Messages

How frustrating it is to know how much one place has so many over a barrel.  Alkab being the last bastion of food means they can call any shots they want, and they know it.  Of course, they to an extent depend on the Well, but the Well's will is ultimately driven by Baz'eel.  How desperate people must have been to sign such a stupid accord.

The Well must find independence from Baz'eel if it is to flourish.  As it stands now, we suffer the consequences but reap none of the benefits.  We are placed in the vanguard to die, as Baz'eel cowers behind their geomancer barrier.  Baz'eel does nothing for us besides occasionally swoop down, nod at our Legates, and return to their floating terrace.

It will not always be this way though, and Baz'eel knows it.  They will run out of Geomancers.  The Terrace will not float forever.  They are decaying just as the rest of the world is, but they are stalling.  Why are they stalling?  What do they think will save them?  That's the real question we need to be asking.

Agaslakku, grant me wisdom in these trying times.  Allow me to see a path to let the Well become a safe and secure home for those who dwell there.  Allow me to see a path to freedom.

A new battle is looming, but this one we have a chance to prepare for.  Of course I'm not exactly in the room for it, but it sounds like some good steps are being taken.  Hopefully those around the Legates can keep this from getting too fucked up.  I'm starting to see how the Well functions.

Legates in charge with big voices and small brains, and people around them trying to at least be capable.  It's a terrible system honestly...the more time goes on the more I feel Baz'eel has set things up to fail.  Apparently it's not an uncommon belief among those in the League of White. 

It's frustrating to see such a narrow view that I see.  To know so little, hope for so much, and not feel like I have the power to say much of anything.  To swallow my pride and agree with the Blasphemer on tactical choices...to try and convince people to not make martyrs out of the Dome followers.  It's sensible to believe in conservative solutions when you recognize your own ignorance and lack of power.

Agaslakku, grant me opportunities.  Grant me the wisdom to use them properly.  Grant me the insights to turn the Well's eyes towards the powers that threaten it, rather than turning in on itself.  I beg you, grant me some plan that I might stop this Oasis from falling apart. 

Legate Cassella,

I think perhaps communication by letter will hopefully allow me to say what I wished to say.  I fear my heart burns hot with a desire to see the Well protected and strong, and my passions can make me say things in the moment that are not helpful to current situations.  It seems you are a passionate man as well.

First, on the topic of the delving law, my anger I think was misdirected.  I am not upset with you, but frustrated that you were put in the position you were by your counterpart.  I trusted you when you said you would be able to oppose him and get the licensing issue resolved, and now I feel uncertain you will be able to.  I'm sure it's apparent to you that Domhnall fucked you by ramming that law through just before you took office.  I understand you are trying to make the best out of a bad situation.  I also hope you understand that it is his fault.  I am not the only one who will see things as you appearing weak, and I spoke with frustration because I have such high hopes for you to bring back honor to the White.

Second, I wished to discuss the pressing issue of the war with the Blood Orcs.  I have been speaking to the Banda and other warriors, and have a loose strategy to propose.  It will however require somebody who can speak with the authority of the Well to carry it out.  If you'd hear it, let me know. 

I hope my frustrated words have not driven too much of a schism between us.  I am surprised myself that I am this passionate about the League and the Well.  I hope to hear from you soon.

-Elli Hamdi, Cleric of Agaslakku, Blue Tassel Scholar of the Sandstone College.

[Tactical Assessments of Goblinoids and Reptilians of the Great Ring]

Tactical Assessments of Goblinoids and Reptilians of the Great Ring

Volume 1: The Kobold

By Elli Hamdi, Cleric of Agaslakku, Blue Tassel Scholar of the Sandstone College

Kobolds are a perpetual menace everywhere around the disc. They were before Ringfall, and they continue to be after.  This writing will attempt to in simple terms provide tactical suggestions to battle against them.  This knowledge has been gained from the author's numerous decades of experience fighting the beasts, as well as recent experience fighting them frequently among the Great Disc.

First, let's begin with weaknesses.  Kobolds are generally speaking very small, fragile, and not particularly intelligent.  They are capable of speech, but mostly communicate in hisses and yelps.  They can sound almost doglike, but they are actually reptilians.  Weapons and magic tailored against such things will prove particularly effective against them.  They are also universally wicked beings, so protections against evil prove very useful. 

One of their largest weaknesses is their desire for subservience that seems to be part of their very nature.  Either through generations of selective breeding or perhaps just how they were designed by whatever wicked god put them together, it is in the nature of a kobold to seek a stronger creature to follow.  Often, they will look to more powerful reptilians for this, but they can also be easily intimidated by a stronger adventurer, especially if they are alone.  They are by nature cowardly, and this can be exploited.  This does mean however that if you see a large force of kobolds gathering, it is wise to consider if they are there of their own volition. 

Now for their strengths.  First, and most obviously, their reproductive cycle is extremely low.  It is nearly impossible to exterminate them for good.  It only takes a couple to lay a large clutch of eggs which hatch and grow to a combat ready kobold in a matter of weeks.  This is likely why despite their numerous weaknesses the species continues to flourish.  This sort of strength can be seen in many species in the animal kingdom, generally among insects.  Second, despite their lack of intellect they have an innate understanding of cunning combat tactics.  They will plan ambushes, burrow through the dirt, and some even can call upon divine and arcane spells.  Just as a fish does not need to be taught how to swim, a kobold does not need to learn how to stab a person in the back.  They just know.



When engaging a kobold, first assume that if you see one kobold, then there is more waiting.  It is likely a single kobold is attempting to lead you into an ambush, and should never be followed, chased recklessly, or trusted.  Keep your ranged weapon of choice handy and shoot at them as they flee.  Never do business with one or show pity to them, as their foul cunning would have them exploit any of these situations to cause harm to any they are not subservient to. 

Now we'll cover some basic tactical tips for fighting against kobold swarms.  Many of these are basic when engaging any foe, so we'll cover them swiftly.  First, they will swarm.  Although their individual strikes hurt, it only takes a moment of flat-footed distraction to be struck by many at once.  This has been the death of many a would be adventurer.  Keep blurring vials handy, or other methods to turn aside the damage from blades.  However strong your armor is, or however swift you are, you will not dodge all the attacks from a kobold swarm.  Second, prioritize their casters.  Often, they will be granted powers by some dark god or another, and some even have some innate blood magic.  They will frequently use this to call upon stronger beings that can be a real problem.  Kill the caster and the summons fall.  Third, area effect spells that impact the mind or the body can be a godsend, but not as much those that can be dodged.  Kobolds are very swift creatures, but if that swiftness is removed, they can be made very vulnerable.  Fourth though, and perhaps most importantly, do not underestimate them.  An individual kobold may be weak yes but given that every one of them has that innate cunning for combat and ambush tactics they can be very well coordinated.  Never let arrogance drive you in combat.  Overconfidence is a killer.

As for specific tactics, make sure to always keep an eye on your flanks, and behind you.  Kobolds tend to burrow and will pop up behind the more fragile members of your party and deliver a flurry of sharp blows to their kidneys.  This can cause a line to collapse quickly when healing is slowed and ranged fighters panic.  Expect it and avoid panic.  If you see a bunch of kobolds riding on the back of a large lizard, kill the lizard, but be prepared for the kobold riders to abandon it and charge you.  They often tame large dune creatures of the Great Disc to use as cavalry.  If among a group of kobolds, you see one with a large war standard on its back, prioritize killing it as often this is a kobold that has written to prominence among its fellows, and will whip those around it into a frenzy.  Once slain, their morale quickly breaks.  Beware of being drawn into choke points, as it is not uncommon for kobolds to employ gas bombs, caltrops, greases, and other such disrupting tools. 

Hopefully this is a good primer for fighting the common kobold.  More volumes will likely follow on the other various Reptilian and Goblinoid types around the Great Ring.  Remember, tactics are always evolving, so there may be things not covered in this writing that the kobolds pick up.  Always be wary, and always be ready to adjust. 

Live and drink!

I remember when I was in the Tunnel Corps and I read this old book of gnomish military tactics.  It contained such nuggets of wisdom as "Do not charge your enemy over water" and "Control the terrain to force your enemy into choke points".  Most of all though, it spoke of fools going to battle, then seeking to win, and wise warriors winning the battle, and then getting to the fighting.  All of it had seemed so common sense at the time to me it was laughable.  The sort of thing felt obvious.

Ephia's Well is packed to the brim with fools.

I've been studying the history of their military engagements, and every single one has been deciding to fight, barely preparing, gathering zero intelligence, and charging off to battle relying on luck.  Every single battle has been a slog, and a slaughter, with "victories" gained at immense cost.  The battle against the Blood Orcs was no different.

I had a terrible feeling in my gut as I went to the battle.  It's a feeling of knowing there is no leadership, and no plan.  It's a feeling of marching to death, as every single warrior is uncertain.  All I could do was call on my faith in Agaslakku that I might survive this encounter.  When I arrived, I saw about what I expected.

The Orcs, prior to falling to this blood heresy, had been faithful to Agaslakku.  They had constructed fortifications taking advantage of terrain, from which they rained down death on us.  They prepared flanking and ambushes that tore into us.  They fought smart, and we fought stupid, and we paid for it.  It is only at a massive cost of blood and coin in the form of potions that we managed to achieve "victory".  What did we win? 

We pushed back a small enemy force, and gained potions more than we could carry.  Most of them were left lying in the sands.  The coin we spent was almost certainly more than we gained, and the numbers of the enemy were barely diminished.  I was wounded severely, along with many others, and the Well as a whole was weakened further.

This is what I feel I was put here to avoid, but it seems impossible when so many fail to even appreciate the problem.  The Well is full of dead from these stupid military decisions, but they keep being made unapologetically.  The Well could be strong, but every time it begins to rise it cripples itself by making these mistakes. 

Agaslakku grant me the ear of somebody who will listen, and think before marching to war.  Put them in power, so the Well might become a strong power in the Wastes as it should be.  This oasis is squandered in the hands of fools. 

The fires rise.  The desert burns.  I've realized that in order to make any real income and not keep spinning in place, I need to do more than just board contract work.  I've started actively hunting bounties.  It's far more dangerous, but I've got some things I need to purchase. 

Like a Voice...I guess...eventually.  And Blurrings.  And just so so much.

Thankfully I can feel Agaslakku's blessings upon me making me stronger.  I'm learning more of the dangers that this place faces...adjusting my tactics accordingly to strike down danger.  Growing.  I've even chosen one of the "Leagues" they have here.

I decided to go for White, for now.  They seem the ones who actually understand the concept of merit on their sign, but I'm unsure if their members practice what they preach.  I've chosen a candidate to back now at least, in the hopes they follow through on their promise to allow themselves to be held accountable.

If I'm going to help this place with my knowledge, I need those in power to understand it and respect it.  That will come with time, consistency, and exposure.  Let's hope I can pick the right person. 

Chraub The Great Khan,

Message received.  You want to talk, I'll meet you round the Krak sometime.  Just make a sending.  I'm a light sleeper.

Elli

I continue to battle every day, becoming stronger and stronger over various jobs.  Agaslakku blesses me with his fires, and they consume all who oppose me.  Gnolls so far are terrifying.

Glooms are all over the place too.  These are things that are unique to me, but it means monsters seem to have some weird abilities.  Fought against some Meleks (Maleks?) today that had the ability to create copies of me when I chopped em.  Really weird fighting against yourself...but good training I suppose.

A local devotee of Kula got really political on the mound.  I dunno why but it didn't sit right with me.  I think it was because I was expecting a sermon and instead I got a political statement.  Still, after we went and sanctified an altar to Kula.  With permission I made sure it was tested by Agaslakku as well by smacking it with my axe.  It stood up to the smack, so it's proven its strength. 

It's really nice, falling back into this sort of thing.  Reminds me of back home.  Every day going out on sorties against the goblins or the kobolds.  The ones here ain't so different really.  Same tactics work.  Same weak joints and thin necks.  War really doesn't change, and there's a great comfort in that. 

That said, that old life is as dead as the Ring it's from.  The gods are dead, my friends are dead, the whole damn ring is dead.  Consumed by Nothing...picked clean.  Doesn't make sense to think it too much.  Have to look forward.  Try and make this place a good home because well...I've wandered for a while, and I can tell you there isn't much out there better than the Well.

Been a while.

I've mostly been in studies lately.  Made a few new friends.  A fellow Agasian named Bruno has been running into me a lot.  He's more the typical sort of cleric of the war god, but we make a good pair.  Also a dwarven woman named Malika has shown herself to be more than capable and good to work with.

Found an orcish war axe buried in the head of some poor sod in the Gutters.  No idea how it got down there, but it's sharp as the hells and burns with fire as well.  Glory to Agaslakku for putting it into my hands, and may it serve me will for his glory.

Today, I couldn't help but feel a bit nostalgic.  Took a job slaying some kobolds in a monolith tunnel.  Reminded me of the old days with the squad before Ringfall.  Got a little scary too, but with good companions and strategy we prevailed. 

Finally. 

After circling it since ringfall, and wandering the wastes, I've finally made it to Ephia's Well.  The center of conflict.  The nexus of chaos.  The place where it seems all madness rotates around. 

It's actually rather serene seeming once you get inside.  Odd jobs to do, and monster infestations in certain places, but nothing where it feels like suicide walking in there.  I've met a few brave warriors, and the Axe's blessings have served me well so far. 

I managed to join the illustrious Sandstone College, to further my studies into engineering, strategy, logistics, and tactics.  Given how prone this place is to conflict, it's only a matter of time before another great battle looms.  Perhaps when it does, I'll have built enough of a reputation for those in power to allow me to influence it.  Perhaps not.  Either way, this place will prove a challenge worthy of a cleric of Agaslakku.

Alejandro,

Thank you for everything, and for helping me get this far.  I have decided to be a bit more active because I came to conclusions while I was thinking about the concept of truth.  I realized I was seen as a paranoid conspiracy theorist by many because of how this process was approached.

Truth requires consensus to be recognized.  It requires peer review by other independent searchers before it can be accepted.  To that end, I am trying to take advantage of the College's surge in popularity to build a desire in more people to search and most importantly share some of their findings.

I understand that up until now this practice has been cloaked in secrecy, but this has made applying the truths we find impossible.  None will believe a single voice, and I fear my voice aiding you even tainted people believing you.  It is my hope my efforts here will help build a community of truth seekers that cannot be ignored.

Thank you again,

-Sparrow

Amélie,

I am assisting with a private ritual lead by Sister Selsi.  As part of this ritual, we will require some consecrated or blessed salts.  I'd rather not do business with the shady dealers in the Souk, and Alejandro told me that the herbalist near the Well may offer some.  Alas, she won't offer them to me, but he mentioned she had sold you some before.  Is it possible you could check for me and see?  I will of course cover the cost. 

Live and drink,

-Sparrow

Portia "Sparrow" Softstep

The Toymaker and the Son.  By Sparrow.

Once, in a land far away, there was a wise toymaker. He had a long dark beard, and tended to wear a simple brown robe.  Despite only being of middle age, his back was hunched from many nights spent over a workbench. 
His eyesight had been failing from keeping his face close to his work to tend to every detail, and his hands were always covered in small cuts and he had clay under his nails.  His shop was a small humble shop, and it smelled of sawdust and earth and wool most days.  It was kept cool from the sun by great trees that made a canopy of shade overtop of it.  There was a long list of people waiting to get a toy from this toymaker, and he loved his work.  The toymaker was content. 

This toymaker was known far and wide for one thing.  Every piece he made was unique.  He could look at a person and know right away what toy they would like, with his wise gaze, and he would craft the perfect gift every time.  Every gift he made though was rife with imperfections and flaws.  He'd make clay soldiers, but some would lean just a bit, or have eyes that were different colors, or had a small chip out of one of the ears.  He'd make stuffed dolls, but one button eye would be a bit larger than the other, or the dress would have a slight tear, or four fingers on one hand and five on another.  Despite these imperfections though, every gift was loved for what it was, for to have such a precious gift from this toymaker was highly coveted.

This toymaker had a son, who looked very much like him.  You would think the son would be proud of his father, but he was not.  You see, this ambitious son had ideas of his own. 
"Father, why do you make every piece to order?  You could just make a bunch of pieces at once, and we could sell them all at once and make a bunch of dinar!"
"Father, why aren't you more careful with your work?  If you made every piece perfect they'd surely be more beautiful, and your fame would grow!"
"Father, why don't you bring on more help?  If we had more help, we could make even more toys, and then we could be rich!"
The toymaker, answered every protestation of the son with the same answer..."And then what?"

One day, it came to be that the toymaker heard his elderly parents were fallen ill, and he needed to go back home on the other end of the world to tend to his affairs.  He closed his store, and left...and the son saw an opportunity.

He crafted himself a false beard, and pair of glasses to match his father's, and set about doing things his way to /prove/ to his father he was right.  First, he stopped making pieces to order, as he did not have the same wise eyes as his father.  Instead her offered a selection, and made people pick.  Then, he worked very carefully to make each piece as perfectly as possible.  He found it rather easy, having studied his father, and simply had to make slight adjustments.  Finally, he brought on help of his own, teaching them the techniques he had gained from observing his father, with his own methods to make every piece exactly the same.  Perfect.

And this did indeed cause the toymaker's business to grow.  The son used the good name of the toymaker to bring in more and more people, and since he was much more efficient he could make more and more toys.  To make every piece perfect, the son used the extra wealth gained to purchase machines, as their accuracy would be greater than any human hand.  He brought on more and more help, and soon the work was overflowing out of the small humble shop, so the son expanded it out further and further.  He chopped down the great trees that provided shade to the shop to make room, and rather than smelling like sawdust and earth and wool, the shop smelled of oil, and metal, as it joylessly churned out toys.

The son looked proudly upon what he had made now, as his workers toiled below him.  He didn't even bother with the false beard or glasses anymore, shining his bright, practiced smile to all who he saw.  His toys were traded around the world, and he had great wealth.  More wealth than he could ever afford to spend.  He had achieved his goal...but when the night fell, and the son went to bed, the words of the toymaker rung in his head...taunting him. 

"And then what?"

This question drove the son to push further and further.  It was not enough that his toys should be the best, but that /all/ toys should be bought from him.  He aggressively chased after competitor after competitor, copying their works but using his own techniques to make them more efficiently, and more perfectly.  He cut his prices far below theirs, until one by one these competitors were driven out of business.  They fell under the son's gaze, and he smiled as his empire grew.  It grew and grew, and grew, until it reached from one side of the world to the other, with great factories churning out sulfur smelling smoke into the air, with an army of joyless workers slaving away in their heat.

And then it came to be, as the son looked over this empire, that he was told there was one store that for whatever reason he couldn't drive out of business, on the other side of the world.  In fact, this store it seemed was taking business /away/ from him, with many of his customers seeming to prefer it over his own.  He had his spies look into it, and discovered this store was run by a man with a long beard and spectacles.  The spy had walked into the store to see what made it so special, and when he did the toymaker there had looked him in the eye.  And gave him a letter to take back to the son.

"My son" the letter began, "I am glad to hear of your success in expanding the business.  I decided it best if I kept my distance here, and did what I love to do.  Although I may not be wealthy, or powerful, I am happy.  I hope you can say the same".  The son fell to his knees and wept...for he was not happy.  He longed for the times when it was him and his father, in the humble shop, but he knew those days would never return for him.

So I ask you, dear readers, to take this story to heart, and ask yourself a simple question.  Would you prefer to receive a gift from the toymaker, or from the son?

To the Honorable Al-Musil Booksellers,

I am an archaeologist and scholar of Ephia's Well, and there are some date discrepancies from my studies that I would like to reference to the Imperial Calendar.  I would like to know how much it would cost for me to special order the 4th edition of "Lives of the Maribid".  In the first volume it suggests we write you for such a thing.  I am currently keeping a room in the Krak des Roses, so a note there left for me will reach me.

Live and drink,

-Sparrow