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  • scratch_flannigan
    scratch_flannigan  1 day ago

    Section Six starts in about 1 hour and 20 minutes . That will be 7pm CST (GMT - 6).

    Good(ish) characters of LEVEL 11 or below.

    We will meet at the Iron Minogon in Webster's Landing. Just assume that your character received a mysterious invitation.

    I will be IG as Taran if you have any questions!

  • Raven1210
    Raven1210  1 day ago

    Hello Yasmyn! grin

  • Squidget
    Squidget  2 days ago

    No worries Yas, PMs have been busted on the forums for ages, we just use Discord now. Hello!

  • Yasmyn
    Yasmyn  2 days ago

    Hey all. Trying to send a PM but failing. Would like to say hey current DMs. And sorry.

  • scratch_flannigan
    scratch_flannigan  1 week ago

    Section Six starts in 1 about hour. That will be 7pm CST (GMT - 6).

    Good(ish) characters of LEVEL 11 or below.

    We will meet at the Iron Minogon in Webster's Landing. Just assume that your character received a mysterious invitation.

    I will be IG as Taran if you have any questions!

  • scratch_flannigan
    scratch_flannigan  2 weeks ago

    Section Six starts in 1 about hour. That will be 7pm CST (GMT - 6).

    Good(ish) characters of LEVEL 11 or below.

    We will meet at the Iron Minogon in Webster's Landing. Just assume that your character received a mysterious invitation.

    I will be IG as Taran if you have any questions!

  • animosomina
    animosomina  2 weeks ago

    Welcome to Thain friend.

  • Gwondier
    Gwondier  2 weeks ago

    Thanks Zhymm! I'm in.

  • Zhymm
    Zhymm  2 weeks ago

    Here's an invite code to the Thain Discord server

    -Clickedy-

    Discord codes usually expire fairly quickly. So, use it ASAP.

    Most Thain players use it for text messages, posting screenshots and RL topics. Rarely for voice comms, I can recall only one instance in the past two years in which I got a fellow player to join me in its voice channel.

    Good luck,

    Old Man Zhymm

  • Gwondier
    Gwondier  2 weeks ago

    I understand there's a discord channel for the server. I've looked around, but can't find it. Can that be stickied if so? If not, would like a link, please.


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Last House of the Brotherhood

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saadow
7:33:37 pm GMT 04/28/21
saadow Registered Member #23976 Joined: 1:31:54 am GMT 11/30/15
Posts: 152
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Last House of the Brotherhood

The story of making a better place

By: Saadow
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saadow
7:48:54 pm GMT 04/28/21
saadow Registered Member #23976 Joined: 1:31:54 am GMT 11/30/15
Posts: 152
[ image disabled ]

A visitor in the evening



It was dire, the man screamed in horrid pain thankfully both the sanctuary muffled his wounded cries, protecting both the sleepy port town from his pain, and the injured farmer from his horrendous ordeal."Put him up on the pew, lay him down. I will see if I can rouse Arham!" Eyes of the locals turned as the door to the sanctuary opened up. Standing in the doorway was the scruffy looking figure of a Halfling who had not been shaved in some time. One of them looked at the curved blade at his side, then up at the old, dusty painting of St. Jiles, and the equally curved weapon at his hip.



The Brotherhood of the Woods is an ancient establishment, an order comprised of the Sons and Daughters of men who were taught by the Timeless Elves how to fight like them. Though technique is distilled down into trained form over artform, the sight of human men wielding a bow as the Elves do is a striking presence. Swathed in leathers, these diligent defenders walk around their home, the port of Webster's Landing. An organization that shares their heritage, the Bloodguard, resides in land they themselves were once responsible for. How the Brotherhood feels, looking longingly back at the north and their old outpost, is anyone's best guess, and few people seem to stop and actually ask them. It was a sign of their strength, resilience, and determination; their silent grit, to endure without voicing what encroached, but to act in the good name and defense of the people. That act in the good name and defense of the Isle of Thain without taking from her that which did not belong. This silent endurance was a matter of respect, a matter of honor, and dignity. Pride, in the face of the looming shadow of Steinkreis and her laws in the West, and the influx of adventurers that simply pass their gated walls and are unseen again, save to pass them by and face the outskirts for reasons their own.



It was through this silent endurance they watched the old mausoleum on the hill, fall to disrepair. Plants growing through the stone tiles and up the supporting pillars. Stone eroding under rain no longer neutral from the years of war and smoke rising high above, carrying the Sulphur from forges deep underground and the plumes of poisons from the south into the air. Stone did not last unless tended to, unless loved, and the brotherhood had decided that the best to do was to guard the walls, to defend the gate and to pasture the old burial ground. Other places were found favorable for the dead, places the dead would not so readily rise. So long lived families were now torn apart and denied the final resting places for their lineage, as old lines died out on their gradual march to oblivion, the Brotherhood stood in resolute silence. The occasional arrow to the visible dead trying to pass the decaying wall into the town.

But that only did so much.



This was the third time this tenday, a younger and less seasoned man among the locals decided to visit their grandfather and pay respects when few others would. Little did he know it'd be a conjugal visit of the worst kind. He suffered terrible bites to his shoulder and close enough to his neck that the gruesome bleeding had the few awake at this hour fearing the worst. Perhaps it was providence or good fortune that entering that chapel at that time, was the Hin man. With his direction, gradually his injuries were met with styptic powder to stop the bleeding, in spite of the terrible burn. Stitching to seal the ragged bites, poultices to clean the wound and help it seal up, and sutures to keep it pinned all together were a matter of course. The healer would not have to be woken up tonight, and maybe this man would live.



It was the kindness of a neighbor that through their insistence did the visitor in the evening stay. Settled on a rough-hewn bench, at a squat dining table, the farmer--a friend of the ill man and also quartering him in this same house--had sat across from his Halfling visitor. He laid a plate of fresh bread and churned butter, before speaking. "Thank you kindly for yer help. Had ye not visited when ye did, I'm afraid Stan'd not be with us anymore." Taking up a piece of the dense bread, he spread a helping of butter across it while they conversed. It was in this conversation, he learned why that young man was so savaged, and the nature of the problem. It gave him a direction on where to explore the next steps. On the hill overlooking the town, a sad mausoleum fell further into disrepair, and within the dead had stirred.

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saadow
6:17:40 am GMT 05/09/21
saadow Registered Member #23976 Joined: 1:31:54 am GMT 11/30/15
Posts: 152
[ image disabled ]

The Lake of Songs

"Know that just as you have been here for us," said the maiden as she took a step back towards the cliffside, "when the time comes, and the darkness falls, we will rise and be here for you." The singer of the Opera House of Steinkreis, the White Rose, Nicolette Everguard took a final step backwards. She let her arms splay and she dropped, off the cliffside and down towards the waters below. Others looked on in abject horror as she plummeted. A fellow Hin, named Meruppi, exclaimed first in shock,"Lady White Rose!" "Did she just jump?!" asked one of the members of the Brotherhood, dumbfounded. The moment of grace and the flutter of her white dress fell from view for a moment, but as all looked down to see where she was, all they saw was where she was not. For hovering in the air above them, the singer rose, and began to let forth from her diaphragm a beautiful song. Her haunting words and the beautiful lights that glistened across the moonlit lake of Loch Ambolt. Among the groups, two lone wolves stood, watching the singer, and listening to her song. One was a man of the Brotherhood, in a deep olive hood, and tanned leathers, keeping a bow in hand even while the merriment around him suggested a moment of reprieve. The other, was a Halfling, the very same that visited Webster's Landing the nights before, and tended to their own. Though as much as he seemed to fight a lot like a lone wolf on the battlefield, he was not alone. An arm was wrapped around a mountain of strength and grace, and the two stood on the grasses and listened to the beautiful song together.



Nicolette was coming down from where she landed from the air towards the end of her song. "Nicolette," asked the Hin, as the singer had stopped after her song, standing among the admiration of the brotherhood. "I have some questions?" She had assented, "Of course!" Though, as someone important as the White Rose, she was swamped with the need to speak to many, "Excuse me, Miss White Rose? Could you speak on the magic you used to float above the water?" A broad shouldered man in a robe, with a bald head and stave spoke to her. She turned her attention to a hooded woman, "Sure! But I'm afraid you might be disappointed, much of this was just stage magic. Though, as for the more interesting spells, do you see that hooded wall-flower over there? Much of this came from her brilliance with magic!" A woman in a nice dress with her hood drawn up, named Evangeline, looked up shocked at the White Rose referencing her. Perception of his window to ask his questions was drifting further and further away, the lone wolf turned and looked to the other. This man, lost in his campsite, seemed to show no sign he noticed Sam. The Halfling would not make the fatal error of assuming that, as he knew these warriors; the man probably knew Sam wanted to speak to him before Sam even realized it himself!. With the Hin approaching him, the member of the Brotherhood turned his hooded visage and looked down to him. "Excuse me," the Hin began, "forgive me for disrupting your peace, but I had some questions, would you be willing to indulge them?" The Hin explained that he wanted to understand more about the references to them in Nicolette's Song, to which he replied, hand tracing the hilt of his longsword at his side, "What references do you speak of?"



Warrior and Warrior, two lone wolves, danced in their own battle. It was not a war of blade or fist, fang or club. It was not a battle of arrows and fire, or magic crackling through the air. It was a battle against themselves and their natures. The two spoke, Sam picking his words carefully, and so did Jaiden. This dance persisted, with Sam turning to the deepest lore he knew, Fangil's Blade, "It is said that the history of the Brotherhood is a battle that was waged against creatures from another realm, and that this blade would act in service of those of our realm." The two trying to pierce their veils with words were quieted for a moment, when the White Rose saw to end the stalemate, and speak to them both, "Come and sit with me, we'll speak of Fangil." The two looked to one another, Sam gesturing ahead, and the man of the Brotherhood nodding his assent, both striding up to join the others around the camp fire and mess kit, bubbling away happily over the lapping flames.



The company talked, speaking at length, when the question finally came about Fangil, Nicolette spoke about the sword of the Brotherhood, "Fangil's Blade." The discussion on the inscription though finally made the stoic ranger open up. Jaiden spoke, pensively, "There was once a time in ages past, when we fought alongside an order called the Shadow Guard. It is now more myth than anything. It's believed they've all died out." Sam remembered what he saw in that dark place once, the deep shadowy statues, when traveling with the Kralshaman of the Hellshire, and his lover, Hugdish. He remembered the imagery of those members in the deep shadows, and considered that memory. Once again, the Tengu comes up again, the one wielding the curved blade. Sam was seeing a pattern, a series of inexorable ties to his own story, to these near-mythic figures in the history of Thain. From Jiles Blon the Prodigal Keeper of Thain, then to Kintaro the Great General, the shade of which he faced in Mortal Combat, in the world of the mists. Finally, to this enigmatic figure of the Shadow Guard, the Tengu with the curved blade like his own. Pensively, the Hin looked down to "Soen'na" hanging from his hip nestled in the laquered wooden saya nestled in the Obi belt tied around his waist. This extension of himself, the first of his family to wield the blade that lived for generations, and the last memories of Tanaka Kagami on the world of the living. It made him think to the tales of soul and sword that came before him. And the one that stretched out to his future.



As the gathering began to filter down, and the Rangers began to return to their posts, the Ranger Jaiden handed a journal to the White Rose, "You've convinced me, though the matter sounds wholely unpleasant. Be mindful with this, I have not had a chance to read it yet, and I spent hours chasing down a fey to get it back. Please take care of it?" The woman looked up to him, and collected the journal, holding it carefully to herself, "Sir, if you know anything about me, you will know that I would never harm a book." She smiled, and together, as the group filtered out, select readings were made from inside. The story within gave insight to another mamber of the Goodmane family, a cousin named "Kelvan." Kelvan was apparently a bit of a black sheep of the family, where most were good with battle and blade, he was best with book and quill. Jaiden reminisced how he would travel from city to city to read and absorb all that he could, until one day he had visited the Watch. When he left, he was never the same. He was changed. And that change could be seen in the pages of his Journal. Sam listened pensively, but he began to see a pattern. "It was believed he was dead." Jaiden's words rang with a familiarity for the gravekeeper, "Nicolette," he asked, "Is it possible the man you had spoken to was not among the living anymore?" To which she replied,

she could not be sure, she couldn't see his face.



The Hin Meruppi was cleaning up and sharing what of his Cider he had left, the Rangers got their servings, and Sam was happy to forgo his own; he had to have a clear head for all of these stories to stick in his memory. Nicolette said goodnight to Jaiden, "Don't worry," he said back to her, "We'll find him." As the warrior left a heavy rain began to fall. The great drops pelted off of the mothbitten cowl around the Hin's shoulders and neck. Thick drops hit the jute clothing he wore, and the hungry fabric and dry grave dirt on his skin thirstily drank it down. Rivulets of it trailed down his arms, leaving small lines of mud as he pushed off the ground and stood up. Sam called to him over the storm, "Good luck! If you ever need my blade, it is yours." The ranger took a long look at the Hin, and remembered his face. He nodded his thanks, and headed back for the long watch at Webster's Landing. The hour growing late, and as the storm was waning, the White Rose decided it best to return home. Meruppi, the brave soul he was, volunteered first, "I could walk you home!" The Hin reminded him of himself, Sam knew though that this farmer, he did not have the same experiences the ronin had. Looking up, Sam offered his sword too, "Nicolette, given the danger, let me walk with you home." It was the same time, the figure that asked earlier about magic thought it best to travel with them. The White Rose obliged. As they passed through the countryside, a dark shape rose up from the ground beside them. Bravely, Meruppi charged between Nicolette and this shape. Sam moved to back up his fellow Halfling. The shape rose, spread his black wings, and flew into the sky and away from them. Nicolette confirmed this was Ramiel, a friend. Sam resolved to apologize for taking such a threatening stance, not for doing so to protect Nicolette--as surely the Celestial would understand that--but to apologize for not knowing he was a friend sooner.



As she rode, Nicolette passed the gates of Webster's Landing. The group spoke of many things, of magic, of worthiness, and of the way of a warrior. On talking of a warrior, Nicolette asked Sam if they could see Fangil's Tomb. This surprised the groundskeeper, who had not even officially taken the task in word, but in heart he held pride she valued his opinion enough to ask. Assenting, the group approached, and spoke at length about how the memory of the Brotherhood must not be lost. The organization trained by the Elves in the way to do battle. To know the woods as the Elves do. It was rare to see a human that knew how to fire a bow in the stance the elves did. To sing blades as the elves did. But to watch a Brother fight, was to watch a bringer of death. To be a brother, was to be the bringer of death. To fight a brother, was to seek a bringer of death. Each ranger was a seeker of parts unknown, a warrior for the truth of the hidden wilds and the protection of the people of Thain. Fangil was the bridge between Elves and Men, The Last Homely House of the Brotherhood.



To her door, the three unlikely companions guided Nicolette to her house, the broad-shouldered, staff wielding man in the robe, Acanthus, alongside the Farmer that adored the singing of the White Rose, Meruppi, to the Ronin who was once a gardener in a war, and now a warrior in a garden; Sam. She bid them all goodnight, before offering one last piece of wisdom, "Sam," she began, "I remember that the members of the Stone Circle temple walk out to the graveyard of honored dead, outside of the city. They speak prayers that calm the dead and keep them at rest. Maybe it would be worth asking them about it? They may not go all the way to Webster's Landing, but it's an idea!" He nodded, "That's a fantastic idea, Nicolette. I'll ask on my way home from here. You have a good night now. You can either find me at the Necropolis, or at Webster's Landing." As she disappeared away, just after saying goodnight, he said farewell to the bald spellcaster, nodding to him politely, while walking Meruppi down to the crossroads so he could get on a caravan to get home. As they passed the temple of the Stone Circle, a letter is left to the priests within.


To whom of the Priests of the Stone Circle that it may concern,

My name is Sam, I serve the community working as a groundskeeper at the old Necropolis off the north road, and I have taken on a project for the benefit of the heroic Brotherhood of the Woods, and the people of Webster's Landing. I am told by an individual who is an expert in local lore that you have priests that you send to the Tomb of the Honored Dead just outside the city limits, and they perform a ritual that can pacify the dead. I know Webster's Landing is a hike to send your priests, but would you be willing to teach me this rite so I may perform it over Fangil's Tomb? The dead have risen, and people have gotten hurt. Something needs to be done, and I am willing and dedicated to see it done.

Sincerely,
S. B.

P.S. Please send return correspondence to the Iron Minogon, or the Trade and Tackel. Thank you!


The only thing left to do, was to return back to the quiet port town. He had work to do, and the sun would be setting soon; it was best to get to it.

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saadow
11:20:35 pm GMT 05/10/21
saadow Registered Member #23976 Joined: 1:31:54 am GMT 11/30/15
Posts: 152
[ image disabled ]

I won't be misunderstood

Darkness spilled around the quiet road heading West away from Webster's Landing. Along the lonely fishing village wall stood a solitary lookout of the Brotherhood. His eyes peered into the darkness and saw a shambling figure gradually drawing towards the walls. This had become a more and more common sight, but it was the subject that drew his surprise. "Call for Arham," he spoke down to one of the other watchmen on the ground below, "It's Sam, he's hurt."


The Brotherhood were calm as this came to pass, it was not that they were without urgency but it was late at night and to wake the hamlet over an injured adventurer was not something the stoic guardians would do. The Hin was using his sword as a crutch until the very same ranger had moved and scooped him up. He'd almost protest, but even he knew he was in no condition to keep moving. A table in the barracks was used to lay him down, and the old monk had entered in, bringing with him tinctures and bandages, made fresh from the waters of the old fountain behind his home. "Have to, watch the tomb." The healer looked to the Halfling and his protests, and softly scolded him, "You will first watch yourself, you are in no condition to fight. Stay still." The effort of it all, to even get here, was too much for his injured body. He laid back, and his head lolled to the side. Consciousness slipped away. The laughing visage of a grinning skull tormented him in his state, but this was unknown to the men outside.


Rumor spread, of course, among the brothers that spoke, among the farmers, that the warrior had been injured. Few knew why, as the Brotherhood were as solitary as they were guarded. It was those three days later that the Hin finally began to rouse again, straining against his bandaged chest. The barracks were still, and the bottom bunk was stiff, but certainly beat waking up on the cold floor of a tomb. Tired eyes turned to the dark figure in the corner, a hooded ranger who spoke out with a familiar voice. "What happened out there, Sam?" The Hin rolled his head back and stared at the bunk above him, before reciting what he could remember.




Wayward bloody sword,
As red leaves, the wielder falls;
pitted steel remains.


Sam began to recount the tale of what happened that evening, "I saw you protecting the white rose," said the letter. "If you are interested in continuing to do so, come to the ship in the caves under the old chapel off the cliffsides, north of the Landing. Come alone." So I did. It was dusk when I found the letter. I ran across the beaches, not knowing if they would wait, or if I was on borrowed time. Climbing down to the seaside, I got into the caves, and walked up on a scene to see this old ship, but things were attached to it, that glowed strangely. We all got aboard, and we were told quickly and sufficiently what to touch, and what not to touch. Everyone had a role to play, except for me. They all had magic, and I did not have magic anymore, so I relied on my discipline and my steel.



The hooded ranger sat on his stool, listening as the Halfling told the story. He wrote on the page of his journal with a careful hand, scratching the charcoal across the page with slow and deliberate strokes, looking back to the Hin as he spoke of the ritual. "A circle of great complication, with lights and an otherworldly glow. In the center was set the Journal of Kelvan. A woman named Evangeline was responsible for defending this circle with her magic, The mage, Lomir, among us was the scrier. When we began, darkness wept from the book, and it slashed at the legs of our defender. Somehow, this mage could bypass our wards and defenses. And pulled us within."



He watched in concern, as the Halfling drifted in and out of consciousness. He'd awaken with a start, weapon in hand, before sagging back into the bedding, to an uneasy sleep. He kept this vigil over the injured adventurer, taking only the time needed to meet his own needs, for food, for water, or to get them for the warrior. The story continued, when he was asked to do so. With his strength he could muster, the Halfling replied that they ended up in a place shrouded with darkness in all places. A darkness that moved uneasily like it was alive itself. Within, they found they were at the tomb of Vexious Ianril, the blood of Elf and Man their birthright, discoverer of the first puncture to the eternal dark beyond.



"The fighting was arduous, Evangeline and I, we were beset by three shadows. Nicolette another as she tried to light the darkness. Ramiel fought the Shadow-Mage is lost, we do not know where he was. Lomir dueled valiantly with a shadow with fell power. I felt the claws sink into my heart and everything slip away. I don't know how it is I live, I don't remember how I got there, to the Lowtown of Steinkreis. I woke up in the middle of the night, bloody and wounded. I knew I had to watch the tomb, so I came back" Sagging in exhaustion, the Hin laid his head back to rest. The hooded ranger got up, grabbed the bedding, and pulled it over the fallen warrior, letting him rest.

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