Dubhaine Family/Moira/Roleplays/2017/September

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Date Region Time Hours Enemy Strength Outcome Money Loot Status
04.09.1017 Gethsemene Night 1 undead small group victory 0g 8s +1 adventuring
2 undead large organised group victory 1g 8s junk
small diamond
08.09.1017 Gethsemene Night 1 undead small group victory 0g 4s +1 Prestige
+1 adventuring
2 undead small army victory 1g 1s
2 undead large organised army defeated
1 undead organised unit victory 0g 11s
2 undead large organised group victory 2g 5s polished silver mirror +1 swordfighting
2 undead large organised group exhausted
2 undead large group exhausted
2 undead large group defeated
15.09.1017 Gethsemene Day 1 undead a disorganised few victory 0g 2s
2 undead small group victory 0g 6s
Night 1 undead a disorganised few victory 0g 2s
2 undead small group victory 0g 5s
2 undead organised unit victory 1g 0s
15.09.1017 Gethsemene Night 1 undead small group victory 0g 5s alcohol & bandages +1 adventuring
2 undead large organised group defeated
1 undead small group victory 0g 4s junk
1 undead small group victory 0g 6s
1 undead small group victory 0g 4s
1 undead small group victory 0g 5s
1 undead small group victory 0g 5s

10th September

daytime -- Gethsemene

Thesseus Polytus

A mysterious cloaked messenger brings a note to commoners Moire and Orchalchon bearing the seal of the Bloodscreamer.

As soon as they take the message the messenger disappears back into the city crowd.

"Keepers of the stones,

We will soon commence with our mission.

You will both take a great role in it.

Meet me at the highest point of Goatsemene hill, south of the old palace.

Near the old abandoned watch tower you will find me."

The sun had risen 4 hours ago and now shined brightly upon the rooftops of Gethsemene City.

Near the west gate of the city walls the old palace stood majestically upon the highest point, Goathsemene hill.

An abandoned watch tower on the south side of the hill overlooked both the eastern harbor and the lands beyond the city, the rural areas of Baqua and Sniika.

Theseus and his staff where preparing for a meeting here and as the staff busied them selves with their work, Thesseus sat overlooking the city pondering of what's to come.

His scribe sat near him, pencil at the ready occasionally writing down what ever his master dictated him.

He was preparing some kind of speech or document to his subjects in Gotland.

Soon the keepers of the stones, commoners Moira and Orchalchon would meet him to discuss their mission, of which they until this day knew absolutely nothing of.

All they could do is wonder about what the Bloodscreamer could possibly have in store for them...

11th September

nighttime -- Gethsemene


Making his through the crowds Orchalchon headed for the tower that was ever drawing nearer. He wove down the side streets and alley ways taking the shortest path he could toward goatsemene hill. He double and triple checked his possessions in his rucksack of infinite space. It's not everyday that a commoner would get to meat the goat blood screamer. Finally he arrived at some very official looking officials. "My lords, I am here for my secret meeting with the gracious bloody goat screamer."

12th September

daytime -- Gethsemene

Thesseus Polytus

"Thank you all for gathering here."

Thesseus turned to the two keepers of the stones gathered at the abandoned watch tower.

"You are gathered here to do great things,in fact a new era will be kick started with your help."

He walked past both of them reaching out with his right hand.

The whole area was filled with the Bloodscreamers staff and armed guards, about 120 strong who all stood by with full attention to their master.

"Give me your stones so we can prepare them for the ritual."

Without much of a doubt Orchalchon and Moira gave them their stones.

Theseus gestured his captain to proceed.

The captain took the 16 stones and rolled them around in a bag of pure goat droppings, murmuring some kind of prayer.

He sprinkled an unknown substance on top of them and then returned them to both of them.

Especially Moira of Ar Agyr shivered in disgust as the captain placed the excrement-covered stones back in her possession, however she did her best to cover her emotions, knowing this ritual would most likely be a great honor in these odd lands.

"Now we have proceeded with the most delicate part of this meeting, the lot of you deserve an explanation"

Thesseus cleared his throat.

"You will be partaking in perhaps the most important mission in the history of Gotland."

He gestured to the surrounding area upon the hill.

"This beutiful area will soon become the foundation of Gotland's first temple of the herd, and you will take a huge role in laying its spiritual foundation."

For a moment Thesseus stumbled and nearly fell, it was clear to all that he must have consumed an exceptional amount of Gotland goat ale by now.

"The both of you will be laying these magically enhanced stones in both Haji and Gethsemene to link these two holy places together. The very powers of the Haji oracle her self will be the foundation of the Haji portal and the portal in Gethsemene will be the foundation of the temple of the Herd. You will create permanent links between these places and lay the first spiritual stones to these lands faith. May it not only cleanse these lands of the daimons and their energy, but also mark the begining of a new Bleuaterra. A Belluaterra without sin, without weakness and without a necessity for the daimons and their curse to return. May our work mark a new begining for all of us and engulf this continent in a constant, honorable and healthy blaze of warfare."

Theseus men started to clap, some of its staff stood by in confusion.

He directs his attention to the keepers of the stone inditually.

"You Orchacholn will be joining the Gotland army's quest to find the oracle in Haji. We will attack the enemy there and search the lands for her holiness and her goats. Once we find him, Lord Ballantine will be leading the ritual there. I will personally be returning to Gethsemene to complete the ritual with Moira here on this very hill where I will be building the first temple of the Herd. You will travel with me to Sniika right away and follow me along with Goathorde of Gotland to Haji."

He turns to Moira now and hands her a mysterious object, forcing her to hide it under her cloak, he wispers a few words of gratitude before proceeding.

"You will stay here and pray, waiting for my sign, once you see the light emitting from Haji you place the stones exactly on this place here. I will quickly return for you and finish the ritual with you."

Theseus says pointing at the area upon which they have gathered.

"The portal will be hungry for earthly good. Sacrifice what you can into the stone circle as you place them, what ever you can. Our warriors will shed their blood for it and cast it into the circle with what ever you can share. Don't forget to sacrifice, and remember that if we do this right now we might never have to do this ever again. The more we dedicate ourselves here, the more powerful our ritual may be. All of Gotland will be behind you, do not let us down."

Without allowing for a single word of reply, Thesseus departs down hill as he gestures Orchalchon to follow.

He and his men where heading for Sniika to finish the TO and prepare for the attack on Haji.

13th September

daytime -- Gethsemene

Moira drew a deep breath and thought back to that bloody night long ago in An Najaf when her destiny had changed. Memories of her old life had dimmed with age, but not the memory of that night. The night when she'd sacrificed her honour for the good of her beloved Fontan.

The night when The Dragon had revealed itself to her through the ghast-light of Jon Paul Ogren's ruin. The night when she stood with a man's blood running from her knife and yet it wasn't a man's eyes staring back at her. The fire and corruption in those eyes had driven her close to madness and it took every ounce of discipline to do what needed to be done. To plunge the blade again and again and again into that possessed flesh, all the time praying to Darton for the tormented soul of the dashing young nobleman she had once mentored in rhetoric and debate.

How different she'd been then, a learned Doctor of the Law. A woman of letters and high learning, mistress of the five canons of rhetoric, second only to the famed Chancellor Mikhail in her command of The Constitution. She'd been the architect of Fontan's secretive Bureau of Irregular Warfare, respected abroad for her fearsome cunning in battle and at home for her command of the debating chamber. A true champion of Democracy in the days when it waxed strong and proud.

Yet those few who remembered her would do so not as its champion but as its hooded executioner.

What she'd seen that night had shattered her illusions and made a mockery of her pride. Against the fell hands of the netherworld, that immaterium of madness stalking side-by-side with the world of mortal men, open battle was but the shadow and the true war was fought by hidden blades, brave men and women whose names would never be known and yet whose deeds nightly held the madness at bay.

For months afterwards her dreams were plagued by this newfound and unwanted knowledge, and she read deeply of every tome she could find on the lore of the Nether and its dread denizens, the catastrophes wrought by their hands and the traitors who served their cause. All spoke openly of the wars in Beluaterra and for a time she thought of migrating to those lands to help organise resistance.

But then a chance encounter led her to a very different path. A meeting with a traveller from a distant land who spoke of an ancient evil living openly and without fear. The Lords of the Zuma, powerful facies of the High Firmament at once of the Nether and yet of our world, keepers of ancient knowledge and worshippers of The Dragon.

She determined to travel to the lands of the Zuma. Indeed it became an obsession, as if a higher power was guiding her. Dividing her daughters for safekeeping, the one to live with the girl's father and entrusting the other to the care of her patron Lord Elberan, she set aside all rank and title and purchased secret passage to the great haven of Golden Farrow.

Where once the proud Supreme Justice of Fontan stood, now only the humble sell-sword Moira of Fontan remained. Few would know of her deeds, of the blood shed destroying hidden covens, of the nightwar on haunted trackways and in long forgotten tombs.

And yet here she still stood, unbowed by age, the executioner of fate.