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Post by ShadowCatJen on Dec 19, 2022 8:30:07 GMT -5
In the pre-dawn hours, the Minister of the City Interior, Mynian Copperhand is out in the streets, dressed in what she usually calls her "walking clothes". She looks like she's slept and very determined about something. To any city workers she starts to see she quietly gives orders to respectfully gather bodies and bring them to Master Izzak's for further instruction. She warns that if any bodies are found to be spoiled or having personal effects taken there will be repercussions. Any one not gathering bodies she asks to report back to her any building damages and tell her or the guards immediately of any signs of rioting or looting. To any of the citizens who ask what is going on Mynian would explain calmly and with reassurance that while there was an attack, the guards and Reserves had warded the attack away. She would not mention the deaths. Only that they are still finding out the full damage and that full word from the Baron would be heard soon. To any people she sees looking lost she aims toward the barron of Retribution for shelter and aid. Any clerics or people of faith she says to check in at the Great Hall and ask for the High Priestess for instruction and if she's not there to answer to ask for the Captain of the Guard, if she isn't there, also head for the temple of Hoar and see if they need assistance. Around the orphanage she asks for aid in cleaning up the area as fast as possible in order to "get the wee ones safe at home". She does this for the majority of the morning, making sure the people of the Roar, despite the devastating attack, were kept reassured of things. By midday, she's at the Great Hall, and not too long after that messages go flying out. //OOC PMs incoming through the day to various players DM HawkAnd by all means please use this thread to post reactions for your characters
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Post by emeraldsnowx on Dec 19, 2022 10:33:46 GMT -5
As her eyes peel open from the restless sleep she was able to capture, Tanya Steel lays still on her bed, staring at the ceiling for a long while as she processes everything. At first, she's almost convinced that she must've had some kind of terrible dream, and that she'll rise from sleep, have breakfast, head to the Hall, and see everyone she knows and cares for there, happy and healthy.
The next-day smell of the dead quickly wafts those comforting assumptions away.
Tanya gets up and gets dressed, heads outside, and takes in the scene. Her eyes gloss over with emotion inspired by loss once again, though she keeps her bearing. She heads to the gates in sequence, walking her way around the city and offering what inspiration she can to guardsmen standing their posts, all bearing the shock and horror of yesterday's events.
During her luncheon, she peruses every bit of paperwork she can find on the Mistwood elves, particularly the rebel faction responsible for the atrocities. After lunch, she heads to the Barren of Retribution and kneels to the altar.
Her voice burns with a terrifying calm...
"... the Castellan said to pray to our gods... here I am, Hoar..."
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Post by ladyphoenix on Dec 19, 2022 10:43:12 GMT -5
After finally getting some rest, Kerri Harton is slowly seen out and about in the city. She does her best to gather some groups of wounded together to cast healing circle to heal a full group at once. Other healing magics she will use saving nothing for battle and when her magics are gone, she will just tend with plants, bandages or whatever can be found.
She does have two special spells: she tries to raise dead on the child and one of the guards first day. She will continue to try two raises on different guards each day for the next nine days because beyond that, her prayers will no longer have effect. She doesn't expect a high rate of success but a few restored to their families and service of the city is better than none.
Her prayers to the weaver and lady of mystery to strengthen the other casters are fervent as she goes about the business.
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Post by sightblinder on Dec 19, 2022 11:29:01 GMT -5
After the final battle Kur returns immediately to the orphanage to assist in clean up efforts. He doesn't speak to anyone unless spoken to, and takes care to avoid the children, as he is afraid his size and visage would scare them after the days events. Anyone looking closely could see unshed tears brimming his eyes as he gazed upon the destruction wrought upon the orphanage and the bodies of the dead. Those who came close enough could hear Kur cursing the Wolfmist elves and praying to Gwaeron Windstrom over the bodies of the dead, in equal measure.
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Post by Runa Rothgar on Dec 19, 2022 12:19:29 GMT -5
The Captain of the Guard begins her roaming patrol along the ramparts, calling shots below and assisting the Castellan in maintaining order within the city.
Her cold, calculated gaze holds while her calm steps wander the streets of Valkurs Roar.
"Forest Dragons, Green Dragons that befriends the WolfMist tribe? And they say we have problems with our DeadRock. How could you call out our city in such a way, Thwael while the Forest Dragons manipulate the minds of your people? Such Hypocrisy..." Runa mutters to herself as she continues her steps.
"Complain about the stone, complain about our trees, yet they have harbored so many Dragons within their tribe? After all these years do they think not those beings are extreme for any civilization? Seems even the Silver Dragons forsake that tribe... curious."
The Oghmanyte perishes the thought and pauses in her steps as she reaches the Orphanage, observing those assisting.
"Blood splattered about this city. "
"Blood seems to never cease in this city. "
" Blood never washes from this city."
Runa smirks to herself a moment in thought.
" Blood soaked into the roots of Mistwood just as much as our 'Dead Rock' soaks in. We have roof and walls... they have canopy and hidden trails. Is it truly that different?"
Runa bends down and picks up a small child's toy, abandoned from the attack; a doll, one of the Planarnauts.
The Priestess looks the doll over as she considers to herself,
"The elves live too long with the knowledge of good and evil, right from wrong, law and chaos. I suppose after a time it all becomes one blur. They suffer through multiple Kings and Queens, Barons and Lords; generation after generation."
The Commissioner steps near the Orphanage, pats the dust and grime from the doll before setting it upon a nearby chair.
"Should I cry this day? Or do I hold my emotions in once again, Oh Wise God?"
Runa eyes lift to the sky, searching the planes from which her God resides.
"I am so numb to this all, the battles, the deaths. The Uthgardt in me was overfilled with joy and rage this day. The Oghmanyte in me, however, It is all just records in my mind. Everyone and everything becomes a statistic."
The priestess closes her eyes and smiles,
"Yes, I will smile. That is what I'll do, because it's genuine and sweet, Oghma. I will record and write with absolution, yet I will remember the good records.. the good statistics of this day. Thank you for your wisdom."
Runa turns, hearing a voice,
"Captain? Lord Huntsilver needs assistance at the Gallows what are your orders for clean up."
She pauses a moment, thinking of the bodies strung about the Northern Fields and then nods with a confident smile,
"Grab a Horse and Cart from the Stables and I will summon my Ancient Friend..."
"Yes, Ma'am!"
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Post by Southpaw on Dec 19, 2022 12:53:33 GMT -5
Marissa moves through the carnage immediately after the battle, practicing triage, trying to find wounded individuals that her ministration might save their lives. She passes over both the dead and the less seriously wounded, for now. Upon finding the first who fits the description of her search, she would kneel by their side, place her hands on their shoulder, and heal them with a simple touch. From there, she would exhaust her personal supply of healing potions and bandage kits, then improvise using anything at all that could be used to bind a wound. Strips cut from cloth for bandages. Pieces of rope for tourniquets. Anything. She works in the faith that others will come in time, diligently, methodically, a sense of purpose pulling her through the horror of the scene. When she becomes aware of more organized efforts to find and help the wounded, she puts herself under the direction of designated superiors and assimilates into a team.
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Post by DM Hawk on Dec 19, 2022 13:21:53 GMT -5
It is a sleepless night for Baron Azorus Crownsilver and the Council.
"Secure my City" the Baron had told the Castellan, and Aluxar obeyed. Guards able to perform their duties are set on watch at the gates and patrols throughout the city, restoring order, watching over the people of Valkur's Roar as loved ones were sought out and damage surveyed. The levies of Mortimer Gruteje and Nate Skatterhawk were called forth and sent into the city to assist those in distress.
Leaving the vineyards, the Baron made his way through the city, touching those he passed. He was followed by a limping but silent Gerld Huntsilver, holding a torch to light the way. He first visited Hope's Cradle and looked in quietly as Frimgarold read stories to the children. The gnome was almost as proud of his strong lungs as he was his well-groomed mustache. His voice hadn't given out though his shoulders sagged. He had been reading for hours. Most of the children were asleep, surrounding the gnome's chair, soothed by the voice.
His next visit was to the mortuary. Master Brustrom's people were reporting as soon as the hostilities calmed enough. Leaving their families to check up on loved ones and look to repairs, they arrived one by one to begin the grim work of the days ahead.
The Baron gave Izzak a ring to purchase two caskets on display, the largest and the smallest. Gerld was directed to gather his remaining foresters to watch over Izzak's people as they made their way to the Mistwood, axes in hand. Lumber would be needed for more caskets. A small smile of derision formed when he thought about the elves complaining for the use of wood. Yes, new trees would be planted, but not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not until some of the wounds healed.
He and Gerld brought the small casket to Hope's Cradle. The lad and two guards beside him had been arranged peacefully, laying side by side with their hands clasped over their chests holding holy symbols. Their eyes closed. Prayers had been made for them by clergy who had passed by and moved on. They must not have answered the prayers that sometimes brought the miracle of raising the dead to life. Perhaps the boy had found his parents in the hereafter and decided his days as an orphan on Faerun were done. The lid was closed firmly, lest the other children see who was inside.
The next was brought to the vineyards. The heavy casket was built for a tall man, perhaps even one of orcish blood. Sophie Miller was not tall but she would need the space. He and Gerld carefully lifted Sophie and placed her inside. Carefully he pulled her collar to cover the ruin the noose had done to her neck. His fingers went into the earth beside the casket and gripped a handful of the soil that nourished her prized grapes. He placed the earth in her cold hand, wishing she could take it with her.
The gate to the manor house was closed. He would find no welcome there, while Alusantia cared for Vera Gudwerks.
Truman was speaking with Lawrence Murley, overlooking the Great Hall. The Murley Brothers stood to make good coin in the months to come. The Baron gave the Murleys a new demolition contract: "Dismantling" the carcasses of the green dragons with saw and axe and hauling the "Materials" to a pyre in the Gruteje granite quarry. Truman would have a fight to keep the treasury afloat.
The Baron nodded to Rothford and his sons as they inspected the docks for damage. The dock hands and sailors were reporting their findings and setting to work.
"Lord Baron?" It was Izzak. There wasn't any humor in his voice tonight.
"Yes?"
"What do we do with the remains of the elves?"
The Baron answered and Gerld set to the task.
Izaak accompanied him to the Great Hall. Izzak went down below to exchange the bloody apron of the mortician to austere garments suitable for the task of consoling bereaved families of their grief. The Baron would join them in whatever courtly attire survived the damage to his office upstairs. But first...
He unlocked the office door and stepped inside the darkened chamber. He left the door open behind him, letting light spill in from the hall. His hand absently touched a basket of fruit on the counter. The Baron navigated the furnishing to the shelves of alcohol on the far wall. At the moment he understood her and why she kept the bottle close to hand. He took one and settled into the chair he sat in the tenday before when they had discussed the year's budget. She had made sure to give Truman a hard time.
She had made sure to give all of them a hard time. She had a way of reminding them they were just women and men, different from those they governed only by what they wore and how they spoke. Men and women...and a gnome...a dwarf...some half-elves...she kept their boots on the ground with her humor. She would topple them from their loftiness when their grandiose airs carried them too high.
To honor her they would have to remember her humor, to keep it alive, and to keep their boots on Faerun.
"It's time, my lord."
The baron nodded in the darkness of the office. He placed the unopened bottle on Sophie's counter, and followed Izzak from the hall.
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Willow
Proven Member
Posts: 113
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Post by Willow on Dec 19, 2022 13:45:21 GMT -5
Ru stays up late into the night counting bodies and assessing damage. The tiny elf wanders the streets, offering reassurances to any other restless souls and makes several loops around the outskirts of the city. She reappears early in the morning to continue her efforts within the walls.
Most Four Winds business matters are put on hold while most of the crew is put to work around Valkur. A handful of large men in uniform are left with orders to defer to Runa and the nobles. They bring a few wagons to help with carting away the carnage. Four couples in company colors set up cookpots around the city to offer free meals to citizens and workers throughout the day; a hearty stew, fresh bread, clean water, and hand pies for those on the go.
After directing the crew, she turns her attention to the orphanage. Only one lost. A lame little boy who had recently arrived at Hope’s Cradle and was not quick enough to escape when the guards were attacked. Ru dashes away quick tears before turning her attention to the living. A few of the children are excited to see her when she enters with toys and treats. A pale girl with a missing arm and wise eyes shadows Ru’s steps. The child helps with distributing offerings while Ru happily relieves Frimgarold for a short time and helps distract them from those tending the lost boy. Before she leaves, Ru reminds them all that the blood you are born with and the path you are born onto do not determine what you are. To let this remind them of why we make good choices every day.
Ru repeats her reminder as she helps check on citizens throughout the rest of her morning, offering nods and sad smiles to familiar faces she passes. She spends a bit of extra time with the less fortunate souls in the city, encouraging them to help where they can as well. She offers her condolences to the town criers for the loss of one of their own and provides them with the locations of the meals and services provided so they can quietly direct those interested. Finally, she returns to the Four Winds, utterly exhausted and eternally grateful for the resilience of the city she chose to call home.
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Post by EDM Entori on Dec 19, 2022 13:55:34 GMT -5
An overly tall - lanky Sun elf in the robes of the purple dragon, stayed on the steps of the great hall for a long while, leaning on his staff.
He looked to the bodies of men and elf - the disdain that poured in from the loss of life - overwhelmed him. Yet he remained, a visage of neutrality - practiced. Letting his purple hood fall, he raised his staff in chant; conjuring a great shambling mound that appeared from his summoning. The shambling mound moved body to body of the giant greens - binding them in vines and helping load them onto the wagons to take the "remains" away.
The elf went body to body to survey the dragons, looking for any hint of infernal, otherwise magical, or otherworldly magic. Finding none, he sends the shambling mound to gather the bodies of the elves, including them with the dragons and sets them on the wagons provided by the four winds. Then sent the summoned creature on its way as the streets began to fill. He looked to those calling out to the wounded and cries of pain and anguish - he raised his cowl and set it low. He moved with the visage of a purple dragon and mage guard, setting bodies straight and laying valkurs roars warriors straight.
Then, once he finished touring the city - he moved to survey damages; take notions of what would be required to rebuild, if only speculation.
Finding his way to the battlements, the elf leans on his staff, watching over the city, listening to the cries and wrapping himself in the purple dragons cloak, cursing those who bring this pain in the name of the seldarine internally. He began to study the tome of spells, while the sunset into the night... a setting sun amulet upon his chest.
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Post by baogur on Dec 19, 2022 14:34:05 GMT -5
Yi is pensive and quiet as he surveys the damage to the city, both inside and outside the city walls. He had never witnessed any tragedy of this scale in his life, and yet he did his best to keep his thoughts pointing forward. He focused his efforts on doing what was most within his capabilities: cleaning up debris and helping identify the deceased. After some time, he seeks out other reservists to join in their efforts.
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Post by Kiyohime 🐍 on Dec 19, 2022 14:38:00 GMT -5
The shou woman walks slowly through the city’s streets, taking in the massacre. Her tunic has clearly gone through some wear and tear, and several cuts and bruises still litter the parts of Kiyohime’s body that are exposed.
A tragedy foretold. We knew this was coming, and yet… This is what happens when you hope for the best and don’t prepare for the worst. Shameful.
The last time I saw such destruction was in Marsember at the end of the war.. What is the purpose of high ideals when your people are at risk?
She joins the clean-up crews but leaves the helping and comforting of the hurt to those that are more suited to the task.
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Post by Runa Rothgar on Dec 19, 2022 15:06:57 GMT -5
An athletic tom boy of a Shovel Knight meanders through the streets, garbed in her usual dark attire and suited for operations in any Gravesite she faces. Her fiery mane and lightly freckled smile was faint and pushed to show enough compassion, but eyes sad to see the city's state.
"Another day for the Death Lord.."
Dabria spoke to the guard near the Great Hall and gave her papers indicating orders from Skull Crag to assist.
With Shovel in hand Dabria finds Izzak and hands him the papers,
"Master Izzak, Priest Mall sends his condolences and now you got the best Gravedigger this side of the Spine come to your aid."
The Orders reads:
Dabria is one of my best gravediggers to offer for aid to the city. Her shovel is yours, Master Izzak.
~ Priest Mall
"Scrivener Morana and Brother Crassus, Corvus of Jergal are not far behind me. They are ready to do their part."
The Apex, Dabria's blessed shovel thuds to the ground in attention...
"On your word Im ready to do the Death Lords work. The Honored Fallen will be tended too with my best!"
Her grin brightens up the Mortuary with upmost eagerness and follows Izzak's orders to do whatever is needed to aid the city.
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Post by demolicious on Dec 19, 2022 15:09:26 GMT -5
A silent figure in grey, cowled robes drifts amongst the carnage and the rubble, silently. In one hand it carries an open book, in the other, a hourglass made of a humanoid skull, one eye falling with black sand, another with white, endlessly. Today, the white Sands of Death fall swiftly.
Scrivener Morana moves among the dead and the dying tirelessly. For each corpse, an entry. Name, date and method of death. The living are mostly ignored, except when they're required to identify the dead, unless Morana is addressed directly. When she speaks, it is calm, quiet, informal. She offers words of comfort, reinforcing acceptance of the inevitability of Death and role of the brief aberration of life before its eternity. All shall die, it is inevitable. Do not fear that which awaits at the end of the the road, but learn to accept it, and live the brief moments of life to their fullest. Yet a smallest smile tugs at her lips under her cowl for every entry. So does the world slide ever closer to Death.
No healing is offered to the dying, no attempts to raise the already fallen. To those who the Sands deem to not being in immediate danger of dying, sometimes bit of healing is offered, to alleviate the pain and hasten their return to the work of clearing the damage. For the dying, only wish granted is that of final mercy. Swift, painless death to those yearning for the embrace of eternal sleep, free from the pain of life. Others, are left to hands of healers. Death is a gift, one that she would not force to those who do not ask for it. For Death is patient.
Sometimes, a question is asked. Why? Why was this child, that woman, or those men not saved? Sometimes with sorrow. Sometimes with anger. The answer is simple. Time of their Final End has come. Their survival does not serve the cause of Death.
Another name added to the book. It is a good day.
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Kaelyth
New Member
Can't see the forest for the trees.
Posts: 95
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Post by Kaelyth on Dec 19, 2022 16:01:28 GMT -5
Kaelyth entered Valkur's Roar with significantly more caution than normal. These "civilized" places would never feel right to her, but for an adventurer, they were hard to avoid when one needed supplies that the land couldn't provide on its own or a safe place to store sentimental valuables. This time was different though. Smoke, blood, and the acrid smell of death lingered as she hesitantly walked deeper into the more populated center of the city. She pulled back her hood and looked sadly at the sight. Bodies stacked up. Prayers and last rites were given up to the gods for the fallen. Corpses of green dragons, varying in age and size scattered about the rubble. As she made her way towards Bron the fletcher, she made a point to stop and render any aid to those still injured - happy to use what medicines and treatments she had available on the wounded, and offering a smile or word of encouragement when it seemed appropriate. As she approached the part of the Roar where Bron typically set up his shop, she became ever more downtrodden. Bron wasn't there. Crates had already begun to stack up near where he plied his wares - no doubt the supplies from Garrot's General Store in Greatgaunt. Kaelyth frowned, picked up as much of the trade goods as she could, and set about returning them to Garrot. It wasn't that she understood the value of trade or coin, it was the simple fact that Garrot had entrusted these goods to some adventurer who dumped them off when Bron was nowhere to be found. "An undelivered promise." she thought to herself as she commenced dragging the goods towards the caravans. She wondered what happened and what caused such misery, but felt that just lending a helping hand and warm smile where she could was more constructive than the "whys" of the situation.
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Post by lucesi on Dec 19, 2022 16:44:44 GMT -5
In the bowels of the Great Hall, Vennis washed the blood, filth and smoke of the previous day from his body in the bathing rooms of the barracks. He winced occasionally as the water splashed a wound from an elven blade or a cracked rib from the blow of a dragon.
A tough, bloody day. But he had seen bloody days before. Marsember, Starmantle, Zoroastryl Keep... It was a long list. Valkur's Roar would survive.
But there would be more bloodshed ahead, he was sure of it. Two elven attackers unaccounted for. And this city always demanded a price in blood. Blood Wars, Blood Price, its streets always demanded its toll.
Blood but also opportunity. People, adventurers likely, would be sniffing around looking for prestige or profit in the positions that had opened up from the assorted casualties; both high and low born, legitimate and illegitimate concerns.
Blood and Opportunity. It would be interesting times ahead for the Inquisition.
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kalis
New Member
The Black Hand always strikes down those who stand against it in the end.
Posts: 14
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Post by kalis on Dec 19, 2022 16:57:51 GMT -5
As Kalis returns from a trip to Suzail he comes across the aftermath of death and destruction in Vulkars Roar. He slowly navigates the streets watching others tend to the wounded as he heads to the Gallery. Along the way he comes across an unseemly sort that is obviously looting a corps, as Kalis moves towards the man he is frozen in place. With one hand Kalis reaches out and grasps the man by his neck easily lifting him off his feet making him drop whatever valuable's he had taken off the corps. Kalis slowly starts to squeeze choking him. Kalis: You are nothing but an oxygen thief!The man still lifted off his feet Kalis pulls him in close so their eyes interlock. Kalis: I highly suggest you not only leave Vulkars Roar but all of Cormyr.
Kalis releases the man letting him drop to the ground and after he gets his bearings watches him scurry away. After he continues on to the Gallery to finds Lilibet outside surveying the carnage, her hood drawn over her head. Kalis approaches Lilibet and positions himself just to the left and behind her, she slowly turns to him handing him a pouch and whispering to him. Kalis: Yes Priestess.Kalis escorts Lilibet through the city as they run into the Baron and Gerld Huntsilver at Hope's Cradle. Lilibet respectfully bows. Lilibet: Your Highness, I would like to offer this on behalf of the congregation of the Gallery and myself to help with the wounded, loss of loved ones and repairs to the city. I would like the priority of this to go to the orphanage.
Lilibet gestures to Kalis and he steps forward and hands over the pouch of coins that she handed him earlier. //OOC: Lilibet gave me permission to write this for her and for the DMs to collect 25 thousand in bank notes off either of our characters the next time you see us in game. Wish we could have been there for the event.
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Noura
New Member
Posts: 60
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Post by Noura on Dec 19, 2022 18:34:53 GMT -5
Noura awoke after a night of little sleep, walked around checking on the familiar areas offering food, bandages, and comfort to those around. Stopping by the orphanage to check on the children and make sure they are not too shaken up. Noura wanders to Greatgaunt once she's done and overhears someone telling another about how they will be seeking revenge for what the elves did to their home. Her heart breaks a little knowing that not all the Elves are to blame for the action of the few foolish stubborn children.
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Post by Masterbard Alyster Darkharp on Dec 19, 2022 20:10:47 GMT -5
The Bard, Alyster Darkharp sat behind his desk, in his Suzail facility. The array of tomes before him were mounted at all angles on customized stands, and his gaze was piercing, even behind the mask. Maybe because of the mask, when he looked up; snapping out of intense concentration on his studies in advanced mathematics. Someone was here and speaking to him, it was Shoeman.
“Alyster. There are messages you should see from Valkur’s Roar”
It took a few brief moments for the Bard to register the words before he accepted several small scrolls, still sealed with Shoeman’s own emblem, a dark dagger on a circle of red. Shoeman always addressed him informally and by name when they were in private, a strange thing to think about as he broke the first seal, knowing that he was going to be the third in the chain of custody of the message.
“Thank you Rikard”
His dark eyes flickered across the messages, one by one, breaking each seal and digesting the news. It was, all of it, vague. Conclusions of all his sources were that the officials, people, and adventurer’s in Roar were dealing with the aftermath. The aftermath. A nice name for counting corpses. The aftermath is when you learned if you won or lost, regardless of what you thought before-the-math. Multiple wyrms were the sorts of variables that tended to dramatically affect aftermath. His thoughts dwelt upon a friend. Sure there was some distance there, but it didn’t change what friendship was. He stroked the chin of the mask, painted lavender to match the faded old purple hat he had recently taken to wearing. The gesture, pensive, as if considering whether to voice a concern.
“Anyone I like die?”
The facial hair of Rikard Shoeman moved in such a way as to indicate that a smile twisted one corner of his mouth just before he answered.
“No, Vennis and Noura are well.”
Alyster returned a masked nod, “Copperhand,”?
Shoeman returned the nod and reverted to a more formal state as a heavy knock came upon the door, and as if the very name Copperhand made him want to dust his coat off and look his best. Bloody hells she had that effect on some people didn’t she?
He gave his next lines quickly as he moved towards the door that led into the rear of the House.
"Unfortunately no one you despise died either though, balance in all things. I’ll step into the back, Lordmaster.”
Just like that, he was gone. A steadfast presence with Alizarin for fifteen years this month. Choosing to let the Lordmaster answer his own door in favor of discretion. He had been busy carrying Alyster’s mail back and forth between Marsember and Suzail every few days now. So the Bard answered his own door, all the while thinking about math.
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Post by Script Wrecked on Dec 19, 2022 20:14:39 GMT -5
The dragon head was huge, like, reach down and clamp your body in the vice of its mouth, and then bite down and pop your chest, huge. Naldin stared a long time at it. He had seen a pair of dragons at the "parley" between the Mistwood elves and the Lord Baron outside Valkur's Roar, perhaps a mother and its offspring. But now, he could reach out a touch the beast, run his hand over its scaled form. It was not quite as magnificent as it had been, floating above the square, held aloft by the beating of massive leathery wings, spewing caustic acid over the Castellan's defenders. Now, its carcass was a bit crumpled and its side rent with the wounds that had slain it. But still, wow.
But why? Three adult dragons and two younger wyrmlings had dashed themselves on the rocks that had been the defenders of Valkur's Roar; the defenders had made a mighty and heroic effort to bring the beasts down. But to what end this attack? Destroy Valkur's Roar for once and for all? Had that been their aim?
One of the defenders had said he was sworn to protect the dragons. It had seemed a misplaced sentiment to Naldin at the time. The soldiers and citizenry had been little threat to the dragon as they were rent apart by claw and by maw, as their flesh was cauterised on their still living bodies by the terrible singeing acid breath. But perhaps the dragons did need protection, from their own stupidity and hubris.
The depleted Mistwood elves have now lost the protection of these fallen dragons. The Lord Baron had been most accommodating to not execute the murderous but pregnant Mistwood elf; to save the innocent life at the behest of the Mistwood elder. But twelve wolf elf warriors had thrown their lives away in a vain attempt at some sort of revenge.
Naldin's revere was disturbed by clean-up workers as they began their grim task of dismantling the huge carcass before dragging it away to some ignominious end. He sighed; all for nought.
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Post by sparrowhawk on Dec 20, 2022 1:12:01 GMT -5
Noor awoke from reverie in her camp west of Valkur’s Roar tucked in a tree line with a view of the city in the distance. Tempest her companion lay next to her, but the wolf’s head perked up in the direction of the city as the dawn painted red across the sky. A low growl vibrated the space between the two travel mates. There was a taint upon the air and the wolf knew as well as she did …the scent ….was of death.
A chill rolled up Noor’s spine. She knew that scent all too well. She’d seen death, smelled it, held it long after life had left the vessel. The mournful feeling of her memory tasted like iron and ash in her mouth.
“Raoooooooooowwww!” Tempest howled and licked Noor’s hand to bring her back. The elf turned and placed a hand on the side of Temp’s face.
“I know, friend, I have a feeling of what has happened.”
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Post by DM Hawk on Dec 20, 2022 15:48:47 GMT -5
The great hall doors opened and icy wind blew in, followed by the complaining words of the elderly Gram, cook for Talbot's Table and Inn. Talbot himself followed Gram and Goodman Holance followed Talbot, his straw hat supporting a layer of snow.
Talbot and Gram carried large, covered platters of food while Holance carried jugs of hot cider and spicy, mulled wine. Ushered by the guards, the three men placed the trays of food and jugs on one of the long tables of the hall.
Removing the lids, the contents of the platters are revealed: Sandwiches, fruit, crackers and cookies.
A small leaf of parchment is set on the table between the platters:
Mynian,
This one's on the house. Good luck.
Talbot
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Those Who Harp
New Member
"Harpers live and die to keep freedom alive."
Posts: 49
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Post by Those Who Harp on Dec 20, 2022 16:30:52 GMT -5
Packages of food appear overnight in the slums and at the doors of the fallen ones families, if they are locatable. A tithe is also left with the temple of Hoar. Each package bears the symbol of the Harpers and a note attached which matches posters also placed. A thousand words won't bring you back; We know because we've tried. Neither will a thousand tears; We know because we've cried.
The Harp's are singing for the people of Valkur's Roar.
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Post by ShadowCatJen on Dec 20, 2022 17:11:32 GMT -5
Mynian aimed volunteers in the best directions she could. A couple of worshipers of Gond, a Miss Joanna and Mister Ral (elf name something or other) of House (something or other), wanted to help in some way. She aimed them at getting some fire and warmth going for the people working through the cold and lack of sleep. Braziers and the like. Later in the day she was pleased to see they did exactly that through the city. It was temporary warmth, but it was there for anyone, guard or citizen, to warm up by as the snows fell and the skies dimmed to night. As night fell, some joined at the front of the Great Hall. Reservists checking in and others wanting to aid. She suggested that if they had the energy for it to help relieve some of the guards upon the walls. Some of who had likely not seen rest or been relieved in far too many bells. ... All along the North wall.To those who looked too exhausted, she told to get some rest. That the Baron was like to call for a muster soon and strength would be needed again. Grieving, mourning, and regretting would need to wait. Aside from clean up and recovery, other things needed tending to. That night, Mynian stayed in the Great Hall. Despite the dragon sized holes in the walls, the cold air drafting right through the main upper hallway, and the smell of blood, she stayed. The next morning... Maybe it was an odd fit of pique, but she emerged from her office in an apron and basic dress any scullery or tavern maid would wear. Broom in hand, she started moving away the smaller debris into piles that could be easier to take away. Later with bucket and cloth she did her best to try and wash off the smatterings of human and elven blood upon the walls and floors. Even if someone came along and told her she didn't have to do it she'd wave them off, almost merrily, with a "Just needs a lil' done, be all. Let 'n ol' barmaid get 'er work in, eh?" then proceed to ask them if they've eaten or rested like some matron worried for a child. If they'd done neither, she'd shoo them away and tell them not to bother her until they did one or the either. At some point midday, she found herself in the Baron's office. She started to sweep away at the snow that was piling up and threatening the edge of the massive and well made rug. When her eyes cast on the rug itself, smattered with blood, dirt and grime from boot print, she stopped and gave a small sigh. Eyes going back to the massive hole in the wall she stared through it and the clouded sky above. Natural paranoia had her looking for any dragon-shaped thickening of cloud, but after a time all she saw was the natural ebb and flow of snow laden drifts. The Frostmaiden slowly laying a layer of her particular blessings over the whole city. "Why do me feel so damn alive roit now?" she quietly uttered to no one. She shouldn't. By all rights she should be devastated. Crushed. The people of the city that she considered neighbors, friends even, dead in the streets. Fellow councilors were casualties. Her mind should have been flashing back to the days when Bloodstil was dethroned and the days after they spent cleaning up the bodies and washing the blood of ally and enemy alike from the cobblestones. It wasn't. Maybe because dragons were involved? Maybe the shock had yet to wear off? Maybe she was too tired to feel? Nay, she had actually slept oddly well and the emotions were there, but instead of bubbling to the surface easy like it had been something snapped into place and kept it in check. What had once been raked raw and bleeding since Belden's execution, was somehow solid again. She had no explanation for it. "Maybe it be best me not ask 'n jus' ride it out, eh Al-boyo?" the corner of her lip quirked up as she asked the clouds the question she knew they wouldn't answer. "Eternal war continues, roit? Best 'ave at it." With that she started humming a tune and continued on doing small spot cleaning in the Baron's office. It was only until she heard one of the guards mention of food downstairs being brought in that she stopped. Coming to the main hall she saw the spread, picked up the note and gave a very genuine soft smile. "Cor, bless yeh, Talbot. Owe yeh a free performance at yeh tavern at tha very least. On tha 'ouse 'r nay." She would motion with a hand to any nearby to let others know there was food to be had. To take a break for a bit and replenish. The work would continue.
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Post by ladyphoenix on Dec 20, 2022 20:50:21 GMT -5
Tempest Kettlesmith returns to town in aftermath of the attack, she had been in greatgaunt when actual attack occurred and heads to the southwest part of the city and slums, to her family and friends and begins to see where she can assist in the repairs. She has 500 lions from a recent raid on goblins that she carefully distributes including paying proper tithe to her gang contacts. There might be a lot going to the better part of town and Baron and guards but she will focus on her people and any damage there.
((one GM feel free tot see me in game to get the money))
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Post by vulpes on Dec 20, 2022 22:26:39 GMT -5
The Mage watched them kill the dragons, something he would have no part of, sworn to protect them as he was. He told them they should have left the City and all the bloodshed could have been avoided, noting again the terrible planning of the guard, no plan in such situations, knowing it was coming was just shoddy leadership, even the lowest in a guard would know that. Something he had noted and stated again, likely on deaf ears.
During the battle, Coopers' blue goblin skinned cloak had billowed in the wind as he peppered another Mistwood Elf with arrows and blasted it with magic until it was nothing but a bloody mess. Tossing the bodies over the wall to be sure, once the carnage finally stopped, he uttered prayers over the fallen beasts in draconic, wishing them safe passage in the afterlife. So many dead in so short a time, the Roar had no idea of the damage they had caused and how easily it could have been avoided, this lay clearly at their own feet.
Noting the majestic creatures distinct patterns he made sure to pray for them in the dragon temple and make offerings accordingly. Next time if there ever was one, he would just bring Unne, being in charge did not necessarily make you a good leader and this was evident indeed. Trying to remember the name of the dwarf, Arak he thought? At least he seemed to realise the dragons should have been drawn away rather than allowed to converge on the City.
Once he had gathered all he could from the dragons, some blood to send off in the flames at the temple of each, he passed Gardo, one of the guards he had befriended on the gate and did what he could to help him, using magics to raise and heal him he took him to a temporary aid shelter and left the priest 1000 lions to care for him and his family.
Walking away from the City he stopped to examine the goblins. His nemesis was out there somewhere and he was sure to examine each and every goblin for a clue. When he passed a Mistwood elf, he checked them for anything of value and left them where they lay, counting on one hand the elves he had grown to trust, these seemed much like the others.
Walking the path to the Mistwood, he wondered if Thwael the elf was as innocent as he professed, perhaps he had just come to the Roar to confirm their target was in fact there? Where better to gain intelligence but from within the lions den itself, elves were known for their treachery after all?
Making notes in his head as he walked that he would relay to Polly, he summoned D his Slaad and decided to search Mistwood now the Roar was in ruins again.
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Post by ShadowCatJen on Dec 21, 2022 1:43:23 GMT -5
That night within the Great Hall in the office of the Minister of the City Interior...
Mynian opened a well worn black tome and opened it to find a particular page. Once found, her finger traced a line on it and came to a stop with a finger tap.
"Me thought me remembered it bein' a weird spellin'...." her eyes shifted as the thoughts raced, "but do it even mean anythin'? Such a slim chance .... need ta survive everythin' first."
The tome closed with a thump and she brought out more clear parchments and a fresh vial of ink. Before settling in to quickly write all she needed to, she dug into her side satchel by the side of her chair, brought out a potion and placed it on the desk.
"Gonna pay fer this latah, but this word needs be out," she grabbed up the quill pen as she sat. "'oo should me tell though? ... council.. separate one ta Lord Rothford.. another one ta Runa ..."
She fell silent and the quill pen met the parchment.
By the morning a few messages are sent out.
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Post by offduty on Dec 21, 2022 13:13:16 GMT -5
A familiar elf to many returns to the city. The sight of bodies, and dragons that greats her is over whelming. In a time long past she would have been there standing her ground with the reserves. Now all she could do is walk the streets, lost to the city she once loved. The city she still calls home.
Her bow in hand she begins to patrols the streets and walls of the city, but what was she guarding it against, besides green dragons? Were they the only threat the city had faced? She needed answers but who could she ask? The Baron who she was sure would not be happy to see her? The high mage? The last time they had spoke Mouse had threated to expose her for what she truly was, and what she had done with the investigation of the Greathall being blown up. Master Arician lay in a grave in Shallybrook. So few were left that she trusted and still trusted her. The hunt for Tanya, Kiki, and Vennis began. Tanya and Kiki was found easily enough outside the Greathall. As she stood an listened to everyone gathered around, the shock of what had actually happened began to sink in. Like it not Mouse had to return to the city that many had rejected her from. She would face the ones who might remain that no longer wanted her around, in order to help those who did. She had to be strong. After several minutes that seemed like a life time to the elf she stepped out into the open. She spoke to Myrn making a small donation to the family's who lost family in the battle to protect their homes. Then moved onto Kiki whom she hoped would be happy to see her. Happy to follow the orders of Kiki she checked her supplies and prepared herself to stand guard with the women who was going to the guard the North gates. Turning around she saw Tanya standing on the steps of the Greathall. After speaking with her Mouse slipped off down the streets towards the North gate.
The next day unable to find rest, Mouse kept roaming through the Roar. Checking on the guards making sure the citizens were safe. Spending hours letting the attack and aftermath sink into her bones. Runa suggested a mobile kitchen and with Mouse's passion for cooking she couldn't refuse. Hearing the pain and suffering from a woman who lived in the South Quarter of the town, Mouse knew what she had to do. Not only would she donate her services as guard to the city, she would set up her Mobile Mouse Kitchen. Filling her bags full of fresh ingredients she took her cook pot from gate to gate. Offering a list of foods she could cook for the guards and any citizens who happened past. While the food was cooking she would stand watch and talk with the guards to help the tensions and boredom from the long hours of standing watch.
As dawn approached she said her goodbyes and packed up her mobile kitchen and headed for the slums of the city. There she started cooking massive amounts of scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, biscuit's and graving. She hoped the wonderful scents would help cover the smells left behind of the attacks and bring people out of the homes with smiles. Perhaps it was to much to ask that her kitchen would at least ease some of the grief and fear she knew these people felt, but she was going to try.
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Post by grivel on Dec 21, 2022 17:48:25 GMT -5
Kali follows Tanya Steel into the town of Valkur's Roar, accompanied by a woman named Joanna. They come to the bodies of the dead dragons where Kali tries her best to decipher the runes. Failing that she copies the runes on a parchment and does a charcoal rubbing of them. She will discuss with the other Guardians and show the runes to her treant friend, Greenbeard. She will ask the other Guardians to gather what fruit and vegetables they can, and donate to the town. DM Hawk
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Post by kalienblack on Dec 21, 2022 20:24:32 GMT -5
Kalien Black returned within the hour after his departure from the battle strewn streets of that momentous evening. Three wagons each manned with drovers and a couple extra hands file into the city square in front of the Great Hall.
Working in conjunction with the Murley Brothers, he and the men begin to load the bodies of the dead dragons and any large rubble... Using wooden tripods with ropes and pulleys they work with a practiced efficiency honed from years of moving heavy cargo.
Once the wagons are loaded, they leave hauling their macabre cargo from the death filled streets..... only to return time and time again to the square and the streets themselves....
Working through the night and the following days... Hauling load after load until there is naught left as a reminder... Outside of the bloodied cobblestone and the damaged buildings and walls themselves....
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Post by Spirit of a Phoenix on Dec 21, 2022 22:58:25 GMT -5
Aftermath: The High Priestess
The High Priestess of Valkur's Roar strides through the various quarters of Valkur's Roar. At a distance, the High Priestess wears an unusually solemn expression seeming lost in thought. However, when observed in the company of the citizens of the city, she appears optimistic and hopeful.
The Heartwarder, as a leader of the city of Valkur's Roar, strives to present herself as an example to her people. Following the aftermath of the battle, High Priestess Heartfire works with hyper-focused intent, never slowing pace despite the weary look in her eyes. Her time is not solely focused on healing but also on being visible and present in public view at all hours of the day and late into the night.
Kiki reassures those she interacts with and offers her condolences to the families and friends of the lost, often being personable and intimate with her communication. Kiki gets the names of those she interacts with by offering her name and then uses the name given to her to build rapport with her people. She is frequently seen touching the citizens amicably during conversation and treats the people of Valkur's Roar like close-knit friends, often seen embracing others or rubbing their backs while they grieve.
Kiki searches for the wounded and offers them whatever aid she can offer. When speaking with other healers, the High Priestess can be heard stating,"We must act swiftly and tend to the wounded before circumstances worsen and our survivors succumb to their injuries. Those with healing magic, please preserve your spells for those with critical or fatal injuries so they may quickly return to stable health conditions. Use mundane medical resources for those with non-fatal needs. If we squander our limited spells on those with non-fatal wounds, we may miss our opportunity to rescue any with fatal injuries while we rest and beseech our gods for renewed healing magic. Thank you all for your service to our city".
The Heartwarder herself can be seen roaming, wielding a staff constructed of rosewood, several large shards of ruby crystals embedded onto the top. The rosewood staff is visibly magic in nature, pulsing with a ruby light at the priestess's command and curing those she touches with each pulse, its power never appearing to falter.
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