditions cultivated over decades of clashing over the same static border. The fennec sought to kill these sentries, but the highborn stayed their hand, and used rocky terrain in the wood, rolling topography and the woods themselves to pass these laughable obstacles.

Beyond these "sentries" the first "pay dirt" intel revealed itself. Already deep Southeast in the wood, they could recon two different points of interest from as far as they'd gotten -- To the south, almost to the cliffs, was some kind of stinking plant-grove and a ruined tower... around the area, which could not be fully observed, could be heard the sounds of simmering cauldrons and the undeniable stink of anger booze -- enough to suggest perhaps that a renewed offensive was forthcoming. At the far end of the facility, a gruesome, flesh and blood splattered hut smoked alternatively in black and white puffs of mephitic alchemical exhaust... if that was not the hut of a witch, The Spy Master would not guess what else it might be. The orders were no engagement, just intel -- so battle was not joined.

Spread throughout the perimeter, it was hard to tell what all of their quarry was doing, much less the entirety of one's unit. The Fennec used this opportunity to "tap" a couple of vats of different smelling concoctions, and got samples of (ANGER BOOZE FORMULA, and COMBAT NARCOTIC FORMULA)
before patting the taps with a color matching quick-dry clay... their vandalism, at least this time, would likely go unnoticed...

The area searched beyond this area was full of pit traps, but the fennec had no trouble detecting these before the humans could draw close enough to know they were there.

"It's easy! The difference in pressure under the pit -- you can feel it in your coa-"

Tuftin leered at his neighbor. "They ain't children of desert wind, Ruskin -- and they don't have fabulous furry coats, either... just tells 'em where the traps are! They bound to find em, but why risk exposure?"

The fennec sought to tell their human colleagues, but the Spy-master shushed them with a gesture. He directed his group to note all the traps he himself had discovered.

"When time comes, we should cover all the traps with dirt and grass and make mock traps a foot or two away, watch em fall into their own holes as they try to lure us into them. Would be HILARIOUS." Ruskin said...

...It wasn't a bad idea, doctoring their spiked pit "minefield" before an attack could cause quite a bit of confusion and chaos.

It was beyond this, that they found not THE but A main mud-elf camp -- cannibalism, the misuse of gnoll corpses, wanton pleasures of the flesh laying in filth everywhere amid myriad cooking fires, pots, and piles of smoking herbs. One exit from this clearing was draped banners to the horned one, and the Spymaster called it an evening on pushing their luck.

Enemy positions were in all directions going further except the way they came. So mapping the positions they found, the Recon group fell back.

When they got back to the river, Tuftin -- fat as a sack of grain, absentmindedly picked his fangs with a giant fish-bone. He'd been feasting on the entire run.

"Anybody wanna big fish head? I can't finish." Tuftin burped.

Fifteen Fennecs raised their hands. It had been a good operation. No unfriendly eyes, no losses, reliable intel on static positions.

The spymaster was almost inclined to acknowledge the impressive stealth skills of the fennec, when Tuftin finally, and totally by surprised, erupted in a giant belch that literally shook him off the ground.

"Good fing that didn't happen by the witch! HA-HA!"

The Highborn would attempt to mollify his hatred and annoyance -- but by the night, he resigned that he'd failed...

The Fennecs had an entirely different view of it when they got back home.

"Ever see a human crawl for 400 yards? I have! It looks like the crap hanging out of a tortoises butt!"

"It's true, they sweat like freaks and pine can barely take the stink off them. and some of them grind their teeth making the cutest noises when they think they're totally hidden."

"What about the highborn?"

"Didn't see much of him -- I guess that's good eh? Think he really came along?"

They all laughed.

RESULT: INTEL ACROSS THE RIVER IS ESPECIALLY SUCCESSFUL. A MAIN CAMP, AN ALCHEMICAL CENTER, A TRAP-BELT, AND NUMEROUS SMALL TROOP POSITIONS WERE MAPPED OUT.

 

[Beckoncall]

"The conclusion of the first hell of mud-elf attrition -- the release of the remaining prisoners"

Heyitsjiwon :

By express instruction, the rapidly dwindling number of mud-elf slaves, already interrogated and dwindling in number in failed escapes and the semi-warranted sadism of the House Elite, the Silo holding them was cleared, and ten halbardiers were given the remaining prisoners, hands lashed to poles that kept them in file, and feet bound that allowed an ungainly lope but would trip in a true run -- the Attolians took their captives north, along the road and up to the "ford" of the river -- though really they could have crossed it anywhere.

The delapidated defenses the colony had on this side of the river had only seen patchy maintenance, but it was still clear the gnolls kept away from it. Interestingly, the massive crater Bruul had blasted on the far side of the river had become a beautiful bowl of flowers in the landscape... not that such things would distract the Halbardiers... they had a job to be done and wanted to be done with it.

When the two poles of six prisoners each reached the edge of the Gnoll-wood, they bound the feet of each six to the post of the other lot, truly rendering them helpless... and backed away. It was not long before a small number of gnolls came out to claim them... slavering and yipping like hyenas, bringing more to see their "prize"

Before the Attolians crossed the river, taking one last look back as the gnolls picked up their relished captives, they were taken aback when one of the gnolls, grey-tufted in fur had thrown a javelin at them...

...Or more truthfully, a banner of some kind -- that was throwable as a marker on a battlefield.

"Save ten and two lives in coming season once hands and feet broken and scum tarred in gnoll-fur. If Gnoll and Hairless tin-stink meet on field of battle against common foe -- one command in yours -- Sir Lothar picked up the banner from the ground and placed it in a notch in his saddle. He understood.

"My unit will remember the smell of your hair, Tin-stink -- may we meet on the field against the mud-scum. Fargohal" -- the last word showed the limitations of his common... but this was a boon, and would not be misallocated if the need arose...

(ATTOLIANS GAIN "GNOLL REGIMENTAL TARGET BANNER")

 

[Enemy Standoo]

A meeting was called of the chapter's inner circle. The knights and cannonates took their places within the garrison's main hall, each one drawing their own chair out from where their rank allowed them to be seated. It was something of an improvised meeting compared to the dark and candle lit halls of more aged chapter fortresses but until a true sanctuary could be added to their fledgling chapter's lands then it would easily serve the purpose.

"We've made some excellent progress within the colony, my brothers and sisters. I think I speak for all of us when I say the lighting of the pyre proved to be a more wonderful moment than any of us could have hoped for. Truly Victoria has given her blessing to this endeavor." But it did not take long for Elien's tone to become more severe as she laced her armoured fingers together and got down to the proper business. "But there is still much to be done. The local chapel is still under works and materials fall short of the task at hand. I believe there is a way for our chapter to kill two birds with one stone in this matter, gaining both stone and further gains for our future archives. We shall set forward our own expedition into the western ruins known as the theatre district. I shall not have us become reliant upon the minotaurs and it is time the people of the colony see the might of the order brought forth. Until true results are brought forth the squires will assist in scavenging more usable pieces of masonry until then. Sir Tarkus I must apologise but your time of rest must wait until the church is up and running. You served the chapter with honour in the tyren hills, now it is time to return to the faith's true tasks."

Tarkus nodded in his grim faced understanding. The other knights gave the assent as three were given the task of leading the fold, Sir Bruford would take the lead. The younger knight smiled in his own glee to lead the expedition. His own excitement seemed contagious as he whispered in a private conversation with Tarkus when the attention was off them. For some reason the effeminate young man was one of the few people in the order Tarkus would tolerate the company of.

"Another force will go to this Spire Hill as the locals call it. The Attolian scienticts have made their own works from the crapped ruins of these golems and I would have our own chapter recover some these reamins. Sir Prisha you shall see what can be done with them, to my knowledge a local engineer has used their own pieces to create a small scale copier of writing. If we are to better spread the word then I would have us do better and see to the creation of an advanced printing press. We have arrived late to the battle of public opinion and I would have us outpace these dragon worshipers."

The order was already taking steps to further ingratiate themselves with the local culture. The businesses and guilds that had formed from the early settlers had become one of the cornerstones of this ragged society, if the Victorian faith was to gain the ground it was accustomed to then they would need to seen on a more daily basis, to have their representatives become regular faces of need around the first major city of the new world. And through doing so the order would spread its influence further through the daily lives of the people under their care and as a chance to learn the closely guarded knowledge of the High Elves when their guard was down.

Spoiler: Action summary

An expedition is sent into the western theatre district ruins to look for left over riches and relics for the order as well as to Investigate the longdead presence.
Staff list:
3 Knights -
Sir Bruford (Mounted knight, Skilled Linguist)
Sir Arran Hawe (skilled mining)
Sir Domision (Skilled Economist)
10 Devout
10 Squires
5 Monks

A second expedition is sent to Spire hill to collect lost automaton pieces.
Staff list:
Sir Prisha (Skilled engineer knight)
5 Devout
10 Squires
5 Monks

GUILDS! The Victorian Order joins...
The Healers guild: 5 Monks
The Smiths Guild: Sir Margaret Kinsey (Skilled Metalworking) 5 Squires
The Learners Square: 5 Monks

The order joins the fledgling glaziers at the beach: Sir Benison (Skilled Jeweler) 5 Squires

Reactions to other faction actions:
Heyitsjiwon
Elien officially agrees with the written mandate of the Attolians regarding slavery and indentured servitude. Although she regards it as too light handed given the severity of the crime she must admit that pubic opinion would probably turn against anyone who would execute someone for wanting to kill someone who had held them in bondage. For the sake of ease and as a sign of unity she suggests that the four colonial powers take direct custody of a quarter of the former slaves each. Given that they have a total number of one hundred slaves each faction could take custody of twenty-five of them when they aren't being brought together for colonial projects. This way they can split up any radical elements and spreading their rehabilitation and education across the four governmental cultures would serve as a good symbol of the council's unity.

Prince Vaethorion
It had taken a great deal of self control from Sir Ravalla to keep a level head as a squadron of elven soldiers marched down to the docks in full regalia. Were they trying to cause another incident like the riot? This colony was already going to spend years healing from this terrible first impression with outside traders, this would be the final nail in their trading coffin! Things only got worse as the letter their captain or cult leader, whatever their title was, got read out on the docks.

How did they know about the manifest? That information hadn't been passed on yet! Did they have spies monitoring the chapter's activity?

This information caused a fiery stir when it was brought back to Elien's attention. What were these elves even doing here? They weren't citizens of the empire, their isolationist tyrants were still in a state of cold war with the Muurdaan who had funded this colony. Their very being here stank of intrigue and now they were spreading their insidious tendrils into the order's legal duties. There was little they could do now, not while the chapter was still finding its feet in the new lands, but steps would be taken. If need be a new crusade of blindness would be undertaken. Only one thing was certain for now, any trust that could have been formed between the chapter and the high nosed elves lay in tatters as of this action.

For now it seemed the colonists had taken all they wanted from the slaver ship. Unless any of them stepped forward to buy the contract for the smog goblins then as far as the Victorians were concerned the ship was free to go, since they lacked the funds to buy their freedom and had no use for the rancid creatures themselves.

@Tori_98 and all government groups.
This bloody demon had suckled at the teat of this colony for too long. Many of colonial groups had expressed their displeasure at its presence and yet it had been allowed to stay, to form the beginnings of its dark cult. The priests of the order had interrogated it and learned of the demon's dark desires. The knights had come across such creatures before and knew from expreience that they were never sated with such meager offerings. In time it would yearn for more worship, and greater offerings.

"Whether you are aware of it or not this colony HAS been offering blood sacrifices to this fountain. Our chapter has learned of this battle of the platz and of how the death that ran rampant in this area caused it to flow with fresh vigor. Now only recently the free slaves offered up the body and the blood therein of the slaver mistress. Now the seer Cassandra walks among you with power gifted from it, as a walking representative of its vile will! Perhaps it was not your intent but this holds all the marked beginnings of a blood cult and whatever your faith, this creature will not pass up any soul that crosses its path.

What happens when its hunger is sated from these sacrifices? What happens when it demands more than you are willing to give? What happens when it decrees that the power it gave as a gift was in fact a loan and your debt is due? In no part of your home nations would such a devil be allowed to take root, do not give into the fear this wilderness would have you live in, prove you are stronger than the demon and its dark promises! The knights of Saint Victoria call to the colony council and every righteous soul in the colony to come together and banish this vile shadow spawn!"

[Reply is given to Attolian legal actions.

2 cannonates (cooper and archivist) 2 knights (Metalwork and masonry) are tasked with coming up with possible plans and improvements to better protect the garrison and lighthouse against spies and thieves.

The Order calls to all government parties and other colony factions to show their support for banishing the demon of the blood fountain. They're aware it has Attolian support but the fountain effects multiple factions and races who deserve a say in their own spiritual safety.]

 

[Beckoncall]

Enemy Standoo

The Theater District:

Newly cleansed by the Lighthouse Blast wave, not a single longstead stood in the streets or emerged in their normal habit of forming thick crowded around outsiders that progressively grew more confused and disturbed. Instead, Sir Domison noted how neatly and quietly they had decided to rest in unburied but inanimate heaps throughout the district. Squires ranged around taking inventory and cartography of houses and facilities, and the monks quickly noted 5 great entertainment venues -- two of these were an above-ground forum and a performance plaza -- and these places were completely purged of restless souls.,, the clattered bones and effects of once standing crowds and crowded stands were now, and hopefully forever -- quieted.

DECISION POINT: Many of the Longdead at these venues as well as the collection plates and chests of the might've been entertainers have valuables amid thier Debris. Do the St. Victorians claim TWO WEALTH or leave it in peace?

Also amoung the debris is (1 unit of cultural artifacts) and (2 units of ancient instruments) -- also subject to being snapped up or left behind...

As for the other three venues, they two subterranian ampitheaters and a great below-ground opera house -- and they are STUFFED with longdead. Some mill in the ailses endlessly looking for seats in the already packed house, most simply pantomime eating empty bowls of snacks, clasping bouquets that have long since turned to dust, and patiently waiting the performance.

...The scouting was clear and comprehensive, with the scouts mapping the sections all the way up to a great delapidated wall that sectioned it from whatever district lay beyond. It seemed that much had been done to cleanse this area, but the few areas that remained were CONCENTRATEDLY haunted.

THE SPIRE:

The party found rust and chips of debris laying all around the grass, but precious little pickings in the area that was more substantial. The first pickings of the Attolians and the scouring of the Fennec had left no "low-hanging fruit" to be found by the Victorians. After cresting one of the higher grazing hills, the spire could be seen, partially obscured in it's own bank of clouds it would seem, dominating the scenery ahead. Far to the west they could see a small outpost of the Attolians and the Highborn, and the Muddy Lake and wooded area around it.

At the foot of the spire, a regiment of battered clockwork soldiers descended and came to random and halting stops breaking and reasserting a formation. The tiny pinpoint eyes of the clockworks scanned the Victorian host. They seemed to repeatedly train their peepers over the squires and monks, but the Armored Devout and the full-plated Sir Prisha seemed to be recipients of both more relaxed "body language" and an absence of scrutiny.

"We are Spire-spire-spire 9. Respond. You are Spire Remnant 7? Respond. Explain prisoners, no facilities for prisoners. Report: Artist returns -- potential for repair of key'ed one. Destruction awaits -- are you prepared?"

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

[Heyitsjiwon]

A council formed and met to discuss recent events among the Attolians.

Lothar began by stating "Based on the reports from the Highborn, the Mud Elves are about to launch a new offensive soon. They're preparing with more anger booze and other drugs that make men fierce, but mindless. Where this offensive will be launched... we have yet to determine, but we should be ready to fight once again." Caelis nodded and replied "The other faction leaders of the government seem to be in accordance as well. We have proposed joint colonial military exercises, and sentiments seem receptive." Lothar nodded and replied "Aye, and just in time too. The drillmaster from the Order really helped whip the Exile Constables into shape. More training should prove to be valuable at this point." "Sir Tristan, may I entrust you to handle that?" The Sundered King nodded in acknowledgement. "Sir Bors then spoke up "There is the matter of the Zebani and the Longdead, my Lord. They expressed clear interest in us clearing the theater district, which I think is a good idea. I would feel more comfortable when I go to sleep at night if I didn't know there were a bunch of undead just a stone throw's distance away." Caelis looked over at Cassandra and said "This moment had to come at some point, and yes. We shall go ahead and put those Longdead to rest. Sir Bors, your squad will join Lady Cassandra and I in our venture to clear and search the theater district." Sir Bors grunted in satisfaction. "The outpost in the Agora district will continue to excavate the area and find anything of note." "Excellent, now then. On to domestic matters."

The Attolian Engineer interjected. "My Lord, I have been examining the lenses and glasses that we have been making and then when I saw them being used by the Order... it hit me. What if we could redirect light?" Caelis looked puzzled and replied "Redirect light? Why in the world... no. I see your point." The Engineer smiled and said "I am glad that your Lordship sees my vision. You inquired if a glass house could be made for the winter, but there would have to be constant water and heat. However, the sewers serve that purpose. If we can redirect sunlight into the sewers, then we can foreseeably have subterranean farms that could keep growing crops through the winter." Caelis chuckled and exclaimed "Genius! You have my blessing with this project. Pick your men, and I give you a treasure's worth to help fund this project. See that it is done!"

"There is a more pressing matter, My Lord." The Castellan brought up. "We have 100 mouths that we are feeding at our expense, and living in homes built with our sweat. Yet, they idle around in this legal limbo. While the Colonial Government decides what to, we should put them to work! It is near sinful to simply subsist and not do anything like this. These are not babies who need to be cared for. They should work for their food and housing." Caelis nodded in agreement, but objected "They should work, but not for free. We shall give them the same rights as indentured servants and the same pay while their status is decided." He then looked at the Architect and said "There is much that we can do to make living in the District more comfortable and suitable for living and commerce. I'll entrust you with the freedmen for this project." The Architect replied "A lot of other settlements try to advertise that they are secluded, luxury housing areas. Should I aim for that as well?" Caelis replied "No, I want you build a community for all that does not seclude itself in splendor and wealth. This is a community that stands for family, honest hard work, and values like any town in the Kingdom. See to it that all will know and all are welcome if they seek the same. The recent policies adopted by the Attolians will prove that our words are true. After all, our subsidy program did prove to heal the Colonial Economy."

Caelis then turned to the Linguist, who had a large Ironclad book before him. It was part of the spoils from the Battle of the Platz, but he wanted to learn what the book was about. However, to everyone's disatisfaction, the book was in Draconic, a near dead language. Few knew the language, and the Linguist was not among them. Thus, it had been decided that the book would be sent to the Mages' Guild. Most mages knew a bit of Draconic as it served a foundation for spells and magic. Thus, this would serve as a start to deciphering the book.

Nicholas was curiously absent from the meeting, but everyone knew that when he was in the middle of something amazing that he wouldn't emerge from his workshop until his curiosity and genius was realized into proper results. Last anyone heard, Nicholas was escorting a clockwork soldier back to his workshop. Clearly, he was having the time of his life studying the automaton. So, no one minded his absence, as by this point it was almost expected.

Then there were the recent events from the lighting of the Lighthouse and the defeat of the Witch. Flowers popped along the river, which raised prospects of useful plants and roots. A team was sent to examine these flowers and to bring back any that could be useful and turned into something that the Colony needs, particularly medicine. Worst case, these flowers could be collected to make dye and paint.

Finally, there were reports of things falling from the Giant trees, the location of the Cull. It was this that prompted Lothar to volunteer to check out the situation and find out what fell as it could potentially help determine how to defeat the Cull. In fact, if these were parts of the Cull, like some suspected, then Dr. Fleming could then examine samples of it and perhaps learn something about the Cull. Maybe a potent drug or chemical could be made to injure the Cull.

---
Enemy Standoo
In response to the Red Fountain, while the Attolians understand the concern that is held by the Order. The Attolians do not think that the Red Fountain should be destroyed. In fact, if it can be maintained and not allowed to grow too powerful, then it can serve as a great resource for the Colony as a whole. The complete destruction of the Fountain would not be a prudent move, and the Attolians reject such a notion.

In addition, the Attolians are glad that the Order agrees in general to the Attolian proposition. However, splitting the workers to serve individual interests does not seem to be a prudent move. The former slaves harmed the Colony as a whole with the murders, and thus they should serve the Colony as a whole by working on Colonial Projects such as the construction of the Capital or the Bank. The debt that they owe is to society as a whole, not individual parts of the Colony.
___

Orders:

1. Joint Military Exercise with Colonial Forces:
15 Halberdiers, 15 Exile Constables, Sundered King #3

2. Expedition to Clear the Theater District and subsequent search of the area for useful things.
Cassandra with Bloodscourge and the Ivory Scepter. Sir Bors, 5 Halberdiers, Caelis, 10 Unskilled Laborers

3. Build Subterranean Farm in Sewers with Lenses and Mirrors to reflect sunlight into the sewers.
Engineer, 10 Skilled Workers, 15 Unskilled Workers, 1 Wealth, quartz, guano (as fertilizer)

4. Improve Housing District's infrastructure to make it a more convenient place to live and do business
Architect, Castellan, 10 Skilled Workers, 15 Unskilled Workers, 6 Units of Stone, 3 Units of Iron, Quartz, sand, glass, and access to Agora for more marble or mines if needed.
50 Thralls, and 50 Kobolds

(Spending 3 Influence to spread the idea that the Attolian District is a family and business friendly settlement that does not discriminate based on wealth to encourage people to move there. The Attolian Housing District is not just a settlement, but a community.)

5. Excavation of the Agora District Continues.
10 Skilled Workers, 10 Unskilled Workers, 3 Augmented Stone Constructs, Geologist

6. Linguist brings the Ironbound Book to the Mages Guild to get help translating its content

7. Repair of the Clockwork Soldier continues.
Nicholas, Dr. Fleming (surgeons have steady hands that might be useful for precision work), 5 Skilled Laborers

8. Seeing the newly popped up flowers along the riverside, the Chemist is sent to look for any useful flowers, plants or roots particularly those that can be used to produce medicine/antibiotics.
Chemist, Preserver, 10 Skilled Workers, 10 Unskilled Workers

9. In response to the recent news of things falling from the Giant trees, an investigation team is sent.
Lothar, Falconer

Summary:
Attolians object to complete destruction of the Red Fountain. While concerns are understandable. The fountain is a powerful resource that, if kept in check, can advance the Colony's interests. Thus, the Attolians suggest the containment of the Red Fountain and the prevention of it gaining any more strength.

Attolians also stick to their original suggestion of having the freedmen work on Colonial Projects rather than splitting them up like property or loot. The debt is to the Colony, thus let them serve the Colony, and not individual interests.

 

[Zaltusinel]

The Vault Encounter

As the music faded, the Highborne approached, in their ranks and armor, Ryleon and her people. An envoy that followed swiftly and precisely behind the Attolian blockade before holding position at attention and weapons slightly prepared. The War mage had not expected the Nylor to be violent, a true assumption. Shields raise and spears raised as bolts of lightning in the Phalanx, watching the dance recede and finish. As Ryleon ended her final jump, she latched Kuva’s hand to hers, letting him wrap around her in his abraded armor. Hair of hers danced around his neck, letting the leftover perfume swindle his heart with a deep breath. As he eased the muscles of his neck, letting his head fall as a curtain onto hers. A hand shot up as an excited balloon, waving as the ocean, "Hey look, our elven cousins!" This is in ancient Elvish surprisingly.

The Linguist smiled as he recognized the tongue, the words began and stayed on the verses of song. His eyes lighten as he expresses, "Hello, cousins, strange place fine thee"

Ryleon nodded, letting herself adjust in Kuva’s solemn embrace, "Haha, this is our homeland! You have found Kalimdor. Welcome, sorry we couldn't alarm ourselves." Ryleon made a peace sign, letting Kuva smile with her as she tumbled out of his reach. Tip-toeing as the ancients of wind before climbing on top of Kuva’s back. His neck tucked in between her arms, his hair spiking over her face.

"This land? Or this cave, how find yourself in this prison, were you in a long sleep? Who art thou? Are you from the ancient Elves of legend, what dost thy call yourselves?"

She brushed up her hair, "This land once was ours, our memories are fractured from our storage. Our people suffered a great apocalypse and we slept in this vault. We are the Nylor, ancients that traveled to these lands long ago in the ways of the Great Moon." She coughed before continuing, "It has been time since we have seen our kin, I applaud you to remember these words."

The Linguist was enthralled by this encounter. "Lye naa i' taurn Tel'Quessir” (We are the High Elves). We have heard that the Elves once ruled this land, as the Elves ruled much of the world before the great cataclysms and later the accursed Murdain. I have studied the ancient tongue and have learned of your people. We are your kin. We have heard of the Nylor, we thought you left the the world long ago..."

"It is a blessing to meet the High elves, may your grace show us our affinity for one another. So you may know, what of the wood elves?"

"Yes, blessings for us, the eternal ones smile on us, and it is our good fortune to encounter you and your people, the world has changed much since your slumber. The Sylvan Elves exist, they are fewer in number, some came here but left to defend their home lands from the enemies of all races, the Muurdaan, but there are forests of Sylvan Elves scattered in the old world, which in truth is the new world. We have some Sylvan Elves living under our protection in our Kingdom."

"Do not fear us for our dark aura, we are users of almost all magic and it is bound to our souls in pure essence. Nature has a spirit, a dream and we ensured that the dream would be fullfilled. Hmm, where are they now. I will tell that relations will be tense. We left angrily and all Sylvans shall remember us. However, they can come to their senses. I know the world had changed, but it shall return in our magic. Our memory shall return."

"We fear not anything, not you, not Dark auras, the auras I sense are not Dark, but more of twilight, nature is bound with eternalness, and infinity, we are all part of that continuum. Relations with the Sylvan Elves are also tense with the Highborn as we are called. Our people, the High Elves came from the Nobility of the Sylvan that left the forests thousands and thousands of years ago, beyond our memories, the Sylvan wanted to dwell with the creatures of the forests and our people sought the valleys, the mountains, the fields, the oceans and later Elven structures of our own making to separate us from beast and dark creatures, it is here we worked on our magic, high magic, a very advanced form of magic compared to the more primitive Sylvan magic. Perhaps we are familiar to you, our magic that is?"

"My lessons are coming back to me, our people were once the Nobility of your people as well, and we are called "Highborne.” some deem us haughty and arrogant, because of our superiority, but we suspect this is because of mistrust of our Noble blood and heritage. My knowledge might not be correct, but this is what I am remembering. We are descendants of ancient Elves, and there were fractures in our people, or perhaps we were parallel kin, I am unsure since it has been nearly a millennium since I learned this and much I have learned since.

"I believe we left before such things arose and our Sentiments impacted your creation. We may be distant, and our attunement with nature may be odd, but our culture shall surely tickle you."

"Yes, I am unsure. We know there were wars between great mages and great Demi-Gods and the destruction in their wake destroyed much knowledge and artifacts with the history of the ancient world. We are pleased with meeting our kin, albeit, my knowledge is not complete"

"Everything survives in memory and I hope that all misunderstanding is cleared. Our records have been scattered, if you find something in scales. Please send this our way.”

"We are haughty people perhaps, and this place" The Linguist gestured about, "has been a humbling experience for us".

"Nothing needs to be completed, we all shall fill ourselves in knowledge. I am Ryleon Bran-isyi." She motions her arms to her left, "This is Kuva, one of our people's dragon tamers, one who has the greatest essence."

"We are pleased to find our Kin here that understand the universe and the deeper mysteries, there have been many new races since your slumber. The Animals now, some of them talk, and are sentient"

"Her dream adapts to the sentient of the world, we shall surely meet them all." She motions to the Attolians, "Can you inform them that we come in no harm?"

The Linguist gave a slight bow and an ancient Elven of symbol of peace by making a triangle with his hands. "I am Shinien Maksa Lamb-el (Shining Soft Tongue), the Linguist, I serve my Prince, who is son of our King of the Eastern Highborn. These are our kin, our blood, they have several names and will save introductions. In our kingdom we have Dragons still, not many, but we have dragon riders, and among us we have a Dragon tamer as well his name is Lussa Beien Neum-ar (Noble Whisper Being Trap). The Linguist turned to the Attolians and said in perfect common. "They say they come in peace." The Linguist had pointed at his fellow Highborn who escorted him. "The Attolians are humans, they are an inferior race, but they are numerous. Some share similar values, and others are filth, a virus that has sickened the world. Is their form familar to you? The Attolians, thus far have demonstrated themselves to be Noble humans. The Humans that is"

"Ah, I see our kin has also traveled great in the scapes of beasts." She pondered, "All races have potential and in time, we can surely clean the unclean and bring them unto the moon's grace. We remember them being no more than monkey’s cousin."

"Our Elves have been outnumbered, the Humans die like May flies, but mate often like rodents. They have learned to make armor and weapons, and have murdered many of our Elves and other races. We must cooperate with the humans and now all humans are the same. Some are evil, some neutral, some good and everything in between"

"Then let us work against them and invite you to our homeland where these lords over you shall not touch you. The Sylvan are somewhat of a lost cause, but I will not kill them for their beliefs. No matter how binding or abusive. I hope you fail to listen to the false prophets.”

"To many the Dragons are but a fantasy, to others they are a race to make extinct. We protect them, and we bond with them as your race has. Yes. All races develop. Some through time, some through magic and some through luck. Yes, the Humans were once apes in the trees and now they rule over much of the physical world. We can use your service to regain the glory of the Elves. The Star magic now seems distance in this age of Earth magic...." The Linguist nodded sympathetically, “The Sylvan are stuck in another age. They are Nature magic. We respect them for their primitiveness reminds of us simpler times, when leaf, wood, rock, tree Elf were one and the forest creatures were friends. Times have changed, we have evolved and they have remained with their squirrels eating acorns."

"Nature has great bounty that the sylvan will always slave and abuse. The creatures of the forest have great power with the right tools."

"I am unfamiliar with the prophecy you speak of. We serve the universe, we still dream of ascending to the stars, we have fought the Accursed Murdan, the human filth who dominate for centuries and tens of thousands of our Kin died senselessly, but not without great expense of hundreds of thousands of dead Muurdan. We have found an uneasy truce with the human invaders and now our race are held up in the four corners of the New World in heavily fortified Kingdoms. We have some independence, but we do not rule over all as we once did"

"Only the Mage kings stopped us. And only just, the most expensive game and we remained."

"Nature is a wonderful bosom to sleep in, our people still love the forests and respect nature, but we also have learned to mold nature for our own uses. We are at peace with nature, but we have ascended from nature. Please tell me more of the Mage kings, our lore is not complete"

"You have ascended from her body and we take no offense, we fight for her dream. Something you may come back to. Sadly, my memory can go no further, but if I have some hint, I will let you know."

"When we mediate, in our meditative state, we commune with greater forces of nature, we leave our bodies and the stars are one with us. We also can commune with nature, but we now visitors. We dream, and in our dream state we are one with ALL, but when we return to our corporeal state we are confronted with our own physical limitations."

"Let me not tax you more, do you need nourishment, water, or mana? What do you eat, do you eat? Would you care for some wine?"

"It would be pleasant, we do eat and a variety of things. My people have just awoken before this device rang on the door. So please excuse some blood, our people suffered some nose bleeds. Ah, wine, we have been told that your wine is different from our own. It would be a pleasure. We never need mana unless consuming great sums."

"Would you care to leave your domicile?" The Linguist gestured to one of the Highborn present and they produced a flask of wine, a flask of water and some wrapped up Elven pastries of much nourishment. The Linguist politely leaned over and offered the refreshments. "Here, please take this to help gain your strength. Our magic comes of stars and of the spirits. Such things may be lost to you. The Attolians are primitive, but they mean well." The Linguist said.

The Linguist turned to the Attolians. "They are tired, they are an ancient race of Elves from this world. The hydraulics hurt them somewhat but not too much. They have been here from before our memory. Our histories are incomplete regarding this race."

The Linguist turned back towards the Night Elves. "We have mages of much power back home that still practice magic that would be recognizable to you. They have such powers of stars and spirits, and this magic, is not extinct to us, but is esoteric and arcane. Our magic, as I said before is High Magic, in some ways more advanced than what you may be familiar with. I am versed in Magic, all Highborn are, it is our blood and we learn it from birth, but I am not a Mage."

"All things will come clear in time. Now your leader? Where is he?"

She notices the refreshments and smiles as she hands them out, "Thank you."

The Dozen Highborn present had been silent thus far. They stood in wonder. This was a fantastical encounter for them. The War Mage also had been silent until now. He stepped forward out of the shadows and saluted the Night Elves in Star magic and said in halting ancient Elven, and in arcane speak. "It is I who sensed your presence once you awoke. I am a mage, and your magic is taught to us, not how to practice, but to recognize and there are fragments of Star and spirit magic that are incorporated in to High Magic. Our magic cannot ignore the stars and spirits." The War Mage then took his fingers which glowed and drew a star in the air. The star was a universal symbol to Elves and one that was ancient. The Mage continued, "Our Lord Prince, his royal presence, of the blood of the highest nobles of the Ancient High Elves is somewhere serving his people and making this colony, if one can call it that, better. I am positive he relishes the chance to meet the ancient Nylor."

"You are very welcome". The Linguist said politely.

"Then let us meet! We are honored to see our cousins evolve from the sylvan, but they must meet us again. We must make terms with them or threaten dearly. I know this is a short relationship, but would the prince consider accompanying us to this meeting? They may provoke violence."

"I am glad you know of the stars and spirits mage."

The Linguist continued, "The situation is this, the world here as you knew it is in shambles, it is a ruin. We have been sent here to restore it and reestablish civilization. It is a monumental task. There are many dangers, too many to retell, but the shattered souls of the wars of the mages remain and they haunt the cities that once stood. We are a colony, a group of misfits, and a menagerie of races sent as a cruel joke by the Evil Empire to work together. Your race is the only one besides ours from superior racial stock. The rest are talking animals, Dwarves and humans."

The Mage answered, “We cannot speak for the Prince, but we will pass on your request. He is very accommodating these days. Can we assist your departure from your vault? We will not let harm befall you. We desire harmony in the Colony. It has been a challenge. We have been working towards understanding the inferior races and working with them. Our survival and our mission depend on it. We are surrounded by hostile entities and face a potential calamity called the "cull". Are you familiar with this?"

"In time, we may remember clues from our own fall. However, we may not be familiar at all."

The Linguist interrupted, "Lord Mage, Shaalth Val'istar, let us not tire them without incessant curiosity and with the tedium of details of this wasteland. Let us assist them in departing this hole in the ground and in finding their way from their slumber." The Linguist gently chided the War Mage who was both his superior officer and a being of much power. The two were also friends. The Linguist addressed the Nylor. "How can we serve you? The provisions we have on us are field provisions. I am permitted to welcome you to our humble district, and we can offer you a proper meal, as proper as this barren wasteland allows. What can we do to be of assistance?"

"Our people will not likely sleep for days, do we will need directions to the Sylvan with your aid if possible and any supplies you could spare would be grateful."

The Linguist turned to the Attolians. "They are tired, they are hungry and disoriented. This race is unlike any race we have encountered. It would be like if you met your ancestors the Monkeys, but if the Monkeys themselves were an advance race, and not, well monkeys. Excuse me, I mean no offense (the Linguist seemed embarrassed, he forgot his diplomatic manners in all of the excitement), but this is a peculiar sort of Elf. One which we know only from lore and ancient scrolls."

The Linguist answered, "Yes, Of course, I am sure the Prince would be enthused to meet you and guide you to the Sylvan if he willing and able. I do not presume to speak for him, as he is my Lord and not the other way around... In regards to the Sylvan, We will act as a buffer. I must add that the Sylvan that are remaining here, the Elders that were here left to go fight the Murdan across the sea, who invaded their forest, are just mere Springborn. Basically children. They know little, and are not much more than kids. They might not even know of you since they are so young. I have shoes older than them. We will make sure there is a smooth interaction. We do not tolerate violence among ourselves"
Summary:

1. Ryleon encourages meeting with the Prince and asks for help from the Highborne for Meeting with the Sylvan.
2. Ryleon discuss important topics and delight the Highborn.
3. The Plan after the meeting is the head towards Harun'Taras.
4. The Nylor are deemed not a threat by the Highborne and the Attolians should back down. They are told that they are not dark elves.

 

[Prince Vaethorion]

SpiralErrant Beckoncall

Runners. The Highborn were determined to tame the Runners and gain their trust. The Highborn Tamer and his assistants would begin feeding the Runners snacks and get them accustomed to the Highborn smell. The Highborn plan was to make a coral using the netting they make for capturing sharks and this netting would be made high enough to prevent jumping over. The Plan was for the Highborn to drive the herd into the coral using loud noises and fire. When in the coral the Highborn would use potions of animal taming that they would develop using existing narcotics in the Colony and infusing them with magic at the Mage guild. The Highborn first would seek the advice of the Tyren Mage at the Mage guild for assistance, advice and ask if their plan to tame the Runners was to them a good one?
The Highborn born realized that as Herd and Shepherding culture, the Tyren had an insight into other herds that the Highborn did not. The Highborn did not want to hurt the runners, but to befriend them, and gain their trust.

Order: The Highborn begun feeding runners to gain trust, and build corals to capture herd to tame and mate. First off the Highborn would ask The Tyren if their plan was sound and seek their advice to tame and possibly assistance to tame the Runners.

The Prince was pleased by the reception by the Tyren. He was impressed by what they had accomplished, by the tree song, living rock and quartz. The Prince and other Highborn clearly underestimated the Tyren and other Animal like Races. The Prince also realized by now very well that the Tyren were not the Minotaurs that the Highelves had once loathed and combatted, but were a productive gentle, and honorable race. The Prince wanted to assure to Orm that he meant no offense.

The Prince said to Orm. “Greetings, fine Tyren leader. Please take no offense at our not living in your land. This is partially out of respect for your territorial boundaries, but also due to my Race's traditions of living in quarters designed for our Elves. We are very particular, almost to a fault regarding where we reside. To not live in a place designed for us, is to cause great disharmony and discontent in our race. Please see it as a compliment that my Elves desire to live near the Haruntaras. There is protection to be near each other, there is comfort, and it allows our community to become closer in time. It also allows us to be able to protect one another. Now we are few the Highborn, but if we survive the Cull we will be inviting more of our race to settle and my Elves need to spend time in nature to feel at peace.” The Prince said these things sincerely.

The Prince continued (present was also the Highborn Elf that has resided at the Learning center and among the Tyren for awhile and had been ordered to learn their language and customs). “Please do not see the Platz City as a rival or as competitors. It is just another part of the colony. (the Prince was interrupted by his Highborn-Tyren ambassador who said something to him), “We are part of the same Herd, just on different pastures. As far as distance, I have a solution, and will need your assistance. There is an animal native of here we call “Runners”. They are a herd animal. We think they could be used as mounts and be valuable to the Colony. We mean them no harm, we love Animals and all creatures for they are from the same life force as all creation. Once the Runners become a standard form of transport, the Colony, the herd if you will, will become closer to each other. We also can come to each other's aid in case of attack if need be.



The Prince presented Orm a gift which was wrapped in a fine cloth. “Here is the first weapon, an axe to be forged by my most skilled weapon-smiths at the new joint forge. It is an amalgamate of bull iron we bought at the market, silver, and quartz and it is enchanted by our War Mage to have certain properties advantageous to you and your race.

The Prince seemed very proud of this gift and hoped it was received well. “In our culture, gifts of weapons is considered to be one of friendship and honor. I hope it serves you well!”

The Prince continued on the tour and nodded to the sleeping Ent. My Cleric might be able to commune with the Ent. He is fascinated by Sylvan Elves and their magic. The Prince was enchanted by Anais and was interested in saying hello. The Prince was not pleased at the mention of the Fennecs, but agreed. “The Foxes are but creatures of their own natures and I do not fault them for it. We Highborn cannot allow our prejudices to prevent us from making the best of their abilities for the betterment of the colony. I respect your decision not to send the Springborn and accept to have them trained by my Spymaster.

The Prince was respectful as a guest at Orm's longhouse. He did his best not to be bothered by the earthy animal smells and what to him was primitive architecture. He kept the straightest face possible and even did not sneer.

The Prince replied grimly, “Yes, War is coming. The Mud Elves are mobilizing. The Cull is intent on destroying us and the Gnolls won't be peaceful indefinitely. The Mud Elves are not real elves. They are a bastardization of nature and foul, evil creatures. They are of the lowest sort. They are not a foe to underestimate either. We agree that unity in defeating them is necessary. We appreciate the offerings of collaboration to defeat our joint enemies, especially using Bull iron to arm the Colonist.”

The Prince listened carefully to Orm. “Yes, the Ballista would be helpful to replicate and they will be outfitted with a special magical head to defeat our enemies. With joint resources we could replicate the Ballistas and put our own High elven touches on them. We will use them for defense and offense. We have plans to make other great weapons in joint time.”

The Prince said firmly, “My word is bond, we shall as a colony and two races work together, and be united. You can call on my people as friends and allies and we shall fight side by side each other as one herd and one entity.”

The Prince extended his hand in friendship.




Orders and conversation summary:

-The Highborn welcome Orm's offer to help replicate Balistas and modify them to have Mana heads and being them to Highborn standards.

-Highborn tell Orm that they are one herd the Colony and that the Platz and Haruntaras are not rivals, but working towards the same goals and also that that they mean no offense that the Highborn are not seeking to live in Haruntaras but seek to be good neighbors. The Highborn tradition dictate that the homes must be to the standards of Highborn culture.

-The Highborn Prince asks Cleric if he could help rouse the Ent from his slumber

-Highborn Agree for Spymaster to take 5 Springborn Sylvan Elves as Apprentices and train them.

-Highborn agree to work jointly on not just defending colony but taking fight to enemies.

-Highborn asked for advice and assistance in Taming Runners. The Runners will make the colony smaller and improve defenses and offensive capabilities of the Colony.

- Prince gives Orm a special axe, the first weapon to be forged at the Colony forge, using samples of Bull iron, quartz, and Silver the Axe itself was enchanted by the Highborn War Mage at Mage guild.

- The Prince solidifies in what seems to be a friendship and alliance of sort between the two races.

 

[Beckoncall]

UPDATE: Attolian Orders

Heyitsjiwon :

Joint Military Exercise with Colonial Forces:

With the Victorians willing to share their drill master, a natural progression would be joint military exercises to see how the various colonial forces would function in combat together.

The Attolians and their constables literally had the breath and strength beaten out of them in relation to the martial discipline of the Victorians and Highborn. What they lacked in technique, they made up with in Exile unpredictability and the relentless defense of the halbardiers-- who with their piston weapons, half cocked, were at least in first contact a match for highborn spearmen... but the Devout and the Highborn were without sweat by the time the Attolians and Exiles had worn themselves out. They learned much, and if they continued to train as a group their endurance too, would improve.

The real synergy found was the small-scale zone-of-control based tactics of the devout and the highborn elites. both were able to function as small units working systemically with other units to control a larger area or while on the move... for humans, the situational awareness of the devout was almost impressive to the highborn, and their endurance was impressive even if their comparative agility and dexterity were dismal. If devout and Swordmasters worked together, Devout could be powerful anchors for a battle line that would otherwise have to move to avoid the worst of retaliation against the highborn. There was promise to be found here, practice and perhaps some inspiration would find a true synergy.

The Halbardiers learned from the highborn spearmen how to stagger ranks more favorably, and some interesting strategies for hooking and withdrawing casualties that the highborn perfected over years of practice together, but the concepts were still sound. Drills to stab forward with one rank as another rank stepped forward or back slowly got drummed into the attolians... and the Exiles put aside their improvised weapons for the safety and uniformity of the spear and shield... the gear readily available from the new forges.

The Victorians and the Attolian Peacekeepers also learned more about highborn archery tactics, which would enable them to fight near them in greater safety and not move or expose themselves to friendly fire -- in particular the strategy of archer officers firing high-arcing arrows that would fall vertically on the areas he wanted volleys to land most concentrated -- other colonial forces, particularly their officers, would be watchful of these "vertical drop" arrows and train to both realize opportunities after the full volleys landed, and how to move to avoid exposure to said volleys when operating close to highborn missile targets. With the accuracy of the highborn, the fact that the humans were even vaguely aware made them much easier to avoid getting caught in the crossfire, and closed the distance high elf archers could dare their fire support in the whirl of battle...

_____________________________________

Build Subterranean Farm in Sewers with Lenses and Mirrors to reflect sunlight into the sewers:

Glass production was increased, and polished mirrors were placed in key areas which already opened to the surface, be they hatch, crack, or hole -- starting with a square of four T-junctions. The sewers, long since they were used as such, ran with quite sufficiently potable water -- though they wondered as population increased if the purity of the water could become a concern.

The engineer was useful as a supervisor of the project, but it was the skilled workers, experienced with farming all -- that kept the project from becoming a disaster. Firstly, the engineer had no idea how much (or more truthfully how little) water was needed -- too much water would bring disease to the crop -- the engineer's greatest contribution was building dams to throttle a small enough stream that could be drawn to water the crops. Guano was purchased from the Aymaran -- concentrations of bats were too difficult and labor intensive to find and leverage, as the Aymarans had for months been herding bats into concentrations near their settlement for food.

Then there was the issue of Capybaras and smaller vermin teeming to eat the seeds before they could even germinate. Wrought iron barriers could keep the capybaras out -- once it was realized how narrow a gap the giant rodents could still get through. Some of the excess iron from the Housing projects above was put to this purpose, beyond that the junctions were closed off with wood and stone, and traps and poison bait concocted by Dr. Flemming was placed in the area outside the farm. Aymarans, when they learned how tasty the new concentration of rodents were (and oddly, they found the poison delicious as well) -- they did a great deal to disabuse vermin from preying on the fledgling plants. "Winter Strain" wheat and barley (the hardiest specimens) -- would show promise -- it was thought that even if the wheat proved to frail, the barley sown in this manner would be healthy as long as temperatures in the sewer tunnels did not drop below FREEZING! -- and careful heating of the indoor area would cost fuel, but almost guarantee a yield in 3-4 months (each season) if the crop was kept dry enough (dry enough!)

The engineer made sure the networks of mirrors were laid out elegantly and efficiently -- each junction would share it's light with the adjacent mirror networks, to get light underground, direct it above the crop, and down upon the rows.

The plan was sound -- it would just be a matter of weeks to tell if disease or decomposition were unforseen unavoidable consequences -- the greatest agony was endless re-positioning of mirrors by the unskilled laborers, and the strain to produce the glass for the project in a timely fashion.

The project would profit from additional wealth to ensure success.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Improve Housing District's infrastructure to make it a more convenient place to live and do business:

The subterranean farms had already taxed the relatively small glass facilities of the attolians to the limit -- desired glass projects in this objective had to be cast aside until more labor and expertise could go into glassmaking -- perhaps the official establishment of a guild would help as well... but glass was not the only thing planned for the district...

Sandy paths and planters beautified the district and made for a more real and perceived clean over the dust and debris of other areas of the 'Platz. Iron security gates and cages for precious cargo (and first story windows) gave increased confidence relating to the security of goods and citizens in the face of threats and thieves. Iron-propped awnings made for more attractive storefronts and business out of the sun at the hottest times of day. Quartz tiles beautified key areas, attracting business and leisure alike.

Stone, so readily available, had already done much to put new homes up -- but even more standard housing seemed to grow out of each ruined footprint when the freedmen got to thinking the houses they would be building might one day be their own. The Kobolds were tireless workers, but were VERY lazy unless they were properly motivated -- This in some cases literally meant slapping and whipping them, which would drive them into paroxysms of new speed and performance long after the human thralls would tire. Certain exiles with "moral flexibility" rose to the challenge -- It looked bad from a PR perspective, but the Kobolds only respected anger and strength in their culture -- it was the only way to motivate them.

That said, it didn't make the Attolians look good -- and many of the common folk were similarly taken aback by the Attolians talking a big game of sharing the labor of the new indentured servants and then seemingly snapping them all up for exclusively Attolian gain.

(Relations between Attolians and other factions suffer a modest amount -- it would be far worse if influence was not spent liberally to put the project in it's best light, and to fully explain it's value -- The attolians in using their influence just might have dodged a serious reputation debacle!)

Still, results spoke for themselves -- with all the labor and materials -- the Attolian housing district WAS the place for one that was not wealthy and 'Platz-minded. The most and highest structures by concentration over any other place in the colony... there was room to grow and then some... with surplus housing giving room for cottage industry and storefronts that families could live above.

_____________________________________________________________________________

GLASS INDUSTRY NEEDS MORE WORKERS AND SUPPLIES!!! (Or production will suffer)

_____________________________________________________________________________

Excavation of the Agora District Continues --

a large number of opals and pearls were found in the ruins of a jeweler -- this can be converted into 2 wealth, or 1 unit of gems to invest in making jewelry or otherwise trade.

In a stroke of extreme ill-fortune, 5 unskilled workers are lost when somehow the mechanism for a trash chute or some kind of deep silo causes the entire floor of a building to open into a yawning hole -- the men fall into darkness, rapidly and never to be seen again. The building-sized shaft is of unknown purpose -- but if a means could be derived it could potentially be explored -- if only to recover the bodies of the lost... all that can be deducted so far, is that the shaft is not connected to the sewer and may drop as high as the cliffs themselves or deeper -- 30 stories down at least. Another mystery in the dangerous ruins... (Attolians lose 5 unskilled workers)

Future precautions will be taken to make sure constructs expose themselves to structural complexities so hopefully nothing like this will happen again.

There is still much more of the Agora district to search, but it is finally getting mapped out at least, and it's boundaries known.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Linguist brings the Ironbound Book to the Mages Guild to get help translating its content :

The Mage guild determines it is a magical text on the cultivation of magical and non-magical crystals -- some of which (it's hard to tell without a lot more study) are of potentially disturbing type -- "Death Crystals" and "Hell's Glass" are two such crystals with guides to cultivate and grow. At present without yet more research, Attolians can up particular specimens of crystals they have and see if the book can help them grow them faster/larger. Far beyond comprehension at the moment is how to use magic to "summon" crystals into being, and the strange scripts in the margins that seem to refer to "portal glass" and "Tindalonic Pyramidial Lenses"...

_________________________________________________________________________________

Repair of the Clockwork Soldier continues.

Huge successes! with the artificer to oversee the project and the Doctor present to synthesize the strange biological method to the seeming maddening sophistication -- once the armor was stripped off of the automaton it was, over the days -- the automaton looked MUCH better -- and was seemingly 65% repaired. The record disc system in it's chest (which had discs with phrases and sounds for various languages, not just early dynastic common -- was in terrible shape, and there were some other problems that were seemingly so far inscrutable -- overall the work done was impressive, and if the thing could speak it would probably express as such.

....Still, it looked like they'd need a mage to advance the project further -- it had numerous networks of iron and copper fibers that responded like muscle tissue to various power potentials and exitations -- but at the end of the day it was a magical device... and a mage was needed to help...

__________________________________________________________________________________

Seeing the newly popped up flowers along the riverside, the Chemist is sent to look for any useful flowers, plants or roots particularly those that can be used to produce medicine/antibiotics.

With the project well supported and given the proper experts -- it realizes gains beyond expectation -- Two varieties of tea (one a powerful digestive aid, one just a flavorful drink) as well as seeds similar to capers and cloves and a handful of other Spices, Including "Jade Saffron" -- an expensive spice indeed.

(Attolians gain access to resources TEA and SPICES -- the popularity of which will rapidly spread throughout the colony)

_______________________________________________________________________________

Remain to be processed:

Visit to the Great trees, Sortie into Theater District....

 

[Beckoncall]

UPDATES: Prince Vaethorion SpiralErrant


The Tyren template for the Muurdain Ballista was useful to the highborn -- there was much to improve on the design -- but the High Elf Tactician, once taking possession of the device quickly mused that there would be as many as four superior siege weapons by the end of summer.

(Properties of the new weapons, features, mobility, and other characteristics can be discussed in chat or PM -- Prince Vaethorion is encouraged to contact me to hash this out.)

__________________________________________________________________________

The Sylvan students of the spy master seemed to be naturals -- unsurprisingly, things relating to the wild, camouflage, stalking prey and other skills valuable to reconnaissance were second nature to them.Skills earned at time and cost to the highborne the Sylvan just seemed to grasp. broadening their skills to environment outside the wilderness and the and expanding their knowledge to encompass the hunting and misdirection of sentient quarry were lessons that were harder on the Sylvan to learn. It became evident how naive the springborn were when the Spymaster resolved to open their minds slowly -- there was so much callousness and cruelty to the art of intrusion, assassination, and espionage... it would take time... but he was certain he had the five best pupils the Tyren had to offer...

_________________________________________________________________________________

As for the Axe, Orm had never held anything sharper in his life -- With this axe Orm wondered if he could leave a bite-mark in an anvil -- if even stone might yield to it's edge. While not light by any measure of the imagination -- it was almost confusingly well-balanced.

Ummush, who also took time to study it, proclaimed "it was a giver of sleep to those that never can." -- which was a Tyren adage meaning that it was a weapon likely to transcend special defenses afforded by many creatures. This Axe was the Bane of Undead and Demons -- the Silver and Bull Iron saw to it, and the High-Magic infused it in made it doubly so. Bruul also speculated that if Orm was lucky, or quick, he might be able to use the head of the Axe to block or diffuse deadly magefire cast against him -- as high magic was powerful in it's capacity for dispelling other magic.

A MAGICAL WEAPON -- Orm could scarcely believe it.

 

[Zaltusinel]

The Platz Adventure!

In the short time after the Attolians stood down, Urun and Jadius had filled up the bulk of the supplies in the Dreamsail, all that would fit in weight and size constraints. The flying boat meandered out of the vault and into open view as the few Nylor inside the vault packed bags full of their still sleeping kin. A satchel bag made of refined Kirilex scales into a powder, heated into thread and woven as chainmail. It hanged roughly at the hip and had a strap that stretched the whole shoulder comfortably. Urun paddled in the back to float over beside Kuva and Ryleon where he made a quick smile before bonking his brother on the head with the paddle, gently. Both of their hoods were down as neither of them cared if they were seen. They knew the Nylor had made a scene at the colony anyways.

“Ouch, why do you do this to me?” Jadius halfway whispered in a solemn yet inquisitive tone. His hair sparkled of honey yellow over top a verdant green. Ryleon giggled as she skipped ahead. Her dress twirls as she waits for the others to follow after a short beckon. “Come on, we must go on an “adventure”. I’m sure you would love that usage.”

“Oh come on Jadius, it will be fun! Anyway, who are these guys? They look like relatives, except their pale and dress somewhat odd.”

“These elves are the Highborne, those who separated from the Sylvan after we migrated long ago. They seem reasonably separate from the Sylvan, assuring us that their “Prince” will accept to escort us to them here. They have reached our lands and we need to find ways to… handle their misguidance.” A small silence as she spoke and handed wine and bread to the Nightbringers. They inspected the food before munching as pot smokers.

“This is not bad, not like… our bread. I don’t remember the name of it. So what you think we should do. I doubt we have the numbers to handle them outright.” Urun said, his eyes dashed across the site. He raised his hands to his chin. The Attolians seemed so insecure to him. “Are those monkeys?”

Ryleon held her head, “No, no, no Urun. Those are the Attolians, or humans as the Highborne refer to them. They had evolved during our cycles here. Now they are on our land, with mixed intentions. Some are pure, some are not. Hard to tell, hard to find. They surely have no way of saving themselves from it, but I…” Her voice stopped as she bumped into a colonist, a human who was shell-shocked at the Dreamsail. She moved to the side and continued walking as the others paddled or followed. “Surely we can do something, but we need samples first!”

“Kidnapping will incite paranoia. Nothing we need, leave someone or two persons behind. Study these “Colonists” and see how truthful or pure they are.” Jadius said. His armor gleamed somewhat in the sun, and Kuva hissed as he covered his eyes from the gleam. He could see the fractions of light split from it. “Sorry friend, who may you be?”

“Kuva, Jadius I assume?” Jadius nodded as Kuva crossed arms with him. A form of “Handshake” the Nylorian Culture developed.

“Hey look at this guys!” Ryleon held out a wheel of cheese from a simple stall of wood. Most of the herd of Nylor around the Dreamsail rolled their eyes at the simplistic appearance and overall mediocre style. Urun smelled the wheel before turning his head in disgust.

“What is that?! It smells pasty and kinda like sand.”

“I doubt it smells like sand, nor do I think you’ve smelled sand.” Jadius mumured.

Urun escalated his voice in a casual fun way, “Do you underestimate my senses!” His voice turned heads as he continued to paddle through. Some of the colonists would stare at the boat, and Urun smiled and flexed. Though his armor covered most of the difference. Jadius hanged his head back, rolling his eyes. Urun raked his gloved hand through the furry head in front of him.

The Nylor band kept their eyes peeled for pickpockets and other thieves. An occasional low life would attempt, but half of the group would stare at them as they back away with a glaive at their necks. Otherwise, the band somewhat wandered through the colony, peering at wares and noticing the nuances in people. The land they once knew was completely changed, but they had feelings it was not lost forever. Towards what seemed to be the more of a built up and proper section town is where the Nylor stopped. They remembered a road that lead north, one more rural and longer. They felt traces of things, but they weren’t sure what that may be. As they stood at the Highborne district, a ring of light echoed throughout the colony. Above them. They watched in wonder. Kuva left the band to an anomaly in the platz. He noticed how Jadius and a Calibur followed as he sneaked off. He followed through the Platz again before approaching the Blood fountain. His eyes noticed the crimson waters, and the oddity of the fountain. “Kuva” means blood in Nylorian, he was named so because he tasted his mother’s blood before anything else.

“What are you?” He said softly, he had unsheathed his katana and adjusted his mask.

Summary:

1. Once the Attolians are told to stand down and the way is clear. The Nylor wander off and explore the Platz.
2. They end up stopping at the Highborne Quarter out of pure luck.
3. Kuva, Jadius, and a Calibur(Midknight) sneak off from the rest of the group out of an anomaly and confront the Blood fountain

 

[Beckoncall]

Zaltusinel :

The platz did not seem to live strongly in the fractured memory of the Nylor... they vaguely remembered the great city... occasionally glimpsing an invisible spire, or an almost precarious-seeming pile of castles squatting one atop the other in a absurb but magnificent stair... but these flits of memory died quickly on the vine of a still bleary Nylor mind.

Instead they noticed the quaint offerings of the Attolians, and the clever system they seemed to be rigging focusing mirrors into the sewers... for who knows what reason. They were welcomed by the Attolian populace with polite, if not slightly garish formal pleasantries. They were invited to stay even -- "New colonists with a mind for business will choose the Attolian Housing District! Consider our partnership! Consider our friendship!"

Ryleon could recall that in Kalimdor humans had been left alone, even protected, until they descended from trees. She seemed to recall that other species of humans had been elevated to sentience, though from divine inspiration or magical tampering she could not recall. Most of them were dead of old age before you got to know them anyway, but you could befriend or disdain them as a collective, well enough.

Ryleon and her people as they passed through the district were offered samples of wares, and bid to come back when they sought fine food and wares "at finer prices" -- the less enterprising ones stared slack-jawed at the Dreamsail. There were plenty of those.

Before passing through the district proper, which put them on the road to the northlands where they presumed the Sylvan did reside, The Nylor noticed some of the more gruff humans were beating tiny dragon-kin -- they did look like the tiny humanoid descendants of dragons! -- forcing them to perform manual labor and other tasks critical to building what Ryleon supposed was what they fancied as infrastructure... She knew there was a reason for not remembering these poor little creatures -- They likely did not exist before the time of their slumber... but the markings and ratios in bone structure were undeniable -- the lore of dragons it seemed, was eager to leap back to her. What she could not contemplate was how any kin of dragonkind could fall so low -- she couldn't recall specifics, but she remembered in her earliest days, a time where dragons wished to be treated as gods. Even before her own people walked the lands, the dragons made mighty-thewed dragon-folk to worship them... and quickly grew bored with their creations... still, this could not be what had become of that great race? Such thoughts seemed impossible...

__________________________________________

At the fountain, Kuva, Jadius, and a Calibur all recognized this place, for a moment the 'Platz as it once stood gleamed in the corners of their eyes, the fountain looking every bit unchanged from the time they fled past it on the way to their vault. "what are you?" the Nylor asked.

"Oh, so you have time to chat now? Interesting. You were in quite a hurry last I saw you... and I remember you all vividly. How far you've sunk -- I almost pity you, if I did not envy you for the discoveries that lie in store for you. To think, if you had awoken only months before perhaps Virgil would not have been stripped of a serendipitous chance at rebirth... I wonder what demons you've offended to suffer a fate such as you have -- but congratulations are in order for you surviving the storm, as it were."

It continued, fully aware it would seem it was not answering the question posed...

"Centuries ago your vault surfaced at the appointed time and some of your folk sought to explore while the rest of you laid asleep. They're gone now -- long gone. You don't remember who I am, or where I come from, or what I was... but it was all the wuzzes and weres that took your friends, before their ambitions of gently awakening you could be fulfilled. A lot fewer wuzzes and a lot more weres since they've come and gone... but if you don't remember me, I am an IS. No was, no were -- I am still here."

....

"And THAT is all I have to say to the likes of you. You will believe in me whether I ask you or not -- we have no business to discuss, Night Elfs."

_______________________________________________________________________________

After regrouping the Nylor had almost finished their exploration of the 'Platz before travelling for parts further north... they saw the banners of the high elves long before they saw their houses -- it seemed the highborn had, perhaps wisely, fortified the approaches to their holdings with rows of sharpened spikes, ambiguously marked but easily enough avoided pit traps (laid more to funnel approaches in a predictable manner) and all the way up to a sloped wall beyond which could be seen pavillions, manors, and interesting vertical garden pillars. They were welcomed inside, where they could see sculpture, and the making therof, meditation plazas with an "inner sanctum" from which it was unclear if they were allowed to visit, and ever striding soldiers, and artists in a blur of training or beautifulying their district. Carvings on stone, restoration of ruined finery of the city -- it was small, but had managed to escape "quaint" -- something a Nylor would ascribe to almost everything else they'd seen -- except perhaps Ryleon and anothers like her who were not still more bleary than awoken and had a fire in their eye for new things and new neighbors...

Highborn here offered to escort the Nylor onward to meet the springborn, but they were also offered good wine, and nourishing food that was not a bit outside their style -- high elf cuisine suited them...
Best of all, Indigenous Melons were grown in great numbers within their holdfast -- and these fruits brought back memories. Memories of melons and desserts... but concrete memories nonetheless, and they were appreciated. Every fiber in the tapestry would make the next pieces easier to Acquire... Ryleon and her closest were sure of that!

____________________________________________________________________________

 

[Zaltusinel]

[Fountain Encounter]
Kuva yawned, slightly concerned as he lightless eye gazed into the fountain. His katana was held out in front of him. Jadius had kept his hood on, the fountain most likely never saw his face. As Kuva pondered, he stepped forward. Inching closer to the fountain, his feet slightly drag on the ground. His armor slightly simmered as gravity and light. “So you say, puddle of human blood. You had a were. You are a now. Your words meant to mislead do not fray me. See, back in my time, as a person with purpose and mobility, I encountered dragons on a regular basis. I am no common Nylor. What do dragons do? Breath on you, tell you riddles, play a game of deadly hide and seek.” Kuva licked his chops, “All in a test of sorts. Though I must ask you, puddle. Why throw away such a great chance to use us? Are you afraid? Do we poison you?” Kuva kneeled rough five feet away.

“You say my comrades are dead, but who says that is true? You say Virgil, I will remember sometime what that is, is gone, lost forever. But is it? And you also assume that my people are broken and fazed by such remarks. Saying we have sunk. HA! We are a people of obstacles, destinations are made by them. Coming back from this never put us down, but only showed how strong we are. And maybe you’re afraid of that. If we knew you, won’t we remember? You can’t hide very long. Now don’t consider this a threat, more of a suggestion.”
Beckoncall

 

[Heyitsjiwon]

Zaltusinel Prince Vaethorion

Distant Cousins, Thrice Removed

Caelis was rather confused by the news. Long lost family of the elves? Perhaps, but at the very least, they were now certain that these were not Dark Elves and that they were not under immediate danger. Caelis proceeded to call for all his men to stand down and to return to duty. He then turned to the High Born Linguist and said "Give my due apologizes. It is not everyday where a bunch of elves suddenly pop out of a vault that looks like has been closed for centuries, and we can't afford to not be careful lately. Regardless, the Attolians will be willing to help if they need it and if anyone is seriously injured or needs help, then they should visit the healer's guild." He then looked again at the blood dripping from the noses of some of these strange elves and commented "They must have very sensitive ears for the sounds to have hurt them so." Still, Caelis offered a greeting to the new elves via a small gesture.

While he knew a bit of elvish here and there and learned basic elvish courtesy as a noble and due to his mixed lineage, Caelis was not in a position to say much. It appeared that they only spoke Elvish and there would be much difficulty in communicating for now. He then looked at the Linguist again and said "Please invite them to break bread if us if they please in the platz, and perhaps join us in the Learner's Square. I am sure that they would like to meet the other Colonists as much as we would like to meet them." While Caelis wasn't too sure of what was going on, he trusted the High Elves in their judgement, and deferred to them. Friends were hard to obtain in these lands, so any friend of a friend was certainly someone that the Colony would like to befriend as well.

Caelis nodded when he noticed the Linguist make a small gesture of a star. It was then that Caelis brought up "The Star. Caelis then performed the same gesture up on his shield, which bore the Wolff coat of arms. It perfectly traced the star upon his shield. Caelis continued to speak "Ahh, I should mention. The House Wolff has elven noble lineage as well. I forget how many generations ago, but House Wolff was used as a bargaining chip to ensure peace with one of the Elven Kingdoms through a political marriage. Such is the price for being related to the Royal Family no matter how distant you become. Regardless, I bid you greetings my distant cousins, and may you find your happiness in these lands that you used to call home. Although, I fear that what you will find today will be a land that can no longer be called home." Caelis brought up his hand to his heart in a small gesture of salute and departed back to the platz.

Spoiler: Wolff Coat of Arms

The Fleur in the middle is the mark of the Royalty of Attolia, the Flowers on the left are a vestige of the royal political marriages that occurred early on with the Muurdaan, and is likely from an ancient Muurdaan House's Coat of Arms, and the Stars on the right are from the Coat of Arms of an Elven Noble House. Each major political marriage has effectively shaped the Wolff Coat of Arms. While the Attolian Royal Family is the core, it is the oldest blood. Then the Muurdaan marriages occurred, and then the Elven. Arguably, it could be said that Caelis is more Elven than Muurdain although nothing else seems to indicate that explicitly unless the Wolff Family Heritage is known.

---

Glassmaker's Guild is Begun!
Attolians bring:
Coal, Quartz, Sand and Kiln/Ovens

---

Elven Grace, Tyren Strength, Human Ingenuity

With the arrival of the Tyren, a true industry for smithing was born. They could learn much from the Tyren's Bull Iron, which proved to be very strong, and the addition of silver added an aesthetic flair to the crafts that caught in corners of everyone's as a shined a brilliant, watery glimmer. While Caelis thought that relations could be better, he couldn't help but feel amazed at the progress made in working together. Attolian Iron, Elvish skill, and Tyren strength. The iron and steel produced here was of top quality without a doubt. They were well designed and pounded of any impurities. More and more forges were being produced, and more and more weapons and armor were being made. It was at this time that Caelis thought it would be good to improve the Attolian weapons. He requested that all the men received new weapons forged from bull iron and silver inlay. The sharp points and edges were left made completely from Bull Iron, but the flats of the blades were generously coated with silver. Since the weapons were mostly not metal intensive, the costs were nominal. Spears, Halberds, and Lances. They all would shine like never before.

However, despite the upgrades that the Attolians have benefited from the High Born and Tyren joining the smithing guild. Neither had seen much improvement in their weapons. This is where Caelis thought was a bit unfair, and considering the coming foreseeable conflicts, Caelis knew that he had to help the others some way as well. Thus, to the current members of the Smithing Guild, he offered to bring the Attolian Piston Loaded Weapons to market. While, the Tyren didn't seem to favor using polearms, perhaps it would give them ideas to implement later. Caelis imagined the sight of a Tyren warrior, with pike in one hand and a huge shield in the other. They could put any line of pike or phalanx to shame. Caelis also hoped that the Elves wouldn't see the pistons as distasteful weapons and not use them. While they were certainly a bit brutish, they provided an extra push, which could be the difference between breaking through a line or finding yourself in a bloody stalemate. He had seen many push of pike in the Old World, and they would have been obliterated if one side could decimate the front rank of the other with the piston weapons. Granted, massive formations would not be seen in these lands for a while, but the Colony was growing and it wouldn't be too far in the future when over a thousand men fought in one battle.

Caelis watched as the first batch of Halberds and spears were ready. He walked up to two of them and tied small banners on the upper half of the stave. They were the weapons of the Sergeants. Non-Commissioned officers of the Kingdom. But while one banner bore the Wolff Coat of Arms, the other was one whose colors had never flown in battle before. The Colonial Flag would fly next to the colors of the House of Wolff in the peaceful marches through the settlements and in the midst of bloodstained battle to come. May the two help and protect each other, Caelis silently hoped.

Caelis looked at the spear that bore the Colonial Flag. One of the Exiles in particular had shown great competence in organizing patrols and generally keeping order and structure among the other Constables, the newly promoted Sergeant at Arms of the Constabulary, Goff. While Goff wasn't his actual name, it was an endearing nickname given to him by the other Exiles... or at least as endearing the Exiles could be. The nickname was a shortened form of his other nickname, God of Fu**. Unfortunately, Goff had suffered from a severe head injury in a fight in the past. This rendered him to occasionally make odd sounds or say random phrases as he spoke. However, it seemed to allow his tactical brilliance to shine as well. He knew how to handle the Exiles, and did so with the precision of a natural born leader. While he might not be able to take part in quiet raids or sneak around, he was born to organize patrols and keep men in line. Regardless, he did much to help the Attolians, and was promoted to this honorary position and was the leader of the Exile Constables de facto and now de jure.

In fact, Goff walked by at the moment to check if the new weapons were ready with his new steel helmet, which he seemed to never want to take off anymore. Perhaps he wanted to hide the flattened portion of his head, Still, Goff gave a quick salute and loudly said "Hail Lord WuuuUUUUGGGHHLF". Caelis nodded and said "Checking on your men's new weapons?" "Yes SiAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHH. The boys are excited." Caelis never thought that such a man would be able to do so much especially in the Old World, but this World was filled with surprises.
---
Summary:
Caelis gives greetings and offering of help to the Nylor, directs them to the Healer's Guild if any are seriously hurt

Glassmarker's Guild is Formed

Attolian Weapons are upgraded to Bull Iron with a bit of silver

Attolian Piston Loaded Weapons are made available to the High Born and Tyren

Attolian Peacekeepers now fly the colors of the House of Wolff and of the Colonial Government

An Exile Constable, Goff, is promoted to Sergeant at Arms of the Constabulary

 

[Beckoncall]

Heyitsjiwon :

"ENCORE!! ENCORE!!!"

So... the final pacifications of the entertainment venues (the largest crowds) in the ruined theater district had begun. Cassandra, with skills in slaying the unnatural, was tasked with, under attolian protection, to clear the Ampitheaters and Orchestras, one by one. Previously holy energy and rites of supplication had eased the longdead into their rest... but today that strategy would change. Cassandra, still nursing her wounds from the battle of the wood, but still hale and hearty for the fight, Invoked bloodscourge and the RED SCYTHE that it would provide for her. Her escorts used the Zebani's silver bell to repel the crowds that began to form outside -- sensing that one way or another, there would be a show.

Perhaps they might have wondered why the Zebani would need such a thing as a bell to repel longdead, if they could simply be destroyed... but Cassandra had disintegrated the Gnoll-wisps of the cursed wispwood -- she could cut her teeth on the longdead for sure, couldn't she?

Ivory wand at her hip, she descended into the dark underground amphitheater, where hundreds of skeletons sat motionless as if waiting for a show to start. An unskilled complement of workers was set with guarding and ringing the bell, keeping the looky-loos outside from drawing too close. All the halbardiers and sundered king took a defensible position in the orchestra pit, in case Cassandra was overwhelmed, the unskilled workers not charged with manning the bell at the surface reinforced the halbardiers with shiny-new spears from the surplus armaments.

...It would begin...



Cassandra prepared to cast a purging spell outward into the crowd, and then begin the storm of destruction bloodscourge would loose... but right before the aggression started, a wave of APPLAUSE went up among the crowded amphitheater... no fewer than six huge doors backstage opened up and longdead in numbers to DWARF that of the assembled crowd, RUSHED THE STAGE, and dove into the orchestra pit.

Cassandra immediately redirected her purge, knocking two of the rushing columns back like dominoes, where they lay there in a shattered bone-slide.
Two other columns RUSHED for the halbardiers and Sundered King in the pit, and an alarm was immediately raised for outside halbardiers to fall back to aid in defense... this was not going as planned.

On the surface, the bell ringers closed off another avenue of attack -- the longdead on the surface were VERY disturbed now, first bumping into each other and then en masse running for the ampitheater... the bell held them at bay.

The Columns that rushed Cassandra fell like wheat before the scythe, and she moved backstage at an angle that took 3 of the remaining four streams upon her, to improve the odds, such as they were, for the Knight and his halbardiers.

The center of the Orchestra pit was on a raised dias, which enabled the halbardiers to strike from their "island" at the longdead pouring into the pit as well as have slightly higher ground on them that reached them. They were quickly pressed on all sides, and Cassandra wove another spell that would blind them to the peril of their predicament -- they would see only 30 feet around them before things became hazy, but in that area their senses were TAUT AND HEIGHTENED, and time seemed to slow to the Attolian forces giving them time to cogitate on how to respond to each life-threatening attack -- when in reality this was just Cassandra spiking their adrenaline, flooding their bloodstreams with it, with a wave of her hand.

The audience at least, was not turning hostile, in fact, they quietly spilled old parcels of snacks, now dust, into their mouths, through their ribcages and back onto their parcels in their lap. They watched with fascination.

"I thought this was going to be a love story about demigods?" one longdead whispered.

"Shhhh! It's propaganda for our victories in the war! enjoy the spectacle!"

"No! It's... it's..." This particular audience member became disturbed and looked as if it might join the fight. Another sallow and dessicated corpse, wearing the lead frame of what was once a layered petticoat pulled him back into his seat.

"MY WORD, this is a PLAY! That's it, darling -- not another drink for you at intermission!"

....However the intermission never seemed to come. The massive backstage areas were FULL of corpses -- perhaps those of longdead who sought to survive the apocalypse, or perhaps this really was to be a great production where room backstage was as sought for as in the stands... All Cassandra knew was that there were more skeletons than she had conceivably planned for -- and they were PISSED. "WE DRINK YOUR BLOOD!!!!" The crazed longdead would shriek.

Thanking heavens for their new Silver and Bull-Iron weapons, the Halbardiers were certain that if their strikes did not fell the skeletons so easily (seeming to pull their spirits from the frame of bones rather than needing to hack them to pieces) that they'd surely be dead already as opposed to being on better than even footing. The tally of fallen skeletons could not be counted, but it was noted when they lost their height advantage because of skeletons piling high enough in the orchestra pit to begin filling it. Soon the skeletons would be on the higher ground of their own skulls and ribcages, and if this kept up, it did not matter that the Attolians were locked tight and fighting viciously with everything they could learn from how highborn spear regiments remained solid -- they would be BURIED in bones if something did not change.

Cassandra, Flooded the chamber with red light -- the eyes of bloodscourge guttered slightly, then it's jaw fell open, showing a red sphere of Cassandra's blood growing in it -- Cassandra was literally being bled to maintain the force necessary to stop the tide... but it only slowed.

The Sundered king swung overhead, taking heads like a harvest of cabbages.

"I see your wounds, I see the blood that drips from joint and join -- DO NOT GIVE UP! We are Attolian! Our lineage is one of honor and we slam OPEN the gates of the wicked! Let them come! We SHALL STAND! STAND AS I COMMAND!!! LEAN TO YOUR SHIELD BROTHER, AND DO NOT RELENT!!!"



The inspiration rallied the halbardiers, who had been conserving their strength and indeed had plenty of energy at this stage of the fight -- what could not be controlled were the lucky wounds that landed when facing so many foes -- one halbardier fell in a clattering mess when a lucky rake of a skeletal hand literally RUINED his face, taking his eyes and nose with it.

The ranks closed as a couple more fell, either into the back rank but still standing, or it could not be denied when two halbardiers were pulled away by thier shields... one man forced to cut himself out of his shield straps to not suffer the same fate, and fade to the back rank with his spear.

The Attolian unit was pressed to the limit, and so many skeletons entered the pit now that they began to lap around both sides of the formation...

"PISTONS! NOW!" The order came -- and almost in unison the crushing mob around them flew in dime-sized shrapnel flung and bouncing out of the pit. Each skull itself became a missile taking additional skeletons down outside the pit... but with their best card played, what but their ebbing strength did they have left?!

Cassandra saw the halbardiers dragged out of the pit, and was forced to make a difficult choice -- to take their blood for her magic, or to attempt to save them. She saw the unmoving or twitching bodies of the captured swarmed by the longdead, and made up her mind. Her Sycthe sung into the sixth column... she finally positioned herself where all the horde descended upon her... and soon the halbardiers were more rained with bones from her savage dance than they were confronted with additional foes.

Again and again Cassandra invoked the wand, but she wished another cleric or mage was here to direct the energy -- for all her focus was on bloodscourge -- when the wand was invoked, it bought them some time, as scads of longdead became mindless and pacified -- generally seeking to take their own places in the stands to watch. She could not order them away and continue to hold the entire throng herself.

With the pressure off of the Attolian unit, they finally could support Cassandra as it was intended... they that lived and were in shape to fight... still ten strong and the Sundered King stood on the stage with Cassandra and took the fight to the now thinner but substantial throng...



THE AUDIENCE STOOD AS ONE, and in that moment -- the Attolians could have lost their heart -- to be attacked from all around would have been their doom... but instead the longdead in the seating GAVE A STANDING OVATION...

The throngs looked at each other confused, and then took their bows, even as cassandra and her troops cut them down...

Cassandra's head was swimming, as she saw the globe of blood -- her blood, in the staff was growing to a frankly frightening size. If the battle continued, she would release the sanguine orb to destroy the amphitheater -- they would not die for nothing.

...But cooler heads prevailed. The Sundered king took his helm off and flung it into the audience. "PRAISE US!" he shouted, "We who have entertained you!"

The rest of the Attolian warriors, those not possessed of rendering critical care to their comrades, found new courage and faked their bows as well.

Soon, the throngs ceased. The withered stems of eternally dead roses fell at their feet. the throngs that were not scattered piles receeded to an overwhelming applause. Cassandra, greedily drew her blood back from bloodscourge and with weak knees, gave her own curtsey, bow, and salute.

It was this gesture that seemed to satisfy the longdead in the audience... who clattered to the ground, mid clap -- in unison. They had received the show they were waiting for -- or at least a show worthy of their eternal vigil.

Moments later, the bell-ringers descended the stairs and continued to repel any other forming groups of longstead, stragglers, and those still confused in the chaos.

At the end of the fight -- 3 Halbardiers were stripped down to organless mess, and two would never fight again -- one for being blind and without the better share of his face, and another who's spirit had been rattled to the core.

One thing was agreed -- all except cassandra would have died instantly had they not been re-armed for the conflict... which would have left Cassandra with no choice but to take herself down with the amphitheater... AND TO THINK... There were two other sites like this to pacify, and this was not even the largest!

Concern for looking vanished as they sought to recover the bodies and the wounded and extract them. Cassandra could not walk, but she could fly with the sundered king and his unit, to escape their best laid plans...

(Attolians purge the 3rd largest amphitheater of the ruined theater district -- they sustain 5 casualties -- 3 dead and 2 out of action. There is no treasure recovered, even though it seems plentiful, they fall back and escape to the healers guild!!!)

 

[Zaltusinel]

The Aftermath of the Platz Adventure [Same time as Fountain Encounter]

In the center of the public Highborne quarter, the Dreamsail touched down slowly as the ring of energy flowed above. Some comments were made as the ring's composition of magic was felt. In more memorable times, Urun or others of his class could better decipher what exactly made the ring, but sadly Urun had little to judge on. He however made notes about them, he would have made estimations, but the thought annoyed him. Why work on something not in absolute when you know you can? In the back slot of his cloak armor laid a sketchpad with some inscriptions inside, the binding seemed made of a crystalline substance that looked clear and hummed as he touched it. A faint glow whispered from it, and as a beacon, others around him hugged to it. Urun, quickly sketched the ring, inscribing everything he could to the best of his memory. After so, he labeled the location and time of day. Didn't now if that mattered, but in the scheme of magics, Urun faintly remembered how tricky it could be if you forget the simplest details. The utensil he used hovered over the pad only when he released grip, a cylindrical piece of a grey wood with white spots inside the bark. He looked around to see if the tree was apparent. No it wasn't, he thought for a moment before beckoning Ryleon over to him. Her hair dangled down, the coils extended and released into sickle curls at the ends of her knees.

Some survivors gathered around, asking questions about it and yammering on about things they remembered. A small touch of here and there in the grand scheme of memory. Urun noted the important pieces in the rune-like style of Nylorian writing, where six pages of most languages fit into one; he switched hands occasionally before smiling and popping a pun or two to his companions. The other survivors had encircled the supplies, ensuring no one could touch anything without they knowing soon after. A small heatwave hit Urun square in the stomach, he started to pant from the heat and ultimately deciding to remove his armor. He laid flat on the ground, removing each piece and inserting a piece of Weibyi cloth. A mixture of some sort of dark leaf fiber and scale-like skin most associated with some species of small mammal and large amounts of fur. The fur typically being a blaze or a neon orange in color. He moved quickest when he lowered his leggings and shifted on undergarments and pants since the armor counted as undergarments as well. A navy blue blush across his cheeks. Naked in public? That's a first, but he doubted anyone saw him. If they did, they were a pervert who was looking for it. Though Urun, as a Nightbringer, hardly was out of shape. Though in most race's terms, a Nylor is never out of shape.

Ryleon turned her head as he changed his clothing, as she had the decency to do so. Her whistling attracted an occasional nightshade bird, one that had awakened earlier than normal. It flew above the Highborne quarter, landing on the vertical gardens, bouncing in the plants or the wall. The perceptive Highborne may have noticed the odd bird, one that never came before in daylight. As Urun sat up again, he breezed through his pad. Words, symbols that he’d forgotten and he by practice never kept a key or any explanation. Nylorian secrets, some kept in ciphers, some in riddles or mysterious, and some by only the chosen inside of their memories. It was a self-defense mechanism. With the Mage kings and Aleria and Zeria know what else, the Nylor understood the ability of their neighbors. Some they trusted still knew nothing. Only the Feira, dragon allies of the Nylor, those who feast on mana and magical essence, had ideas of the secrets the Nylor hid. Was it for ill purpose? Whom is it to be concerned? As Urun shaked his head with his eyes dashing across the quarter, a caliber, the caravaner to be exact, sat down beside him. She held a swift, light, bark colored hair. A dash of green mountains peaking over a forest of the dead. He turned his head, opening his mouth to speak then to close again as realizations come over him.

“Something wrong?” The caravaner said, “Did we lose someone?” Urun popped to his feet, shrugging down his shirt before gripping Ryleon’s shoulders.

“Where’s Jadius?!” Eyes met eyes, Urun flustered his lips violently as panic stripped through him. His Weibyi shirt flexed as his chest flexed as well. His ears slighly tuck back and his body is sweating even more. The heat could not compete with his anxiety. A social butterfly finally remembered his kryptonite. Awakened a whole new world with no bearing on who to trust other than yourself and your kin, Urun ran out of the group with barefoot style, yelling “Jadius” into the walls, the crowds, and anything else that could be yelled at. Ryleon swooped up behind him, covering his mouth and laying him down back to his armor and his bag that he packed with supplies. She placed a finger on his mouth. Her smile calmed him down, stopping the scene maker before the Highborne could get annoyed. Though major distress would be obvious from Urun. His eyes sporadically moved around, still looking for one of the most people in his life. Couldn’t remember shit, but somethings don’t need the memory to come back in full force.

Urun shivered as he remembered landing the Dreamsail, feeling a subtle move in the tilt of the boat. Jadius must have gotten out on his accord, Urun suspected. He thought, what would pull Jadius away from the group? Much more away from him, at least he thought Jadius was that loyal to him. “Ry, where could my brother be? We need to find him before something happens to him! I promised him I would be by his side every moment! Did I forget a cue to go with him?” Ryleon nodded before sitting down with the caravaner and another survivor. She settled everything into a circle and reached into one bag to reveal blank sheet of paper, roughly 9 inches wide and 14 inches tall. Shifting it so the longest be against her, she began to write in elegant Nylorian. After she finished, she turned the sheet to Urun and the others. Urun turned his body so his head could stay on his bag, his hair touching the ground. His mouth squirms as he tries to understand the proposition. "SO you're saying that we should heads toward the spire we saw in our dreams? I'm not sure if its there, but I like the idea of going to the Sylvan first. I guess I'll put my armor back on before then. Though this other thing here..." Ryleon placed a finger to her mouth, Urun stopped. And as he was about to scratch himself, she pulled him into her arms. Letting him rest against her.

"Jadius will be fine. He probably didn't mean to leave you, I mean. He sounds like the guy who no one gets close to. You got to him quickly. So throw up your peace signs! You are loved and I am so glad that I woke up with amazing guys like you, your brother, Kuva, and the others. The talks on the way through helped me grow close to you guys. We'll keep going together forever, no man behind. Though you and Kuva have me so struck. I don't know..." Urun simply looked up at her, his arms wrapped around her. His legs condensed.

As Ryleon and Urun thought for a moment, the caravaner raised her eyebrows, "The name's Lydia. Must be Urun? Ryleon? I see why people like you. Need me to do anything?"

"Yeah, can you round everyone up. I think we all have things to discuss from our growing memories. I think these melons seem to spark memories of Nylorian ones."

Others begin to gather around, speaking of their restored memories. The supplies were adjusted to prevent any ideas from the thieves of the colony. While impractical where they were, Ryleon knows not to take any chances. The huge circle of sitting people garnered some attention, but most were there from Urun's distress. Ryleon raked through her hair, naturally a Highborne would come by shortly. She led the discussion with Urun taking notes in sketchpad.

Summary:

1. The ring of magic from the lighthouse is noted as to the best of abilities with a drawn picture inside of Urun's pad. He leafs through the rest of his pad, the advanced symbols and terminology he'd forgotten. But he looked at them anyway.
2. Urun freaks out when Jadius is missing and makes a scene. Appearing extremely distressed.
3. Ryleon gathers the survivors and tries to pull as much as she can from them. Urun takes notes

Prince Vaethorion [Maybe: Heyitsjiwon and anyone else in the area.]

 

[Beckoncall]

UPDATE:

General Deth Glitch :

The Dwarves complete their project of digging a stairwell to the bottom of the cliffs, opening onto the beach exactly at the point of plan, with zero margin of error.

In other news, it seems cave fishers have begun to notice the peep hole, and and a few have begun digging that will eventually come up against dwarven construction. It is doubtful a fisher of modest size can burrow through dwarven masonry -- but as long as the peep-hole remains they are getting some indicator of dwarven meat and will attempt to find you...

 

[Beckoncall]

UPDATE:

@Tori_98 :

Left to their own devices, Reinen begin to use honey in the preparation of alcoholic beverages.
MEAD is now available if marketed to the colony!

The Reinen also discover the applications of TEA and SPICES from the flowers that grow so generously around them.

 

[Beckoncall]

UPDATE:

Heavy rains to the north have swelled the swamp and lakes, and had a slight effect on the river.

Strangely and possibly associated, RUNNERS have ceased taking their herds back into the swamps during the daytime, when travel between watering areas previously seemed random. While the herds do not look diminished in number, several bear signs of slashing wounds on their hind flanks...

The rain has caused something to stir in the swamps?