Dubhaine Family/Brigdha/Roleplays/2020/September

Dubhaine Family
Fame	40
Wealth	19485
Home Region	Ashforth
Home World	East Continent

Clan Dubhaine:

• Aednadh
• Aibhlidhn
• Aoifa
• Brigdha
• Cathal
• Ciarghuala
• Etain
• Moira
• Rhidhana
• Scein
• Threiginion

1st September

Summer Day - Fontan

Roleplaying Event

The time has come for the Third to fall and the One to rise! For the Whole to be Four! For Trees to Transition! For the Circle to be born!

Repent your sins. If you have no sins to repent, then go and sin, for you shall not be saved without repenting your sins.

Huge Battle Fought

Rumours spread and tales are sung about a huge battle in Nascot:

Yssrgard vs. Perdan

Estimated strengths: 460 men vs. 840 men

The Howling Oath Wolf Legion (Yssrgard), sponsored by Royal Eros Harte, were led into battle by Marshal Germanico Mercator.

Knight Sir Fredrick Stormreaver is spotted wielding the Club of the Badgers.

Warmistress Octavia Fitz Roberts is spotted wearing the Holy Ring of Mercy.

Attacker Victory!

Lord Absent

Margrave Maccio Aurelle has been absent from his position for a long time. If he does not return soon, his title will be assigned to someone else.

Election Starts

The monthly election for the position of Judge (Tormentor/Tormentor) is now starting. Interested candidates can announce their running starting immediately, by visiting the referendum page. All nobles of the realm will vote, each vote having the same weight.

Black Clouds

Billowing, black clouds of smoke have filled the sky as far as anyone can see, blocking the sun, turning day into night, severely reducing visibility, and making travel more difficult. Across western and northwestern East Continent, the smoke is a thick black fog everywhere one goes.

Everywhere, most people are seeking safety, gathering together in large groups, and finding shelter.

Daizen Tideweaver

Whoopsie-Daizen

One moment all is well. The next moment shrieking screams pierce the air around the ferry. The sound of thrashing. Surrounded by darkness, the sounds feed on fear.

A fin is spotted by the distant carcass. Another shriek pierces the air. Another. Thrashing. Another fin seen. A brush against the leg. Soon, there is a mad scramble for high ground on the ferry.

Circling the ferry and nearby carcass, sharks have arrived for a feast. In the chaos, the recently-acquired meat, and several Weavers, have been lost. Several others remain wounded. Morale plummets.Whoopsie-Daizen message to all nobles of Perdan - 2 hours, 47 minutes ago One moment all is well. The next moment shrieking screams pierce the air around the ferry. The sound of thrashing. Surrounded by darkness, the sounds feed on fear.

A fin is spotted by the distant carcass. Another shriek pierces the air. Another. Thrashing. Another fin seen. A brush against the leg. Soon, there is a mad scramble for high ground on the ferry.

Circling the ferry and nearby carcass, sharks have arrived for a feast. In the chaos, the recently-acquired meat, and several Weavers, have been lost. Several others remain wounded. Morale plummets.

William Armsworth

War journal, day 41, noon.

The capital looks bleak in permanent shadow.

My unit is once again ready to go but both cohesion and funds are low.

I really wish I knew what Sirion is going to do next.

Tyrann Thrane

His lobes indeed deceive for Tyrann found himself confused and, perhaps due to his young age, began to grow frustrated.

”I have spoken and they do not hear, they have been shown but do not see! I have seen what lies in the deep for in the depths I have communed with the one to rise.”

His eyes seemed filled with a longing hope and irritation.

”Tell me what must I do?! You need but name it and it shall be done, what must I do to prepare for his arrival?! I will give my life, promise my first born and...”

The young Viscount fell to his knees in desperation and went silent. It seemed the closer he got to the answer the further he would find himself. Did he truly commune with Akesh or was it the sulfur burning his brain? Has what he seen a mere figment? Was he going mad?

Brigdha Dubhaine

Tyrann's soul stood at the brink of The Abyss, that roiling maelstrom of rage and obsession endlessly churning The Flow in its unquenchable hunger, fuelled by the raw emotions of men and gods alike. Had the young lordling eyes to see would he still stand so rapt before the ill-named Scholarly Seer? Possibly. Men were too often set on their own destruction. There he stood, blind and mute in the High Firmament, wrapped in a religious fervour antithetical to The Shadows, his light guttering and fluttering, shot through with an angry puce bruise of actinic rage, chains of balefire holding him fast to another's will. Another's purpose.

Only a fool laid bare their heart to The Dragon. A fool or a madman. Brigdha was undecided which best described Tyrann of Oporto, first of his name...

Still, there was little point dwelling on the lordling's folly. What was done was done and could not be undone. Brigdha put him from her mind and turned her attention to the Scholarly Seer, that puppet mouthpiece of Higher Powers upon whose words a whole continent now waited with baited breath. Unlike the boy there was no particular malice or ambition in him, nor for that matter much learned wisdom. His words were banal but not devoid of truth, and the priestess pondered how many bairns would perish in the coming winters for want of a warm hearth and a full belly. Not that he was to blame. The Lords of the North had set their will against the High Firmament and all now would pay a bitter price.

Few now remembered the fields of ice, reaching as far north as Ibladesh, or the mass migrations of people as starvation and disease and the insatiable hunger of trolls drove them from their once rich pastures. The ice had long since receded to the Southern Ocean, a minor curiosity to be viewed from the shores of Priotness. How would the realms respond to such hardships every year, cycling in perpetuity? To the endless rise and fall of the churning oceans? To the wanderlust evoked by tides and gulls?

With the annoying perfection of hindsight Brigdha could trace the steps which had brought the continent to this moment of decision. That night at the Wedding Feast of Garas and Catherine so many years ago when Ecthelion had staged his own assassination and made himself a living sacrifice to The Dragon, and the first avatar of its ancient slumbering power since the Fall of Ogren.

Now there really was a wise fool, deeply versed in ancient lore yet blind to its meaning. It was a strange twist of fate which had made her Lord Speaker of the Heru Mellen during so much of Ecthelion's premiership, proxies for the fallen spirits of Fontan and Old Rancagua, striving for the heart of the Elven Empire. Sadly Ecthelion had won, the vengeful son of the White Tree laying the foundations of that Great Circle which even now strove against all reason to reshape the world in its dead image.

Never mind that Ecthelion's only vision was of stasis, nor that the Circle had proven a corrupt cabal unworthy of the noble honours and dignity they claimed for their own. Too long Brigdha and Shadowdale had made common cause with them, unable to master her own rage at the old Perdanese enemy. The constant recognition of her own hypocrisy had cut her deep but she'd soothed the wounds with the salve of action, wresting Caligus from its rightful destruction through sheer force of will and condemning Highmarch to the same ignominious fate as her own beloved Fontan.

What a fool she'd been.

But The Sword called to her from its hiding place, that blade entrusted to her so long ago by Meristenzio... The Sword of Elfhame... The Silver Thorn... The Dragon's Bane...

The events in Oligarch finally made sense. She'd thought it was Garas who sought The Sword. Garas who was the puppet...

"Oh Ecthelion. Circle. Had there been but one jot of pity in your black heart all would be so different. For the hatred of Tal you've brought this continent to the precipice, and where are you now? Gone."

Of course she'd warned them. Warned the members of the Circle what continuing on this path would mean. Even opened her mind to her old friend Ivo, sharing with him the same flood of memories she'd received from Meristenzio all those years ago. An inheritance of Elven souls now running like a river through the minds of men. But all to no avail.

Thank Darton for Smiddich. At least he'dd understood momentous events were afoot, the King of her once abhorred enemy now more a confidante than those for whom she'd risked life and soul.

"Show yourself Akesh. I know you're here somewhere."

Aila Storme

"I liked the change, but I think I might miss the beard" The statement breaking the silence in the King's study was Aila's voice, confidently assured that after the last hour of watching him write and write, dip his quill, put a document aside to dry, bring over the next one, write, dip... She had made the right call.

As he looked up from his work at her the angry sea washed against the salt stained windows behind him. What he saw was the end of a blonde ponytail coiled improperly on his rug as she lay back with legs dangling over the arm of his sitting chair. He said about what she expected "Don't loll on the couches, you make the place look untidy."

Aila pushed herself up and off the seat with a huff and moved to the large, diligently organized and spotlessly clean bookshelf lined floor to ceiling with fine leather bound spines. She could tell just from his attitude that he was nowhere near done- and with the world ending outside there was nothing for her to do but write letters, same as him. After the week she had corresponding with Shadowdale- Aila was in no mood to write anymore. The sound of his quill scratching against the parchment told her he had set back to work already

Never had she found a book she liked in his collection. Minor Lords seemed to love giving the King books of naval stories and so he amassed a huge selection of grizzly sea tales, along with them dry manuals about knots and rigging and hulls and sails and things she would have to try very hard to care less about. Today, while looking over all the spines with titles carved in and gilded that she had seen a hundred times a word stuck out to her today that never had before. -Toxophilite-.

Aila glanced over her shoulder at Smiddich before pulling the book off the shelf hastily. The title "Toxophilite" by someone she had never heard of before. When she opened the first page, it said simply "3rd edition" and a page further, it's opening. His young knight closed the book and wiped the look of bewilderment off her face before turning on her heel to approach the King who dropped his quill altogether as she rounded his desk.

He gave her a pensive smile, a glance at his desk gave her a hint- a red Martlet volant stared up at her. Undeterred, she waved she book in his face "Majesty~ Will you let me take this?"

The look Smiddich gave the book was one of slight disgust, "Sirionite foolishness" he grunted, but relented with "Do what you want" sure to give her backside a swat on her retreat.

Tyrann Thrane

Tyrann murmuring aloud...

“Sins, sins. Have my sins corrupted my tongue?”

Continued snarling...

“It has been made known, I have been called!The hour of his ascension is at hand! He revealed himself to me!”

Summer Evening - Akesh Temple

Huge Battle Fought

Rumours spread and tales are sung about a huge battle in Nascot:

Perdan vs. Yssrgard

Estimated strengths: 1270 men vs. 440 men

The Blackmane Paladins (Perdan), sponsored by King Sir Smiddich Fontaine, were led into battle by Vice-Marshal Lorelai Chamberlain.

The Perdan's Golden Lions (Perdan), sponsored by Imperatrix Lady Alyssa Kingsley, were led into battle by Marshal Ulric Hawk.

The Howling Oath Wolf Legion (Yssrgard), sponsored by Royal Eros Harte, were led into battle by Marshal Germanico Mercator.

Countess Dustiria Noire is spotted wielding the Ebony Pike of Defeat.

Viscount Ulric Hawk is spotted wielding the Giggling Shield of Minas Nova.

Viscount Ulric Hawk is spotted wearing the Dragon-Scale Jacket.

Knight Sir Fredrick Stormreaver is spotted wielding the Club of the Badgers.

Knight Greg Derik is spotted wearing the Ducal Suit of the Father.

Mortimer des Greys, Keeper of the Laws of Yssrgard, Count of Priotness was seriously wounded by Lorelai Chamberlain's unit.

Douglas Chaine, Count of Enubec was captured by Ulric Hawk's unit.

Attacker Victory!

Region Lost

Eponllyn has convinced the people of Commonyr to raise their banner and abandon yours. The region is no longer yours.

Mordred Pendragon and his knights have lost their home and estates.

(rogue) has taken control of Commonyr. The region used to belong to Shadowdale.

Bescanon River

Folks are minding their business when they spot it, take a doubletake, and then a tripletake. No, they haven't lost their minds. Or at least they hope they haven't.

But they are certain that that vessel is going up the river. And it appears they're trying to row down river. Boatmen everywhere find new difficulty in navigating a river flowing in reverse, causing many shipwrecks along the river, creating further obstacles and further accidents.

Later reports of flooding upriver arrive.

Darkness Falls

It is dark. There is black fog and dust everywhere severely reducing visibility. There is no sun. You have no idea whether it is day or night, or whether it matters. Travel is all but stopped.

Roleplaying Event - Akesh Temple

Sensing a larger audience, the Scholarly Seer repeated yesterday's message,

The time has come for the Third to fall and the One to rise! For the Whole to be Four! For Trees to Transition! For the Circle to be born!

Repent your sins. If you have no sins to repent, then go and sin, for you shall not be saved without repenting your sins.

Roleplaying Event - Sir Temple

Salvation! Oh salvation is upon us! Flame rises and Chaos sinks! We are blessed!

- Insane Bard

Daizen Tideweaver

Whoopsie-Daizen

After the terror of the sharks had passed, the Weavers had begun to bicker over the lack of food. Daizen's captain did their best to ration and equitably parcel out the last morsels of foodstuffs preserved on-board, but this was insufficient for some desperate Weavers who soon formed a mutinous faction seeking to take possession of the remaining food.

After a confrontation and much laboured fighting, several Water Weavers lay dead or wounded, and the mutinous faction had taken the food. The corpses were pushed overboard and each faction settled in an opposite quarter of the ferry.

Soon, a cry went out as someone spotted a fin and thrashing was heard at a distance. Terror resumed.

---

Even with the sharks circling and feeding on the corpses, friction remains on-board. In a desperate attempt to regain control of the ferry, Daizen's captain leads the loyalists against the mutineers. But all that is accomplished are more dead and wounded, the very last food lost overboard, and the sharks feeding opportunistically. Losing the last of the food only causes further anger and fighting, until both sides retreat, having wasted precious energy on combat. Each side rapidly deteriorates in well-being.

A few Water Weavers, too tired, hungry, demoralized, and fatigued to resist, slide into the ocean, drowning. The energy to stay aboard the ferry amongst the tossing ocean waves is too much for them.

Hunger results in increasing desperation. It isn't much longer, and a few muffled cries later, that no wounded men are left alive, save for Daizen. But bellies are full.

Scholarly Seer

When Tyrann knelt, the Seer knelt with him, finishing the Viscount's sentence in an answer,

..and receive nothing for it. Listen to what is not asked. See what is not visible. Madness shall fall.

With that, the Seer and Tyrann sat upon the stone temple floor once more.

Brigdha had been travelling upon the path, and yet still present within Akesh. The strength of the Communion flowing through her was palpable, if not to the Unbalanced.

Whatever Brigdha may have spoken or thought imperatively, it was not particularly audible a great distance. Even so, the Scholarly Seer responded to Brigdha,

Circle's Transition shall be made complete. The Inheritance shall be lost.

The Lord Tormentor's arrival, even with such an expansive crowd, did not go unnoticed, even if it weren't immediately addressed. The Seer turned across the crowd to finally notice the arrival,

Welcome! Rest yourself! Your protection is appreciated.

Ronnel is soon serving refreshments, and stories, to the Lord Tormentor.

The Seer turns back to Viscount Tyrann,

Sins corrupt the entire body, both individual and public.

Flame's ascension has been revealed to all. May Order reign once more!

Ghostly Ships

Across the land, nobles are experiencing various dreams of ghostly, gray ships leaving for distant shores.

Daizen Tideweaver

The Erupting Tides V

Daizen was plagued with fevered hallucinogenic dreams full of bright vivid colors, many headed snakes, the roaring of lions, a lone rider, and an erupting volcano. For many hours every muscle was seemingly locked in place and Daizen was completely paralyzed. The only indication of life was the slow movement of his chest as he breathed. As the venom ran its course and its paralyzing effects began to wear off, the unconscious noble began to occasionally thrash as his fever dreams ran rampant. Hydra venom was a highly sought after item on the black markets of the worlds various bazaars. It could be used as the base for a powerful tranquilizer or diluted into minuscule doses to yield a hallucinogenic drug. Pure, raw, venom directly into the bloodstream yielded its most potent effects. Luckily for Daizen, the dosage that made it into his bloodstream was small, as the fang that pierced him punctured straight through. However, the amount of venom injected kept him incapacitated in full and he was wholly unaware of all that had transpired upon his now barely floating ferry. The sharks, the starvation, the mutiny, the violence, the ...cannibalism. Soon the thrashing stopped and Daizen's breathing returned to normal levels but still the noble slept.

Some time later...

Daizen stirred. As his eyes cracked open he was greeted with darkness. He was flat on his back and all he could see was a faint orange glow somewhere to his left. He could faintly smell something cooking and tried to push himself up into a sitting position but a searing pain immediately ran down his right shoulder as it collapsed. He cried out in pain only to be met with a searing dry throat.

"W...Water. Water" he rasped.

His men jumped at the unexpected stirring of their lord. His captain, Leinhart grabbed a bowl shaped object and rushed over to his liege.

"Drink m'lord." said the captain as he tipped the helm filled with distilled sea water. As the first drops reached Daizen's throat he coughed and sputtered. It took some time, but eventually he quenched his thirst. Leinhart helping him to sit up and lean against what little bit of cabin that was left. With it being so dark, Daizen could not yet tell how dire the situation they were in was.

"How long was I out Leinhart?" asked Daizen, his voice still raspy.

"Hard to say m'lord, it seems time has been passing differently with no sun in the sky. Total darkness reached us some time ago" replied the captian.

Daizen's stomach growled loudly. With his head clearing, his thirst quenched, Daizen became aware of how hungry he truly was.

"Is there any food ready? I am quite famished from my ...struggles" Daizen asked. He could not see the look that crossed the mans face. The tiny fire that was burning was not meant for light, but rather distilling water and cooking. It was very controlled, to ensure it did not spread to the ship.

"Of course" responded the captain quietly. He quickly left Daizen's side and returned shortly, pressing a slightly warm hunk of meat into his lieges hand.

Daizen bit into the meat and began to chew. He wasn't sure what kind of meat this was but assumed it had been something his men had fished up from the sea.

"This is different. Tough. Kinda greasy. Is this from the hydra? I can't say I've ever had the pleasure of eating hydra" asked Daizen, as he began eating with gusto. His appetite returned in full.

"Not exactly, m'lord" said Leinhart flatly.

Daizen noticed his change in tone. He stopped chewing.

"Leinhart. What am I eating?" Daizen said in a commanding tone.

Silence.

"Leinhart!"

"Chadwick. That was ...Chadwick." said the captain softly.

The face of the man who had been Daizen's rowing relief flashed inside his head. As Daizen realized what he had just eaten, he immediately leaned to his side and began violently retching. He was so dehydrated that what little bit of water he had consumed was not enough to make what he had just swallowed come back up easily. He felt the small chunks of flesh work their way up his throat accompanied by a thick burning bile. Daizen continued to retch as Leinhart pounded him on the back. He felt dirty, unclean, and kept retching to expel the foul flesh from within him. As he continued his fit of sickness, he passed out and the darkness reclaimed him.

Roleplaying Event

The Third shall be sacrificed.

Plenty. Decay. Poverty. Rebirth.

The Forgotten walk amongst us. It rises. It falls. It shifts to and fro. Our chains are released! There will be days of plenty and days of poverty. Days of abundance and days of scarcity. Their bar is no more!

Tyrann Thrane

The kneeling of the Seer eased the frustration in Tyrann and his voice seemed to sooth the young Viscount’s mind. Tyrann sat with the Seer contemplating what he had said, looking across the sea of faces.

“I have sinned and I submit myself to be cleansed within ascension’s flame. Tell me oh Seer...” Tyrann looked again to elderly man beside him, “The Djinthuzul, Akesh the Sun Eater...is he the order to reign once more?” He asked sounding exhausted, mentally worn while drawing a circle in the dirt with his finger.

He knew a direct answer would likely not come but felt compelled to ask.

2nd September

Summer Day - Akesh Temple

Battle in Akesh Temple

Yssrgard vs. Shadowdale

Estimated strengths: 190 men vs. 120 men

The Howling Oath Wolf Legion (Yssrgard), sponsored by Royal Eros Harte, were led into battle by Marshal Germanico Mercator.

Warmistress Octavia Fitz Roberts is spotted wearing the Holy Ring of Mercy.

Defender Victory!

Complete Darkness

You can barely see a few feet. Travel or other activities are impossible in this darkness. There is no sun. You have no idea whether it is day or night, or whether it matters.

You are engulfed in darkness. There is nothing you can do but wait.

Region Lost to Corruption

Local government officials in Akesh Temple announced earlier today that according to ancient documents, Knight Sir Fredrick Stormreaver, who happened to coincidentally be in the region at that time, holds an ancient and undisputable claim to lordship of Akesh Temple. They officially handed control of the region over to him and Yssrgard! Shortly afterwards, the responsible officials were nowhere to be found.

Fortunately, the militia units stationed in Akesh Temple were not so easily fooled and have begun a guerilla war.

Roleplaying Event - Shadowdale

It is ending!

The Third is falling!

Roleplaying Event - Akesh Temple

It is ending!

The Third is falling!

William Armsworth

Staring blankly into the darkness, captain Osmona draws me to the present;

"Letter for you, Sir." she says "It's from the King."

I look her in the eye with raised eyebrows as I extend my hand.

"Not more bad news, I hope."

She hands me the sealed letter.

"Only one way to find out, Sir."

I sigh as I reach for my letter opener and point to an oil lamp spreading a pathetic amount of light.

"Please hold that over my right shoulder."

Osmona looks hesitant at the ball of fur on my left shoulder. I catch her glance.

"Don't worry about Erwin, he just ate."

She smiles nervously and holds up the lamp.

"I heard they can make you sick if they bite you, Sir. Don't we have enough wounded staff already?"

"You're probably right, captain, but it hardly seems to matter at the moment." I say as I point outside.

"We are forced to sit here anyway."

"A little higher." I suggest as my eyes strain to read the King's letter.

My laughter startles both Erwin and Osmona, the former opening one eye, the latter jolting the lamp.

"Do you have a dress, captain?"

"Sir?"

"We're attending a party."

Roleplaying Event - Akesh Temple

The Scholarly Seer turns to Tyrann, and simply states in a patient tone,

"Flame is Order. Akesh abides."

Soon thereafter, local officials announce that the Temple is now Yssrgardian. Confusion spreads. The local officials disappear. Some talk of guerrilla warfare. Amongst this overwhelming chaos, Alfrid makes his verbal vow. The Seer speaks in a commanding, reassuring voice,

"Do not fear! Repent of this mayhem! Chaos is burning. The Flame is rising. Sacrifice your sins upon Flame's Altar!"

Roleplaying Event - Shadowdale

The Scholarly Seer turns to Tyrann, and simply states in a patient tone,

"Flame is Order. Akesh abides."

Soon thereafter, local officials announce that the Temple is now Yssrgardian. Confusion spreads. The local officials disappear. Some talk of guerrilla warfare. Amongst this overwhelming chaos, Alfrid makes his verbal vow. The Seer speaks in a commanding, reassuring voice,

"Do not fear! Repent of this mayhem! Chaos is burning. The Flame is rising. Sacrifice your sins upon Flame's Altar!"

Lord Driven Out

The priest Brigdha of The Shadows has whipped a mob of followers into a religious frenzy to drive Sir Fredrick Stormreaver, Margrave of Akesh Temple from the region of Akesh Temple as an unbeliever. A battle ensued, during which Fredrick was able to recover some valuables, and for a time neither side could gain the upper hand. Eventually, the fanaticism of the true believers prevailed and he was driven out, his estate burned to the ground, and his servants scattered. Fredrick is now an unaligned noble of Yssrgard.

Brigdha Dubhaine

You begin to preach to the gathering of your followers of the iniquity of the unbeliever Fredrick, and your words set a fire in their hearts. 3294 peasants join your uprising. They storm down to Fredrick's estate, but a force led by nobles in the area stops them. A battle ensues, and though they are poorly trained and equipped, your followers have the fire of their faith driving them on. They prevail over the soldiers, but not before suffering some casualties. With the interfering troops out of the way, the fanatics begin breaking into the estate, finding that th e battle has given Fredrick's servants some time to save the most valuable items. They are so driven by their zealotry that they destroy everything in their sight, then set fire to the estate. You begin to preach to the gathering of your followers of the iniquity of the unbeliever Fredrick, and your words set a fire in their hearts. 3294 peasants join your uprising. They are so driven by their zealotry that they destroy everything in sight, then set fire to the estate. Fredrick appears to have snuck out the back door, but you urge the mob after him and they chase him halfway across the region before he gives you the slip. He no longer belongs here, and you have let him know it.

This land lies under the power of The Shadows and will remain so until the current peril has passed. Anyone who seeks to claim Akesh Temple for themselves without our approval will find themselves equally dispossessed.

Complete Darkness

There is still thick, black dust everywhere. Dark clouds cover the sky and even at noon the sun does not penetrate the cloud cover. You wish for rain, washing away the black dust that covers everything.

Brigdha Dubhaine

The power of the three Temples was failing fast as the roiling magma churned ever hotter within the distant volcano, and even now Brigdha could sense the mountain chain beneath her feet rumbling in sympathy. The air was so heavy with brimstone and soot that mortal sight no longer sufficed and all about her was a land of confusion. Any moment Tyrann would break. She could sense it. The Dragon had him wound tight like the spring of a crossbow and one wrong word from the Seer would release the trigger.

Even now in Oporto the young lordling's agents prepared the grim harvest festival that would usher in a new reign of fire. One such as even the Elflords of old could not conceive.

"A new Lord! A new Day!" What was this? The gyre was widening unpredictably as The Dragon's will forced itself further into the mundane world, overlaying its own reality on the settled order. Somewhere nearby she sensed a new presence. An Yssgardian presence...

The Dragon had more than one piece in play. How long had he sat brooding in The Abyss, planning this very day? How many threads of fate had his restless dreams seeded? Well, there was no point holding back. Either she made her stand here and now or there wouldn't be another chance.

"No Lord but a Shadow Lord," the Priestess slammed the butt of her staff forcefully against the paving stones, splintering them with its force.

"No Lord but a Shadow Lord!" she cast aside her travel-stained robe and with it the veil cloaking The Lilith Within.

"NO LORD BUT A SHADOW LORD!!" the darkness amplified her voice, echoing and reverberating from every surface of the ancient temple.

"NO LORD BUT A SHADOW LORD!!!" the refrain spread like wildfire throughout the citadel, its power growing and multiplying as voice after voice joined the chorus.

"NO LORD BUT A SHADOW LORD!!!!"

Roleplay from Devon

He found himself with no silver or gold pieces once he arrived in Perdan.

Bandits and tolls in the north took all he had. He had 3 items that needed repaired and only found sages in the north. With 2 of the items, which belonged to the King himself, repaired adequately, only 1 remained. The ring belonged to Dame Everlight. He had informed her that the delay on her repairs were due to the King's items being in lower condition than her ring. She understood and was very patient with Devon.

In order to move north to find the sages, he had to have silver for the tolls. He decided to hunt monsters in Perdan. All he needed was a little silver to be on his way. He began his hunt with the least amount of risk. After the first hunt, he was able to get a few silver pieces so he began a second hunt and then it happened. Out of nowhere, a large beast came at him and swiped a claw at Devon, hitting him in the side of the face knocking him out.

He wasn't out long, but it was long enough for the unthinkable to happen;

Unique Item Lost

As you regain consciousness from your wounding, you realize that you have lost the Mediocre Ring of the Colonies!

He looked about him and found nothing. Panicking, he looked for hours and hours. And he found nothing. He felt empty. He wished for death. He failed Dame Everlight. He wrote her a letter wanting her to kill him. He awaited her reply, dismayed and destroyed.

Tyrann Thrane

Tyrann looked upon the sky where once the sun was perched, now consumed in darkness. With each passing moment the black thickened and Tyrann began to laugh maniacally.

“Akesh! Akesh! Thou hath eaten the Sun as foretold!”

He then produces a dagger from his cloak and places the blade in his left palm, squeezing tight and pulling quickly. Raising both bloody fist and blade he continues.

“Accept my offering of flesh Akesh, Mightiest of the Djinthuzul and Sovereign of Arkonom! Cleanse my soul of trespasses in flame! RISE, RISE!”

Tyrann slaps his bloody palm onto the temple floor and began to rub into the ancient stone a circle of dark crimson; blood and earth.

“Rise to cleanse the Realms of Men! Rise and bring to heel Kaos the Usurper! In flame order shall be restored! Rise to tear earth and stone!”

Summer Evening - Akesh Temple

Battle in Akesh Temple

Shadowdale vs. Yssrgard

Estimated strengths: 100 men vs. 120 men

The Howling Oath Wolf Legion (Yssrgard), sponsored by Royal Eros Harte, were led into battle by Marshal Germanico Mercator.

Noble Sir Fredrick Stormreaver is spotted wielding the Club of the Badgers.

Defender Victory!

Daizen Tideweaver

The Erupting Tides VI

Daizen awoke sometime later. His head was throbbing.

"Water." Daizen whispered.

Leinhart brought the helm they were using as a makeshift water bowl. The distilling of the sea water was a slow and tedious process. To keep the 8 remaining men on board of what was now just a mass of floating wood hydrated, it constantly required someone overseeing the boiling of the sea water.

Daizen drank. This time it went down smoother. He had not been unconscious long. He quickly drained the bowl for what water it had. After taking a minute or so to clear his head and collect his thoughts he moved to sit up. He felt stronger but his shoulder still ached. Seeing him struggle, his captain once again helped his sit up straight.

The darkness was intimidating. If it wasn't for the faint glow the embers and small flame from the cooking fire Daizen would have thought he went blind.

"Leinhart. You have been with me for a long time. Since I was cast away from Ete City by my father. I have come to trust you implicitly and yet I feel like you violated that trust when you had me consume..." Daizen trailed off. Leinhart just sat next to him quietly. The older man saying nothing.

"Why. Why Leinhart. Tell me. Tell me what has happened and why it came to that" Daizen commanded in a raspy voice.

Leinhart obliged. He told him how the ship took on water, how sharks began to plague them, how they ran out of food, about the mutiny and his attempt to put them down. All while he was battling the hydra venom. Daizen's heart shattered. His men had all been sailors true, had been with him sailing the seas of Kalmar, preparing for the siege, hell most of them had been with him since his battles in Perleone. That they would turn on each other in such extreme measures was a lot for the young noble to take. If only he hadn't been bitten by the damn Hydra maybe he could have stopped it from happening. He could have kept his men as a cohesive unit and not have resorted to ...this.

"You have given me a lot to think about Leinhart. I suppose I can see your line of thinking though it is a lot to ...swallow." Daizen said.

He began getting lost in his own thoughts. His men were skilled fishermen, but wouldn't have been able to fish with sharks. Shark meat was often tainted with poison and not safe for consumption. Killing sharks would have only attracted more. The unreliable remains of the ferry taking on water, the stress of the situation. It was a lot of process. Too much. Daizen needed to shove this aside and move forward if they were to survive. He could come back later and dwell on the things of the past.

"Leinhart. How many men do we have left? What is our current situation" Daizen asked.

The captain began, relief in his voice "Not counting you and I, there are 6 others who remain. We have 4 remaining makeshift oars, 3 spears, and a few small blades. Our space is small enough that though you cannot see them in the darkness, they can all hear our every word. Out of respect they have remained silent. None of us are happy with what we had to do. But we're alive. While we can no longer sea what is in the waters around us, we often hear noises coming from under the waves. Occasionally we will fill something bump but we try not to think on it. We have plenty of scrap wood to maintain our small fire on top of a buckler we found. We are constantly making clean water but its slow. And we have enough ...food, for a few days. Enough ...cooked, that it will spoil before we ...consume it all.

Daizen gritted his teeth. He was weak. He needed succor. "Destiny is yours." That is what was on the note. He couldn't allow conscious get in the way of his survival. He needed to eat. He needed strength. He needed to motivate what few men he had left and work together if they were ever to see the light of day again.

"Bring me some ...food. Make sure the men have gotten enough rest. Once my strength returns, we shall once again begin to row." said Daizen. With grit and determination in his voice.

Roleplay from Tyrann Thrane

“Upon the Alter of Flames I lay my envy, my insecurities, my doubts and ambition! May my sins be cleansed in the flames of ascension so that I may better serve the will of Akesh! So that I may bring about Order and the end of chaos!”

William Armsworth

"Another message for you, Sir. Bearing the Grey Exarch's seal." ,Osmona says as she marches into my opened tent.

I point at the lamp as I take the message from her and my captain takes the hint.

"Found a dress yet?" I ask her as I open the envelope.

"Yes Sir, though when I was trying it on, my mother commented my arms were more becoming a lumberjack than a lady."

I exhale briefly through my nose, slightly amused. "Risk of the trade, I'm afraid."

I unfold the letter and begin to smile as I read it.

"Well, captain, it seems we have a reason to party tonight. I just made Marshal."

"Well done, S.. Marshal!"

"Thank you, captain. Take 9 of our best and give them bodyguard detail. Put Frank in charge of it."

"Yes Marshal."

Roleplaying Event - Akesh Temple

In a flurry of activity, Bridgha slams her staff, and with her impressive oratory and presence, whips the peasants into a righteous fury against the troopleaders.

The Viscount conducts his ritual and petitions.

And the Scholarly Seer disappears without a trace.

Ground Rumbles - East Continent

The air smells...unfamiliar.

The ground rumbles.

Region Changes Allegiance

Akesh Temple has changed its allegiance to the realm of Shadowdale. The region used to belong to Yssrgard.

Region Joins Realm

Fredrick Stormreaver Player experience level: mentor Player play preference: rp-combat has changed the allegiance of Akesh Temple to the duchy of The Shadow's Citadel, a part of your realm. The region used to be a part of Yssrgard.

Together with the lord, the following knights joined your realm: .

Bulge Blows

Having grown into a mountainous tumour, the bulge has finally reached its limits and the pressure blows, forming a lateral blast in Chaos Temple's direction. Fiery rain descends upon the Temple. One such fiery ball caves in the roof. Another incinerates the Redheaded Sibyl.

Many are able to find safety, but not always without injury. Even those outside the region suffer the occasional wound.

Howling Wind

A howling wind blows across the continent. Some claim to hear a wolf's howl in the wind, while others claim to hear a lion's roar.

Returning to Normal

The dust has lifted and the black fog cleared. Much of it has been blown away by the howling winds, though there are still pockets of black dust here and there, still lifting. Things are slowly returning to normal, though much life was lost.

Across the continent, mass migrations of people seeking to re-establish contact with family and friends, or find new, safer homes, result in shifted regional populations and wealth.

Everywhere, there have been hundreds of small disasters - people lost in the woods when the dust fell, floods, landslides, even earthquakes. Thousands of people have perished, but there have been no major catastrophes - or so it seems.

Fredrick Stormreaver

Finishing his letter and passing it off, Fredrick's scribe reads it over and smiles approval before sending it off to be copied and attached to the carrier-pigeons.

"Well done, My Lord... you didn't mention to lizards once", the scribe compliments his liege.

"Well... there are 50 nobles I don't really know here... it is 50 right? It's entirely possible one of them would pick up on my suspicions if I aired them so quickly, if they don't know about my investigations already", Fredrick shrugs. "I have plenty of time to get to know them and find out just which of them can and cannot be trusted. This lovely sounding Duchess Luna for example... did you know Luna is another name for the moon?"

"Yes, My Lord...", the scribe replies dryly and narrowly avoiding rolling his eyes, reminding himself that this man paid him a lot of money to do what he did...

"Duchess of the Moon... I like the sound of that... maybe we need to find her a housewarming gift to show our dedication. But first....", Fredrick trails off.

"Setup the lizard tracking room", the scribe and Fredrick say almost at the same time, causing the noble to grin and his servant to sigh.

"Exactly! There was a large room in the basement next to the statue of Octavian mooning everyone... but then, THEN the gift", Fredrick nods matter-of-factly before leaving his scribe to his weary work.

Geographic Rumours

Eager for rumours of Chaos Temple's fate, you learn it was entirely destroyed. Where it once stood is a Flame said to originate in the bowels of the world. An Altar has been built, whose sacrifices are consumed by the Flame from the depths.

You have heard rumours that Kalmar Bay is now Kalmar River, with many people flocking to reside in Kalmar City, upon a large merged landmass of the former islands, wedged between the former Omsk Peninsula and Perdan Mines.

There is rejoicing as glaciers cannot be seen from any vantage point found. Yet floods have overtaken the Rancaguan plains, rendering them into the Rancaguan Shallows. Somehow, Oroya has managed to survive and remain a coastal city, but such is the confusion of sliding land that liquifies beneath one's feet.

An underground river, supporting tree life, has begun flowing from Herring's Howl to the Astrum Woods. Workers in Greatbridge have grown tired of their namesake being mocked and have erected an excessively large bridge over an aboveground section of the river.

Mountains and valleys have rumbled and shifted, resulting in Partora, Aix, and Al Arab finding themselves resituated. To the north, Parm and Sir Temple suffer a similar fate.

Avamar has slid slightly downriver along a new peninsula that has risen to Fontan's northeast. This peninsula forms a bay, but bitter fighting between Avamarian and Fontanese cartographer guilds upon what to name the bay has resulted in a contentiously split bay between the Firth of Fontan and Democracy Bay. A lighthouse now helps warn sailors of the dangerous waters of Sailors' Lament, if not the dangerous toponymical subject.

Assorted Rumours

New ferry routes are establishing themselves, but also harbour captains now claim they will finally take on passengers for sailing around the continent, after promising this for years. But who would believe those old crusty bastards?

In isolated hamlets across the northeast, elves, now able to see themselves more clearly for the first time in days, feel a bit shorter, not quite seeing the tops of humans' heads the same as before the Darkness. Looking at their reflection in a mirror, observe their ears have become rounded. Attempts to speak any but the most basic elven words result in formerly-elf humans stumbling across their words, no longer able to pronounce the language intelligibly. Soon it is realized that whatever inexplicable events have occurred, elves are no more. Only human nobility remain upon the continent.

The elven legacy is memorialized by the Elvenhome Sea, where new islands have risen to accompany Skezard, which itself has been abandoned to the wildlands.

While summer does remain in effect, astromancers warn that only 21 days remain before a period of decay arrives.

Upon Marinen's shores, Daizen and his small remaining band of Water Weavers wash ashore, coughing water out of their lungs, lucky to have survived, but having lost a few more men in the last calamities.

It appears a tsunami, volcano, and numerous earthquakes are responsible for everything, but you shrug these heretic ramblings off, as it is obvious that the gods caused it, not some unexpected natural disasters.

Tax Change for Evora

Baroness Brigdha Dubhaine has changed the tax orders. The tax rate has been changed from 10 % to 13 %.

Brigdha Dubhaine

A roaring gale buffeted the mountains, dispelling the thick acrid clouds of volcanic ash and a pillar of flame erupted in the far west as the bedrock heaved like water beneath their feet, toppling ancient masonry and throwing the gathered throng into headlong panic as clouds of noisome reek issued from sulfurous fissures. Soldiers hurled aside their weapons and tore at their armour as they ran headlong for cover within the citadel walls whilst groups of civilians huddled wherever they could find shelter.

"NO LORD BUT A SHADOW LORD!!!!!!" Brigdha brought her staff down a second time and drove it deep into the rock, the black ashwood writhing and smoking in her hands as its true form struggled to reassert itself. She staggered backwards barely able to keep her grip on the slender hilt, a ruinous skirling filling her ears and whispering of things worse than death.

She must maintain her grip in this world, anchoring the sword in the stone as she channeled the raw power of the High Firmament into its elf-wrought steel. She must hold on or all would be devastation!

Sweat poured from the Balancewalker's skin like rivers of molten lava as The Dragon unleashed its rage on her etheric form, the skirling rhythms building to ever greater intensity. All about its domain the agitated facies fluttered, fragmentary shadows of those who'd fallen to its power, trapped in that inferno of hatred and self-loathing whilst its will abided. Brigdha clenched her teeth and hung on to the blade for dear life, oblivious to the chaos all about her. This task was too much! She had not the strength to withstand The Dragon alone. Was she destined to join that frightful menagerie, trapped in an eternal unlife of torment and despair?

No. It could not end like this. It would not end like this! The Wyrm must be slain!

Even as hope faltered she felt a pair of hands wrap themselves tenderly about hers, steadying the blade, and allowing herself the briefest of glances with her mortal eyes she realised that it was Anagridh, the usually sardonic expression of the Serpentis heiress replaced by one of concern.

"I haven't the strength to drive the blade home!" she screamed the words from bursting lungs.

Anagridh's lips were moving but Brigdha couldn't make out the words. The cadence though was unmistakeable, a song of power in the ancient tongue of the North before men brought death to the Vale of Sirion.

The facies grew increasingly agitated, as if the song carried some special meaning known only to them, and as some took up the refrain others recoiled in disgust until all about The Dragon was a maelstrom of psychic battle. Brigdha no longer stood alone in that terrible place. She no longer stood alone!

About her the shadows took tangible form, the restless dead of Sirion and Fontan and Oligarch and Avamar and Old Rancagua, Elf and Orc and Man and things akin but unlike all three. These were the damned who through ages innumerable had died for The Dragon's lies and were doomed to share its fate, many willingly his slaves but not all. And there in their midst stood young Tyrann, oblivious, offering his childlike pacts to a power he could not comprehend for a purpose he could not foresee.

"We Must Release Them!" Brigdha's voice was barely a whisper above the thunderous tempest.

"I'm Not Sure We Can!" Anagridh struggled as much to keep her grip on the blade in this place as Brigdha had in the mortal realm.

"The Song! Repeat The Song!"

Anagridh's lips moved again and as they did so the rhythm once more divided the facies into two opposed camps, two armies of such number as to be uncountable.

"FINALLY YOU COME TO PLAY YOUR GAMES, SLAYERS OF WORLDS, LIKE THE SILLY LITTLE CHILDREN YOU ARE. AND YOU BRING THAT PATHETIC BODKIN WITH YOU! HOW I HUNGER TO FEAST ON YOUR ETERNAL REGRET AS I HAVE THOSE OF THE SMITH WHO FORGED IT!!" the Great Wyrm's voice roiled with laughter, drowning out all other sounds as he raised himself up out of the pit, coil upon unending coil of unholy stench, running with molten brimstone. His very presence was a demand to worship, so immense was the power coruscating through his etheric flesh.

"Whilst the dragon slumbers so do I, a curse from Elven youth, but when the dragon rises in ecstasy, I’ll be that serpent’s proof!" the doggeral told to Brigdha by Meristenzio came unbidden to her lips, and as it did the blade seemed to pulse in her hands, and as it did the pulsing seemed to echo one hundred-fold, one thousand-fold, one thousand times one thousand-fold.

Luna Tempest

The New but Familiar Land

Duchess Luna was within the highest tower of Skyspire Castle surrounded by candles when the Shadow's finally abated to reveal the gentle light of a full bright moon over East Continent. The Lady of Shadowdale quickly made her way to the veranda overlooking Fontan so she could survey the landscape. Wind had cleared the remaining ash from the air leaving a crisp unobscured view of the entire city and its surroundings.

First looking inland does not reveal any glaring changes to the landscape to the young but seasoned cartographer. The peaks of Evora still stand tall and proud looking as ever with the forest dominating the foothills and plains below as they have grown for millennia. When the Grey Exarch finally turns to the sea however things are not as they have always been. To the north a land mass has appeared, a peninsula had arisen from the flank of Sirion and at it's tip a tall gleaming gem of a tower clearly evident even from such a distance for the light it emitted across the newly formed bay.

The young Luna's mind was already racing with the possibilities when a shadow appears from overhead in front of the the moon while it crossed the nights sky. Looking up revealed the great eagle that she had bonded with so long ago, Apollo the king of sky had chosen to make yet another dramatic scene for the fair dark haired lady.

"Of course you would make an appearance tonight of all nights," Luna would whisper reaching to grasp the eagle. Unfortunately Apollo would not be gracing the Duchess with another personal visit for he too had much to explore.

With a loud crash and bang at the door Luna's attention was once again drawn into the room to investigate the disturbance. Making her way to open the door revealed her retainer Lissa on the floor rubbing her head with a bunch of letters scattered all around. As Luna helped her up she calmly spoke to her always frantic servant, "Lissa you don't always need to be in such a rush. Taking a single extra moment so to center yourself is always welcome and honestly required in your case."

"Sorry your grace, there are just so many important letters for you to read." Lissa would quickly reply meekly.

Margravine Tempest would make her way to her desk as she replied, "Well bring the letters over here then so I can read what has happened to our land."

Lissa quickly collected the letters off the floor and opened them one at a time handing them to her lady. As Duchess Luna read letter after letter hew eyes grew bright with excitement for reports were pouring in from all across the land. East Continent was not as it was the day prior, new land had risen, old land had shifted and just about every change possible in between.

After reading the final letter Duchess Luna would jump up from the desk and exclaim, "Lissa, write my surveyor Riven, get me some fresh parchment and quills. I have a new map to make for the Rulers of East Continent."

Vilaine Delamoire

Quest for Honor

Sir Vilaine stood on the 2nd floor balcony of House Delamoire nestled into the avenues of Karbala. Even though a lesser house among the Shadowdalians, the balcony provided a broad view of a once crisp crest of the ocean. Where the sky lightened was no longer so simple, as when the storms settled and the shadows lifted, this morning would mark the first of when this horizon changed forever.

The Knight of Karbala drank from a plain iron goblet, which contained only tepid water. His mismatched grey and green eyes were upon this new horizon when he raised his left hand to summon his captain.

"Semund," he paused, awaiting the tall captain's shadow fill his peripheral. "is the Delamoire Guard ready to move?"

The Captain was a few years younger than Vilaine, with short brown hair and a booming voice. "They are ready."

Vilaine set his goblet down on the stone counter next to the balcony chair, next to a scroll bearing the seal of the Grey Exarch.

"We have not been commanded otherwise, and what I mean to do is under no direct orders." Sir Vilaine said, looking over to Captain Semund, "We could find either glory, or punishment."

"The Delamoire Guard will do as you command, Sir Vilaine." Captain Semund said confidently.

The Knight of Karbala, Sir Vilaine of House Delmore, rose from his chair and grabbed the great sword that rested against the balcony railing.

"Then we move out at dawn, wake the men." Vilaine commanded to which even the stoic Captain Semund's eyes widened briefly.

"And to where are we moving, Sir Vilaine?" Semund inquired.

Vilaine looked back east over the horizon, where his prized view from the House Delamoire was now obscured by a new land mass, and he pointed to it.

"There, Captain Semund, we go there."

3rd September

Summer Day - Akesh Temple

No Battle in Akesh Temple

Battle preparations were made in Akesh Temple, but no battle took place because the following units successfully evaded combat:

• Ereptial Dysfunction

Family Investment

Lindow Moonsun, Shadow King of Shadowdale, Royal of Shadowdale, Duke of Shadow's Bluff, Margrave of Karbala has initiated an investment of 350 gold in the region of Karbala. Production soars to 168 %.

Brigdha Dubhaine

"Name your regret, Children of the Vale," Brigdha's voice was a hoarse whisper through gritted teeth, her eyes hooded and downcast before the Serpent's fury, "Name your regret and fulfil your broken oath."

"COIMBRA!!!" the yearning plea reverberated with betrayal. With anguish. With a weary futility beyond enduring. A snare across the ages for all who uttered it.

"Coimbra..." Anagridh wove the word through her song, a recuring drumbeat of despair, "Coimbra... Coimbra... Coimbra... Coimbra the Forsaken... Coimbra the Betrayed..."

"C O I M B R A!!!!!" The Dragon roared in delight, savouring every syllable, "C O I M B R A!!!!!"

"Coimbra," Brigdha felt the blade stir, as if struggling to grasp a long forgotten memory. A glade. An anvil. Burning steel quenched in a forest pool. Darton...

"You know us Wyrm" Brigdha's lips moved but the voice was not her voice, and yet somehow it was, "We are the Balancetravellers, the Walkers of Worlds, the servants of The Hand."

"YOU ARE NOTHING," The Dragon snarled its contempt, "SHADES OF FAILED FUTURES PAST. INSIGNIFICANT AND FORGOTTEN. THIS WORLD IS MY WORLD. ALL WORLDS ARE MY WORLDS!"

"Sometimes it is hard to distinguish between fallen and sacrifice," Brigdha raised her eyes, the blazing scales no longer blinding her, as The Lilith Within flooded her with unimaginable conviction.

"TYRANN. SAY THE WORDS! PAY THE PRICE! OPEN THE GATE THAT I MAY CLAIM MY THRONE!"

"Tyrann cannot hear you Wyrm. You have been weighed in The Balance. You have been measured with the rod which cannot lie. Your doom has been written. Your book has been sealed." The words had a finality which quelled the furious tumult amongst the facies, and from that great and mighty throng emerged a tragic figure clad in raiment of sorrow, the Queen in whose image Elfhame grew.

"Elune!!!" Anagridh gasped, "Elune!!! Mother of my people!!!"

"SEE! SHE IS MINE! MY ONE TRUE BRIDE! AND I HER ONE TRUE HUSBAND!"

"May the Earth mend and may My love help guide the people of the Earth for I cannot," the Mother of the Elves spoke in a hollow monotone, caught forever in her final moments.

"Keep the balance and may you all live in peacefulness," the voice spoke its condemnation and as it did so the blade writhed from Brigdha's grasp to hover guardlike between the two mortal women and the shade of Elune.

The Sword point turned. First to The Dragon. Then to Elune. Then once more to The Dragon.

"NO BLADE CAN PIERCE MY ARMOUR," The Dragon drew itself upwards, its belly an immense wall of adamantine flame, "NO BLADE CAN HUMBLE MY PRIDE!"

"That which was made will be unmade. That which was lost will be reclaimed."

All about them the etheric hummed and buckled as a piercing shriek erupted from The Dragon. The Sword had buried itself deep within Elune's breast, severing the cord which bound her essence to his will, and for the briefest moment love returned to those dead eyes before her soul fled that dreadful place to the loving embrace of her true husband.

The Wyrm thrashed and howled, shrivelling as the stolen power of a Goddess was ripped from its. Sensing its weakness the facies fumed and boiled, whipping hither and thither at their tormentor.

"Take The Sword Anagridh! Hurry! Time Is Of The Essence!" Brigdha extended her arms and uttered words of binding, chains of dread and despair wrapping themselves around the ancient wyrm.

The Princess gripped the hilt in both hands, and with all her strength drove it deep into The Dragon's exposed belly. Balefire erupted from The Abyss as it thrashed in agony, the host of its victims rending at its corrupting flesh until nothing remained.

"T H E C U R S E O F C O I M B R A I S L I F T E D ! T H E D O O M O F T H E E L V E S F U L F I L L E D !"

Brigdha collapsed to her knees on the flagstones of the Temple. Anagridh lay beside her, barely breathing, the same and yet not the same. Of The Sword there was no trace.

Tyrann Thrane

As Anagridh plunged the blade into the belly of Akesh Tyrann screamed in pain. His body began to twist as he clutched his stomach and from his core billowed a thick black smoke.

He hit the ground as if pulled and continued to convulse until the Mighty Akesh was no more. The young Viscount lay there motionless and seemingly void of life...

Vilaine Delamoire

His home city of Karbala retreated behind Sir Vilaine as he led a small unit of armored men known as the Delamoire Guard southward. He couldn't help but continue glancing eastward toward the coast, monitoring for the narrowest point of the channel between him and the new land mass.

So fixated on this Sir Vilaine did not notice the runner trailing them from the city until Captain Semund hailed the runner, snapping the Knight out of his thoughts.

"Who approaches?!" Captain Semund demanded

"I am a messenger from Karbala, I bring word to Sir Vilaine of House Delamoire." the messenger responded, slightly winded from his pace to catch up with the Knight and his men.

Vilaine turned and approached, Captain Semund nodding to the messenger and holding his hand forward to receive the message.

"Get the man a fresh water skin and some salted meat." Sir Vilaine ordered a nearby Guard as Semund opened the scroll case and looked over the documents therein.

"Looks like the War Table approves of our mission, Sir Vilaine." the Captain said as he rolled the scrolls back up.

"Not only has the Grey Exarch given you her blessing, you've been named the Vice Marshall of the Shadow Legion." Semund's chest seemed to inflate as he told the news.

Sir Vilaine's hardened features did not waver as he reached out and took the scrolls, looking them over himself and nodding.

"Rest," he addressed the messenger, "I will have a return message to send back momentarily."

As the messenger turned, being escorted to the side by one of the Guard, Vilaine turned back to Captain Semund.

"Have a response written and returned. Notify the War Table that I am honored by their decision, and my resolve to discover this new land strengthened by their support.

Notify them also that I request two units of archers with capable scouts, and another unit of infantry trained in the shield for good defense. If approved, I want these units to rally on me across the channel, at the base of the Lighthouse."

As Vilaine finished his orders, Captain Semund saluted and hurried off to the horse cart to fetch ink and quill.

Daizen Tideweaver

Whoopsie-Daizen

Large, ominous birds circled above the ferry. Or was that their imagination? One was never certain anymore.

What was certain was that some Weavers had overstuffed themselves upon human flesh when they were starving. They now felt sick and were puking over the side of the raft, amidst the dark. Or on the raft when thrashing was heard in the water. The sailors felt seasick in a way they never had before.

Daizen, having consumed food with more temperance, did not suffer so.

---

The sound of thrashing is different this time. A sailor attempts to investigate, but slips on the vomit, sliding into the ocean, never to be seen again.

But soon the thrashing is obvious as the ferry crashes upon rocks. Breaking apart, everyone is forced to swim for survival. Yet the chaos of tossing wave, knocks Daizen and his captain unconscious...

Upon Marinen's shores, Daizen and his small remaining band of Water Weavers wash ashore, coughing water out of their lungs, lucky to have survived, but having lost a few more men in the last calamities.

Summer Evening - Akesh Temple

Daizen Tideweaver

The Erupting Tides VII

With new vigor Daizen's remaining men paddled. With their lords reawakening and the desperate act they had all done to stay alive there was a certain level of solidarity between the remaining 8 men on what little remained of the ferry. At this point, the men were drifting along the oceans on a glorified piece of driftwood.

Then his men started getting sick. Naturally, Daizen picked up a makeshift paddle and and did what he could. Despite the protests of his injured shoulder. The waters began to get rough. Daizen swore he saw shadows of something large flying over him but the darkness made it neigh impossible to see. Splashing could be heard and he lost another man trying to see what it was. The waters continued to thrash and buckle. When suddenly the ferry smashed into some rocks throwing Daizen and all of his men into the raging, turbulent sea.

Daizen struggled against the thrashing tides. He was an excellent swimmer but between his injured shoulder and his lack of proper nutrition, he was far from being able to utilize his full capabilities. Daizen struggled as much as he could before he finally succumbed to the chaotic waves and was left at their mercy.

---

Daizen awoke some time later being roughly shaken by his captain, Leinhart.

"Lord Daizen! Lord Daizen! Wake my lord something wonderful has happened!" shouted the captain in a raspy voice.

Daizen began coughing violently. The sea water clearing from his lungs and he breathed deeply. As he cracked his eyes the first thing he noticed was light. LIGHT! Glorious sunshine had returned to the land. He bolted upright once again feeling the pang of pain shoot through his right arm. He immediately felt a bit woozy but shook his head to shake the feeling. He found himself on the beach of a port city. A city he had never known of before. Looking around, he could only see himself, his captain, and only three other men.

"Come Leinhart, lets get them up. Lets get into the city and get some proper food and rest" said Daizen.

The captain obliged and the battered men walked towards the city...

---

After a day had passed Daizen had learned much. He was able to send riders out to reconnect with the rest of the Perdan. Within hours he was bombarded with the news of all that had taken place while he was castaway as couriers learned of the returned Knights new location. After addressing the most immediate matters cartographers were sent out to map the new lands. Daizen learned this new undiscovered city was called Marinen. And no noble from the East Continent had ever stepped foot in it before. He was the first. They were bound to no liege and no realm. Just a city of peasants managed by a small city council picked from the more influential merchants. Daizen requested an audience with the council.

Daizen stood before the smattering of merchants and smiled.

"Greetings merchant lords of Marinen. I am Daizen Tideweaver. While we do not know each other yet. We shall soon be very familiar."

He paused for emphasis before declaring in a commanding voice:

"I formally claim this city, and the entire delta behind what is now being called the Kalmar river, in the name of Alexandria!"

There was a burst of noise as chaos erupted. Some of the assembled council looked thoughtful, others outraged. Daizen just smiled. He had survived far worse than what these upset petty merchant lords could muster. From his original 36 men under his command, only 4 and himself had survived the ordeal. The eruption. The hyrda. The mutiny. The necessary cannibalism. The unforgiving sea. They had paid a hefty price. But they had survived. Now gripping his prized hydra fang ...Destiny is his.

4th September

Summer Day - Akesh Temple

Tyrann Thrane

Tyrann awoke coughing, his face covered with a plaster of dirt and blood. As he struggled lifting himself caught a glimpse of Brigdha, also prone and motionless.

The young Viscount felt a difference within, though he knew not exactly how to comprehend it. He last remembers delving into the caverns of Evora and the phrase “The Alter of Flames”.

He limped towards Brigdha and faltered as he knelt beside her. Raising her head carefully he tried to wake her...

Summer Evening - Akesh Temple

Huge Battle Fought

Rumours spread and tales are sung about a huge battle in Montijo:

Shadowdale vs. Eponllyn, Sirion

Estimated strengths: 880 men vs. 330 men

The Shadow Legion (Shadowdale), sponsored by Shadow King Lindow Moonsun, were led into battle by Marshal William Armsworth.

Shadow King Lindow Moonsun is spotted wielding the Glowing Sabre of Little Ogre.

Margrave Foxen Carmine is spotted reading from the Book of Time.

Shadow King Lindow Moonsun is spotted reading from the Ancient Book of War.

Margrave Foxen Carmine is spotted wearing the Lich King's Chain Mail of Sorcha.

Knight Jaques Talos is spotted wielding the Adorned Shield of the Queens.

Attacker Victory!

Takeover Initiated

Knight Gustav Mistmight has initiated a takeover in Montijo. The region currently belongs to (rogue).

Viscount Abdicates

Tyrann Thrane has abdicated from his lordship in Oporto. He has given the following reason:

I admit to both crimes as stated within the Zeroth Laws section 4.1: Creation, spread and practice of any religion is allowed so long as its tenets are not intrinsically harmful to the interests of the realm, such as one that rejects the figure of the Shadow King or the declaration of wars, or one so aggressive that could harm our foreign relations, requiring the declaration of war to every realm, human sacrifices, and so on. As well as Military Law section 2.3: During war time, every noble part of the Shadow Legion must follow the instructions of the chain of command, with the Grey Exarch at the top, then the Marshal, the Vice-Marshal and finally any temporary captain assigned a specific task by a superior.

I submit myself to you judgement, and that our Tormentor, for the transgressions I have made against your sovereignty and the honor of our nobility. I, therefore, do hereby formally relinquish my title as Viscount of Oporto and too shall vacate my estate until granted permission. I ask not for mercy for I, as all of Shadowdale, must abide by the codes dictated in the Zeroth Laws.

5th September

Summer Day - Evora

Battle in Montijo

Sirion vs. Shadowdale

Estimated strengths: 160 men vs. 630 men

The Shadow Legion (Shadowdale), sponsored by Shadow King Lindow Moonsun, were led into battle by Marshal William Armsworth.

Shadow King Lindow Moonsun is spotted wielding the Glowing Sabre of Little Ogre.

Duchess Lady Luna Tempest is spotted wearing the Bizarre Ring of Defeat.

Margrave Foxen Carmine is spotted reading from the Book of Time.

Shadow King Lindow Moonsun is spotted reading from the Ancient Book of War.

Duchess Lady Luna Tempest is spotted wearing the Bloody Plate Mail of Avamar.

Defender Victory!

New Ruler Elected

The realm of Nivemus has elected James Elynbrigge Player experience level: experienced Player play preference: rp-combat as its new Kronogos.

Taxes Received

As the Baroness of Evora, you earn 264 gold. Since you're within your realm borders, you receive your taxes in gold.

William Armsworth

War journal, day 45, morning.

Our quick advance seems to have caught Sirion by surprise.

This evening's battle will decide whether we can continue reclaiming our region.

My healers ensured me the arrow wound I took won't bother me too much in the heat of battle. I ensured them it hurts like hell now!

Vilaine Delamoire

The Delamoire Guard held back in a copse of trees as the eight lumbering gnolls wandered the region. Sir Vilaine laid upon his stomach with the mismatched grey and green eyes peering through the underbrush of a young maple into a valley of long grass. The morning dew clung to the grass making beads of water drip from leaf and timber onto the ground below and causing the soldier's armor to chafe.

Looking from the dog faced creatures nearly eight feet tall with hunched backs and long arms, to the hillside opposite, Vilaine spotted the other half of his troop laying in wait.

"Just a little bit further." Sir Vilaine whispered to Captain Semund at his side, Vilaine's great sword unsheathed and laying in the grass to his side.

The monstrous humanoids walked further into the trap, "Grull felk dun dorum" the one in the lead muttered to a Gnoll at his side.

"Lorin don grugh muk." replied the other.

Sir Vilaine held his right hand up as the left closed upon the cross guard of his great sword. His hand hung there open palmed for what seemed forever but was only twenty seconds before closing into a fist.

As his hand closed he leapt up from the brush and scooped the great sword up from the grass, grabbing the long hilt in both hands and bursting through the tree line opposite him as the others followed suit.

The Gnolls panicked, some grabbing club and others simply having enough time to shout in alarm as the Delamoire Guard descended upon them in an ambush.

Vilaine caught the closest across the chest with a powerful slash from the great sword, the brown fur giving way to crimson from hip to shoulder as the beast spiraled into the dirt. To Vilaine's right, Captain Semund slammed into another with his kite shield, knocking the creature into the dirt to be finished off with an overhand chop with the long sword he bore.

Across the valley, things did not go as smoothly. The gnoll near the rear of the pack had more time to prepare given the distance of the ambush and their location. One, wielding a large bow with cruel arrows, began to draw and fire into the Guard with deadly precision. Three out of the five Guard fell to the cruel black barbed arrows before they had time to reach the archer to silence his rain of terror.

Semund and Vilaine split then to attend the battle which endured separate needs. Vilaine took to the rear of the caravan where the archer had laid waste to the ambush while Semund joined the front to reduce the casualties with his steadfast defense, summoning the men to rally at his side.

The Knight of Delamoire didn't have time to tarry as a vicious slash came from a gnolish axe with a tall haft and gruesome blade. Vilaine let the strength go out of his knees and pitched his weight backward, the axe blade splitting the wind just above his face as his back hit the ground. As he slid across the grass on his back he reached out with his left hand and jerked the gnoll's foot out from under him. Letting go of his great sword he crawled over top the downed Gnoll before he could regain his footing and punched the dog like snout with an armored fist.

The bone split with the pressure of the hit and caused the gnoll's head to snap back, dazed from the impact. Straddling the chest of the beast Sir Vilaine hit the creature hard three to four more times hard in the face before he was positive it wouldn't wake again before rolling off the body and groping through the grass for his sword.

As he stood back up, great sword in hand and his mismatched eyes alight with adrenaline, he saw that the battle was ended.

The Delamoire Guard were victorious.

"Make sure they're all dead," Vilaine said between labored breaths, pointing to the fallen bodies of the Gnoll, "salvage what we can, we wont be seeing a smithy any time soon."

Sir Vilaine stabbed the end of his great sword into the dirt and leaned upon it as Captain Semund approached.

"Have our scouts returned?" Vilaine asked, to which Semund replied.

"Clear, there is no imminent threat, this was the last of them." Semund reported, pointing to the fallen monstrosities.

"Good, and the Prime Minster of Sirion?" Vilaine implored, regaining his breath.

"As far as we know he did not hear the skirmish, there's been no reports of them moving aggressively or otherwise." the Captain responded.

"Understood, keep an eye on them just in case. Tell the others to rally back over top the hill once they've finished up here. I'll need to inform the War Table." responded Vilaine.

William Armsworth

War journal, day 45, afternoon.

The situation is bleak. The enemies currently in the field would already have been a challenge but their reinforcements outweigh ours by a considerable margin.

I ordered a retreat the moment I saw our flank was threatened but our King saw fit to rescind my order. Apparently I am having a bad day.

There is good news too. I was gifted a famous plate mail by Exarch Tempest. It is about to be stress tested.

William Armsworth

War journal, day 45, afternoon.

The situation is bleak. The enemies currently in the field would already have been a challenge but their reinforcements outweigh ours by a considerable margin.

I ordered a retreat the moment I saw our flank was threatened but our King saw fit to rescind my order. Apparently I am having a bad day.

There is good news too. I was gifted a famous plate mail by Exarch Tempest. It is about to be stress tested.

Summer Evening - Evora

Huge Battle Fought

Rumours spread and tales are sung about a huge battle in Montijo:

Eponllyn, Sirion vs. Shadowdale

Estimated strengths: 1030 men vs. 770 men

The Army of Sirion (Sirion), sponsored by Duchess Lyanna Arylon, were led into battle by Vice-Marshal Elric Altenahr.

The Shadow Legion (Shadowdale), sponsored by Shadow King Lindow Moonsun, were led into battle by Marshal William Armsworth.

Shadow King Lindow Moonsun is spotted wielding the Glowing Sabre of Little Ogre.

Duchess Lady Luna Tempest is spotted wearing the Bizarre Ring of Defeat.

Margrave Foxen Carmine is spotted reading from the Book of Time.

Shadow King Lindow Moonsun is spotted reading from the Ancient Book of War.

Margrave Foxen Carmine is spotted wearing the Lich King's Chain Mail of Sorcha.

Attacker Victory!

Takeover Stopped

The takeover attempt in Montijo has been stopped.

Region Exchange

The realm of Perdan has given the region Troyes away to Eponllyn.

6th September

Summer Day - Viseu

Knight temporarily absent

Jafaria Wolfvern, Dame of Fontan has been captured in a skirmish with Sirion forces.

New Ruler Elected

The realm of Sirion has elected Monterys Velaryon Player experience level: experienced Player play preference: rp-combat as its new Prime Minister.