Registered Member #25299
Joined: 3:54:32 am GMT 06/03/19
Posts: 253
Day of Unanimity
Mirthful and full of good spirits, Darren had made a notice in the Roadhouse of Hamley, Trade and Tackel at the Crossroads, Tin N Tankard in Steinkries, and finally within Hammersong Mountain at the pub.
“Has the war and conflict left you in a sour mood as it has for me? Death and madness lurks the island like a constant ailment that never seems satisfied. So, I hereby would like to announce a day away from it all. A day to celebrate the life we yet have. A day of peace and tranquility. A day of Unanimity,
Upon this day, (( April 26th, Sunday at approximately 14:00 hours Pacific time )), a Charity camping event shall take place in the woods past the grove. Directions can be found from me, Darren squire of the Empyrean, and Paladin of Tyr, to find your way. Or you can travel with us from the crossroads together,
There will be an archery contest, strength of arms contest, and a battle of minds. 50% of entry fees shall be turned towards the Greenvale relief, specifically the one known as Dele, to aid the wounded in the war. And the rest shall be granted towards the victors including a custom symbol of Tyr to imbue you with divine wrath to serve justice. Contests are not for you? That is fine! There will be mini-games and a place of storytelling as we feast over hunted game, assorted foods, and a large bonfire.
PS: I would not mind assistance to anyone willing, to prepare and set up the campsite. Thank you and may Tyr guide our steps in these dark days and bring to us a beacon of light to serve proper justice to those most deserving.”
Registered Member #1009
Joined: 7:04:13 am GMT 03/26/07
Posts: 539
It has begun. Someone was brazen enough to plant poisonous plants in front of the cavern entrance. They were using a wind from the water to funnel spores inside. Despite an initial hesitation to use necromancy to resolve other situations of this nature, there was none for this. The life energy of two poisonwood elves served as a catalyst for it. The mists of the Poison in the Ridgeshield had interrupted the attempt to obtain the life energy of a third. Runes and etching were inscribed into the skull poles and the ritual was completed. With satisfaction the plants and grass began to decay immediately. The life being drained from them which in turn fueled the spell which would only subside once all hints of life in the soil were gone. It was localized to ensure it didn't pose a risk to the greater Shire.
Registered Member #1009
Joined: 7:04:13 am GMT 03/26/07
Posts: 539
It was a blood bath, bodies burned by magics, cut down, and left to slowly rot in the open air of the Northlands. Jiztroyir had regrettably been unable to attend to the battle at the Enclave, though apparently Rita and Cathalya had not been found among the dead and wounded there. It didn't take long to realize that they had chased after the Thayan ships which sailed northward. There was only one dock north of the shire and it was the only place the ships would have been able to safely anchor. Clearly the Poisonwood had figured it out and moved forces to squash the last bit of resistance from the Red Wizards.
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Jiztroyir and Renneleth arrived to find the slaughter was complete and there was no indication any had survived though as a result of the bloodbath they were unable to find Kauna's body.
The Huntmaster burst from the trees and into cold daylight, took a couple more silent steps and stopped, crouching with his bow at the ready. The morning mist had long faded and from his spot on a tall ridge he could see all the way across the patchwork of poisonous flora to the Thayan enclave, wedged in against the grey sea behind its grey wall. Where a day ago men and women had busily gone about magic and commerce. Now a great column of dark smoke rolled up and smudged the sky, drifting out over the restless sea. There was a tang of fresh burning on the air - of fresh burning and fresh rot. Ashes blew in wide circles, settling on the rubbish like little drifts of black snow. Not far off the grey gates stood the shell of a gutted building, blackened rafters sticking naked into the pale sky, blackened windows gaping empty. Once, the Thayvian enclave had been a grand enough building, staunch walls of grey marble with imposing columns at the top. Now it was just a burned-out shell. A crypt for the hundred Thayans that had burned to death inside. If the Huntmaster felt any sentiment for those who had died below - his own men among them - it was not betrayed on his face, which was as inscrutable as stone.
He looked past the smoldering enclave, toward the mist-wrapped silhouette of the docks where a dozen or more warships were moored. Poisonwood warships. They had been clever, so very clever. They had taunted Sandburrow with a brisk and unexpected raid, then let the Thayans take the fall. The resulting Battle of Red Sails had depleted both navies of all their warships save a single battered gunship. Because that had not sufficed to slake either army's thirst for each other's destruction, Sandburrow had mounted a devastating siege on the Thayan enclave - and the Huntmaster had participated - depleting her garrisons to the last Boldfoot to ensure that every last red-robe was put to the torch. Incidentally, Seryn or Arakhor notwithstanding, no Arben had come to Thay's rescue. And why would they have? Two powerful navies - both a very real threat to Poisonwood - had cancelled each other out, and the Lady of the Order had not lost a single ship. Those ships, the Huntmaster knew, would soon be unleashed on City of Elisara. If the Estel Navy lost, Poisonwood would completely overrun the city's defenses.
The Huntmaster closed his eyes and filled his lungs with smoke-choked breath. The Harianen had won a great battle last night, but there would be no time for celebration or respite. Poisonwood's southern docks needed to burn, and very, very soon!
Registered Member #24064
Joined: 6:33:55 pm GMT 03/29/17
Posts: 131
Red upon Ice
Storm of war brewed over the southern enclave. Red Wizards were meant to lose ; Meant to get what they deserved upon the cursed ground. It was only right - Fated to be so. With them gone, the curse would've ran its dark course.
Rita was more than pleased.
The news of a split and alleged betrayal amidst ranks of Thay made the hexer smile even more. It shown how desperate their situation was, how they disagreed after their crucial mistakes. But those whom have switched sides shall not escape the curse either - Not without a reminder. They ought to learn or die.
With a handful of Poisonwood allies, a deal with Captain was Norwick was struck ; one which put to shame his former agreements with Thayans. The ship set sail in pursuit of commander Kauna's force and soon a battle shook the glacial islands. The few against the many, yet few with a vicious bite. When the commander and more prominent knights and spellcasters have fallen, the remainder of Thay's troops scattered off in the snowy wilderness to the east.
May they find death there. Run, like wounded animals they were. Run into the embrace of the unknown, suffering defeat.
Rita approached the commander's body, eager to place heel upon the neck and indulge self in moment of victory. Alas, the red-armoured commander miracelously vanished. Was it a spell of contingency that took place? Some powerful arcane of Khalador? Likely so. Regardless, all that was left in her place was bloodstained snow.
An awe-inspiring picture.
The scene so pleased the eye. It graced the senses like an azure canvas so speckled crimson could. Dark clouds formed above Thay's heads on that night and, when Rita returned to the southern coast, she was greeted with smoke rising from the enclave. She'd dance, but Poisonwood would likely frown at the excess of expression to her needy display and there was still much left to do.
Registered Member #787
Joined: 8:48:31 am GMT 05/30/06
Posts: 1761
He and his companions had relative success in the North against the Thayan forces, with a great many being defeated, and those remaining scattering to the wind. Spoils of victory were shared, and promises made of still more to come. Weary and injured forms of human and elves made the trip South, to the woods of poisoned growth, where rest and recovery would find them.
There were met the elven evoker, and the fey-touched butterfly-winged woman. They too had come from battle, and bore the marks of injuries upon their forms as proof of its tenacity. The Thayans in two places had been fought this day, and elves gathered to talk among themselves before a report to the Lady of the Wood was to be given. Kana'ti, being the odd-human out, was given time to ruminate over the battle they'd had, and the previous few days' events.
Within the chamber of the Lady of Poisoned Woods, the groups had formed to give account of their actions to their matron. Each gave their testimony and accounting of actions, while Kana'ti remained in silent observation. A human in elven lands; a human bonded not to their lands, but to a woman who herself, was not bound to the lands either--but was of one volunteer to aid, to see her just purpose done. For this, the hunter remained in silence, and distanced, as to offer a showing of respect--though it was doubtful the elven matron or her ilk, could see beyond their anger and hate, to notice the subtle offering.
The woodsman felt a twinge of sorrow for these spiteful people. A history of conflict and forgotten sacrifices. The poison they were now so reliant on, to go hours without, was to watch an addict be in withdrawal. How many without choice were born into such necessity? A tainted trade--whatever strength the poisoned waters provided, surely, in time, would drive them all mad. The more dependent, the more is required--surely there must come the day when the fountain's water is not enough.
In the debriefing, the evoker and fey told of the Enclave's destruction--a battle beset on many sides. The fight in the snowy North had gone altogether well for Kana'ti, Rita, and Cathalya--plus the black-winged kin who joined them. Departing from the cavern of green-skinned elves, the avian resplendent hunter sought to put eyes to the Enclave. His skillful steps leaving grasses and underbrush without the showing of being trampled, as he wove his way through the dense woods--a forest with it's own measure of beauty. Could the elves who lived here see that anymore, or were their eyes fixated upon that which drove them?
His many careful steps brought him to a clearing high above where the Enclave stood--or of it that remained standing. Such a small parcel of land to bear such devastation. There would be more, of course, in the coming days, weeks, or perhaps months. The carnage sat before him like some alter to war, gave rise in his mind a thought--a change of perception he needed to fix.
You Tsalagi fool. He'd whisper aloud to himself with a tight lipped smile, albeit hidden by his raven-inspired helm. You have been acting as the ka'lanu, when you need be the awa'hili.
Registered Member #25300
Joined: 6:37:11 am GMT 06/04/19
Posts: 153
Dele can be heard singing this song as she walks amongst the hurt and injured of Greenvale. As she finds a fallen friend, she would pause and say a special prayer of remembrance.
//I found this song for another purpose/ person But it such a gorgeously heartfelt song and just the sort of thing she would do, I couldn't resist. Edit, changed the link to a later version of Simon and Garfunkel's performance of the song, no one needs to look at that much teeth from the first version I linked, takes away from the song.
Registered Member #25300
Joined: 6:37:11 am GMT 06/04/19
Posts: 153
Finally she had managed to get them all together in the grove, druids, mages, healers, fighters, thinkers, doubters, She showed and explained her work, how it had come about and explained how she needed their help and implored them to join with her to achieve the objective.
Long hours passed as she listened to them going back and forth over solutions, tempers flared and were quieted, egos bruised only to be soothed. Ideas suggested and then discarded for their faults and complications. Finally a plan was hatched and they all were agreed, there was still much work to do, the devil was in the detail, but a solid achievable plan it was, she raised a prayer, let this be enough and if not enough, a dammed good nudge in the right direction.
Registered Member #408
Joined: 2:50:36 am GMT 01/20/05
Posts: 1509
Strange Sightings in The Night!
As the fallen lay still, dark elven shapes creep across the battlefield. Stipping away armor and ripping away flesh of the fallen. They feast in the still of battle. Fleeing upon the visage of any living soul who comes to investigate!
Did you see that?
Looked like one of those elves of Heartwood!
Didn't they eat an entire sanctuary of monks?
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Some shapes have been seen dragging the bodies away into the alleys of the city!
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One witness claims of dozens of half eaten bodies within an alley way. A gruesome scene as one of the figures chomped away at a body of the fallen!
Registered Member #25343
Joined: 8:54:42 pm GMT 08/30/19
Posts: 125
The Heart of Corruption
The ever-present rain that refused to abandon the Poisonwood greeted Arakhor as she awoke. The changeling squirmed in Holzstod’s grasp, and she realised that she had no recollection of how she had reached her tree. She was so tired. The cruelties of war still preyed on her thoughts, and the recent battle in the Thayan enclave had left her utterly spent. As usual, nonetheless, there was so much more on both mind and shoulders, and she was paying the price for denying herself an ounce of rest after so taxing efforts. Fatigue may have claimed her whenever she stumbled, but she would concentrate on her song and rise again, pushing her limits over and over, as she did far too often.
Her forest and her allies needed her at her best, though. She had no choice but to try and recover, even if just for a few hours. Hours where she would have to think about all that had transpired while stroking the branches around her.
She remembered about the makeshift laboratory the enemy had placed in Seryn’s old tree. In her old tree. Where the seed that would eventually revive her had been planted. The clash that had ensued when they discovered it. The time she had spent with one Lucan of Water-deep, tending him and his wounds. With Cathalya. The expected and unexpected encounter with Renneleth in the abandoned temple. The repugnant trips through mushroom and spore-filled cavern. Through the Abyss. The Abyss.
And then the ritual to create a monstrosity of monstrosities.
It troubled her to do so drastic things. And even more to think about them. But she had to accept what she had done. Nothing was more important than her woods or the poison in them.
And yet, it gnawed at her. She twisted and turned in Holzstod’s boughs, and it tightened its hold to make sure she would not fall. She closed her eyes, pressing her eyelids so tightly they became a wrinkled mess. No matter how hard she pressed them, though, her actions danced before her like possessed dolls. She had reached out to the enemy, to him, no less, to try and make him understand. Just like Seryn would have wanted. She had even let him see her. Talk to her. Or perhaps just the memories Arakhor had of her. And then, he had offered her his blade. The blade he had used to cut down so many of her kin. That he had used to undo her. But she still reached out to him.
Was she being used? Was Arakhor being used? Did either have the luxury not to try and listen?
She knew what would happen if the war continued. There would be nothing left. No poison, no forest. No south. Just a blighted expanse. A testament to blind hatred. She had to try and make them understand. And she would do what he had asked of her. The fey would pray to Syann. Try to talk to him. She knew it might be in vain, but she had to do it. For her memory.
Whether it would work or not she could not say. She knew what the Lady was like and Seryn had only ‘met’ Syann once, through a vision as well. It seemed a simple thing, to try and commune with his spirit. A simple thing that could have terrible repercussions. And yet, and at the same time, it seemed such a harmless thing. Especially when compared to the what she had done to further preserve the poison.
Her eyes looked around her again.
The list of sins she was amassing for her home, for her vision of it, was growing. And it was growing fast.
Her plan to counter Avaggdu’s doings would probably be the most heinous of them. One that would mark her soul, be it Seryn’s, be it Arakhor’s, for the rest of her days. But they knew it was necessary. They had all agreed to it. Cele’brendor, Amywiel, Kana’ti, Elarion, Rita, Cathalya and Lucan. None of them liked it, but what was there to like?
And they had done it.
Sluggishly, blurred images sprang to mind. She could but contemplate the extent of it from beginning to end.
First, they had braved the spores that commanded entire armies of corpses. That pieced together beings that defied description – and that had almost defeated them during their foolish adventure, much as Kana'ti's arrows had flown true. The infectious swarms were a fascinating thing and the potential union between so virulent and lively spores with their life-infusing poison had promise, like Cathalya had said, but it was something that would have to be explored after the war. Their true prize was the deathgloss, a crystal of so powerful properties that not even the ocean of spores around dared touch it.
Seryn had first encountered it while exploring Wai'i'lanai’s domain, and its traits had lingered in her thoughts since then. Inanimate as the shard might be, it radiated malice. Tainted all it touched. But it was far from the most abominable reagent they would gather for the deed.
As they swam in filth, Rita had succeeded in locating the second key source of ingredients: a demon known as adaru, one famous for its cowardice, cunning and tendency to corrupt. For the experiment to work, they needed its tongue and heart, and there were only so many ways to get them. And so, the sortie had visited twisted plane after twisted plane, venturing into the heart of the Abyss, a place that most avoided at all costs with good reason. Fought their way across pockets of fiends, muddled through swamps and impossible jungles. Cele'brendor's blades had known no match, and his silent steps, not to mention Rita's own words, had proved invaluable in guiding them. Even so, and even if they had steeled themselves for the task at hand, it had nearly been their last voyage. Their quarry had made the hunt challenging and deadly, and Lucan, Kana’ti and Arakhor herself may not have returned at all if not for their peers.
But their determination had rung true that day. Amywiel had located the heart when no other had managed to spot it and Cathalya secured the head, tongue included.
With all the dammned materials in their possession, the grim ritual had bloomed.
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Crystals of poison had been fashioned in the way Elarion and Cathalya had explained – by concentrating it from its source. The depths of the Poisonwood ran thick with their song because of them, and the strange structure that lurked beneath the surface had served to unite their efforts. It was there that they had extracted the adaru’s essence from its tongue, Kana’ti willingly offering a part of his sanity for it.
Then, they had proceeded to add their goals – their dreams – and their passion to the mixture. With the deathgloss sliver as catalyst, the dryad's own blood, the toxic air and their joint emotions had followed to entice the still beating heart and the extract from the tongue to remind it of its purpose – to corrupt.
As the images succeeded themselves, Arakhor could not help but repeat the words Rhandum had spoken. "The Abyss cannot be controlled. Only unleashed." She thought about them often, and they could not have sounded truer as they toyed with so dangerous things in the depths. The primitive ceremony, it nothing but a macabre experiment, had tested them more and more as it unfolded, getting the best of the group at times. It had almost failed at the most crucial point as well, and the final explosion even sent half to their knees and Arakhor flying away, knocking her out completely.
But during that painful, briefest instant, something had happened.
She had stolen a glimpse of it right before everything had gone blacker than black.
Drunk on their poison, the ‘heart’ had accepted all. It had been removed from its owner and its fiendish plane, but it kept beating. Each pulse an eerie tremor. A palpable omen. The flesh had turned a dark green, and it no longer sent demonic blood coursing along non-existent veins. Instead, it excreted a magma kin to liquid emerald. One that, presumably, would do what they hoped it would – twist and warp everything it touched into perversion.
They would not know until they tested it, but they would do just that soon. Very, very soon.
[ The Island of Thain ]
Poisonwar
