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Thread: The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]
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2012-08-09, 08:02 AM (ISO 8601)
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- May 2010
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- Pacific Northwest
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The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]
Herein Lie The Lost LandsAs I Would Think, so Shall Ye; As I Would Feel, so Shall Ye;
As I Would Do, so Shall Ye; As I Would Not Harm, Nor Shall Ye;
As I Would, so Shall the Clan; As the Clan Would, so Shall I;
As We Would, so Shall Ye.
The People are as One, and Never Shall I Stray From This,
Nor Shall Ye, For to Digress is to Diminish You and Your People
– Final Stanza of the Code of the People of Myth Drannor
"I dedicate this death to the Tel'Quessir." The masked elf said as he plunged his blade through the back of Coronal Ilsevele. A foot of steel slid out from her chest and she slumped over, her dead body held up by the free hand of the assassin. The blade began to darken and the Coronal's body flashed to ash, the now empty clothes flopping on the ground. The ash was caught by the wind and scattered across the marble courtyard, covering the shocked elves with a light gray dusting.
"Today Cormanthyr is born again!" He shouted and thrust the blackened blade up towards the sky.
1378 DR. Year of the Cauldron, Flamerule.
It's been four years since the Elven Crusade retook Myth Drannor from the daemonfey, yet only in the past year have the elves begun to hope again. The return of the Srinshee with the Crownblade and the anointing of a new Coronal are the cause of that hope and the elves are beginning to think of the glory that once was not just as some glimmering memory but as a possibility for the future.
As the Crownblade returns, so to do the elves. Houses that left during the Retreat for safer shores have returned to claim their ancient holdings. The elves are not the only ones to return as a clan of dwarves from Citadel Felbarr marched down from the newly named Silver Marches to live again in the City of Song. Coronal Ilsevele welcomed them but not all are pleased with her decision; many of the noble Houses that left Myth Drannor centuries ago left because they disagreed with Eltargrim Irithyl's pact with the Dales.
Earlier this year during the Greengrass festival two ambassadors from Cormyr arrived in Myth Drannor. Both claim that they serve the true King of Cormyr, each asking the Elven Court for official recognition of their chosen sovereign. Coronal Ilsevele has yet to see either of them as a strong body of Houses have been pushing her for Cormanthyr to remain neutral. A declaration of either party would bring Myth Drannor into Cormyr's civil war and Ilsevele has no desire to do so though she fears the consequences of inaction.
There are plenty of other matters to keep her mind busy though and in the two months since the Ambassadors arrival her refusal to see them has become more than a stalling tactic as she's had to keep a near constant watch on the attitudes and egos of the Houses. Some hidden faction among the Houses has used the turmoil of neighboring Cormyr as an excuse to revive a centuries old shame for the elves; the Eldreth Veluuthra made their first public killing in Kythorn, just days before the Summer Solstice. What should have been a time of rebirth and joy was tainted by six dead dwarves, each impaled by their own picks, stuck against the side of their wagon found a mile from the entrance to the city. Their tools lay broken on the ground beneath them and a single thinblade was left in the body of their leader, the sign of the Victorious Blade of the People.
Since then there have been two more attacks on non-Elves; the nighttime slaying of a halfling traveler and the murder of two human merchants from Shadowdale. The diplomats from Cormyr were placed under house arrest for their own protection after an attempted strike on them. No one died, but the masked elves were not captured.
The unease throughout the city has been magnified by unnatural dreams that trouble the sleep of the N'Tel'Quessir. For the past week those not of Sun Elf blood have been subject to ever increasing distressful dreams and night terrors. The nightmares are varied in their specifics, ranging from death by masked elves to famine, disease and war, though the intent seems clear; leave Myth Drannor. There are rumors that the plagued dreams are beginning to have their effect as one halfling tribe is reportedly preparing to leave. The dwarves are putting pressure on Coronal Ilsevele to find who is responsible, yet she finds her hands tied politically by certain old Houses.
As the city prepares for the Midsummer festival next week Coronal Ilsevele has made it known that she will not tolerate any attacks during the celebration. To that end she's been meeting with different groups of people outside the power of the Elven Court, making no attempts to hide her efforts at circumventing them. Last evening you received an invitation to breakfast with her this morning at her private residence, away from the palace. As you make your way to her home, the city around you is quiet and subdued, the expectant excitement of the festival replaced by the fear of another attack and the phantoms from last nights dream.
SpoilerDane, Aria, Sydil, and Ayorra have all had increasingly unsettling dreams of the sort described above. The dreams don't appear to be personalized though that doesn't reduce their effectiveness as the calamities of murder and war are troubles that everyone can identify with. Mithranix has not been affected by the dreams when he goes into reverie.
Each of you can assume at least a formal familiarity with Coronal Ilsevele, though you may choose to have a more informal relationship if you wish. She's hardworking and true to the dream, but is frustrated by the politics that hamper her.
Go ahead and start how you wish; already there, on the way, etc. I'm interested to read how each of you lives in the city and what your characters reactions are to the past months events.Last edited by Chambers; 2013-04-06 at 08:23 PM.
"We have sent many to Hell, to smooth our way," said I, "and we are standing yet and holding blades. What more?"- Roger Zelazny, This Immortal
Avatar Image: The Great Wave off Kanagawa by Hokusai; bitmap version by me.
Spoiler: PbP Games
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2012-08-10, 01:21 PM (ISO 8601)
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- Apr 2006
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Re: The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]
Sydil was avoiding rest- the dreams were simply too disconcerting to her. It wasn't the violence and disaster they depicted, or the threat and hate they represented that truly troubled her though, it was the little grain of truth they pushed at her: She didn't belong here. She wasn't really what she appeared to be. And if the truth were known, the hate poured on her would eclipse everything done so far.
It was better not to think about it, not to consider it at all. No one knew, and no one had to know. So Sydil locked her fears away inside her and went about her daily life, trying to ignore the darkening circles under her eyes and the fatigue that clung to her; she couldn't go without rest forever, but she went without it as long as she could, only giving up when she couldn't pull herself to her feet anymore.
Though she was always quiet, this week Sydil has been even more withdrawn and terse. Even in Windsong Tower where she is well known and appreciated, she secluded herself in her studies rather than interact with others. She buried herself in books and arcane theory, piling her work around her like a fortress. None of the magi did more than quietly ask if she was alright, even though her schedule was erratic and her hours long- she was an associate, not a true member. Even if they had concerns, it was her business, not theirs.
Celidae was concerned though, and she made it her business. The officer had been meeting with her with increased frequency, as much for recreation as anything else, inviting her to taverns and social events whenever she had the time. Sydil felt fairly sure it was an attempt to encourage and cheer her, but though she didn't refuse, none of it raised her spirits. If anything, it sapped at the little energy she had left.
She was still tired, this morning, but less than she had been. Though she dreaded it, she had rested the night before after receiving the Coronal's invitation. Still, the signs of fatigue could be found on her, from weary eyes to hair that seemed frazzled even when she did her best to tidy it. Nonetheless, she set out to the private residence once she was ready, dressed in a dark blue robe and adorned with a few pieces of silver jewelry- just enough to be respectful of the invitation, but not enough to draw undue attention. Once she arrives, she gives a gentle knock on the door, glancing around her with a hint of worry after she does so.
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2012-08-11, 09:09 PM (ISO 8601)
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- Aug 2011
Re: The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]
"May we never forget our vows, as in life we are in death, the Eternal Guardians of our people. These are powerful words my friends. We have sworn an oath of service to our people that cannot and must not be forsaken. As you are guided now, so shall you guide a younger generation into battle. Your strength and resolve will forever be a shield that our people may shelter behind, be true and never forget your duty." Duty...duty was so much of his being now. It is what made him the leader of this small contingent of warriors. Duty had lead them out to punish the enemies of this refounded nation. It had been a short but bloody battle. The drow raiders easily tracked...not so easily killed. Duty, made him remind the men of their vows before they were released from this last Blade Oath, a reminder of who and what they are...then Home...Home to friends and family. Many of these warriors joined the order late in life...many had families...not all but many. He was never one to keep his men from a previous life...one of his failings...but one that made him proud.
He drew his rapier and held it high. The men and women gathered before him did the same, chests puffed out and it seemed for a moment as if the readied themselves for something. "Now we re-affirm our oaths, draw your blades and let us make ALL OF CORMANTHYR TREMBLE WITH OUR VOICES! *The Dark gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until the world is undone. I shall hold no lands, take no wife, and father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. All I do I do for my people, all that I am I am for my people. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realm. I pledge my life, my death, and my honor to Cormanthyr for this night and all the nights to come! * Go now and enjoy your leave, I believe there is a festival soon, be merry." Swords were sheathed, and backs were patted as the square cleared. A smile creased Mithranix's face. His men would do well with the leave.
The reports from the city had been troubling these last few days...nightmares...schemes...murderers and monsters. Those nightmares had even effected his warriors. Those men whose blood wasn't as pure as the sun...had their reveries filled with the same horrors as those in the city, the latest were reports of a successful assassination of the Coronal. That had shaken his men deeply. It was this dream that had truly brought his cadre of warriors back to Myth Drannor. He needed answers....hopefully someone would be able to ease his mind.*
There was also the talk of murderers...elves killing the other races...a horror not known for sometime. This was how many of his kin thought the court should be run, elves alone making choices. He knew that elves alone were not capable of claiming and holding their ancient homes. Something that even the elder blades had begun to admit as the wars of reclaimation had ended. Thoughts full and his body begining to demand food he made his way into the heart of the city.
It was then that a young elven boy stepped forward with his invitation to breakfast, duty. It was never done. The Coronal her same self had requested his presence in her home...to breakfast...she was a different one. But the warrior knew enough of the court to know when discretion would be necessary, that or maybe it was just a meal to be shared among friends? It had been sometime since he had shared a meal with his old comrade...though that was to informal a term for the relationship, he had been a guardian, a protector of sorts, appointed by senior blades, and disguised as a common ranger for the majority of the fighting in the ruined Myth Drannor, in this way he had watched her and kept her safe. On the day of her coronation his deception was revealed, the day the Eternal Order swore to serve her and her refounded nation. Yes maybe a simple day to rehash old tales and praise old scars. It would be nice.
He changed directions and hurried to a local vendor, a man known for possessing the very best of fruits. There he would pay entirely to much (10gp) for 6 ripe oranges. Then continue onto the home mentioned in his missive. He hummed an old marching tune as he went, his thoughts momentarily shaken away from all the dark that threatened so much of his homeland...all this would likely occur over the protestrations of his Blade Guide...that crusty old warrior saw little need for such distractions.*
Soon he would find himself waiting at a closed door, a hooded and robed...smelled like a Mage...And in this moment he realized that he may be under dressed for this particular engagement. He was wearing the same mud spattered and travel worn cloak and boots he had marched into the city with this morning. His armor was antique, his hair pulled back...and not a drop of any of the fragrances or makeup that should be required in the presence of....well her majesty...oh my. To late to leave now. He would wear his sheepish smile as he approached. Hopefully no one noticed. My he smelled of the forest and sweat...oh my.
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2012-08-12, 12:46 AM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Dec 2008
- Location
- Malsheem, Nessus
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Re: The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]
Ayorra rose at dawn, as was her custom. Though she had spent several months in the city, old habits die hard, and she had not picked up the custom of "sleeping in," as some of the non-elves here refered to it, or "a large waste of time" as she refers to it. The elderly Hathran isn't particularly fond of her lavish quarters in any case--she would prefer more sparse Rashemi furniture and decorations, but appearances must be maintained--so she spends most of her time outside of her quarters, making friends with the native population and doing magical research in her spare time to keep herself sharp.
She had little desire to speak with the Cormyrian delegations, though she arrived in the city at roughly the same time they did. She was here to be ambassador to the elves, not to the humans, and she held no small disdain for a people who couldn't even govern their own country effectively. After a few offhand comments about how the Wychlaran would never allow a civil war to happen, the Cormyrian delegations didn't seem particularly interested in speaking with her either.
The third day of the last tenday was the anniversary of her husband's death, and she spent it locked in her quarters, communing with the spirits and reminiscing. The unfamiliarity of the local spirits made her long for home even more than the ongoing strange dreams did, which made last night's invitation a welcome relief from the introspection. That the local spirits had no idea what was causing said dreams was even more disconcerting. After performing her usual morning rituals to bind various spirits and magic to herself, she donned her formal robes and mask and went to call upon the coronal.
When she arrived at the designated place a few minutes early, Ayorra spotted an elf already waiting by the door. The elf looked tired and nervous, but then Ayorra expected that from a relatively young scholar invited to meet her leader. She had passed the elf once or twice in Windsong Tower, she believed, but they hadn't spoken and the Rashemi wasn't familiar with her area of research. As Ayorra approached the door she noted another elf approaching, this one closer to her age (or the equivalent, for an elf) and not wearing the usual formal elven attire. The witch smiled momentarily as she noted his sheepish grin, glad to see someone else who was concerned for results more than appearances, and she changed paths to meet him.
"Good morning, friend," she greets him politely. "I notice you are slightly under-dressed for the occasion. If you will permit me, I can assist you with that." Many Rashemi berserkers went directly from the battlefield to meetings with Hathran during long engagements, and Ayorra was used to dealing with worse than mud stains. With a wave of her hand, she prestidigitated away the mud and faded patches in the elf's cloak and added a good dose of sandalwood and citrus scents for good measure; those elves and their love for perfumes never ceased to amuse her. This done, she extended a hand to the warrior. "Well met. I am called Ayorra, daughter of Danirra, of the Selskhiva family. I do not believe we have been introduced...and if we have met in the Tower," she adds to Sydil, "I do not recall it."
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2012-08-12, 02:35 PM (ISO 8601)
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- May 2010
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- Pacific Northwest
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Re: The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]
Castle Cormanthor was one of the first buildings repaired after the elves cleared the daemonfey from the Myth Drannor and today it stands as it once did centuries before, the largest and most fortified building in the city. Within its walls the Elven Court resides and rules, the factious politics creeping into every part of the castle. The Coronals official residence is in the castle, dozens of private rooms and separate staff to attend to her. The symbolism is obvious and intended; the Coronals life is inescapably tied to the ruling of Cormanthyr. When she announced that she was leaving the Castle to live in a nearby villa the Court did not react favorably.
She and her betrothed, the resurrected Fflar Starbrow Melruth have taken residence in a former noble house next to the Castle grounds. The villa was once the guest home of House Irithyl, the former line of Cormanthyr's Coronal's. Her message and challenge to the Court was clear, though unspoken; I stand with Eltargrim, his kin, and his decision. Where do you stand?
Though she still goes to the Castle to meet the Court, she's made no attempt to hide her meetings held at the villa in the past week. Small groups of people with specialized talents have been seen moving about the city on private investigations, each bearing silver leaf, the personal mark of the Coronal. Some wag in the ale houses called them Ilsevele's Leafs and the name has stuck. The Court is upset with her for going around them and delegating authority to what amount to deputies, and some suggest that is precisely why she's doing git.
Though nominally a private residence the Coronal is never without her Royal Guards and the elf warriors that stand outside the villa make no pretense at disguises. Apparently notified of your visit one takes out a magnificent gem and holds it up to his eye, looking through the amber gemstone at each of you in turn. The other guard simply watches, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade. The guard nods and replaces the gem, then comes to attention and offers Mithranix a salute. "Good morning General, Akh'Faern." He says in Elven to Mithranix and Sydil and then turns to Ayorra. "Gentle morning, Ambassador." He says in accented Common. The other guard presses his hand against the door and whispers a brief word of power, then opens the door and stands aside. "Please enter."
The foyer beyond the door is simply decorated with curving wooden furniture that appear to be grown from the building rather than placed there. A staircase wraps around the circular room and leads up and open doorways on either side lead to the rest of the house. The smell of cooking fruit wafts from the west doorway and greets you while standing outside, and passing through you feel a strong shock that only lasts a moment. The guards watch your reaction to the wards and then close the door behind you. A voice calls out from the west doorway. "Come in, please. Breakfast is almost ready."
The west doorway leads to a kitchen where Fflar Melruth is frying cakes over the fire. Small fruits are cut and placed on plates on the nearby table and a carafe of deep purple juice is in the middle, next to a plate of hard breads and cheeses. "Ilsevele will be down shortly." Fflar says as he looks over his shoulder and nods at you. If it seems strange for one of the resurrected legends of elven culture to be frying berry cakes while wearing a simple green and brown leather tunic and leggings, he doesn't seem to take mind.
SpoilerFor those following along on the map, the villa is number 11 on the map, marked C11 on the reference key.
The gemstone is clearly a Gem of True Seeing and the wizards in the group recognize the warding as a Forbiddance spell and Hallow spell, with the guard speaking the password for you all for Forbiddance. It's not clear yet what spell is tied to Hallow. For reference, everyone in the Hallow effect is protected by a Magic Circle against Evil.
Also unless I note otherwise Elves in the city will be speaking in Elven.Last edited by Chambers; 2012-08-12 at 02:37 PM.
"We have sent many to Hell, to smooth our way," said I, "and we are standing yet and holding blades. What more?"- Roger Zelazny, This Immortal
Avatar Image: The Great Wave off Kanagawa by Hokusai; bitmap version by me.
Spoiler: PbP Games
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2012-08-12, 11:11 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Nov 2009
Re: The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]
"Damn it all!"
Aria just smirks from the doorway of the bedroom, already dressed and ready to head out. "I warned you that the message might have been an important one when we got here yesterday. Tis not my fault you were more concerned with rest." Dane glares at the half-elf from under the hem of the shirt he was attempting to hurriedly put on, yet failing miserably due to said haste.
"You weren't much help either given how quickly you were dropping things once we arrived. You little temptress." A low giggle was the paladin's only reply. "Either way we're late for a meeting with the Coronal, the Coronal of all people! As if our presence didn't offend some of these elves enough this aught to make it worse." For the most part the duo had been warmly received by the majority of the inhabitants of the restored Myth-Drannor, especially given their service in the retaking of it, but it seemed that the elves who wished for the city to be a place devoid of non-elves had a special bone to pick with them. Likely it rested squarely with Corellon Larethian's evident favor of the two yet that a noble golden dragon had decided to bond with an 'inferior' also seemed to irk them.
"Well nothing can be done besides move on and get there now no?" Aria strides over and helps disentangle her partner from the shirt and tie it properly about him. The duo had only arrived last night after visiting with their friend Marcus Kerland, making the journey out of concern of recent events within the city. With an acknowledging grunt Dane flicks his wrist and duos outfits immediately changed. Turning from travel stained traveling garb into clean clothes, silver with gold scale edging, cut in a simple but popular style within Myth Drannor amongst the lower court. Dane finally dons his swordbelt, the hilt of the blade cast in Corellon Larethian's crescent moon and sets his holy symbol about his neck.
Hustling out the door of their apartment they eschew flight taking instead a brisk walking pace as the paladin sets about casting his daily wards. When they arrive its just as the door closes, evidently having admitted someone else given the barren street, and wait patiently for the guard's attention.
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2012-08-12, 11:20 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- May 2010
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- Pacific Northwest
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Re: The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]
"Fair morning, Sha'Tel’Quessir." One of the guards says as you approach. He takes his hand from his weapon hilt and places it against his breast and then bows from the waist. The other guard only nods his head as you see he's pulled an amber gem from a pocket and is looking at both of you through it. He startles a bit when he looks at Aria, but only the hint of a smile appears on his face. Replacing the gem he places a hand on the door and whispers something, then opens it and steps aside. "Please, enter."
SpoilerSame effect as above for the wards, neither of them harm you or Aria.Last edited by Chambers; 2012-08-12 at 11:21 PM.
"We have sent many to Hell, to smooth our way," said I, "and we are standing yet and holding blades. What more?"- Roger Zelazny, This Immortal
Avatar Image: The Great Wave off Kanagawa by Hokusai; bitmap version by me.
Spoiler: PbP Games
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2012-08-12, 11:21 PM (ISO 8601)
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- Apr 2006
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Re: The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]
Sydil watches the others approach, not saying anything as they speak, until she's addressed. She manages to give a small smile and a bow to Ayorra as she introduces herself. "Sydil of Silverstream."
If she was going to say anything else, it's interrupted by the guards and opening of the door, which she swiftly steps through, whispering a barely audible 'thank you' to the two warriors who let her in. What little drowsiness she had was at least temporarily banished by the magical jolt that passed through her, causing her to jump. She looks around with curiosity and some wariness, but eventually comes to focus on Fflar, her mind flicking through the facts she knew of him. While history was not her primary focus, she knew more of the hero due to his past involvement in the military of Myth Drannor- something of no small interest to her. And of course, his recent adventures were more common knowledge.
After a moment, she realizes she's staring, and quickly jerks her head away, taking a seat at the table and keeping her eyes on her plate. She feels she ought to say something, at least some mild pleasantry, but she has a difficult time bringing any to mind, especially as the warmth of the nearby fire threatens to lull her back towards sleep.
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2012-08-13, 02:12 AM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Dec 2008
- Location
- Malsheem, Nessus
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Re: The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]
Ayorra nods to the guards in thanks as she enters the room and beholds the simple breakfast fare and the distinguished chef. She smiles warmly and bows her head to Fflar as she takes her seat. His and the coronal's willingness to set aside pointless protocol and the frivolities of rank appealed to her more practical sensibilities; the fact that he was doing his own cooking, where some nobles she'd met couldn't even hold a skillet the right way up without a servant's assistance, spoke quite well for him.
She decides not to stand on protocol if he won't and begins pouring four glasses of juice and passing them around the table. She pours a fifth and sixth glass when a half-elf and a human enter the room. She wonders idly whether they are a spellcaster-and-bodyguard pair in the tradition of Rashemen, the swordsman attending the lady as is proper, but recognizes the thought as bit of projection on her part and dismisses it. "Many thanks for your hospitality, Lord Melruth," she says once the drinks are all handed out.
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2012-08-13, 11:37 AM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Aug 2011
Re: The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]
A huge grin stretches across Mithranix's face as he felt the magic course over him, then the citrus, wonderful."Thank you for your ministrations madam ambassador, please understand that I am not the standard when it comes to breakfast party guests, I am certainly a bit more...dashing. Serious of course" His large crooked grin turning into a frumpy frown for a second. His eyes full of mirth...suddenly very hard and determined."But dashing none the less."
He turned his attentions back to the guards and returned the given salute."You honor me with your memory, but I have not been a general for sometime. Thank you for warming an old mans heart. I charge you to remember the words you spoke when you became a guardian to this family, stay true and stand firm. You are all that protects the Light of the Tel'Quessir from the gathering dark. I am honored to stand in the presence of one selected above his peers to be tue guardian of the first Coronal of Cormanthyr in an age." he would bow deeply before the two guardsman before entering the villa. His face scrunched up for a brief second as he looked to the ground. Had he really just said all of that? It seems that old Allistron was rubbing off on him more than he would have liked. Speaking of old disembodied warrior elf spirits. A small note of light would sit patiently at Mithranix's shoulder, the old man liked to ride...
He would place himself at the end of the strange assortment of people that made it's way into the Coronal's home. A sudden wave of anxiety washing over him as he realized that duty had just come calling yet again....oh yes something unpleasant would be asked of him here. Of that he was certain. Such an eclectic group, so many different talents. Yes. Duty would strike again. He was tied to duty, it was what drove him now.*
He was amused by that thought as he made his way to the bit of table he was claiming for his own. He was such a lover of fine cheeses. He thought he recognized the majority of those gathered her today. All fine warriors or mages of some sort. Should be an interesting meal, certainly should be. He would place his bag or oranges on the table and look about to the others.*
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2012-08-15, 12:22 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Nov 2009
Re: The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]
"And to you as well." Dane replies with a bow and Aria a curtsy. "Many thanks for your duty, may Corellon Larethian's grace ever shine upon you." As the duo enter Dane is relieved to see that they are not as late as he had feared. Though there is the feeling of being slightly overdressed.
"Greetings everyone." Dane says as he and Aria approach the table. Dane pulling a seat out for his companion to sit in.
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2012-08-16, 02:34 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- May 2010
- Location
- Pacific Northwest
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Re: The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]
Ftar finished frying the last of the cakes as Ilsevele came down the stairs. Though wearing a simple yet elegant dress of white with yellow trim, Ar'Cor'Kerym was at her side, its silver sheath hanging from a black and gold woven belt. "Good morning, friends." She says and bows her head slightly. "I'm glad that you could join us. It's not quite Immilmar, Ambassador, but I hope you'll feel at home here as much as you would in your own land." The Coronal is still in the bloom of her life yet its clear that the weight of the responsibility placed on her is taking its toll. Her eyes seem tired and there are shadows under them, marks of troubled sleep, an unusual occurrence for elves.
She walks over to Ftar as he's placing the berry cakes on the table and rests her hand on his shoulder for a moment. He smiles at her and they both sit down, the simple show of affection not needing words. Ftar fills a glass of the juice and raises it. "Blessings to Corellon, blessings to the people, and blessings to the peoples friends." He says. "Please, eat. It's not often I get to cook for guests."
The food is fresh and light on the stomach, though the berry cakes appear to be an old recipe that has a much sharper taste than usual, though still good. Ilsevele waits for people to have eaten enough to sate their appetites and then looks up at all of you. "I wish that we could be meeting under other conditions so that we might be able to simply enjoy smothered company but these are troubled times for our city. Though todays troubles might seem to be small to where Myth Drannor was but years ago, I feel its more important in other ways. When the fiends held the city all we could do was hope to reclaim it, and now that we have we must not let that hope fade."
She pauses to rub her temples with one hand, then shakes her head. "As I'm sure you're all aware of the whole city has been upset by these murders and the dreams. I am convinced that the two are related, but I have no evidence, only suspicions. I have delegated other people to investigate the slayings and I'm confident the guilty party will be brought to justice. I'd like to ask you all to find out what you can about the dreams and put a stop to them. They've been getting worse...last night I saw my own death, but that was not the worst of it." She takes another sip of juice and you notice her other hand is tightly gripping the hilt of the Crown Blade.
"After I died the dream froze, every person in it suspended in action, my own ashes caught in the air by the still wind. The vision trembled as if someone were holding a picture frame and shaking it and I heard a voice speak. Every lie must be dead for the truth to live, for the blades to be united each wielder must die. The vision then shattered like a mirror and I saw a reflection of myself in shard, each reflection different than the one before. Some were...horrible to see, and admit that it could be the truth."
"I don't think the message was part of the dream...it felt like someone had intercepted the dream in transit and waited for it to run its course, then took over. As unsettling as it was it gave me an idea that you might pursue."
She stands up and stretches and begins clearing the table of the used plates, then stops besides the wooden countertop. "I know three things about these dreams. The first is that they are affecting all but the Ar-tel-quessir, even plaguing the reveire of other elves. The second is that the Masters of Windsong have informed me that the dreams are somehow using the power of the mythal, which I quite don't understand as it hasn't been active for centuries. The third is that someone was able to interfere with one of the dreams, mine. If one person can do it, it can be done again by others.""We have sent many to Hell, to smooth our way," said I, "and we are standing yet and holding blades. What more?"- Roger Zelazny, This Immortal
Avatar Image: The Great Wave off Kanagawa by Hokusai; bitmap version by me.
Spoiler: PbP Games
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2012-08-16, 09:31 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Aug 2011
Re: The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]
Mithranix's eyes never locked onto his Coronal as soon as she entered the room. They took in her weariness and his heart broke...so much strength was being stolen from her...so much responsibility...duty. It was a beast all it's own, and mastering it would often break you...it seemed to be breaking his queen. His heart broke and broke some more. He poked at his cakes and hardly touched the cheese. No matter the task his Coronal laid before him...he would give it hell...he would master it and hope against hope that he could ease the burden of leading the people.
Magic...dreams...changing dreams. He felt out of his element, how could he help...even with all the knowledge he had aquired through his long life... As Ilselve and Fflar put away the dishes and left over food, he racked his brain trying to come up with a time when maybe..something like this had occured to his people...or another people in history.
He stared off as he thought, listening not so very intently to any conversations that happened around him. He was deep in his thoughts...
Spoiler
Knowledge History
(1d20+23)[29]
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2012-08-16, 11:59 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Dec 2008
- Location
- Malsheem, Nessus
- Gender
Re: The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]
Ayorra nods and smiles softly at the coronal's comparison to Immilmar. While the decor in the elven lands differed drastically from the city in which she was born, both were lovingly crafted by spellcasters working in harmony and goodwill, which lent this old city some comfort and familiarity for an old, lonely woman. In the elven tongue, she responded, "I do indeed, Coronal. Your invitation is appreciated and your hospitality unmatched." Those words might be empty platitudes when uttered to any other superficial noble hosting her in the elven lands, but she truly meant them here; the coronal's unassuming appearance and quiet confidence had convinced her (as if she had needed any convincing) that her trust in the coronal was well-placed.
The Hathran listened quietly as the coronal explained the situation. Her ornate mask concealed her features from her companions, but when she spoke up after the coronal finished, there was definitely a troubled note in her voice. "I am familiar with the existence of and principles behind dream-altering magic," she mused out loud, "but these nightmares do not share the usual characteristics. They are not usually directed with such precision of timing as was seen in your dream, Lady Coronal, and of course they do not affect those who do not dream. I am familiar with the workings of mythals only on a theoretical level, but I cannot think of a way the mythal could be used to bypass the normal limitations. The mythal's involvement might explain why so many are affected, but not why they are affected in the first place--and not, of course, how a long-dead mythal remains powered."
After pondering for a moment, Ayorra turned toward Sydil. "You are a scholar of Windsong Tower; have you heard anything more from the Masters there regarding their research into this matter? If you know anything more, that would assist us in determining where to begin our search." She shifted her gaze towards Aria and added, "And, pardon me, but I am not familiar with your area of expertise, or that of your companion. Have you any knowledge of magical theory that might assist us?"
SpoilerKnowledge (History) to see if Ayorra remembers Adaerglast: (1d20+26)[42]
Knowledge (Arcana) to see what Ayorra knows about mythals regarding re-powering supposedly-dead mythals and using them to modify and enhance spells to do what they normally can't: (1d20+26)[29]
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2012-08-17, 11:38 AM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Apr 2006
- Gender
Re: The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]
"Well, I would tentatively agree with our Coronal's assessment of her dream." Sydil replies in a quiet voice. "To affect this many people, it seems like it would be far easier to strive for a more general result than to send out many specific dreams. The dreams experienced by most likewise indicate that what personalization the dreams have is supplied by the dreamer, not the magic itself.
"The difference between the second part of the dream and the first seems to indicate a more personalized magic taking effect. It could be from the same source, or a different one, but it was likely specifically targeted, whereas the dream was not."
"Dream magic is fairly rare and not something I've studied in particular. What I do know is that this particular working of it is difficult to shield against. The masters at Windsong Tower haven't been able to find a ward successful against it. Unfortunately, that brings up many more possibilities for who might have sent the message. " Sydil speaks this last phrase apologetically, lowering her eyes. "Without that, I would have said anyone who could have pierced the Coronal's wards was surely someone of note and power- but if they're simply riding on this already existing magic and adding their own touch... there are many mages who might accomplish that."
"The only master of Oneiromancy I'm aware of died a long time ago. Last I know of it, his research was intact, but we're no longer sure where it is. Lethanil Greenvine, was his name. He stored all his research in a selu'kiira... it's possible that it survives. If we found it, we might be able to learn more. It's also possible that whoever is doing this found it."
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2012-08-19, 11:37 AM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- May 2010
- Location
- Pacific Northwest
- Gender
Re: The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]
"There are many selu'kiira that are unaccounted for. Finding Arfaern Lethanils would be a great treasure, even if it proved to offer no help, though I doubt that would be the case." Ftar says. He leans back in his chair and places his hands on his lap, fingers intertwined. "When I was dead I saw and learned many things that are hidden from mortal understanding. As is the case with such knowledge it faded from me when I returned to the People, though glimpses of forgotten memory would drift back sometimes during my reveries."
His eyes lose focus as he stares past you all, gazing at something unseen. "Sometimes it would be memories of the day, but placed in old settings from centuries ago. Other times I would feel as if I were still in Arvandor, not yet returned to life and not wishing to do so. Very rarely though I would recall reveries from my youth, yet they were not as I had experienced them in that time. The vision would be ephemeral and glossy, the edges of the memory blurring with others around it that were not my own." His eyes refocus and he glances at Sydil. "I spoke with the High Mages about the meanings and they said that it sounded like what N'Tel’Quessir call dreaming. They said that there was an entire plane comprised of dreams, and that every dream that ever was lives there still. These dreams slowly stopped and my reverie returned to normal; they attributed the strange effects to my soul gradually slipping free of whatever touch Arvandor had."
SpoilerKnowledge: The Planes
DC 15
SpoilerThe Plane of Dreams The Plane of Dreams, usually simply called Dream, is where dreams cavort, heedless of the waking world. Dreams once dreamt fade into obscurity, but their echoes resonate forever throughout Dream. Carcasses of particularly vile dreams charged with dark emotion sometimes rampage from dreamscape to dreamscape, giving rise to terrible nightmares.
Into the Plane of Dreams come dreamers, whether they will it or not, every time they dream. Their minds take flight to the plane of Dreams. The edges of Dream expand and contract with temporary dreamscapes as dreamers on every plane sleep and wake. Dream would exist even if there were no dreamers though.
The many dreamscapes created by dreamers last but a short time and they rarely impringe on each other accidentally. However there are those knowingly walk between dreamscapes, doing as they will. Sometimes such lucid dreams pierce the very heart of Dream, where average dreams dare not roam
DC 25
SpoilerThe Plane of Dreams as the following traits.
- Subjective Direction Gravity
- Flowing Time (10 minutes in Dream to 1 minute on the Prime)
- Infinite size
- Highly Morphic
- No Elemental or Energy Traits
- Mildly Neutral-Aligned
- Normal Magic, though any spell slots or prepared spells cast while on Dream are not expended upon returning and effects from spells cast while in Dream cease once the traveler leaves.
The Plane of Dreams is coterminous to the Prime and may be reached through the Plane of Sleep (which living creatures across the multiverse acess without conscious thought while they slumber. Spells such as Dream Travel are also able to take creatures into the Plane of Dreams.
DC 30
SpoilerTravelers can attempt to wake themselves from a threatening dreamscape, and usually no harm comes to the dreamers body regardless of what happens to their dream form.
Within Dreamheart, the center of the Plane of Dreams, this is not often the case. The Dreamheart is a roiling boil of dream-born landscapes that melt, burn, grow and dissolve without any rhyme of reason. Balls of fire, pockets of air, chunks of earth and waves of watter battle against each other. Amid the chaose, half-melted dreamscapes drift - lakes, buildings, streets, strange creatures and small islands. Some provide shelter against the tempest but others are open to its deadly effects. These are dreamscapes that have been pulled into the Dreamheart, usually after their dreamers have awakened. It is more difficult for a traveler to awaken themselves while in Dreamheart and they risk real death while traveling there."We have sent many to Hell, to smooth our way," said I, "and we are standing yet and holding blades. What more?"- Roger Zelazny, This Immortal
Avatar Image: The Great Wave off Kanagawa by Hokusai; bitmap version by me.
Spoiler: PbP Games
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2012-08-19, 10:58 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Aug 2011
Re: The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]
Mithranix listened intently to the old hero as he spoke of lost artifacts, then of his disturbing dreams. The recovery of as many artifacts of Myth Drannor and Cormanthyr were part of his orders eternal mission. It had long ago been deemed neccessary to protect what was left of the Peoples history and culture as possible. You are where you came from. So it was with history and with the crafts and magic of the elves. He knew his order had recovered many items of ancient power. "My lord and lady, I request permission to speak freely about these unsettling events." He was deferring to those he viewed as his betters, the Coronal and her husband.
Silently he would begin to converse with the Blade Guide that had helped him so much during his life. He needed to know if the old man knew anything about that old wizards things, or maybe even the old wizard himself "Have you ever heard of this mage they speak of, Lethanil Greenvine? What of his tower and his selu'kiira? I know it is a long shot my friend...but I feel as if this is a dark plot against our queen, and against our people."Last edited by TheFallenSon; 2012-08-19 at 11:06 PM.
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2012-08-20, 03:41 AM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Dec 2008
- Location
- Malsheem, Nessus
- Gender
Re: The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]
Ayorra nods at Sydil's explanation of the different parts of the coronal's dream and replies, "Indeed, the second portion of the dream seems to have been more targeted, and I was speaking of the precision of that second portion. The usual dream-altering magic places its user into a trance if the target is not currently sleeping and begins the dream when they fall asleep; for the dream to have transitioned at the point that it did implies that whoever or whatever sent the dream had good information as to when Coronal Ilsevele went to sleep as well as how long the first portion would last. And that is a very disturbing scenario indeed."
At Fflar's description of a plane of dreams, Ayorra tilts her head thoughtfully. "I know something of this plane, Lord. Many of Rashemen's scholars have studied it to some degree in relation to our local spirits, to learn more about the manner in which they send us prophetic dreams and visions. Our research on that front is inconclusive," she says with a small shrug, "but it has taught us about the possibility of changing individual dreamers' personal dreamscapes from within and without, the malleability of the plane, and the very real danger of true death if a dreamer strays into the more dangerous regions. If the Plane of Dreams is somehow involved, that might explain the fine control exhibited, as well as the bypassing of normal immunity to dreams."
The witch falls silent for a moment, thinking. If a mythal were to incorporate dreamwalking magic...focus that energy over a wide area...potential to draw some into the Dreamheart...would depend on one's ability to observe it...necessary scale, potentially dozens of arcanists...what possible motivation...? Shaking her head and looking around at the others, she concludes aloud, "Wild speculation at this point is unwise. The best courses of action at this point would seem to be either selu'kiira or traveling to Dream, barring further insight."
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2012-08-21, 08:46 AM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Apr 2006
- Gender
Re: The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]
"I'm not sure where we would begin in searching for the kiira. We could try divining for it, but I can't imagine that I'd bring anything that hasn't already been tried." Sydil says slowly. "But I believe I have magic that could take us to the Dreamheart, though I didn't prepare it today- um, just... I don't do a lot of planar travel. I didn't think it would come up."
She glances around at the others. "So, if that's what we want to do, I could be ready by tomorrow."
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2012-08-21, 11:25 AM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Nov 2009
Re: The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]
"For the blades to be united each wielder must die..." Dane drums his fingers on the tabletop as he contemplates that last part. Eyes flicking to the blade at Ilsevele's side. "And on top of that it was using the power of the mythal. I can't help but wonder if perhaps its some reference to restoring it but then one has to wonder what the other 'blades' are if that is the case."
"Perhaps the dreams being so widespread was a means of searching for the right person?" Aria pipes in.
SpoilerKnowledge nobility and royalty (1d20+13)[19]
Checking for any notable peoples that are known to be about that might beable to do something like the dream stuff.
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2012-08-23, 04:08 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- May 2010
- Location
- Pacific Northwest
- Gender
Re: The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]
Ilsevele taps the hilt of the Crown Blade at her side. "This was the first blade I thought of, though the three are not the only blades to have recently returned." She says and nods toward Mithranix. "Keep counsel with whom you trust, Ar,Keryn, but not all who would listen do so with friendly ears."
Fflar taps one finger on the table. "Divination may prove useful. I don't imagine there are many that even remember Arfaern Lathanial, save for the sages and those that are performing these magics. Wandering without a clue in Dream sounds like a recipe for disaster. If we still had Ary'Faern'Kerym...." He says and shakes his head. "It is lost for now, though I hope not forever."
"The library of Candlekeep may hold a clue as to how the nightmares walk, but I fear it would be weeks, possibly months before it might be found. We do not have the luxury of time." Ilsevele says as she sits back down at the table. "I fear that whomever these hidden mages are they are quickly buildling up to some finale, something that we must stop. Midsummer festival is only five days away...I cannot fathom they would wait longer. Mayhap they need that day to work an even more powerful ritual. Long have mages drawn power from the festival days, though not always for the better."
"If you cannot find Arfaern Lethanils selu'kiira soon you might be able to meet this mage within his own spell. I do not know what would happen if you were to dreamwalk while the nightmares are about, but it seems a better course than searching all of Dreamheart.""We have sent many to Hell, to smooth our way," said I, "and we are standing yet and holding blades. What more?"- Roger Zelazny, This Immortal
Avatar Image: The Great Wave off Kanagawa by Hokusai; bitmap version by me.
Spoiler: PbP Games
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2012-08-23, 05:22 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Aug 2011
Re: The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]
Mithranix thinks carefully before he speaks, his face a clearly showing some sort of internal battle. This lasts for just a minute or so, but soon the agony of his thoughts slows, and he decides...he will speak. "It is spoken in the street and among the drink houses of the city, that several of the noble houses have utilized the services of a certain merchant to recover artifacts from the days of the Weeping War. As my lord has already mentioned, many of those artifacts were lost when the city fell. That being said...My youth was spent,uh, earning a living in and earning a living on the fringes of law abiding society. I have many friends who walk darker paths than what I have chosen. Those who hover in a realm of grey when it comes to right and wrong. I believe that these men and women may be able to help us locate this merchant. He may have Arfaern Lethanils selu'kiira, if he does not he could have sold that it back to that ancient worthies family...or at the very least a family who claims to have a connection to him. It is an idea, a path we may find ourselves wondering down."
Last edited by TheFallenSon; 2012-08-23 at 05:22 PM.
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2012-08-28, 12:44 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Dec 2008
- Location
- Malsheem, Nessus
- Gender
Re: The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]
Ayorra looks from Mithranix to the Coronal and taps her chin with one slender finger, pondering. "There is no particular reason I can see," she muses, "that would prevent us from both locating the selu'kiira and searching Dream for the source of the nightmares. Searching for the kiira by day and for our enemy by night would allow us to accomplish twice as much before Midsummer arrives, and though the non-elves here require more sleep than the rest, I am used to staying awake for a good day or two at once during pitched battles."
With a note of self-deprecating humor in her voice, she adds, indicating Dane and Aria, "And if I can manage that, I am sure the young ones will be still be full of energy and running rings around their elders by the third night. The only concern will be ensuring we have enough of a rest each day for the spellcasters among us to refresh our magic, but that, too, should not be problematic until we are much closer to either goal, in which case further preparations can be made."
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2012-08-29, 08:45 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- May 2010
- Location
- Pacific Northwest
- Gender
Re: The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]
"Though Laranlors Ealoeth's ears would burn red if he heard me say it, I would not be surprised if his House were involved with the selling of the People's relics." Fflar says with a look that's a mix of amusement and anger. "I know they own controlling interest in the so called Shop of Secrets and the Silvershingles Guild Hall. Aster Enoctor's shop has been known to waver between legalities, though the silversmith guildmasters would cry insult if any such thing were said about their Hall."
Ilsevele nods and tilts her head slightly to one side as if listening to something. She frowns and then reaches into a pouch on her belt and draws out five silver brooches shaped into the form of an acorn laying on three leaves. "I apologize that I must end our meeting early." She hesistates for a moment and then smiles thinly. "My presence seems to be required elsewhere suddenly." Fflar looks at her with an eyebrow raised but doesn't speak up.
"These are symbols of my personal rune. Any servant of the city will recognize it and known you are acting under my orders. If need be, you can press the acorn and whisper a brief message and it will reach my ears." She says and then taps the hilt of the crown blade with her fingers. "As someone has apparently just done."
She forces her fingers to stop and looks around at you all. "Please, don't hesitate to contact me if you find something important. I...and the city, are depending on you."
SpoilerSo. Where to?"We have sent many to Hell, to smooth our way," said I, "and we are standing yet and holding blades. What more?"- Roger Zelazny, This Immortal
Avatar Image: The Great Wave off Kanagawa by Hokusai; bitmap version by me.
Spoiler: PbP Games
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2012-08-30, 08:38 AM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Apr 2006
- Gender
Re: The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]
Sydil listens to everything carefully, considering options. If divining information might be a possibility, then that is one of the first things she could do. She needed very little preparation to use such magic- it came naturally to her. Maybe if she got to her books and could study and use her magic at the same time she could come up with some good hints to follow.
As Ayorra speaks, Sydil thinks of a restorative magic she could offer, and has the realization that she should have been doing this for herself before. It would have been a better strategy than what she had been doing, at least. However, she remains quiet as the Coronal offers the brooches and ends the meeting.
Sydil quickly stands and gives a bow to Ilsevele, not so much as a formal gesture as a real show of gratitude and submission. "I will do everything I can to help." She promises before accepting one of the brooches.
Once the meeting has been dismissed and they've made their way outside, Sydil will speak to the others again. "I've a little talent in restorative magic. If we wish to, I am sure I can sustain us without sleep for as long as we might need to accomplish our mission- or, well, until we don't have anymore time to do. I might suggest we do some research on the kiira first? I could use that time to perform some divination that might give us a lead."
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2012-09-03, 05:07 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Aug 2011
Re: The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]
He would listen intently as everyone spoke and look terribly interested when the magical trinkets were mentioned. He took his with a look of reverence on his face, he was ready to go. He nodded in agreement as Sydil spoke. "I believe you are correct lady Mage. Let us delve into the lore behind the Kiira. I can go an contact members of my order and those old companions I mentioned earlier. We will certainly be able to locate it, as long as it is still some where near the city. As the lady Coronal's husband also mentioned you all could ask questions around thAt noble house. What say you Dane? Madam ambassador? And lady Aria?"
Super Cool Set of Monster Classes
Realmz Project an interesting rules rewrite for the E6 and other games.
Salamandar Apothecary by Emperor Ing
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2012-09-05, 09:36 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Dec 2008
- Location
- Malsheem, Nessus
- Gender
Re: The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]
Ayorra stands to receive her brooch and dips her head in a small bow as the Coronal departs. To Mithranix's and Sydil's suggestions she responds, "Division of labor until we discover some leads would certainly cut down on the time required later. Sydil, I would appreciate working with you in your research, if you would allow it; I have studied elven magical theory while I have been here but have not yet had the opportunity to work with an actual elven spellcaster."
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2012-09-05, 09:44 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- May 2010
- Location
- Pacific Northwest
- Gender
Re: The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]
Sydil/Ayorra
While the mythal protected the city, no mage or priest could scry into or from out of Myth Drannor. As the mythal dormant, if not gone entirely, this and many other restrictions are no more and any mage may scry as he or she pleases. As to be expected, not everyone is happy about this situation, particularly those Tel'Quessir that had grown used to their affairs being private, aside from prying ears and eyes. While the restrictions have been lifted, those mages that lived in the city many years ago still follow the old practices of circumventing the arrointed magic.
At the top of the tallest tree in Myth Drannor the mighty trunk splits into three final branches, leaving a wide natural hollow at the base of the three branches. The bowl is wide enough for a man to lay down and sleep in - or half a dozen halflings - and when it rains it fills up with clear water. Aside from the natural beauty of it, the top of the tree actually rests just above the invisible dome of the mythal making it an ideal location for those who wish to cast their scryings upon the outside world without trekking out of the city. Years ago someone shaped the base of the three branches with magic to make six seating places around the rainwater pool. It was considered polite to wait at the bottom of the tree while someone else used the scrying pool, and the Masters of Windsong never feared about enemies scrying on the pool itself to spy below into Myth Drannor; to one doing so, the mythals dome is no longer invisible but a blinding white glare, guarding her secrets within.
The tree is on the peninsula in Glyrryrl's Pool, the small lake south of the city, and the naming of the lake has helped to hide the nature of the scrying pool atop the tree, for when a mage refers to Glyrryl's Pool one doesn't know if he's referring to the lake or the rainwater pool. It's a brief walk from the Coronal's house to the peninsula and Sydil and Ayorra find the city slowly waking up. The Kerradunath district has always been a late riser with many deals cut in the late hours. While mostly populated by elves, a fair number of humans and halflings have moved into the district, though as you walk towards the Pool the only people about are Tel'Quessir. It's always been common for people to wear blades within the city, but it's only been the past few days that they've been accompanied by furtive face and wary glances. The district is quiet in its rising and no one appears to want to interfere with either of you. In a few minutes you cross Suldar's Walk and walk the length of the unnamed peninsula, the trees growing larger and wider as you approach the point. The canopy overhead is thick, shading the grass below and the muted sounds of the city make it seem more distant than it actually is.
SpoilerI'll post again with the update for Mithranix and Dane, and I'll be NPC'ing Dane for the moment until userpay gets a chance to post. No worries about that, by the way. I understand you're busy.
For those following along on the map, the pennisula is in the lake numbered 25, and is K25 on the key.Last edited by Chambers; 2012-09-05 at 09:45 PM.
"We have sent many to Hell, to smooth our way," said I, "and we are standing yet and holding blades. What more?"- Roger Zelazny, This Immortal
Avatar Image: The Great Wave off Kanagawa by Hokusai; bitmap version by me.
Spoiler: PbP Games
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2012-09-09, 01:44 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Apr 2006
- Gender
Re: The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]
With the use of a swift spell, Sydil takes to the air, pausing only for a moment to see if Ayorra can follow without her aid before she smoothly drifts up and around the tree towards Glyrryrl's Pool. She was not sure whether their magic would bring them any success, but if it did, this was the best place to perform it.
"Do you have any thoughts on how to go about this?" She asks Ayorra uncertainly. "I'm honestly not sure where to begin."
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2012-09-09, 03:18 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- May 2010
- Location
- Pacific Northwest
- Gender
Re: The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]
Mithranix/Dane
The Shop of Secrets is not far from the Palace and the Coronal's nearby guest house. THe paved stones of Shandols Street provides a shortcut to the Street of Song; the Shop less than a hundred yards up it. If one were to turn the other way on the street they could follow it out of Myth Drannor, walking southeast until they were out of Cormanthyr and standing where it branched towards Semberholme and the Darkwood. The Shop is a much closer destination.
Aster Enoctor is a half-elf who quickly built a successful business and an unsavory reputation. It's known that House Ealoeth owns an interest in the shop but it's only rumored that they use thier influence to dissuade the guard from paying too much attention. For his part Aster runs a quiet business, always taking extra efforts to insure his shop doesn't bother his neighbors. The area around the shop is safe, and being close to the Palace no one asks too many questions as long as it stays that way.
The shop itself ia ground level building, a large house with the private upsatirs serving as his residence. Walking to the shop the three of you pass elves going about their business, but the streets are emptier than normal for the hour. This close to the Palace the streets are usually bustling with Elves and N'Tel’Quessir engaged in the business of the city and out for pleasure. Now the only ones about are those that apparently have to be, their hands never straing too far from their sheathed swords. The absence of people enjoying their leisure is keenly felt and as you approach the shop you are the only ones around.
The heavy wooden doors are closed and the glass bay windows reveal only a dim interior, though a light in some back room can be seen. A moment later you hear a series of muted thumping sounds and a voice from within cursing in elvish. "Damn it! Why do you have to be so - thud! - difficult? Just cooperate - thud! - like the others."Last edited by Chambers; 2012-09-09 at 03:20 PM.
"We have sent many to Hell, to smooth our way," said I, "and we are standing yet and holding blades. What more?"- Roger Zelazny, This Immortal
Avatar Image: The Great Wave off Kanagawa by Hokusai; bitmap version by me.
Spoiler: PbP Games