Aftermath of Nausticyris' Exploits (Open Thread)

[Runa Rothgar]

(( Anyone who wants to post here can to talk about the aftermath of Attacks that happened across the Western Reach and even reactions too it.  

[Runa Rothgar]

The Priestess Captain finished her last dab and rub upon her mithral armor.

With a sigh of relief her uniform was back to presentable and she donned it once again while humming some random tune Pogo played.


"Great, got a Pogo tune stuck in my head for the day... Oghma have mercy."

Her first destination outside the usual patrols of Valkurs Roar was Greatgaunt.

She was thankful Lieutenant Lheonard did his part to secure the small city.

The Fog was thick in the morning and she met two individuals sitting outside chatting upon stools.

Vylee and Spruce, both additions to the Greatgaunt Volunteers;  a perfect opportunity for the Oghmanyte  to glean hands on knowledge.

Later, Linda, an Illmater Priestess showed and contributed a little of her recount to defending Greatgaunt on multiple fronts.

All three were pleasant and peaceful company.

Runa was relieved in hearing how they assisted in their ways, yet remained stoic in her expression. She had a heart for Greatgaunt and it's small town feel. Runa was a Farmgirl before her devotion to the Binder, afterall.



The Oghmanyte told the three what transpired, the deals made and how Nausticryis remains alive, battered, but not enough as she can still fly.



Runa bid farewell to the three and desired to return to Skull Crag, she left there abruptly after dealing with Nausticyris in the Farsea. 


She heard six Oghrann dwarves, Priest Mall , Brias, and a Gravedigger held strong as Guards and Purples sacrificed themselves honorably.


With polished boots she was on her way to soil them on the road to Skull Crag... she wanted time to speak to Oghma and think peacefully.  Perhaps find any residual Marsh Monsters lingering as well.


Runa was disappointed that Nausticyris was alive and even the 'Emerald Star' (An exiled Elf, Wolfmist Elder from Mistwood) while hiding behind her mother,  Syntrolosophos, Queen of the Greens.

The priestess would of rather fought the two dragons and be done with it.. sacrifice the Ornrion for the future of others, but the Castellan had to make a deal based on Principle.  It's how the Crown has operated.

'Who knows what would happen,'

Runa pondered.

'They probably had a teleport planned for escape, no way they would back themselves to a corner so easily for us to approach.'

The deal was done however, and Runa , even if not satisfied with the results...  The results satisfied the Crown and that's what mattered to the Baron.

The Oghmanyte was not invested as many others.  She wanted to do right and logical, but her neutrality to the myriad of Faerun customs are more about the experience  than results.

Runa understood her Captain position was not something she wanted to the last of her days.  This experience she wanted to do well and for the friends she has gained. 


"Oghma... as much as I like to play Captain, I pray you give me time in my life to return home and live the simple life.  To make a family and teach what knowledge you bestowed upon me.  I am very grateful..."

"I will not bargain with you.. Oghma... I will still tell my awful jokes!"

Runa chuckled to herself and kept her Uthgardt legs striding at a casual pace to Skull Crag. 

The Oghmanyte smiled to herself, serene in her expression, listening to the peaceful woods that surround her.


"What is the next headache for the Baron to deal with I wonder?"


"Do not worry Baron Crownsilver..."


"I will be still be around... Oghma wills it..."

"for now."

[ladyphoenix]

In the aftermath, Assistant Master of the Tombs, Kerri Harton is seen switching between the morgue and the graveyard. Spending mornings in the Morgue attempting to raise the dead levy and guardsman that fell or preserving their bodies for burial. Afternoons are spent in the graveyard working hard at setting to right all the graves that were disturbed and returning the corpses that were animated to their rest.

Thankfully she was not needed to leave the city to preserve a green corpse for transport to a dragon graveyard because the men that answered the call to defend the city needed her. Evenings and first thing in the morning was prayer to Mystra after the abuses of magic by the forces of the green dragon.

[tarsiz]

Skull Crag, Wild Wolf Inn

In a spartan room, a blonde Elf wearing a purple tabard and golden armor is sitting at a desk, staring at an empty piece of parchment under the flickering light of a small candle. Her hair looks greasy and sweaty; her armor, stained with blood, marked with claw marks and weapon dents. Her face bears the exhaustion wrought by intense days of combat, and the indecision of one lost deep in thought.

After a long moment, she blows the light of the candle away, starts talking off her armor, and prepares for her reverie.

A few hours later, not long before dawn, the Swordcaptain is seen departing the inn. Her amor and uniform are good as new, and her appearance, immaculate. She strides towards the hills, nimbly adjusting her pace and trajectory with the increasing altitude. Eventually, she stops, and sits on the hillside, overlooking the still-sleeping town down in the valley. As the first rays of sunrise pierce the horizon, she takes out the parchment, a bottle of ink, a quill, and starts writing.

-

Dear Mother,


Is it moral to sacrifice a life now, in hope of saving many more later?

Along with other members of the Royal Corps, I participated in the defense of Valkur’s Roar against the minions of a green dragon that had been plaguing the city and its inhabitants for months. While the city’s most fervent defenders had gone on the offensive against the beast, others had stepped up to the task of protecting its walls and its more vulnerable citizens against retaliation.

I kept watch over the southwestern quarter of town, alongside my swordmate Katheryn, and the fierce High Inquisitor of the city, Tanya Steel. Two formidable women whom I was glad to have by my side on that day.

The attack came, but the monsters were no match for our arrows and spells. Wave after wave came crashing down the walls, in vain. The other valiant defenders were equally successful, and soon after, the army of darkness crawled back to whence it came.

Free to lend assistance to our forward friends, we gathered and departed for the blighted valley where the monster had made its lair. Putrid air, acid pools and foul monsters conspired against us, but could do little more than delay the formidable troop that had assembled. We pressed down the dark hallways of the mine, until a portal led us straight to the beast.

She had taken refuge in perhaps the most unexpected place for a great wyrm: the cave of her progenitor, the ancient green of the Farsea. We lined up for a stern fight… but the monster held a bargaining chip: the life of a brilliant Cormyrean military engineer. A man we had come to save, if we could.
What followed, Mother, gives me puzzle, frustration, and shame, all in equal measure.

The Castellan of Valkur’s Roar, the son of the Baron himself, negotiated with the beast. Our target laid behind, battered and bruise. In its weakened state, it would have been no match for us, and even both dragons would surely have perished under the might of the incredible force gathered. We knew it, and they knew it.

Yet the Castellan is an honorable man. Fighting the dragons would have sentenced the engineer to death, as surely as night follows day. So… the Castellan brokered a truce. We walked out with the engineer, and the dragons kept their lives.

There is no sense in trusting the word of a green dragon. These beasts are cunning, and thoroughly evil. They will be back and will remember the slight they had to suffer that day. Many more innocents will perish from their fury, and the thought of it gives me pause.
With shame, I confess that I would not have had the heart to make the decision the Castellan took. I would have prayed to Corellon for the engineer’s soul and lodged an arrow in the neck of that vicious beast. In the heat of the moment, seeing our goal just within reach… I would have foregone patience and given into violence.

Yet, the thought of it sickens me now. Would I have been so impetuous, had my dear Kiraden been in the engineer’s place? Or if it were another of my swordmates, who have risked their lives to save mine a thousand times over. Can a soldier even be worthy of the title, if they don’t try everything in their power to rescue one of their own?

In my heart, I know I would not have been able to. And every soul lost to the dragon’s wicked plans weighs on the Castellan’s now, and in the future, much more so than on mine.
Perhaps it is the lesson I shall take from this journey. Despite the risks – there will be other chances to slay the beast. We can prepare now and try our utmost to prevent further loss of life from its revenge to come. Perhaps risking it all to save one life, be them a lover, a companion, or a stranger, is always worth it.

I come out of this with renewed and increased respect for the Castellan. He speaks with the voice of a broken man, but his heart is that of a giant.


Yours always,

Shaerlyn

-

[ShadowCatJen]

Day after the battle ...

Wrooooooowr!

Mynian snorted awake as the very insistent meow happened less than an inch from her ear. Recognizing the ceiling of her own home immediately calmed her, but the meowing continued with each subsequent vocalization being longer than the last. Then she felt a weight on her chest.

Her tressym, Theocritus, sat squarely in the middle of her chest, his green eyes staring down at her in that horrible judgmental way he seemed to have. She didn't doubt for a moment that he was putting his full weight on her, uncaring of what discomfort it would cause. Her other regular black cat, Soot, perched with two paws upon her pillow and lingered by her face, sniffing at her in between the elongated meowing.

Squinting, Mynian managed to croak out, "Aright, aright, 'm gettin' up."

...or at least she tried. Her body then reminded her of the previous day's activities and she felt a different sort of weight upon her. It wasn't a hangover, per say, but the battle highs of an elongated fight had definitely taken its toll. Muscles ached, her head refused to fully focus, and there was a taste in her mouth and smell in her nose that was something of a cross between copper and bog water.

A tiny part of her fuzzy mind was amused by it for one reason and one reason only; Mynian hadn't intended to join the fight.

A day before the battle, she was blissfully unaware that such a thing was going to occur. Then she saw the ballistae being completed while on her morning walk. Later that same evening a conversation or two had tipped her off that Something Was Going To Happen. She decided to postpone her trip back into the King's Forest and just simply happen to have her shop open for the next day. When the sales died down and it was apparent no one else was coming to buy anything, she poked her nose at the main square in front of the Great Hall to see what was going on.

Next thing she knew she was being asked to man one of the ballista... then there were long moments of watch, interrupted by chimeras, manticores, and beholders. Giants and armored kobolds. Undead and other unsavory creatures.

She laid there a moment trying to ride out the sensations and memories. Soot's sounds became more insistent and Mynian felt the pressure on the side of her face of a cat's head being pressed against it. Still squinting, she saw Theo sniff at her nose and mouth, then he immediately pulled back and started making the retching  movements that any cat owner dreaded.

"Oh nay yeh donna!"

Like trying to avoid the incoming spikes from the manticores Mynian swiftly got out of the bed, swept the tuxedo tressym up, and put him down on a spot on the floor that wasn't covered by a rug. Her head spun and she caught herself on one of the bedposts before sitting back on the bed with a thump. Theo hocked up a hairball on the spot, then dared to give her the accusatory look.

---------

The day after that ...

Mynian sat at her desk of tools and pried out another spike from the fur lined cloak she wore during the battle. There was an acidic smell of chimera breath on it that she managed to mostly cull with a bit of magic. It still had a light taint of it remaining so she was going to brush it out with a scented and oiled comb, but the spikes entrenched in it needed to come out first.

A small sneeze followed by a "Coooor" made her look up to one of her tailoring mannequins. There her familiar Dalia was perched, relaxed and unfettered with harness or scroll case or message cannister. The raven with burgundy shoulder feathers floofed up, shook, then made the sound of someone coughing.

The corner of Mynian's lip turned upward, "Me knows. Lil' bit o' a stench, innit? Should o' wore a cloak wif nay fur on it fer tha fight. Donna worry, once tha spikes be out we'll get rid o' tha smell."

Dalia gave a soft quirp of acknowledgment and resumed her restful perching. Mynian had no plans to send out any messages for a while and her familiar deserved the rest. Had Dalia not been perched on the outer temple walls keeping eye on a particular sewer entrance during the battle, she wouldn't have seen the attack on the doors to the temple of Hoar coming in from the other side. The sharp image her familiar gave her of the attack followed by her warning cry bought the group precious moments and they made it to the temple's defense in time.

It was the first time Mynian had utilized Dalia in such a manner and she was still mulling over how she felt about it.

Another sound made her look out the nearby window. It was someone shouting and for a second she tensed up, but then relaxed as the yelling was someone giving directions. A tilted glance outside the window confirmed it as she saw the sunlit form of one of the regular guards atop the walls pointing and speaking to the group below who had a cart full of abomination body parts, telling them where to take it.

It was a far cry from the last time the city went through such a row. The last time it took far too long for carcasses to be removed and repairs to be made. Last time, desperate cries happened long into the next day as the bodies of the dead and loved ones were found. The screams of denial, the dazed trying to lead those in shock to safe areas, exhausted guards upon the walls watching for more attackers, healers working past the point of endurance trying to find just one more wounded to try and save.

Not so this time.

There was no sense of overwhelming loss or that horrid numbness that sank in after a massive battle. The city was already murmuring awake, rolling up its sleaves, and getting the mess cleaned up. She noted the guards were still on alert, occasionally casting glances skyward, but they had an energy to them and they didn't look like they were on their last legs. Light talk wafted through the streets. No blanketing silence of grim grieving, except in a few corners, mostly about the northern graveyard.

She went back to plucking barbs out of her cloak and wrestled with her emotions.

A part of her was glad for the outcome, but another part was somewhat upset over the situation as a whole. Between having only half-a-bell to prepare verses several days was the main difference between this battle and the last. She had to wonder that if it wasn't for that allowed time would they have faired as well? Likely not. This battle was expected, planned for, and (she suspected) purposefully provoked.

Then there was the notion that all of this was just the never ending fallout from the situation with the people of the Wolfs Wood Mist. From Talisin Tarnruth and the Infernal Device and Glowing Sewer Sludge to the Green Dragon influence and attack, to the blunder of the dragonbone graveyard being accidentally created from those dead Green Dragons, and then the two ancient dragons intending to see their final days there ... and now yet another green dragon looking to claim the south lands and mine and the battle with it. Consequences upon consequences.

They were willing ta put tha entire city at risk and possibly more fer this, her eyebrows furrowed at the thought. 'ere be 'oping that this choice won't lead ta yet another unstoppable disaster happenin'.

Unbidden, the image of the council room came to her mind and the sight of the seat she used to occupy still empty. She shot a look up to her familiar who looked at Mynian in return. Her head was resting upon her back, her beak nestled in her feathers. Mynian understood the question.

"Me donna know, Dalia," her hands got to work on removing more spikes, "it be moot ta wonder ifn they would o' made a different choice wif me there. Not me call ta make anymore." She finished quieter, "... it be moot."

She felt the cautious pause, then another image was presented of herself from above, riding her horse, a flash, then the sight of herself again, handing a customer some potions while accepting a bag of coin.

Mynian nodded, "Aye... aye we'll get ta tha road again 'n continue openin' shop in the King's Forest. Waymoot be next on tha list. Then Espar 'n Tyrluk. 'opefuly by then me will know the trail atween Tyrluk 'n Skull Crag so we c'n make a full circle. Ifn not we c'n always poke our noses at High Horn."

For a moment, she was treated to a series of images in flight. The Stormhorns dominated the horizon and the thick green of the wide King's Forest stretched around for miles. Below a glimpse of part of a road that immediately disappeared into the trees. Then a turn out to the Dragonmere, the coastline dotted here and there with city and port, tiny grain like dots upon the dark waters of ships sailing. Another turn and the Wyvernwater presented itself, another forest, the Hullack, and the Thunder Peaks beyond.

The images faded and Mynian was left with the sense of the freedom of flight. The notion that she could fly anywhere she pleased. The sensation lingered as Dalia looked back at her in question. It took a moment for her to understand.

"Ach, Dalia, me ain't got wings!" she stared flatly at her familiar. "'n me ain't about ta sprout any soon. Me got ta learn tha path with foot 'n hoof on tha ground."

The raven seemed to heave a sigh, give a soft "tch", then closed her eyes and nestled her beak more into her feathers.

"Did yeh jus' 'tch' me?!" Mynian looked at Dalia incredulously, "Really! Really? .... oy!"

Dalia started to make snoring sounds.

"Oy!"

[Kaelyth]

-Mere hours after the fighting in Greatgaunt had subsided-

Spruce looked out from the top of a guard tower through tired hazel eyes. The treeline that marked the Bramblewood lay before her, and bodies were piled below. Some had been allies, men from the levies quickly raised by Lord Zorastryl, and others had been foes, vicious creatures and unkind beings from the various local tribes of such fiends that frequented these parts of The Western Reaches. Private Linda Blake, a newly sworn member of the Greatgaunt volunteers and priestess of Illmater, helped bury the town's fallen defenders. Sergeant Murtag Harga was working on the opposite side of corpse disposal, where bodies of evil humanoids were stacked on each other. Spruce tried not to think about it and focused on her watch, but the smell brought back bad memories, as did the sound of crows calling out.

Goblins had poured out from their warrens, gnolls from their caves, kobolds from their network of caverns so close to the town, and a coven of hags, all ever ready to take full advantage of the opportunity of a dragon attacking Valkur's Roar. Were they aligned? Was it part of some master plan? Spruce supposed it didn't matter. They had come to wreak havoc and destruction, which they did, but they didn't take the town. No, the volunteers, the levied troops, and the guards of Greatguant held them back despite all odds. The sounds of it echoed in her mind. Shouting. The clash of steel. The warcries of the Bludsmiths fighting alongside Scooter. The thrumming sounds of the weave flowed through Spruce as she countered the magicks of their foes to protect them, followed by the whooshing sounds of arcana flying back at them.

A young human climbed into the guard tower with her; he looked like he couldn't be much older than seventeen. He saluted Spruce awkwardly. "I-I'm supposed to relieve you, ma'am! Corporal Sannen and Sergeant Irianeus' orders!" Spruce stared at him through her mask, making the young lad more nervous. She nodded slowly and let him take her post; her voice echoed outwards from the mask a little as she left; "If you hear an old woman laughing, sound the bell quickly, yes?" The boy nodded quickly and gulped a little as he took her position in the tower and stared towards the woodline. Spruce climbed down the building and went to the barracks to file her report per Sergeant Harga's request. As she penned it in the logs of the volunteers, she realized it constituted the last of what mental energy she could muster. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess, drifting off to wondering where a certain bard was and having some deep inkling of an idea that he was safe at least, which was just good enough to ease her into a deep trance...

[ladyphoenix]

The priestess of Mystra sighs as she finally relaxes a little. "I think we did a good job Master Burstrum. The graves are back to where they should be. All those that could be raised among the levy and guard have been raised and the remainder have been buried." She sighs, "All that remains is to raise tombstones in honor of the few fallen that did not return trusting in the call of the city to return"

She worked hard to insure that everyone that fought got the benefits of raises, healing magic and blessings, not just reserves and adventurers known to care for each other. "We really should plan a memorial ceremony for the town and with a festive wake to celebrate the lives of those that defended our city after. Something to bring up at the upcoming council meeting I suppose." She starts to plan how to get fireworks and shows of magic for joy and entertainment, not just battle for such a ceremony.

This leaves finally to the priestess leaving the city for the first time since the week before the attack and defense and heading to shallybrook and the temple of mystra to offer her proper prayers of thanks and blessings at the temple. daily prayers in quarters are fine and good but she has a duty to the temple, Shallybrook and the goddess as well and Mystra supported her well in her dealings for the attack.

She does have momentary regrets as she travels to her home at the temple that she did not see the attack through to the dragon and dragon's lair but the fact is her duty to the city and those good folks who lived and defended it came first and the city could not be without defenders even if there was glorious quest of offense into a dragon's lair.

[Bunnyhug]

Kiri arrives at the gates of Valkur's Roar following the aftermath, smiling softly as she notices many Levys still manning the battlements. Happiness swells within from this sight and she takes some time to examine the damage, for which there is not much. After a moment, she resumes her task and heads into the city.