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Darmon 
Forum Warrior  Joined: 15 Aug 2012 Status: Offline Points: 315 |
 Posted: 03 Dec 2012 at 09:04 |
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Take heed everyone: Necromancy is dangerous. Sure, sometimes things work out as intended, but just as often, you'll open the door for something else to cross into this world. Kumalans should take extra precautions; the wild magics of the Melders can have a particularly corrupting influence (on even the best-intentioned of spells).
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| BlindScribe
Wordsmith Joined: 12 Sep 2012 Status: Offline Points: 168 |
Posted: 03 Dec 2012 at 13:39 |
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Breaking News!
Argenia sold to Velociryx for Undisclosed Amount!
In an important development on Devil's Isle today, the City of Argenia has been peacefully handed over to Velociryx in exchange for an undisclosed sum.
Settlers were standing by, and this immediately led to the settlement of a new town, Vestford, further north of Argenia.
"I've reached the northen extent." Velociryx told a small gathering of reporters. "This is where we stop in the north. And now that this has been accomplished, it's time to turn to...other matters."
Rumors have been swirling for months that, due to the previous aborted attempts at negotiating a peaceful settlement of the provacative land claim in the Ancient Forest southeast of Parthaway (-896, -636) and the rebuffed offers to purchase the city of KV Kumala, that stronger measures might be considered.
Could this statement be a prelude to that, or are there other matters currently before the young alliance?
At the moment, there are more questions than answers, but we will keep you posted.
~Nicholas Hanby, reporting for the Blind Scribe
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| BlindScribe
Wordsmith Joined: 12 Sep 2012 Status: Offline Points: 168 |
Posted: 03 Dec 2012 at 21:59 |
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Nature Preserve Established on the Eastern DI Peninsula!
It's been a busy day for Velociryx, who today, expressed grave concern for the wildlife in the region.
"Look...we understand that many of the jungle's creatures can be used in crafting and enchanting items...we get that, and we're by no means putting a stop to all hunting in the realm...what we
are saying, however, is that poachers caught killing and or harvesting inside our sovereign territory will be killed on sight.
It's our intention to give the wildlife a place to grow in safety, and when we feel the time's right, we'll cull the herd ourselves."
This decision was reached after hearing arguments from the Council of Lords, a newly formed advisory board of land owners on Devil's Island about fears that all the wild animals might soon go extinct on the island because of rampant, unchecked hunting and a rapidly expanding human population.
"Between the two of us (ed: here, the HighLord refers to himself and his Scribe), we have far and away the largest contiguous landholdings on the island, so it just made sense to locate the preserve here. It's a joint venture between the two of us, and applicable to the full extent of both territories. The rules are simple...effective immediately, poach, and you risk life and limb. Selected hunting and harvesting permits will be considered, so interested parties should contact us to work out the particulars."
He told this reporter.
~Nicholas Hanby, reporting for the Blind Scribe
Edited by BlindScribe - 03 Dec 2012 at 22:00 |
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| BlindScribe
Wordsmith Joined: 12 Sep 2012 Status: Offline Points: 168 |
Posted: 07 Dec 2012 at 11:17 |
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Graduation Day - Our Story So Far
(How Tylo Ghent Got Promoted)
(cue music "Carry on my Wayward Son" by Kansas)
Attentive readers will no doubt have noted a new byline as of the last entry, and may be wondering why that is and how that came to be.
This entry will explain the curious events leading up to Master Ghent's "career change," in addition to shedding more light on the subject of life on Devil's Isle in general, and inside the REALM in particular.
It began as "Graduation Day" approached.
You may recall a certain Scribe's trepidation about the Chimera, back when he thought they were actual monsters who ate Elven slaves...back before he became one of their number and went from being a fan of the alliance leader, to being profoundly suspicious of him, then back to being a fan, actually
joining Chimera, and getting a posting in the Court of the HighLord.
All this, after what he felt was an attempt on his life via weather spell (possibly called
'Stormbind' though that term may be related to something other than the name of the spell), which left him rather waterlogged and stranded very far from home.
After the nasty business with the undead general (courtesy of the Melders and a misfired spell to ressurect the unfortunate man), which left the City of Calimba a shadow of its former self (war and famine having reduced the population from nearly twenty-six thousand to less than eight thousand), there followed a period of rebuilding.
It was backbreaking work, yes, even for the members of the HighLord's council. It appears that before REALM's HighLord was a HighLord, he was a man of the people. A commoner, if you will, and because of that, he did not shirk from physical labor, and made sure that none of his Court did, either.
"Hard day's work with sweat in your eyes and cuts on your hands...good for the soul." He told an unhappy Scribe in the midst of one of the innumerable sixteen hour days that followed. "And, since we're in leadership positions, when we're done here, we'll sup, then convene for a few hours to discuss the events of import in the REALM before catching a few winks and starting all over again."
"Sounds charming." Scribe muttered drolly.
And so it went.
Rebuilding Calimba stone by stone, yes, but also, taming the once fearsome jungle. Mastering it, and as anyone who has ever wrestled with Devil's Vine will tell you, that is no easy task.
Fortunately, it was a task made somewhat easier by virtue of the fact that the alliance had drawn the attention of several folken who had recently migrated to Kumala. Among the new arrivals were Timrath, and his brothers Apollonius and Wazdakka, from...well, they were somewhat unclear in that point, but apparently from far to the north and east, with Wazdakka, the youngest of the three, (bearing strong signs of Orcish ancestry), actually having been born aboard a ship as their family left (or were chased from? - again, these details are unclear) an island that is supposedly not unlike our own, but in the extreme eastern portions of the Kingdom.
These brothers were not islanders, living north of Devil's Island itself, in the lush and fertile lands that run north from the coast until they hit the great burning desert (more on that later). The elder and youngest brother made their homes in these endless forests and rolling savannahs, while the middle brother, Appolonius, struck further north and made his home in the desert proper. Why this is so, we cannot say, but it apparently has nothing to do with a familial feud or the like...the three are always together in Court and seem to get along famously. One can only speculate then, that the middle brother has a love of sun and sand.
In any case, they joined our merry band of madmen, along with a trio of Orcs (Mudd-Slinger,Clermont, and UnWritten, followed not long after by a dwarf known only as "The PeaceKeeper."
Zagar the Elf Lord and his travelling companion Sidhe joined at around that same time, as did the human called Baych, so the Court could well be said to be expanding at a rapid clip.
Of all the new arrivals though, none brought quite as much buzz as the arrival of the Dwarf called Bezi.
The day was steamy and muggy, which is to say it was like almost every day of the year on Devil's Isle, and Lady Kleodora was out picking herbs in the garden just behind the Main Hall in Cerilon.
I was on a bench within earshot when one of her dogs (she never went anywhere without at least one of her great Mastiffs) suddenly went stiff and alert, a low growl in his throat that made every hair on my body stand on end.
The three of us...Kleo, myself, and the dog heard the snap of a twig and a muffled curse, then, emerging from the jungle came a gruff-looking Dwarf who appeared to have walked from the western end of the island to the eastern without stoping to bathe or sleep. There were bugs in his matted beard, and his axe oozed with the sap of the Devil's Vine.
He speaks to her in his native tongue, but she (not being fluent in Dwarven) does not understand.
In fact, of all that he says, there's only one word she understands...."Machete."
Nodding at this at least, she inquires, "So...you want Machete. You're looking for Machete."
He shakes his head and motions as if in a hurry. again speaking. "Machete!" he says .
Curious and concerned, she bids him follow and leads him toward the Main Hall, and I confess that my own curiosity got the better of me, so I tagged along as well.
We made the Main Hall to find the usual suspects all in their usual places, and Velociryx looked up from his charts and figures as we entered.
"My Lord...I bring this Dwarf, who seems to be looking for Machete."
"For me ye say?" The Dwarven Warrior asked over a comfortable belch as he stood and wiped the ale foam from his beard. "What can I..."
Suddenly, a smile lit up his face and he roared with laughter. "Bezi!! you old buzzard! what brings you out this far?"
Machete slapped Bezi on his back and led him to one of a number of overstuffed chairs set 'round the seldom used fireplace.
"Kleo...mead for my old friend, if you would?"
She nodded at this and went to fetch a servant, and the two started to talk in low tones.
On her way out of the chamber, she chanced a glance at the HighLord, who pretended to be busy with his figures, but was obviously listening intently.
What they were discussing that afternoon, I cannot say. Neither Lady Kleo nor I spoke the language, and no information about the conversation was forthcoming later, but it's a matter that bears watching and leads to unavoidable speculation.
Time will tell what it means.
At any rate, all of this to underscore the fact that we were growing, and at a rapid pace.
That was a good thing, because it made taming this unrelenting place all the easier...more hands meaning faster progress, and all that.
So, it was none too surprising when the day arrived that our first two Chimera were ready to cut the strings that bound them to their Sponsors and make their own way in the world.
The first two to meet all the requirements were Renn and the Scribe.
In celebration, a small, quiet ceremony was held wherein both men were presented with a banner and badge befitting of their station. The blazon of the Chimera, which both fly proudly over their own Main Halls.
The blazon of the Chimera contains three main elements: The Lion, The Gryphon, and the Eagle. Strength, Courage, and Generosity...this last bit is of import because each of the Chimera is expected to Sponsor at least one new Chimera who will follow in his footsteps.
(OOC: the badges of both men can be seen in their profiles)
Now, you must understand something about us and our ways. This may seem barbaric to you, but I assure you that it is most necessary, because Kumala is an unforgiving place.
When the ceremony had ended, Velociryx placed a kind hand on each man's shoulder.
"Run."
He told them unceremoniously.
They looked momentarily confused.
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Run!" He roared at them. "Already there are forces marching on one of your cities, a thing which I have arranged personally. They will do their level best to burn you to the ground. You have these blazons, but you've not formally earned them until you survive this last test. Break the siege and stand fully on your own. Good luck and Godspeed, brothers...now run!"
And they did.
Renn broke the siege of Sokkala in two attacks. Scribe took three to break the siege of Sutheron, but both men succeeded.
Now...you may recall reading an earlier entry about a "Trial by Fire," to be delivered by members of The-Company-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named....this is the trial by fire that was referred to.
This is what the HighLord meant.
A final test to ensure that all who called themselves Chimera had the practical battlefield experience to go with everything else they had learned as they grew.
Interestingly, up to this point, the Scribe had been focused almost exclusively on matters of trade and raw production.
He had just begun focusing on matters of magic, but hadn't paid much attention at all to his military.
Yes, he
had a military, and it even had some combat experience, but that had been a joint effort involving the entire Court...he had not appointed so much as a single General, having relied on the expertise of his fellow Court Members during the incident with the Undead General.
So it was that our Scribe was desperate to find someone...anyone who could actually lead his troops into battle, and so it was that he discovered that Tylo Ghent had spent four years serving as a mid-ranking officer in what he called "The Rift Wars," where he led mid-sized bands of warriors (with some success, it must be said) against the undead hordes that poured forth to battle the living in years past.
He was, in a word, the best option available at the time, and the Scribe promoted him.
Three attacks later and the siege was broken, and Tylo Ghent the Reporter, became Tylo Ghent the General...a posting he has to this day.
~Nicholas Hanby, Reporting from Devil's Isle
Edited by BlindScribe - 07 Dec 2012 at 18:06 |
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| Machete
Wordsmith  Joined: 15 Jun 2012 Location: Koz Status: Offline Points: 172 |
Posted: 07 Dec 2012 at 16:03 |
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I enjoy these interludes. I am always surprised how our different members are woven into the story.
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| BlindScribe
Wordsmith Joined: 12 Sep 2012 Status: Offline Points: 168 |
Posted: 07 Dec 2012 at 18:01 |
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Thank you sir! I'm sure having a blast with the writing...it's been fun! And of course, there's big stuff ahead, but you have the inside track where all that's concerned...
;)
~Scribe
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| BlindScribe
Wordsmith Joined: 12 Sep 2012 Status: Offline Points: 168 |
Posted: 10 Dec 2012 at 22:14 |
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OOC: I just made this for my latest novel...I'm placing it here for two reasons.
1) I'd like to know if there's any interest in seeing one of these for this story (maybe a recruitment vid or something?)
and
2) to get general impressions and opinions...many thanks! :)
(couldn't get the "insert vid" option to work, so...just the link...
Edited by BlindScribe - 10 Dec 2012 at 22:15 |
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| BlindScribe
Wordsmith Joined: 12 Sep 2012 Status: Offline Points: 168 |
Posted: 12 Dec 2012 at 02:02 |
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First draft of the REALM recruitment vid: ((link removed...see story segment below))
Edited by BlindScribe - 12 Dec 2012 at 16:49 |
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| Sheza
Forum Warrior  Joined: 16 Oct 2012 Location: Kumala Status: Offline Points: 325 |
Posted: 12 Dec 2012 at 03:58 |
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AWESOME
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If Horses don't go to Heaven when they die. then I want to go where they go.
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| BlindScribe
Wordsmith Joined: 12 Sep 2012 Status: Offline Points: 168 |
Posted: 12 Dec 2012 at 17:02 |
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Wherein We Discover What Recruitment, Elven Tears, and two Random Swamp Rats Have in Common
So yesterday I was in my city of Hidden Vale.
Just spending time with the local administrator and overseeing this particular corner of my vastly expanded holdings, and it's an odd thing, you know? Having holdings at all, much less vastly expanded ones. Most curious, that.
Anyway, while there, the Lord-Mayor of the city told me that I really MUST spend time with two of the more colorful characters who inhabit his fair city, a couple of Swampers called Tal and Ezarn.
Swampers aren't generally "my kind" of people.
I'm more at home in great libraries and universities than I am in rickety, shallow-bottomed boats with a pair of bearded, nearly toothless men who look and smell as though they've never actually met a hot bath in scented water.
Nonetheless, the journey that originally brought me here was one grounded in a sense of adventure, and I spent the early part of my time here blazing trails through sections of jungle choked with Devil's Vine, and worse, so my body remembered, even if my mind rebelled and recoiled slightly.
It was in that remembered spirit of adventure that I said yes to the Lord-Mayor's proposal though, and I'm glad I did!
The two men, Tal and Ezarn had grown up in the swamps not far from what was now the thriving city of Hidden Vale, and insisted that they knew the best fishin' hole in the area.
Wanting to show off to their Lord and Master, they guided me through two days of hiking through hellish terrain (much more hellish than I recalled, if you must know), then to their "little bit o' paradise," which was a 'cabin' (and I use the term generously) on the edge of the water.
A strong wind would probably have blown the place over, but this was their palace, and they gave me the grand tour of both of its rooms.
We sat down at their table on chairs which were little more than the uprooted stumps of trees and supped on a thick stew containing at least two kinds of meat and a variety of brightly colored vegetables, none of which I could identify.
Then, after lunch (which really was delicious, despite my misgivings), they took me to their shallow bottomed boat, and proceeded to row me out into the thickest part of the swamp for the better part of a full day.
It was at this point in the journey that it occured to me that if Tal and Ezarn were more than simple Swampers...if they were, in fact, assassins acting on the orders of Haven's Lord-Mayor, my goose would be well and truly cooked, as I'd have little chance against them both in their own territory, and even if I survived an assassination attempt here, my chances of making it back to civilization from the depths of this trackless place were next to nil.
It troubled me, yes, but also, it was too late to do anything about it. If they meant me harm, then my fate was already sealed, so I settled back and tried to enjoy the trip.
In time, we arrived, and I must confess, my guides were correct.
The fishing was unlike anything I'd ever experienced.
We literally caught more than we could fit in the boat without risk of swamping her. As it was, we were riding so low in the water after only six hours of fisihing that the least disruption would send the swamp rushing over the sides of our tiny craft, so most of the way back home, I spent bailing frantically to keep us from losing our means of transportation through the foreboding bog.
I'm happy to report, however, that Tal and Ezarn were not assassins, that I came through the adventure no worse for the wear, and several pounds heavier on account of gorging myself on delicious and expertly-cooked fish, and that I plan to order the swamp to be claimed as part of our sovereign territory at the very next opportunity.
'The Boys,' as they insisted on my calling them, knew an amazing amount about Elven Lore, though they be Human Swampers.
How they came to know such things given the isolation of their home is beyond me, but I shall relay in brief what they told to me.
It seems at some point in Elgea's distant past, the great burning desert in northern Kumala was as lush and green as the island we all now call home.
Even more interesting was that it was one of the ancient Elven Homes. In this case, home to a wild, painted group of Elves whose hunting prowess and connection to the land was rivaled only by their mastery of magic.
At some point, tall pale men descended from the north and began hacking their way into the jungles taking timber to build their LongHouses and fortresses.
The Elves attempted to communicate with the large, loud-and-graceless strangers, but to no avail. Elves who appeared before the North Men were simply cut down like animals.
The Elves struck back, but it quickly became clear that the North Men were more numerous by far, and fierce fighters in their own right.
True, they may not have been graceful or lithe, but their were fearsomely strong, and their tactics, brutish or not, were effective.
Fearing for their continued existence, the Elves resorted to magic to save them, and Shamans from all the Elven Tribes in that part of the forest gathered together to cast a mighty spell designed to rid the land of the hated North Men once and for all.
Rid the land of them it did, but there was a price to be paid.
The land itself was so poisoned...so blighted by the magicks of the spell that nothing would grow there, and the things already living there began to wither and die, and when the green things died, they turned into a fine, useless ash, rather than being returned to the earth to be reused by our Great Mother.
This is what created the great desert of the north, and legends say that in each of the locations of the forty tribes that once called the area home, in the place where each tribe's leaders held Council, are the tears of the Elven People.
Today, these tears are highly prized because of their rarity, but in truth, there are few known uses for them. They are mere trifles. Baubles without practical value.
They do serve as a reminder, however, that sometimes, in the quest to solve one problem, we can inadvertently create another for ourselves.
I had heard bits of that before, but as my Gran Pere told the tale to me, the Elves of the forest knew full well what effects the spell would have, and strove to create the desert as a barrier against the North Men, who were known to favor colder climes, on the thinking that such a burning land would prove an impassable barrier to them. Then, the story went, the Elven People could live in what remained of the Emerald Death for the rest of eternity without interference.
Whichever interpretation is true and correct, it was mightily surprising to hear some version of the tale passing the lips of a couple of Swampers on Devil's Island, and at some point, in listening to their story, it occured to me that history is a tapestry, with each thread being contributed by a different actor on the stage of the world, coming together to weave a whole.
That's what gave me the answer to the charge that HighLord Velociryx had given me, to develop a strategy to help us grow our alliance.
A recruitment strategy, if you will. The results of my inspiration are below, for your consideration.
~Scribe
Edited by BlindScribe - 12 Dec 2012 at 19:12 |
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