Realms of Dread IC, Chapter One

Rafael's and Skybolt's Online Campaign
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Realms of Dread IC, Chapter One

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Marsember


The fog from off the water covers the city this morning, mixed with the lingering smoke from the cooling embers left by the great conflagration of five days ago. Close to half the city lies in fire-blackened ruins, a sad fact only partially concealed by the mists blanketing the streets. The damage is less in the islands, because the bridges were cut to prevent the fire from spreading, and parts of the canal -threaded western district is very much intact and unharmed. Most of the rest of the great city has felt the touch of fire, and many a grand home and lowly hovel alike lie in ashes.

Here and there throughout the burnt districts may be spotted little bands of scavengers, poking through the wreckage for anything worth salvaging. Forlorn souls, houseless by the hand of the dreadful flames, stagger about aimlessly, their faces pale with grief and fear. Silent men with wagons search the town for corpses, and take them away.

Not far outside the city, in an open field marred by hastily dug trenches, newer fires burn. The black smokes curls heavenward from a huge mound of dead bodies, human and undead alike. The pile shrinks but slowly, if at all, as bodies are still being dragged from the devastated city and placed within the enormous pyre almost as quickly as the fire can consume what's already in the trenches.

Fear grips the wounded city: fear of crime, fear of plague, and most of all fear that the attacking army of monsters may have brought the curse of undeath to the city. Many of the city's defenders of order and peace were killed during the fighting, creating a potentially lawless situation.

The ruler of the city, Lord Ildool, has issued a proclamation to the effect that volunteers must fill the gap. Anyone joining the new watch will be granted a weapons charter [necessary to bear arms legally and openly in Cormyr] and legal enforcement powers for 'the duration of the emergency.' Volunteers will also be provided with room and board in a manydoors house within the unburnt island quarter of the city. Of course, this is in addition to regular pay with the possibility of bonuses for those with special talents or experience, or who do exceptional service. All volunteers will report directly to Lord Ildool or one of his officers, but the word is that seasoned adventurers will be granted considerable autonomy, so long as they produce good results.
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.

-from Moby Dick (Hermann Melville)
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Post by Le Noir Faineant »

In.
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Post by steveflam »

THe red headed dwarf travelled from the Temple of Lathander to the warehouse that she'd heard Lord Ildool was hiring people from to be the militia. After all, she didn't really feel like having to justify her heavy mace. It was her most prized possession. Very effective against the undead scum she'd exterminated in her career.

Walking through the streets she could see why Ildool needed experienced
people. The population looked nervous and that was to be expected. It was total anarchy lately. What with the city burning. Shrugging she continued on her way. She finally made it to the warehouse and when her turn came she stepped forward.

"I be Rardi Silverhelm 'o' Damara. I am a priestess 'o the Morninlord Lathander. I coem to offer me services as a militia person."

She did look around to see what kind of people were there, trying to size them up.
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In front of the warehouse stands a long set of three desks, jammed end-to-end. Behind the desks are seated a half dozen scribes. Just now, the scribes aren't too busy, as only a couple of dozen men and women [mostly men] have appeared to enroll. A small group of mail-clad Purple Dragons armed with swords and shields patrols the street, and a few bored or tired looking local militiamen lean on their spears just outside the half-closed double doors of the brick warehouse.

The haggard old bureaucrat dealing with Rardi looks down at his paper and scribbles some notes with his quill pen, speaking quietly and not too distinctly,

''Ah, yes. Name...check...point of origin...check...ummmm...hmmmm..profession, priestess of Lathander....yes, yes. ''

He looks up with a weary expression.

''You'll do. Wait over there'' here he indicates a gaggle of men at the side of the building. ''The sergeants will call for you when they are ready for your batch inside. ''
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.

-from Moby Dick (Hermann Melville)
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Post by VAN »

Inovidil needs sometime to realize the catastrophe that has been done to Marsember. The previous night will be a hard thing to forget.

"Holly Mystra, please do something to help all those homeless people..."

Thinks the evoker as she walks by the street of the city. She wants to help but she is very worried about her friend Jamethon, he seems to be lost after the tragic loss of Ezra. So she tries to find him maybe talking will help him.
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Jamethon is working with the men who cart away the dead, at least, that's the latest news Inovidil has had of her friend. Follwing this bit of information, she makes her way through the fire-ravaged and battle-scarred city, asking after him. She's lucky, and finds him after less than an hour's serach.

Jamethon is dressed in his ragged traveller's clothes, with his coat thrown aside to rest on the wooden rail of the corpse-wagon. In the back of the wagon are dead men, women, and children- the bodies blacked and grostesque in death. A stench like woodsmoke mixed with a charnel house rises from the corpses. The other men working with Jamethon wear scarves, some damp with vinegar or alcohol, wrapped around their lower cafes. Jamethon , however, goes without this aide, and seems to be unaffected by the reek of decay and smoke. His shoulders are slumped as with fatigue. When he spots Inovidil, he walks across the street to greet her.

''Hello, Ino. Are you well?''

Jamethon's voice is a bit raspy, as if his throat is dry. His eyes are no longer unnaturally red, nor is his skin bluish. Instead, he looks like a man in fair health, but one who needs a good scrub and a hot meal, and a full night's rest in a soft bed. Sadness is written so plainly on his face that anyone could see it.
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Post by ewancummins »

-in a burnt-out neigborhood not too far from the warehouse where Rardi and the other recruits are waiting-

Jamethon is working with the men who cart away the dead, at least, that's the latest news Inovidil has had of her friend. Following this bit of information, she makes her way through the fire-ravaged and battle-scarred city, asking after him. She's lucky, and finds him after less than an hour's serach.

Jamethon is dressed in his ragged traveller's clothes, with his coat thrown aside to rest on the wooden rail of the corpse-wagon. In the back of the wagon are dead men, women, and children- the bodies blacked and grostesque in death. A stench like woodsmoke mixed with a charnel house rises from the corpses. The other men working with Jamethon wear scarves, some damp with vinegar or alcohol, wrapped around their lower cafes. Jamethon , however, goes without this aide, and seems to be unaffected by the reek of decay and smoke. His shoulders are slumped with fatigue. When he spots Inovidil, he walks across the street to greet her.

''Hello, Ino. Are you well?''

Jamethon's voice is a bit raspy, as if his throat is dry. His eyes are no longer unnaturally red, nor is his skin bluish. Instead, he looks like a man in fair health, but one who needs a good scrub and a hot meal, and a full night's rest in a soft bed. Sadness is written so plainly on his face that anyone could see it.[/quote]
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.

-from Moby Dick (Hermann Melville)
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Post by VAN »

Inovidil puts a scarf at her face, the smell of the decayed corpse was not the best one...

She looks at Jamethon and she cannot believe that this man in front of her was once her companion, the one with so many ideas and the one has helped them so much in past. Now Moorkroft seems to be a man with no hope, there is no spark at his eyes and this makes the evoker very sad. Trying to mask her feelings she gets closer and says:

"I'm fine Jameton, I was just worried about you. I know that you have a...job here, but you don't think that you can get a couple of days off? You seem tired and..."

Her voice trails a bit, she starts feeling her anger rise. She wasn't angry with the cleric actually, she just wants to help him. Seeing him like that makes her feel bad. She wants to make him react and turn back to his normal life.

"...and come on Jamethon! You know very well that this isn't a life for you! We have passed so many adventures and hard moments together, please let me help you. I know that you are passing a bad moment, but that's friends for, to help. Please come back with me, have a shower and let me buy you a good meal. The others will be happy to see you, I can bet on that."

Her blue eyes stare directly at him, almost pleading him to follow her .

"Please Jamethon."
- The first 2 Feats a wizard should take are "point blank shot" and "Precise shot"!
- W H A T ! ? !
- Or they should NEVER memorize rays!
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Post by ewancummins »

Jamethon explains himself to Inovidil-

''You don't understand, Ino. All of this is my fault. All these people are dead because of ME. I brought her here to this world, saved her from that damned goat-man and his followers, only to do nothing to stop her from becoming a monster herself! I knew what she was becoming, but I didn't try to destroy her when I had the chance, not even for her own sake. I cannot bring her back, and I cannot undo all the harm I've caused. The least I can do now is to attend to these, my victims.''
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.

-from Moby Dick (Hermann Melville)
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Post by VAN »

Inovidil lays her hand on Jamethon's shoulder.

"You don't understand my friend, we all saved her, and we all are responsible for her tragic death, but for sure none of us is responsible for this...this horrible situation here. You were with us Jamethon, we all tried to warn the city and save our companions and whoever we could from the fire. We couldn't do anything else. I want to help as you do, but these people are not yours or my victims, are victims of fate. So don't blame yourself, you did what you could, as we all did."
- The first 2 Feats a wizard should take are "point blank shot" and "Precise shot"!
- W H A T ! ? !
- Or they should NEVER memorize rays!
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Post by ewancummins »

''We did try to warn the city, that's true. If only we'd gotten here sooner...''

Jamethon stares down the road over Ino's shoulder for a moment. Inovidil can hear the tramp of men in boots. If she turns to look, she'll see what Jamethon has noticed, a foot patrol of militiamen marching by with spears on their shoulders.

Moorkroft resumes speaking,

''Ah, Ino, I must see to my duties. My shift is almost over, just this last trip for the day. I'll be back in the city before sundown. I'll join you then, if you like. It would be nice to spend time with a friend, and eat something warm. Just tell me where you'd like to meet.''
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.

-from Moby Dick (Hermann Melville)
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Post by steveflam »

The dwarf eyes the other men, trying to gauge their effectiveness in a battle. Would she really feel comfortable with any of them backing her up. That was the question.

"I be Rardi of the Lathander Temple. What of ye men? Any experience?"
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Post by ewancummins »

the warehouse where recruits have gathered-

Rardi stands outside, waiting like the others. Looking at the other recruits, she can see they are a mixed bunch of over a couple of dozen men. Some look like derelicts who've wandered in off the street in search of a hot meal, and others have the bearing of bravos or toughs. One or two look like respectable citizens, well dressed and scrubbed clean. None bear arms, at least nothing bigger than a clasp knife. That's not surprising, given the strict laws in Cormyr against ordinary folk carrying weapons.
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.

-from Moby Dick (Hermann Melville)
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Post by ewancummins »

tarlyn wrote:The dwarf eyes the other men, trying to gauge their effectiveness in a battle. Would she really feel comfortable with any of them backing her up. That was the question.

"I be Rardi of the Lathander Temple. What of ye men? Any experience?"

The drunks and bums mostly give noncomittal grunts. One of the thuggish looking types ignores Radri. The others are more polite, or at least more coherent, in their response. A small group gathers around the dwarf priestess.

One of the older men says-

''From the temple ,eh? Ah, it's good to see one of your lot down 'ere.''


Another man, middle aged and tall with iron gray hair, answers Radri's question-

''Yeah, I've got some experience. Name's Talbot. I was an archer in the Great Crusade under the command of good king Azoun, may the kindly gods bless his memory.''

At the mention of the late king Azoun IV, a ragged cheer spontaneously rises from the crowd, with even the seediest looking rogue in the group joining in.
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.

-from Moby Dick (Hermann Melville)
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Post by steveflam »

Rardi takes it all in. Some of them were there for thrill seeking or a bet perhaps? She didn't feel comfortable having to rely on these types to back her up. She is happy about the middle aged man. He seemed to have some experience and appeared to be knowledgable.

Turning to face them, she says "Aye. Any 'o' ye ever face a bloodsuckin Vampire? It's face right in yers, the fangs long and pointy. All it wants is yer blood, mac. It's eyes so mesmerisin'. It's touch can kill ye or make ye weaker fer ye troubles. That is unless ye know it's ways an kin handle one o the masterful undead. Think ye kin handle that? It ain't easy as it looks.

Beware what ye gettin inta. Mebbe them Vampires that ravaged a town not far from 'ere'll come 'ere an wreak havoc on Marsember. Think ye kin handle it?"

The dwarf looks to the middle aged man and winks.
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