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Balestriere,

We may speak soon, come to the Embassy at your convenience.

Sincerely,

Proxeni Antonina Megastilese

Cool PC, good job.

Amidst the tumultuous emergence of new powers in the city of Dunwarren, rumours spread of lesser, but evidently no less concerning developments for the city of Sanctuary.  Notably, a peculiar outbreak of madness which has run the gamut of social status and geographic location within the metropolis.  The talk of the taverns is that at least half a dozen, if not more, citizens have been afflicted by a strange malady of the mind which seems to reduce them to screaming, horror stricken shells.  The gruesome self-mutilations, murders and suicides that have resulted from this hysterical insanity have left many people living in fear, given the silence of the Watchers and Warders on the matter and no evident cause or cure for those affected.  

Furthermore, within the Public Housing Vaults, the "Twisting Malaise" continues it's spread, with ever more strange sightings reported by the multitudes who yet dwell there.  Though many vault dwellers laud the efforts of Director Markem and a small band of his most loyal ordinants in attempting to quell the outbreak, deep suspicions surround the deformed Dark Brothers of Malark Amblecrown who stalk the vaults like nightmarish, surrealist impressions of the once noble knights.  Amongst the chaos brewing there, tales abound of a growing turf war between established criminals and upstarts, fled from the now ruined and ooze-ridden Lower...

[Serena Tower]

::[ Alturiak 27th : Year 164 : 1386 DR ]::

The last weeks and months have seen turbulent changes to the Sanctuary of Upper Dunwarren. The restructuring of Sanctuary into the sprawling metropolis of Upper, inhabited by all manner of folk and monsters and the gleaming hub of the elite, Final Sanctuary, has seen a rise in tensions as the gap between the "haves" and "have-nots" of society has exponentially increased. The disappearance of the once imposing and monolithic Serena Tower into the reaches of Final Sanctuary has left a strangely devoid spot in the skyline of Sanctuary for those who have dwelt in the city for decades. Few dare complained openly as yet in the teeming streets of Upper, with the enforcers of the resurgent and ever vigilant Reformed Order at every gate and on every street corner.

In the Public Housing Vaults the "Twisting Malaise" that has afflicted a growing minority of residents is a topic of fevered conversation. Although the vast majority of citizens in the vaults remain unaffected, some fear the spread could intensify. For many poor and disaffected communities however, leaving their homes, scant work and support networks in favour of fresher climes is simply not a viable option, and so they stay, hope and pray for alleviation. Despite the best efforts of the Director Markem and his strange company, supposedly supported by the Directorate and officials of Sanctuary, there seems to be no end in sight for the spreading blight. Some even whisper that this sickness might not be such a bad thing, for at the very least the city can no longer ignore their plight.

In news seemingly unrelated to the major shifts going on in the city, some citizens report that the perennial issue of nightmares has grown worse of late. A spate of manifestations of terrible psychoses and sudden bouts of madness or aggression has begun to emerge, culminating in a reported triple homicide and suicide the previous dark by an unremarkable worminger. At present no one seems to have any answers, but amidst the strangeness of these times, even the nightmarish has become strangely commonplace...

Being able to make someone else a lair master is a trade off, you allow them to use the perks of your lair, you gain someone to defend it and also bring in greatly more resources, at the same time it makes your lair more vulnerable to attack.  Giving all the benefits of having another person share your lair with 0 downsides would be silly.

[Battle of Mutulakt]

::[ Nightal 10th : Year 163 : 1385 DR]::

In the hours following the Battle of Mutulakt the burning hulks of dozens of ships continues to illuminate the stygian waters of the Dark Lake. The fortified city itself glowed with it's own grim lights, as vast pyres fuelled by the furnaces of the Duergar burned away industriously, reducing the slick mounds of dead bodies to charred bones and ash. After months of anxiety about the imposing Dread Fleet, the victory of Sanctuary's coalition forces has buoyed the hopes and spirits of all those opposed to the preponderance of Ysinode. Returning aristocrats and observers speak in elaborate, even poetic terms of the titanic clash, painting a picture of the courage and skill of the crews involved. The descriptions offered by those sailors, soldiers and adventurers involved in the struggle are distinctly more prosaic, bespeaking the heavy toll paid in blood for the victory over the Dread Empire's troops. Sanctuary's fleet returned to it's moorings considerably worse for wear, but afloat at least, many other allied ships were not so fortunate.

Despite the losses, it cannot be denied that the Battle of Mutulakt was a stunning victory for Sanctuary and her cohorts, demonstrating the growing martial might of the new Final Sanctuary and its rulers. Official and spontaneous celebrations have broken out across the city, with many on the Red side of the political spectrum hailing it as a triumph for not only the Spellguard, but as vindication of their program of military expansion and aggressive action. In the Canal Ward, labourers and artisans are seen rapidly erecting a huge stone monolith as a testament and memorial to the sacrifices made by the brave warriors of freedom.

[::[ Second of Uktar : Year 163 : 1385 DR ]::]

::[ Second of Uktar : Year 163 : 1385 DR ]::


Amidst the blackness of the Underdark, the Dark Lake contrary to its name is shimmers with light from the fires and strange alien glows that burn brightly around the besieged city of Mutulakt. The seemingly impenetrable ring of drow warships of the Traensyr Fleet that surrounds the harbour of the Duergar fortress continues to deny any attempts at relief for those trapped within. Only the brave and foolhardy dare venture out onto the once placid waters of the vast inland sea, such is the looming threat of Ysinode's patrol squadrons capturing unfortunate sailors. In the ports of various cities, sailors scowl into their cups, unable to take their vessels out from their berths.

A constant stream of arrows, catapult rounds and barrels of fire-oil mark the defenders continued bitter resistance to the Illithid forces on the Lake, yet the question on all lips remains: "How long can Mutulakt hold on?"....

[::[Marpenoth 18th : Year 163 : 1385 DR]::]

::[Marpenoth 18th : Year 163 : 1385 DR]::

It began with a chill wind flowing off the Dark Lake.  Soon reports came flooding into Sanctuary that a vast fleet had taken to the waters, sailing forth from the Dread Empire occupied harbour of Traensyr.  Panicked and fearful sailors report at least thirty large warships, along with dozens of smaller skiffs, rafts and longboats in the armada.  From the shore onlookers watched helplessly as the huge naval force destroyed or captured any vessels foolish enough to be caught, the survivors of these wrecks dragged aboard barges for horrors unknown...

It is said that the larger ships of the fleet proceeded immediately in the direction of the Duergar City of Mutulakt where they formed a ring, blockading the city from the trade lanes of the Dark Lake and immediately began a pounding bombardment of the immense city walls.  Yet a potion of the armada was witnessed to have broken away from the blockade and made a rapid descent on the central island of Lobliibloop, barges spewing out scores of enthralled Drow soldiers and hordes of hideous aberrants.  Sailors who have since fled the island talk of the fury and speed of the Dread forces' advance, which quickly captured all but one corner of the island and began placing strange beacons upon the cliffs.  The purpose of these beacons rapidly became terribly apparent as hideous fleshy, pulsating masses out in the water began to drift towards the captured pirate and trading vessels sitting at anchor on the island.  Though many brave defenders of Sanctuary and a contingent of Lowersmen hastened to the island's defense, they were evidently unable to prevent all of these "living bombs" out on the lake from striking their intended targets on the piers, and explosions were heard far from the island.  

Though it seems from early reports that the islands natives, ably assisted by the adventurers of Sanctuary were able to repulse and defeat this landing, this hub of Dark Lake trade has suffered serious damage, and with the destruction of numerous ships on the Lake, the sea lanes of the Underdark are now firmly under the control of Ysinode.  Even more worringly, it is rumoured that the Mindflayers deployed some kind of implanted horror from the depths of the Lake in their attempts to break the defenses of Lobliibloop, many wonder what other terrible works of these alien minds may yet lay in wait...

[::[ Eleint 22nd : Year 163 : 1385 DR ]::]

::[ Eleint 22nd : Year 163 : 1385 DR ]::

Throughout Sanctuary notices go up and several sendings proclaim the imminence of an important announcement from the government of Upper Sanctuary this very dark. Citizens, eager for any news in the aftermath of Gould's feast and the troubles of the past few months are seen gathering to discuss what revelations might yet be to come. Helpful civil servants and employees of the state are seen informing any inquirers to assemble at the House of Governance in six hours...

//Approximately 6 hours from this post. 11PM GMT.

In accordance with the recent speech from Director Gould, anyone joining the Watchers or Spellguard Auxiliary for the time being should contact me on IRC to receive the 250 gold enlistment bounty promised!

[Isar D'Qur]

::[ Mirtul 26th : Year 163 : 1385 DR ]::

Strange events abound once more this dark. As many fishermen and traders upon the Dark Lake went about their business, they report suddenly seeing a huge beam of golden light burst forth from the Shore near the Blue Mushroom and plunged into the Lake itself, standing as a column of brightness in the murk. Many fearful and superstitious crews steered well clear of this oddity, but it is rumoured some in Sanctuary went to investigate. What transpired is not widely known, but they reportedly found the smouldering corpse of the enigmatic Magistrar Klementin Alvinciz by the shore...

Later that same dark a harried man by the name of Isar D'Qur made his way into Upper Sanctuary, and relayed messages from the supposedly deceased Knights of the Golden Chalice. He told a wild tale of the rise of a mad and terrible "God" beneath the waters, the former leader of the Knights said to have conducted a black rite and emerged as an undead monstrosity. Confusion and disbelieve swirls around the rumour mill of Upper Sanctuary, but the Priory of the Golden Chalice stands all but deserted, save for two Knights and their ward, the "Prince" Chesley...

[:[ Alturiak 24th : Year 163 : 1385 DR ]::]

::[ Alturiak 24th : Year 163 : 1385 DR ]::

A few strange happenings have occurred around Sanctuary in the past week and a half, beginning with a burgeoning spate of murders, most grotesque in nature. Twelve darks ago it is rumoured the Sanctuary Watchers found the mangled body of a streetwalker, dead from what appears to be a wild animal attack. This, it is said has been followed by two more murders in a similar vein, one a wandering salesman and the other a prominent merchant. The details remain unclear and numerous citizens whisper that the Watchers are keeping the matter under wraps to avoid panic, but it is commonly understood that someone, or something most foul is at work in Upper.

Meanwhile, just five darks past, those who were wandering beyond the confines of Dunwarren report a vast rumbling and shaking of the earth in the vicinity of the Dark Lake. Sailors and merchantmen speak in hushed tones of a great upheaval and terrible sounds emanating from the cursed spit of land known vaguely as "Cape Harrowden", a grim and ill fated place long avoid by decent folk...

[::[ Alturiak 3rd : Year 163 : 1385 DR ]::]

::[ Alturiak 3rd : Year 163 : 1385 DR ]::

Curious events struck Upper Sanctuary this dark, beginning with the hosting of a contest of arms by one Doban Cherninshat the grand Sanctuary Stadium.  As citizens of all stripes went to do battle or enjoy the bloodsports, it is said a pair of strange men entered the vast complex and after a short while the larger of the two vanished into the backrooms.  Whether by design or chance, intrepid spectators are rumoured to have stumbled on a nefarious plan to take hostage all within and seize the Stadium for some manner of chaotic "game".  Evidently the security being insufficient, the armed criminals involved were able to wrest control of the entire colosseum, sealing terrified people inside the main chambers and cutting off communication or alarm with the rest of the city.  Those within report that they were then subjected to the insane shenanigans of the mysterious mad man known as the "Bloodshot Baron", a feared drug dealer wanted for producing the recent drug epidemic in Lower.  The specifics of this orgy of violence and anarchy remain hazy due to the reticence of many to speak and tight Spellguard control of any information regarding damage to the Stadium.  

This confusing and fearful event has left many citizens of Upper Sanctuary wondering if anywhere is safe from the dangers of that haunt the streets below and the world beyond.  Bodies covered in heavy cloth carried from the stadium along with the awful smell of charred meat belie a terrible fate for some of those who were trapped within.  The question on everyone's lips remains, who is this "Bloodshot Baron" and is there any agency in Upper Sanctuary capable of stopping the rising body count from his actions...?

[::[ Nightal 25th : Year 162 : 1384 DR ]::]

::[ Nightal 25th : Year 162 : 1384 DR ]::

Earlier this day an enormous explosion ripped it's way through the ground floor of the Sunset Flats.  Amidst billowing smoke and gouts of flame, a Watcher, Agent and unaffiliated individual mage of some sort were seen stumbling forth in a badly scorched state.  Onlookers repute that rather than deal with the fire which was building to a towering inferno, the Watcher present proceeded to speak angrily with the other two, whilst the Agent bellowed for assistance.  As time dragged on vital moments were lost and soon the entire apartment building was engulfed in fire, terrified residents were seen flinging themselves from the windows in the hopes that the fall would be less dangerous than the devouring flames.  By the time sufficient response was mustered the situation appeared hopeless and animatrons were deployed to demolish parts of the building to create fireblocks and prevent the spread to other housing blocks.  At last a catapult was brought up to collapse the tower, fired by the first attending Watcher.  Some have praised his tough action to quarrantine the fire, but many more condemn the collapsing of the building with citizens reputedly still alive inside and note it would not have been necessary if not for the earlier failures.

As the citizens mourn the loss of what conservative estimates claim to be at least five lives, serious questions are being asked about the ability of Upper Sanctuary's protectors to deal with emergent threats with the atrocity blamed on a drug cartel developing in Lower.  Sobbing relatives, officials and even members of the Directorate have been seen laying wreaths and flowers at the site of the blast whilst work is already underway to clear the rubble.  Some droll individuals note one bright spark amidst the misery is that the rising star Finn Mouldercrest was not caught in the terrible collapse as a former resident, having recently moved into finer accomodations with the newfound success of his stew business.

[::[ Nightal 18th : Year 162 : 1384 DR ]::]

::[ Nightal 18th : Year 162 : 1384 DR ]::

Throughout Lower these past few months a series of developments have been underway.  With demise of the leader of the Silver Brands and the vast majority of its gang members in mysterious circumstances, the criminal economy of the slums has become a much more dispersed and disorganised affair.  Much of the smuggling and organised crime is now in the hands of the Varad-Azuul family in the Canal District or small independent actors in Lower.  The resulting power vacuum from the collapse of the Silver Brand's network of fiefdoms and petty gang captains gave way to a brief period of peace, which is now being disturbed by the makings of a new anarchy.  Free from fears of overbearing thugs and welcoming flocks of new desperate souls, the Church of Ascension has swollen in numbers of late, its preachers flooding the streets with the word of Frederick Bresley, often flanked by ragged looking fellows brandishing arms in the makings of a ramshackle militia.  

Whilst the teachings of "hope" appeal to many of the lost and abandoned souls of Lower, there are those who's lives are too bleak, to filled with misery and memories of horror to escape into the fantasies of idealism.  For the men and women mired in despair, the comforting embrace of quiet and darkness draws them to the Sacred Caverns of Ibrandul, where this ancient cult of the Underdark seems to be undergoing a resurgence.  Pale, skinny youths and old men with drawn faces beckon kindred spirits to join the faith and the call is slowly but surely being answered.

Meanwhile, something stirs in the fetid, murky shadows of the Sewers that run below the old ruins.  From the grates and canals a spreading slime can be seen marking walls, pavements and even living creatures.  Hushed whispers speak of slimed monsters crawling out from the hidden places of the earth to drag away unsuspecting folk to a fate unknown and doubtlessly horrifying...

Finally in the wake of the disruption caused by the fall of the Silver Brands, a new drug seems to be hitting the streets.  Known colloquially as "Bloodshot", for its effect of reddening the eyes and veins of addicts, it is proving a potent and dangerous threat to both users and average citizens.  A habit largely confined to the desperate and powerless, the appeal of the supernatural strength and physical abilities the drug is said to bestow is enough to continue it's voracious spread, despite numerous horrible side effects.  More than one corpse has been found stiffened in a state of agonised convulsion, or reputedly with their heart burst from their chest.  Rampaging and paranoid users are a constant threat in the back alleys, exacting a bloody revenge on a world that has scorned them.  Despite the prevalence of the danger, no one quite seems to know exactly where the drug is coming from, and it is reported to only be supplied by silent dealers, covered head to toe in black leather and iron masks.