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  • Shards
    Shards  2 months ago

    Happy New Year!

  • Edrick
    Edrick  2 months ago

    Happy New Year all!

  • EcoTec
    EcoTec  5 months ago

    You the man thanks mate

  • Cuchuwyn
    Cuchuwyn  5 months ago

    There it is!

  • Cuchuwyn
    Cuchuwyn  5 months ago

    -Clickedy-

  • EcoTec
    EcoTec  5 months ago

    Anyone have the thain discord link, thankyou

  • Payne
    Payne  5 months ago

    Edrick... mad

  • Edrick
    Edrick  5 months ago

    Payne

  • !ofAkindGuy2000
    !ofAkindGuy2000  5 months ago

    Thanks.

  • Glognar
    Glognar  5 months ago

    There is! You need to examine the omnidye to find the info. I also think that there is still an error though in one of the numbers.


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Poisonwar

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Corlupi
9:09:45 pm GMT 04/02/20
Corlupi Awooo
Registered Member #2942 Joined: 4:48:33 pm GMT 11/27/12
Posts: 3151
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"When they write history about this war, there will be some who will say that it started with the sacking of Sandburrow. But it started much earlier. Poisonwood has been on the warpath since its inception.

It has taken me over a century to learn something I should have known intuitively: peace with Poisonwood is an illusion. No matter how many poisoned kin we convert, no matter how many truces we agree upon, the tranquil does not last long. Peace is a struggle against their very nature; it is a false skin they stretch over the bone, muscle, and sinew of their innate savagery. To live within Poisonwood is to be suffocated in a smog; you must breathe some of it in, and, inevitably, be contaminated.

By hatred. By bloodlust. By malice.

Peace with Poisonwood is an illusion, but the illusion has finally shattered. I pick up my bow and my sword, and I go into the fog of war. I will not return until a complete purge has been achieved. There are some places so corrupt that the only clean act possible is destructive."


OOC Disclaimer: Hello and welcome to a plot or series of plots centred on the escalating conflict between Poisonwood and her enemies. This thread is intended as a catchall tray for all related IG events and a place where we can coordinate and plan. Please note that major outcomes of this plot will be predominantly DM-narrated, and that the stories here will not necessarily impact on anything IG. Happy gaming and see-you IG!
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Corlupi
4:33:56 pm GMT 04/04/20
Corlupi Awooo
Registered Member #2942 Joined: 4:48:33 pm GMT 11/27/12
Posts: 3151
Map of the South Coast
10 Years Prior


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Corlupi
4:36:07 pm GMT 04/04/20
Corlupi Awooo
Registered Member #2942 Joined: 4:48:33 pm GMT 11/27/12
Posts: 3151
Map of the South Coast
At Present


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Izral
5:33:02 pm GMT 04/04/20
Izral Registered Member #408 Joined: 2:50:36 am GMT 01/20/05
Posts: 1509
What lies within the fog?

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The putrid smell lingers throughout the trees. It's poisonous cloud masking what lies within the shadows...

Rumors of dark shapes coming out of the woods in the dark renew the fear of the Dark Fey encroaching closer to the Lumenshire. Stories of shapes in the fog. Souless eyes emerge from the void, hungering for their next soul to devour. When fog rolls into the Lumenshire, the cries of battle erupt throughout the tress, leaving a wake of fallen Fey when it resides. Something foul is within the mists.

One particular morning, a new fallen appeared in the aftermath. Orcish. Black armor. Serrated axes. And an emblem uniquely different from the colors of the Hellshire Clan. A skull and axes. A symbol familiar only to few, the Kralshaman in particular.

Bonesaw.

From the Poisoned Woods they march.


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Corlupi
12:06:00 pm GMT 04/05/20
Corlupi Awooo
Registered Member #2942 Joined: 4:48:33 pm GMT 11/27/12
Posts: 3151
Map of the South Coast
Huntmaster's Warmap


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________

Huntmaster's Warmap, Segmented


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Estel Alliance (Alliance of Hope): Greenvale Estel Guard, Tel'Mordere (tentative), Drystan's Fey (unconfirmed), Sandburrow (unconfirmed)
Poison League: Poisonwood, Darkfey
Unallied: Hammersong, Thayan Outpost, Orc Camp

Huntmaster's Journal wrote ...

"I look at the drawn borders of influence and I despair. Poisonwood has expanded beyond all proportions, perhaps rivalling even Greenwood of old in sheer size. They number thousands of Arben who excel at forest warfare, and their Darkfey allies are countless and nigh-unreachable in their realm-beyond-realms. Any attempt at statistics will be at best a rough approximation, but I doubt I exaggerate if I estimate the Arben and Darkfey forces to number over fifty thousand strong. Comparatively, the Estel Alliance cannot muster even half that number. To further aggravate matters, the foundation of our alliance is being eroded daily by its members not trusting the Tel'Mordere, and the Tel'Mordere committing to assist only when it is convenient or sufficiently thrilling. I am the Huntmaster of the Talon and Decay Tribe, but even so, I must admit that Heartwood is not - and will perhaps never be - a staunch ally in any war.

If the Tel'Mordere tribes are taken out of the equation, Greenvale's chance of winning, nay, persevering, are slim. Who will they turn to? The Estel Guard are formidable soldiers, but they will be thoroughly overwhelmed by the sheer number of Arben and Darkfey. I will petition Sandburrow to send naval reinforcements, perhaps even a detachment of Boldfeet, but they are yet reeling from the recent raid by Poisonwood warships, and so they may decline. Must I look to other, more unorthodox allies? Carson, Liekki and Kauna - provided I can even recover the latter's corpse from the rubble in Darkwood - command a not insignificant number of mercenaries and Leatherwings, and although I betray a hundred oaths by even contemplating a formal accord with Thay, by not doing it, or, worse yet, waiting until Poisonwood beats me to it, I condemn Greenvale. There is also Hammersong. If the Seldarine wills it, Agni the Builder will come to our aid again, and with Agni, so will perhaps a contingent of Shieldbreakers. And what of the Blood Guard? They have committed most resources to rescue Commander Northmere's daughter, but what if I were to assist them in this? Would they, in turn, assist me and the South?

It is imperative that we connect Greenvale with Feywood. It is clear to me now more than ever that unless our peoples stand together as one against the might of Poisonwood, we will perish isolated. I must look to the Called for hope, for they alone possess the knowledge to open woodland portals, but they have declined sister Tauredhiel's petitions; they demand it be either Elith or myself who present our case. That means suffering the company of the likes of Izzy the Half-Drow. Of Conrad Gilles. Of Garagnavagh, Orn and all manner of other filths the Called allow among them. By Shevarash, how much more of my pride will I have to swallow to see this war to an end?"
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Corlupi
1:47:28 pm GMT 04/06/20
Corlupi Awooo
Registered Member #2942 Joined: 4:48:33 pm GMT 11/27/12
Posts: 3151
Poison in the Blood

Each tribe of the Tel'Mordere have unique rites of passage. Unlike the other seven tribes, Talon and Decay begin their initiation in only one place, and end it in the same place. The Grove of Long Silence. Worshipping Morrigan the Raven Mother, a deity of death and rebirth, you could say that the Talon and Decay are concerned with death considered in three aspects: everlasting, eluded and transitional. Everlasting death is the realm of the Raven Mother; it is a mystery not intended for penetration or comprehension from our side of the Raven Mother’s shroud. What happens to the spirit when the body decays only Morrigan knows. She may decide the spirit be cast into another physical vessel, a stage known as the Great Recycling, or she may determine to keep the spirit in her own realm. Eluded death is the domain of liches and revenants, ghouls and wights. Is is undeath, and it is the greatest affront to the Raven Mother's Wheel of Balance. Transitional death is the sole means by which mortals are permitted to achieve a greater understanding of the Raven Mother's dark majesty.

The Talon and Decay rite of passage is all about transitional death. The initiates are exposed to death and its consequences again and again and again. Through torture. Through poison and drugs. Through magic and prayer. To be formally recognised as a member of the Talon and Decay Tribe, the initiate must grow accustomed to death in all its myriad forms. It is natural for living flesh to recoil from the presence of death, and from thoughts of death, but through immense discipline the Talon and Decay teach their children to overcome what is natural.

When Renneleth sought to wrest the title of Talon and Decay Huntmaster from the previous owner, he was not spared! He body was cursed and mutilated to the point where the flesh on his left arm had rotted off, muscle and sinew shrivelled up by decay, and his mind had been ravaged by a thousand hallucinations. Yet none of this compared to the poison Spyder had just injected into his bloodstream. Faerzress poison. Drow poison. Somewhere deep in the Moribund Big, huddled under a tree, the Huntmaster shivered and balanced the tip of a dagger against his wrist, so very tempted to cut it open and end the pain.

He swore that if the Seldarine saw fit to grant him reprieve from the pain, he'd string up every Arben by their own innards.

The war had begun.
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Alanonas
3:13:12 pm GMT 04/06/20
Alanonas Registered Member #24078 Joined: 3:40:59 am GMT 05/14/17
Posts: 1556
Seeing Red


Torrents of rain blanket the forlorn outpost that stands defiant along the briny banks of the southern coast. In the midst of the downpour stand equally ragged figures draped in scarlet cloaks soaked with the pouring rain. The weary men busy themselves with repairing the damaged and broken walls of their outpost.

But they are not alone.

Among them walk others, figures in cloaks of sickly green and olive shades. These thin-framed phantoms walk in the long shadows of the toiling men, weaving their own primal magics into the weary walls. Root, vine, and tree alike slowly creep over the outpost, intertwining with the rough hewn boards and coating them with a thick layer of slippery moss in which crawls all the vermin of their poisoned wood.

Those who would dare to travel those dismal roads fraught with the noxious fumes of the ever expanding wood would see poisoned elf and red-clad man alike working ceaselessly to draw the walls of the outpost high once more. An unsavory alliance draws its first ragged breaths of the toxic air as the two groups toil together in the salty mud. Dark ships are said to be seen by lurking upon the stormy horizon, vessels bearing the scarlet colors of the nation of Thay. There they prowl with sleeker ships of elven design that hunt the coast like a school of ravenous sharks.


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Shade
5:29:34 pm GMT 04/06/20
Shade Registered Member #24916 Joined: 2:58:00 pm GMT 01/23/19
Posts: 604
It was a quiet day in the poisoned woods when the controversial evoker had come across his forest sister preparing with all manner of woodland spirits. They were curious sights to behold, and were surely ones their enemies will know soon enough.

They spoke of the recent attack on Sandburrow when something Seryn said clicked with the evoker. A volcanic eruption. Having such a power at ones hand could only be for the best for their woods. Perhaps if he could emulate this rare occurrence, they would hold a great advantage over their enemies, and so he shared his idea with his sister. They agreed for such to be copied, they would need to practice on moving targets, and so they set on the way north. On their way to the watch where they could recruit the extra manpower they need, they came upon a strange camp. Humans rising and rebelling against the zealot group known as the Blood Guard. Such news are most welcome, and a beautiful arrangement may be made.

As luck had it, the man leading this rebellion was sitting by the campfire when the two of Poisonwood came there. They talked briefly, and recruited the man's aid in taking on the orc bloods high in the mountains. It was a most fruitful mission with the evoker, after much trial and error, was finally able to emulate what he wanted. To say he was happy would be an understatement, but not had they only gained a great power, they had gained a potential ally. One they were both happy with, and may just point toward the recruiters of the order, so he may work his way into good relations with the guard.

A note is promptly sent to the lady once the mage was home in their woods.


Lady of the order

Myself and a forest sister have met a man we believe may be of great use as a potential ally. A human named Lucan Steelmane is recruiting for a campaign against our enemies, the Bloodguard. A rebellion, he calls it. One against the zealots that plague our lands as well. We both met him, are pleased with both his character and combat ability, and believe him to be an asset worth mentioning.

Glory to our woods and our eternal king.
The evoker, Elarion Hanolen


In the following morning, on his way home from running an errand, the evoker was met with an emissary of the lady. He was told his presence is needed in the Thayan outpost, and he set off immediately. The meeting was short and simple enough. A small conversation before getting to the task at hand. Also a seemingly simple task, but it is not one for the evoker to do alone. He will require information and possibly aid from both forest sisters and allies. His first course of action was simple. Find the strange creatures near their oldest tree, and ask them to let Seryn know Onta-crona is looking for her.

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Varmar
8:52:30 pm GMT 04/06/20
Varmar Registered Member #25343 Joined: 8:54:42 pm GMT 08/30/19
Posts: 124
The Puzzle

Arakhor glanced over the burning elementals that had been summoned all the way from Hammersong. The controlled, content fires, the exchanges between poisoned fey and flame. The illusions both had conjured to consider the possibilities of a bond, of a symbiosis that would normally be impossible. Though it was their first meeting, it unfolded better than expected, Ignan and Sylvan filling the corner of the Poisonwood where they had gathered.

The dryad had arranged everything with the utmost care, paying attention to every detail. After all, the deal Seryn had sealed with the ancient ember was nothing if not vague, and to invite fire to a forest was to court danger and death, to say the least. But what if they could give birth to a new cycle that could withstand Thain’s anger? That could help with the war? The ancient flame wished to live, to keep burning and breathing. And the Poisonwood could offer it both. Young, strong, old, sick and dead wood to burn. Poison to breathe. From the ashes, stronger trees would grow, drunk on venom. A dark trade born of their hand, rather than the natural order.

In turn, new life could come into being. Elementals of poisoned fire and burning poison. Saplings that could wield flame. Gifts that they could bestow on the Lady – and the Order of Syann. On all of the forest. Through it, they would push for the change that threatened to overtake the island. To upset the artificial balance mortal races had forced. And, perhaps, all would fall into place. Like pieces of a broken mirror, Seryn’s indecision and hesitation to oppose their leader could yet prove beneficial, and her sacrifice would not be in vain. The Thayans, the mages in red, would join devil, dragon and drow.

And Renneleth would have the war he wanted.

But she would need Cathalya’s, Elarion’s and Spyder’s talents for it, as well as those of the other druids of the Order. And she, and the others, would have to rally both old and new allies.

She turned to the nearest sprite.

“It is time to tell the druids of this. Inform them of the potential of this pact and ask that they join us here.”
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Corlupi
10:59:36 am GMT 04/07/20
Corlupi Awooo
Registered Member #2942 Joined: 4:48:33 pm GMT 11/27/12
Posts: 3151
Reviving the Past

It was the first hour of the afternoon when the two elves perched on a tall, winding tree with a clear vantage of the outpost. A warm drizzle was falling from the sky, which was oddly divided as though by some invisible ruler and stylus — low sickly clouds filled the north, while the sun was just starting downward in the bright, clear southwest. The pleasant scent of fresh rain on hot earth welled up everywhere, briefly washing the usual Poisonwood miasmas from the air. But only briefly.

The two elves watched as three hooded figures, gaunt and lithe, hailed a vessel to take them across the thin, but deep canal that separated the Thayvian Outpost from Poisonwood. The boat was small and shallow and heavily weathered, with a grisly lizardman skull lashed to the bow spar as a manner of idol or figurehead. A peerless ward against capsizing and other misfortunes at sea, or a demonstration of what was in store for all opponents of this new alliance between red-robes and poison-breathers? Possibly the latter. Probably both. The poleman perched at the stern like some exotic-feathered avian in his red-and-orange (but mostly red) leather jacket, protected from the rain by a broad-brimmed hat. He exchanged a few words with the trio of Arbens, then pushed off the bank. On the dock on the opposite side of the canal, a small team of burly mercenaries was unloading contents of several other barges into the main building of the outpost, under the watch of half a dozen red-robed men and women.

"So it's true," said Styvn, frowning deeply. "Thay and Poisonwood, side by side, less than a year after they nearly butchered each other?"

"The fuckers deserve each other," answered the Huntmaster, the promise of violence in the undertones of his voice surpassed in intensity only by the furious storms brewing in his eyes.

"What do we do? Thin their ranks?"

"It's a start. Then we remind Thay just how bad idea this alliance is."

"How?"

"By bringing her back. No matter how deep under the earth her corpse is buried, no matter which circles of hell her spirit's been consigned to, we bring her back. We bring Commander Kauna back."
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