The Harianen, "United South" in the Common Tongue, was fast becoming a military alliance that could match Poisonwood on many important fronts; indeed, more than just matching Poisonwood in strength and numbers, the Harianen had committed to slowly and painstakingly pushing the front-lines away from City of Elisara and into Poisonwood. On one occasion, the Harianen had thrust so deep into Poisonwood that they had momentarily challenged even the Lady of Syann's Order in her fortified sanctum. It had been a gambit - and ultimately a devastating one - but it had served to demonstrate an important shift in military power: while commanding superior numbers, Poisonwood no longer seemed an insurmountable force.
On all parameters, or so it seemed, Poisonwood was a reckless and incautious opponent, the sort of qualities that were a sure guarantee for either a quick and overwhelming victory or a quick and overwhelming defeat. The maxim was "all in;" all or nothing. Whilst the Harianen had determined to consolidate their forces in and around City of Elisara, Poisonwood had committed the majority of theirs to a frontal assault on the Queen's Tower. It had exposed a lot of their flanks, and the Harianen had been quick to take advantage of this. As with most things in war as well as life in general, it had come with a price. Each time the Harianen mustered to hit Poisonwood in an exposed flank, City of Elisara was vulnerable, with only the Estel Guard left to defend it. Feywood had not yet come to its aid - in truth, with the Great Portal unfinished, they had no means to transport troops lest they braved a treacherous sea or Darkfey-controlled territory - and Sandburrow had exhausted herself of most of her warships during the Battle of Red Sails. Of the elusive and capricious Tel'Mordere and their ultimate allegiance, no-one knew anything. For the most part, the Estel fought alone.
The Harianen, then, the Estel Guard notwithstanding, was mostly comprised of volunteer adventurers and unlikely heroes, many of whom circumstance and necessity had rebranded from pariah to patriot. It had escaped no-one's notice that it had been Liekki the Red who had dealt the Thayvian admiral a final blow during the Battle of Red Sails, or that it had been Anyndel the Black who had steadied Renneleth's bow whilst the Huntmaster took aim to fire the shot that had turned the tide of battle. Fate, it seemed, had conspired to reconcile friend with previous foe, and the Harianen was ripe with such contradictions: Hellshire Orcs bleeding alongside elves, metallic dragon-men fighting side by side with their chromatic cousins, and ruthless mercenaries and bounty hunters aiding in the fight without demanding a single coin in reimbursement.
One must do as necessity prescribes, the Huntmaster was often heard speaking, but to what length? Where did one draw the line between necessity and audacity? What could be justified as reasonable desperation, and what was unmitigated effrontery and perversion of previously held ideals? These questions were not lost on the Huntmaster, and certainly others in the Harianen shared them. What did Captain Kellendill think about sharing the battlefield with Jiztroyir? What would Elith or Styvn say to the prospect of fighting beside Anyndel or Liekki? Not to mention Gram Mason, a sworn Blood Guard.
Dele had insisted that to beat a cunning enemy, one had to match their craftiness, but she had also warned that fighting hatred and ugliness with more hatred and more ugliness was the surest way to spiritual and moral bankruptcy. Even if we won, we would just become the next Poisonwood. A war that should have been easy to predict and simple enough to wage had proved to be anything but. Was that not life in general, though? All expectations are eventually adjusted if not outright overturned by the harsh hand of reality. Which is why, thought the Huntmaster, one always had to cultivate contingencies. He sent one map to Captain Kellendill and the other commanders in City of Elisara, marking out key military targets.
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Another map was sent to a woman who was working from the shadows, a woman skilled at pulling unseen strings with an invisible hand. Her map came with a short note:
"Did as agreed. No eyes. Safe passage. We are ready."
Registered Member #25299
Joined: 3:54:32 am GMT 06/03/19
Posts: 253
Mankind has fought battles over the seas for thousands of years. Ships used in warfare and the transportation of supplies, enabling the bulk movement of goods and raw materials, and even troops. Thus, the Red Wizards flourished and managed to secure a threshold of the southern coast. To see the stand-off and approach of the Sandburrow fleet did not give the Thayans pause as it should have. They recklessly enabled engagement without proper tactic. Lucan tried his best to assist the battle only to suffer his first true defeat in the war. If not for the floating wreckage of the days battle, he would have sunken to the water depths with the rest of the soldiers outfitted in heavy armaments. His lips were parched with the taste of sea water for days after. The cries of men and women, the firing of the cannons, pierced his ears like a persistent echo and the faces of his enemies lingered in his mind like a bad dream. False-kin, as his new respected friend called them. If she was considered such. The manipulations and façade of planted smiles and friendly beckoning did not convince him to trust his newfound allies, not fully anyways. He would be attentive and careful but remain persistent and not lose sight to his own cause. Against their common enemies.
Warfare was a training ground the Rebellion Soldiers needed to harden and become something more that just mindless puppets. He needed warriors in the days to come. Veterans with an aptitude of understanding of proper tactics and Lucan had just the thing in mind to get them there. They needed to cut asunder the growing alliance of the Greenvale elves. It was in agreeance that the Hellshire orcs needed to be shown immediate disciplinary actions for their lack of better judgement. He mobilized his small body of rebellion troops to advance on the orc encampment, with his friends at his side.
Registered Member #25436
Joined: 1:59:54 pm GMT 03/22/20
Posts: 58
Avaggdu came upon the Northern Druid, Caster, and his Ranger Companion ((omg I need to start writing things down)) while searching for a location to carry out his contingency plan.
Weary and paranoid, Avaggdu would pause the conversation every so often, muttering incantations and prayers to the source so that he may see all that is. Arakhor had revealed herself a few days prior while he and another group were trying to learn the secrets of the Crater Lake Laboratory. Too much rested on the success of this project, he thought, to risk letting any information slip carelessly as he had done before...
The Druids and Ranger made their way to a cave off the beaten path, where Avaggdu explained what he was doing to Caster. Almost immediately, Caster came up with a suggestion for the location of the new Garden, and then escorted Avaggdu to its location.
The location was perfect: It got plenty of sunlight, it was hidden, it was not too close to other settlements... Avaggdu was extremely grateful for Caster's help, saying that he may have just saved the entire project. Caster also suggested that they summon trees to create a hedge of protection around the Garden.
Avaggdu immediately got to work preparing the new garden. Firstly, he meditated for hours, reaching his consciousness deep down into the Earth, gently and meticulously working up chunks of stone until they breached the surface of the soft loam, forming a barrier around the enclosure. Then he laid a layer of clay, just as before, at the bottom as a lining to prevent the poisoned soil from contaminating the surrounding environment. Working late into the night, he placed more celestial crystals around the circumference of the garden and summoned a gentle, cyclonic wind to swirl around the garden.
Registered Member #24916
Joined: 2:58:00 pm GMT 01/23/19
Posts: 610
Celestial crystals, hm? How strange.. what do they expect by planting these in the city? All from Poisonwood merely walked by them, and they seemed to serve no function at all. Perhaps give hope to those living there? Well, let's crush that hope and give them nightmares for the rest of their lives, shall we?
The balor was called for the first half, and for the other half, the evoker had his sister in arms. There were plenty of bodies on the battlefield, and since the ones fighting for the traitors had put up such a charming display of heads near the border, they must surely like mangled corpses on display. All twelve crystals in the city had bodies dragged to them, with holes burned trough their remains, and planted firmly on the crystals. As blood poured over their surface and soaked the heavenly gemstones, their inner light shone trough the blood of Greenvale's fallen, making the perhaps symbolic items instead have a sinister glow.
Registered Member #24078
Joined: 3:40:59 am GMT 05/14/17
Posts: 1715
No Way Out
Somewhere in the snowy mountain passes and uncharted wilderness of the north...
The ragged hunter eyes the elusive white wolf he had been tracking over the Northlands wilderness for going on three days. The beast's alabaster coat was stained a deep scarlet from the blood of the still baying elk it had felled in the snow. The old hunter checks the wind, making sure the cold gale hides his scent while also adjusting the aim of his nocked arrow to account for the gusting wind. The old bow is drawn, creaking as the nearly frozen wood of the limbs bends.
All stands still for what seems like an age before the old hunter's gnarled fingers begin to open, but they hold still as his quarry raises its bloodied head from its meal, looking to the woods beyond. His own keen ears twitch at the strange sound that echoes through the wilds. He find his glance stolen from his elusive prey for a single moment, enough to see its rear bounding off into the snow once again when he turns back. His own curses are drowned out as the sound of marching boots and clanging steel of armor. Then he sees them.
More red upon the snow, but this time it is not blood. It is the deep red of thick cloaks and shining armor that adorn the marching soldiers emerging from the treeline. The small army trudges along through the snow, plowing through the drifts with reckless abandon as they march south. As he slinks back into the woods himself, he sees the tattered banner they hold high upon their shining weapons.
Thay was on the march.
~~~
Meanwhile, upon Thain's southern coast...
The brackish water gives way to a single nearly waterlogged Thayan vessel as it draws into the beleaguered enclave on the southern coasts of Thain. The dour troops disembark, each of them looking more weary than the lone ship that survived the onslaught of the Sandburrow blockade. The men march form the splintered deck, soaked by the sea and ready for rest, but as they look about the enclave they know there will be no respite.
Where did the other ships go? Why did they abandon their country men to the ravages of the Sandburrow fleet? How will their scant forces hold the nascent enclave? What will be their fate?
The soldier's doubts and fatigue are silenced as a woman draped in robes of red steps on deck. Zakkora Dimm appraised the troops, finding less than a fifth of those promised and no weapons of war. Her gaze looks to the sea, piercing the stormy horizon, knowing that three more ships had fled the battle. Three ships that would have ensured their survival.
The wizard's gaze snaps back to the docks and the weary enclave. They will have to survive on their own this day, but that was not enough. She looks back to the ship as the last soldier steps from the deck and begins her spell.
The eyes of the soldiers, elf and Thayan alike, glow with surprise as the wizard's magic rends their last hope of escape into splinters before them. Soon lurid flames begin to lick over the dying vessel as the Red Wizard's magic sears the splintering hull and sends sinking into the depths of the bay.
The wizard turns to the men, the last of the burning ship being taken by oblivion behind her.
"We fight to the last man. The only way out of this is through the enemy now."
The men watch the burning ship take all thought of desertion with it to the bottom of the sea as the wizard's gaze turns to the towers of Elisara that loom in the distance.
"Glory to Thay."
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OOC: This event will begin on Friday, April 24th at 1 PM EST/10 AM PST and will occur in two separate locations. You may opt to defend or attack the Thayan Enclave in the South, or ride to meet the elusive army in the northern wilderness to decide its fate!
For the Southern Enclave attack:
- Allies of Greenvale will begin on the South Coast, near the outer gates of Elisara. - Allies of Thay gather at the Thayan Enclave.
For the Northern Army:
Both sides may gather at the Road to the Northlands, near Captain Norwick's ships.
Note: This event will involve a great deal of traditional PvP. Please refresh yourself on the guidelines for such prior to attending.
Registered Member #25436
Joined: 1:59:54 pm GMT 03/22/20
Posts: 58
Avaggdu, Elissril, Caster, and Randrik met at the Crossroads campfire. With a subtle nod to each other, they departed the others silently as a unit. They set off to go behind enemy lines, deep into the Poisonwood...
The group took the caravan to Grey Iron Camp, then the Black Diamond Portal to Hammersong- intentionally avoiding the southern coast. They descended the mountain stealthily and made their way to the basement of Cobblewall Inn (1st pic), where Avaggdu explained the plan.
First, Avaggdu would check if the coast is clear. If it were not, then he would lure the enemy away and send his rat companion back to warn the others. Once the coast was clear, Elissril go first, taking a transportation device to the cave which lies in the northern most part of the Eastern Poisonwood. There she would connect the two portals, and the others would meet in the cave. Once they were all together, they would sneak towards the canyon pass through to the Northern part of the Poisonwood...
While Avaggdu was explaining the plan, Elissril started setting it into motion, being an expert in covert operations. Avaggdu stumbled awkwardly after her, shifting into a werecat to sneak towards the cave. Caster and Randrik waiting in the basement for the portals to be connected. Eventually, Avaggdu and Elissril made it safely to the cave and finished constructing the transportation corridor... (2nd Pic)
The group made their way through the winding canyons of the Northern Poisonwood, trying to avoid the razor grass and trying not to alert the vegepygmies. It was imperative that they not engage in combat, for the sounds of combat would surely echo through the silent walls of stone. The walk was so quiet that they could hear their own heartbeats. After passing a sacred grove, through the Stag King's pass, they arrived at the Northernmost edge of the Poisonwood near the Shattered coast. This was the location that Teron suggested they find the saplings. Indeed it was well out of the hot zone of the war.
Avaggdu passed out shovels and the group searched the area for saplings. They were able to find seven in total. (3rd Pic). Avaggdu advised them to make sure they keep the root systems intact as the dig them up. Once they finished their work, they used the Crossroads portal to pluck themselves out from behind enemy lines.
Upon returning to the Crossroads, Avaggdu told Elissril to think about how much she would like to be paid for the usage of her skills that day.
Caster and Avaggdu proceeded immediately to the new garden in order to plant the saplings there (4th Pic). After finishing their gardening, Avaggdu told Caster that he hopes some of the other called Druids would aid him in conducting a ritual to encourage the development of the truffles. ((this would be the next part- a tiny little rp sesh with those characters willing to help- maybe after nature night???))
Avaggdu said, "My hope is that the truffles will take the poison out of them (the saplings)... not kill them... "Convert" them... so to speak."
Caster nodded and replied, "I hope that will work."
Avaggdu continued, "If, however... they (the truffles) end up killing them... then that means we would have to be very wise in how we use it. And if it does nothing... then at least we tried."
Caster reminded Avaggdu that the called circle tends to be neutral towards the Poisonwood, even if they both agreed that something needed to be done. Avaggdu reminded Caster that he lives in the Lumenshire, and sees every day how the Poisonwood expands. Avaggdu thanked Caster for all his help, and then continued working on the garden, eventually planting five of the seven saplings.
After finishing his work, Avaggdu made the trip to the Lumenshire garden through the south road. There he planted the remaining two saplings (5th pic). It was important that he kept appearances up at the original garden, so that the agents of the Posionwood would not suspect that he had moved the project elsewhere.
Seryn, or whatever she called herself these days, had not only discovered one of their secret gardens, she and six other agents of Poisonwood had cornered the Huntmaster, Anyndel and Archon. It had been a dangerous gamble to choose a spot at the heart of Poisonwood as one of their research sites, but it had also been a necessary risk. They needed fresh samples of the ancient poison-vine tree, and the only means to obtain and analyse the samples had been to move the site as near to the tree as possible. Now, the site had been thoroughly compromised; not only that, the only samples they had managed to salvage before Seryn's untimely arrival had been stuffed into an old sack, a sack held in the Huntmaster's hand as seven very vengeful and very deadly Poisonwood agents circled him and his two brothers-in-arms. Renneleth's heart had beaten like a broken tambourine, pulse buzzing in his ear, fingers twitching and trembling as he clutched the sack with the samples in one hand, his bow in the other. He had taken careful stock of the situation, but no matter how he weighed the odds and no matter how many scenarios he ran through his head, the conclusion had been uniform: they were screwed. They were outnumbered, they were deep in enemy territory, and they were unprepared save a few traps they had managed to set here and there. This is what crushing defeat must smell like, thought Renneleth. Anyndel smelled it too, and so did Archon. And, of course, so did their enemy. They had moved in for the kill, a victory that would have won Poisonwood so much more than the corpses of three foes, but then, on some inexplicable whim, Seryn had determined to parlay. Perhaps parlay is an optimistic term; in truth, Seryn had seized the opportunity to fill the air with impassioned speeches, and although rhetoric was certainly not one of Renneleth's fortes, he knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. He had rebutted her wild accusations and rampant fanaticism as well as he could, mustering every ounce of willpower in order to rein in his emotions and temperament. Once or twice his temper had gotten the better of him, and toward the end, he had nearly squandered it all by shooting an arrow at Lucan Steelmane. But again Seryn had intervened in Renneleth's favour. After that, everything became a blur. Shouting. Incantations. The hiss and clang of drawn weapons. A portal stone being activated. By the end of it all, in some miraculous manner, the Huntmaster, the Black Dragon and the Grey Watcher had all escaped with their lives. With them, the sack of poison-vine samples. If ever the Huntmaster had been given cause to offer prayer to the Seldarine, that was it. But first, he needed to find Avaggdu.
Registered Member #25300
Joined: 6:37:11 am GMT 06/04/19
Posts: 153
Dele looked up from the table, her face grim as she purveyed her handiwork and turned to wash her hands in the stream. Avaggdu's project was providing the perfect distraction for her own and they had in their possession all she really needed for the initial testing at least. She just needed the druids and they were proving hard to find but she had no doubt they would come to her aid.
Supplies of Antidote had started to roll in as well, although it was a trickle compared to what she would need and how she was going to make the adjustments to it to work on this poison was still a work in progress. She looked over at Any as he lay near her by the fire, half awake, his thoughts obviously troubled over the encounter with Poisonwood. Orenya she called softly, that mage in the enclave, the one that could cure the Poisonwood taint. Did she survive the attack?
Later:
She sat inside penning notes to Jiztroyir, and Acanthus, two she needed to pull the cushions out from under their backsides.
Registered Member #1050
Joined: 7:35:50 am GMT 05/11/07
Posts: 409
Anger, annoyance, hatred. All thoughts running through his mind as he butchered them.
The elves could kill all of themselves for all he cared they had betrayed his kind eons ago and pretended it never happened. However, recently one of the supposedly peaceful ones had approached him without malice. He thought about eating it, but listened instead. The words rang true to a degree coming from such a liar as any elf was.
But the attack on him personally from the elves that tasted "off" as he ate them. That was different, unacceptable. Their bodies would cover the Altar, there flesh would feed him. Their port would burn.
[ The Island of Thain ]
Poisonwar
