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Vhalar Seasonal Quest

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Harpy
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[Seasonal Quest] Sound The Attack

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102 Vhalar 717

Ne'haer was quiet.

Dusk was falling, and oddly for the coastal city, there seemed to be very little activity. No stumbling drunks from taverns, no songs from the Biqaj in the square, no squawking of merchants. It was as if the city were holding its breath. It had been a hard season for Ne'haer; everyone seemed to be downtrodden and exhausted. Even the children were quiet as the sun set, playing in small little groups, taking care not to bother their parents who had been so easy to snap at the smallest inconvenience.

The raids were getting closer, and people had spoken of black flags and strange ships. Ne'haer had been sending out their own in order to combat them, but tactical errors had meant that the Council had not yet launched a full scale assault on Bayward. They couldn't send out the whole navy - what if Ironridge and Lysoria decided to attack? And so, while they had won small skirmishes, protecting Treth in particular, a devastating attack on Ebondell a few trials earlier had made them realise: they had done too little.

Much of the town had evacuated. But some stayed, either stubbornly clinging to their homes, or in preparation of taking up arms. They were either the foolhardy or the very brave. And some stayed with wry smiles and a secret behind their lips, whispers circulating - saying Crux Dregoon had agents in the city, feeding information for the best time to attack. And who knew when they would get here? With the strange ships?

The Council were doing their best to maintain peace and calm, and while there was not yet any hysteria, no one could deny that something was coming. They had left Bayward unchecked for too long.

Dusk fell. Ne'haer was silent. And then, two breaks past sunset, the bell tolled over the city, over and over. A warning.

Ships had been spotted on the horizon. Dregoon was coming.

 ! Message from: Harpy
Welcome to the Vhalar seasonal quest!

You have each received a PM with a goal in mind or a secret piece of information that only you know, depending on who you are allied with (as per your sign up). Whether or not you share this with other PCs is up to you. This is setting the scene; you can be anywhere you wish in the city doing whatever you like with whomever you like. Your information will get you involved, I'll work around you!

If you are interested in finding out more about the alliance between Dregoon and the Naer pirates, read this thread. Please note that this is not known currently IC.

I will post again on Saturday 4th November AEST (Friday evening American time). Please PM me if you have any questions.

Happy pirating!
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Ilinis
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[Seasonal Quest] Sound The Attack

102 Vhalar 717

Ilinis sighed. This season had been dreadful. First Deimos' cold attitude to what had happened during the robbery, second his inability to even find a lead of the client ledger, and then there was today. He had been about to sip a new bottle he had procured when he had heard a loud knocking at his door. Fifteen bits later, and he was on his way to a meeting that he didn't know he would be going to. The information he had learned was troubling, at the best. Yet, it wasn't as surprising when he thought it through. The ships had already attacked a few places including Treth, why wouldn't they attack Ne'haer also? It was a foolish plan for them to -- nothing could stand against the might of Ne'haer.

He figured he had time before it would happen. He was wrong. He had just taken a seat at the Crest Break Tavern and was about to order some of the wonderful wine he had last time when the bells started to chime out. He bolted up from the table, no longer having the desire to order. He should have gone right away. He cursed. Loudly.

If the attack had already started, that meant that he may already be too late. He had already sullied his reputation once by failing the Bank of Ne'haer. If he failed the honor he was given...His head spun as he thought of the consequences. He slammed open the door of the tavern as he ran out, his hand fumbling at his side to draw three throwing daggers into his left hand. He couldn't fail again. It wasn't an option.

He had forgotten how cold dusk was this time of the season. Wrapping his coat around him tighter, he began to run a few feet -- and then he stopped. He needed to go to the docks. That was where the attack would hit first. He gulped. He wasn't the most adept at fighting. He'd have to go about this as carefully as possible so that he didn't fail his city. So that he didn't fail his home.

Looking up towards the sky, he said a quick prayer. "Famula. Edasha. If either of you are listening, let me live through this night. I'm not done serving."

He brushed his fingers against the rose that Edasha had given him once, and then started to jog towards the docks. However, rather than keep towards the center of the road, he attempted to stay against the buildings present. He took a quick turn off the main path. If he took alleyways, he'd be less likely to die before getting to the docks. He would be cautious, but he would get there one way or anything. He had tried to be brave once and failed completely...hopefully this time would be different.
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Korun
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[Seasonal Quest] Sound The Attack

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The bells of war were ringing, and Korun saw black sails on the horizon.

Fear gripped his form. He had run from Triedhart to escape the life of a soldier, to be free from the burden that came from serving a city. He was a foreigner here still, a stranger who had sailed in at the start of this season. He doubted that anyone would hold it against him for not fighting for Ne'haer's freedom; a idea that was bought with his blood and his sweat among many. He could be like the rest of his kind, holed up behind their icy walls and waiting for war to blow over. 'Not their city, not their problem,' had been the collective sentiment of the Ellune.

Yet, here he stood, waiting to board a ship and sail out in defense of a city he hardly knew. Cold winds whipped against his bare chest as he stood on the docks, weighing his options. He could still turn back, still take the craven's path and hide with the rest of his brethern. But the idea of running made Korun's blood boil. He was so damn tired of running. Running from his father to become an artist. Running from his family to escape their scorn. Running from Triedhart to escape accusation. Korun wouldn't run anymore. He would stand, and if need be, fight for Ne'haer. Because, if nothing else, the city allowed him to choose. It gave him a choice whether to fight or flee. More than that, it didn't even force him to choose who to fight for or what to be. He could choose to be sculptor and soldier, and it would be his choice and no one else's.

The thought made Korun smile despite the fear he still felt. Ne'haer was not his city, but, if it would have him, he would like it to be.

A distressed word had managed to make that smile disappear. Korun's Common was not very good, but even in Triedhart they made sure they learned certain words for their own safety. The Ellune frantically searched the horizon, but the ships were still too far out to make any detail clear. Bowling past others, he places a giant, rough hand on the man who had spoken. With deadly seriousness, Korun glared down at him. He pointed towards the black-sailed ships cutting through the sea.

"What that?!" he demanded in his limited speech. The man looked alarmed and confused. Growling, Korun shook his head in frustration. "Ne'haer," he said, pointing to a ship still docked at the port. "What that?" he asked again, pointing out to the billowing black sails of the oncoming ship.

"Oh! That belongs to the Naerikk, Can't believe Bayward put in with those Audrae worshiping bitches."

Korun had taken off running before the man managed to finish. No matter the location or the language, every son and daughter of Tried knew the name of their hated enemies. And now they were here, bearing down to take the city which Korun had grown to love. He would not allow it. Even if he had to tear their ships apart nail by nail, plank by plank, he would be thrice-damned before any daughter of Audrae stepped foot in this city. Fury replacing fear, Korun stormed off towards where his fellow Ellune had hidden themselves.

Oscillette's icy walls and closed gates stood proudly before him. To any other refugee seeking shelter, the gates would have remained closed, but for Korun, a fellow Ellune, they opened swiftly. The halls of the little kingdom were nearly empty, save for a few Ellune preparing additional defenses just in case the Bayward forces made it as far as their keep. They shot concerned looks at Korun as he blew past them, a dark anger evident in the youth's flashing eyes. He heard concerned, clamoring voices erupt from behind a set of sturdy doors. Forcing them open, Korun saw before him a collection of what little fighting forces had been gathered to protect their icy home. They were gathered in what looked like an imitation of the elder council that ruled in Triedhart. A long, icy table stretched before a well and rows of seats. In the seats sat the Ellune who had no political sway, and in the chairs the Ellune who were either the eldest or the most respected. At their head, Baelam Sheulai qalar-Treid. The Ice King of the West, holding court in an attempt to better defend against the outside world.

Korun's entrance was a surprise, and their voices quieted a little to observe who had interrupted their meeting. Korun opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced by the elder man's raised hand. Baelam shot him a measured look, and despite all the admiration Korun had for the man, the young Ellune felt a bubble of disgust rise in his throat. He marched down before the reagent, shoving aside other Ellune who had attempted to reel back the angry youth.

"Do not ignore me Baelam!" Korun shouted at the ruler, now standing before the table of Elders. That had gained the alarmed stares of the entire court, as such a breach of etiquette was very uncommon in Ellunian political discourse. Baelam's even gaze shifted into a disapproving glare.

"We've discussed this Korun. You may wish to fight, but we have decided to-"

"Damn your decisions!" Korun yelled again, interrupting the ruler's words. The youth didn't care anymore about the proper social etiquette or the polite discourse that his kind was known for. He didn't have time for politeness, and neither did Ne'haer. "While you sit, hiding from battle, Augiery sails against Ne'haer. AUGIERY! A city filled with Naerikk and Audrae worshipers comes ready to bleed this city, bleed out our neighbors and even us if they get the chance. We cannot afford to hide!"

A shocked quiet settled in over the court, and Korun could see Baelam quietly seethe as he mulled over the idea. Korun knew Baelam to be cautious, knew him to be a good and fair ruler, but the youth also knew the longer they waited the closer the Naerikk came to the city. War was no time for caution, but Baelam wouldn't understand that. He was a merchant, a trader with a good head for business. However, he was no soldier. And no matter how much he wanted to deny it, Korun was a soldier. At least, a part of him was. It was that part off him which drove him to confront Baelam now, and Korun hoped it would be that part of him which would gain allies among his race.

An elder, with Baelam's permission, rose to speak. "There is no guarantee that the Bayward, or even these 'supposed' Naerikk, will even reach the inner city. This is not our fight, it is Ne'haer's. If we take a side and Bayward wins, what will become of us? Do not through the lives of our kin away based on brash emotion!"

"'Not our fight', do you hear yourself speak?! This has never been more of our fight! We are the children of Treid, and the daughters of Audrae are now rattling swords at our doorstep. And it is our doorstep! How we can claim 'this is not our fight' when we live in the city that is being sieged? We might like to pretend this is our own little slice of Oscillus, that if we close the doors the Hotlands disappear and we're back in our frozen home, but we belong as much to Ne'haer as we do to Oscillus. More even! The air we breathe belongs to Ne'haer. The ground we walk belongs to Ne'haer. We. Belong. To Ne'haer. And I will not allow our neighbors to be slaughtered and enslaved by our oldest of enemies. Even if you will."

"Who are you to-"

"I AM KORUN NOVAR QUALAR-TREID, FIRST-BORN SON OF THE NOVAR FAMILY AND SUBLIMATOR TO TREIDHART, AND I TIRE OF YOUR COWARDICE!" Korun raged at the elder, surprised at the breadth of his own anger. The air hung still in the council room, the elder who had rose to question Korun sitting down in shocked silence. Baelam's disapproving glare was the only constant emotion in that room. He stared back into those imperious eyes, challenging the king every step of the way. Korun knew that he was out of line, that he had gone a step to far, but he didn't care anymore. If the man he had grown to respect so much was disapproved of his actions, so be it. Korun was used to disappointing old Ellune.

Tapping into Nilas, Korun forced frost to fly from his fingers. The icy blue of a sword took solid form in the charcoal that was the young Ellune's hand. It was a rough shape, not up to Korun's usual standards of beauty in sculptures. However, he was fine with that. War was rarely beautiful. Slamming the sword down into the wood of the floor, Korun watched as the object fractured slightly along the blade. The weapon was fragile, but it held its shape as it stuck point-first into the ground.

"In case you all forgot, that is what a blade looks like," Korun turned from the Elders and addressed the audience of Ellune directly. "Audrae is invading this city. If you wish to fight for Treid, meet me at the gates."

Korun did not look to see if any of his race tailed after him. As he rushed down the hall to his room, his mind was elsewhere. He opened the trunk which sat at the foot of his bed, and saw the gleaming object within. Ice armor, imbued with Tienite and fringed with white fur, glowed softly as the youth strapped the gear on. The armor marked him as a Novar; a Sublimator in Treid's army. He hadn't touched the gift since he escaped Oscillus, as he felt he didn't belong to his own family anymore. Today, however, fighting against the Naerikk and for his neighbors, Korun felt more a son of his father than ever before. For one day, at least, he would be a Novar again.

Armor retrieved, Korun moved through the halls of Oscilette with quiet determination. Despite being a soldier again, the youth felt whole. Given purpose. Perhaps it was because he was fighting for something he believed in, instead of what his father did, but Korun felt a drive to succeed like he had never felt as a Sublimator in Treidhart. Approaching the gates of the little kingdom, Korun knew not how many, if any at all, were stirred to action by his outburst. He hoped for allies in this fight, but if there were no other Ellune, he would find a way to manage. If he had to storm the Naerikks' ships himself, he would make them pay for what their mother did to his god.
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Lucy van Dahl
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[Seasonal Quest] Sound The Attack

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And for breaks, she watched the wax drip.

The candle burned, its reddish-orange flame melting the mauve wax in hideous globules, all running down the side of the lit device to pool in the bottom of the metal candlestick. She watched it, a glaze over her eyes, as she and the Naerikk she'd sold to sat in the relative discomfort of a shady flat in some Ne'haer ghetto. In fact, Lucy wasn't even sure where she was. She'd come to Ne'haer to make a run, and met the woman, Taxia, in a tavern after she'd delivered. Taxia, it seemed, had a few tricks up her sleeve.

As well as nearly an ounce of Splitvine. Splitvine, a strange pollen-like substance, imbued its users with a strange sense of dual realities, both watching everything in real time, and in slowed time. As if she were outside her body, Lucy watched as the wax fell and rose, climbing back up the side of the candle to fall again, slowly, over and over like a Sisyphean exercise. It dripped, and she gasped, then it rose, and she breathed. Break. After break. After break.

It should have been a trial, but it had only been four breaks since they imbibed that Taxia finally spoke. Ethereal and spooky, the words carried to Lucy both too quickly and too slowly, causing her to startle and confuse simultaneously.

"I know a know a way to to bypass all thi bypass all this fighting and and stu stuff." When she stopped speaking, it took Lucy a few trills to piece together her words. She tried to roll over, but instead stayed put, breathily responding.

"What?" It echoed, and Taxia grabbed her ears and shrieked. Rising to her feet unsteadily, she wobbled on legs that moved and stayed put over to Lucy, placing a warm hand on Lucy's upper arm. Lucy felt it both then and fifteen trills later, and she blinked, an eternity passing before she returned.

"Dregoon Dregoon." Taxia purred. "I know where to I know where to find him. him. I buy from one buy from one of his people of his." Gripping, it felt like Taxia was ripping away her skin. Instead, the Naerikk picked her up from her prone position and put her on myconid legs, soft and squishy under the influence. "Before we go though we go though, you have to promise me have to promise that me you will repay that you will the favor repay the favor."

The world came into critical focus and then faded into obscurity as Lucy blinked and tried to make sense of the words. Instead, she just nodded a head topped by a fiery crown, and the two shakily set off towards the harbour. Passing some Ne'haer residents who decided to remain, Taxia offered smiles and placations, words murmured that could not penetrate the iron shell of Lucy's inebriation. Instead, she just stomped, brashly and graceless, wherever Taxia directed her. They walked for one hundred and seventy two arcs, or so it felt, but when they arrived at the small dingy, the only site that greeted them was an old homeless man, dirty and stinking. His eyes rose to meet Taxia's, and after the two exchanged a series of movements too fast for Lucy's encumbered mind, they were ushered onto the rickety vessel.

"I don't think don't think I can stand the sway sway sway sway of this ship boat boat boat." Lucy's realities were starting to melt and dissolve as she began coming down from the Splitvine. The man just rowed, and Taxia smirked with her back to Lucy.
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Elijah Ki'Ouj
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[Seasonal Quest] Sound The Attack

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Elijah was at the dock when he heard the ringing, the sound of the bells of war rousing him from his hammock and his shallow sleep. His hat fell too the floor from his face when he jolted awake. "What in the hell." As he sat upright too quickly the balance of the hammock was lost and he dropped to the ground with a thud and a groan. "In all my life, what is that darn racket." He stumbled, still drowsy, up onto the deck of his sloop, scanning around him until he spotted them through the harbour entrance. Ships approached, sails of black hanging from the masts and their numbers great, lights onboard were what gave them away in the darkness.

Something was odd about the ships and even he from this far away knew they were not your normal merchant vessels, not even your normal war vessels. These were different, foreign and most certainly not ships of Ne'haer. No. The city was under attack and with the recent raids on other surrounding territories there was no doubt in his mind the Dregoon was in charge. He had heard mumblings about Naerikk having taken up arms with the Pirate Lord but he had not fully believed it, apparently he should not have doubted these rumours as those foreign ships were likely under the control of the dangerous fully female race.

Quickly waking up properly he jumped back below deck and grabbed his cutlass, strapping it to his belt and then climbing back up onto the top of the sloop. Elijah quickly hopped onto the docks and looked around him, soldiers and sailors were already in the harbour preparing to board their ships in defence of Ne'haer and at that point the Mortalborn was faced with a dilemma. Fight for the city or sabotage it for the Pirate Lord he eagerly wished to learn more about and stay on good terms with. Being a smuggler would not work if he was on the master of illegal trades bad side.

So his decision was made and he headed towards where Ne'haer's defenders were gathering, curious what he could find out and what he might be able to do in order to benefit the invading force, although he did wish to avoid killing too many people. While he would kill and had shown he will kill for his own benefit and safety he was not interested in mass murder or seeing needless death. There was no point in killing all the residents of a city if you ever wished to gain from it in the future, a dead city was a useless and profitless city. So he stood among the troops of Ne'haer and waited to see what they planned and what he could do to bring down the cities resistance to the invasion.
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Tei'serin Nji'ryn
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[Seasonal Quest] Sound The Attack

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Tei'serin was starting to think that she might be cursed. What were the odds? Thorin and his men were bad enough. They made her life a living nightmare, and she had no other choice but to submit to whatever they wanted of her. But it was starting to seem as if the world itself had something against her. Or perhaps she had somehow attracted the attention of one of the Immortals who found amusement in tormenting mortals. Because really...what other explanation was there? She rarely ever left Treth, but somehow, almost every time she did, something horrible happened. And this trip seemed to be heading towards trouble, too.

Last Vhalar, she hadn't even meant to leave the small village. She had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. And the end result had been her getting swept up into a war among the Immortals. Then back in Ymiden, Thorin had sent her to Ne'haer on a weird treasure hunt of sorts. She had followed his instructions as best she could, and still gotten punished for her efforts. Now this. The city was quiet...too quiet. The streets were mostly empty, and those who were out and about went about their business with a grim silence that unnerved her.

Tei'serin supposed that it was to be expected after all of the raids. Even Treth had been hit. But it was still disturbing to see what should be a bustling city this quiet.

Why did Thorin send me on this errand now, anyway? Give a message to someone waiting in a tavern? Obviously the message was for one of his men. But why have me deliver it? Why not deliver the message himself? Or if he were off on one of his trips, why didn't he have one of his men deliver the message? she mused.

A bell rang through the city, sending a chill through Tei'serin. It was clearly an alarm of some kind, and that meant that she had been right. She really couldn't leave Treth without something going wring. Tei'serin looked around to see what had caused the alarm, and saw ships approaching in the distance. Another raid? Tei'serin's mind flashed on the katana she had back home. She had no idea how to use it properly, so having it wouldn't be of much use to her. But it would make her feel better all the same. Sometimes just seeing that someone was armed was enough to make an attacker think twice about attacking.

It didn't matter. She didn't have the weapon with her, and even if she did, she would be of no use as a fighter. What she could do was try and aid the wounded. With that thought in mind, waited nervously to see what would happen.
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