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Messages - Thaldrac

#1
Correspondence / Re: A Contract Given to Archos Thyestes
February 09, 2024, 08:36:24 PM
[ A large thumbprint in ink seals the bottom of the document. ]
#2
[ There is a completely unintelligible scrawl returned from Archos. Evidently, he is not a believer that the pen is mightier than the sword. ]
#3
Screen Shots & Obituaries / Re: Mari Blacke, the Torch
October 16, 2023, 04:46:15 PM
RIP to the best Gellemede

#4
[ A signature, in a vivid green ink, laces it's way across the document - Estilikon Pim. ]
#5
Correspondence / A letter to Marcellus
August 31, 2023, 06:52:50 PM
[ This is a sheet of parchment, folded thrice and sealed with green wax, the stamp of a pointy hat visibile. When unfolded, this can be seen to be a letter, penned in a flowing, near-endless script. It is far too perfect to have been written by hand, most likely done by arcane means. ]

Dearest Legate Marcellus,

We have crossed paths on numerous occasions and greeted each other by name - I would not count myself amongst your friends, but neither are we unfamiliar with each other. Most recently, we travelled into the Gutters together and faced the Beast, learning more of it's nature as it leapt into the dark chasm after laying waste to Hekatomb, Twins rest him. I have also supplied you with vials on your request, ever responsive to what you desire. My talents are numerous - archaeology, history, alchemy, herbalism, and more reside amongst my repertoire: But most importantly, the arcane.

Such is why I put quill to parchment, and pen this letter to your desk. We have all witnessed the ever-growing power and aloofness those of Q'tolip's Tower conduct themselves with, most recently flagrantly disregarding the sanctity of the Assembly Hall and laying a killing spell against one of the Fourth, to which I most vehemently assisted in putting the querulous little Nadiri to the tiles as he and many others of his ilk seem to deserve.

With such growing insolence from the Astronomers in mind, and the recent outlawing of Magistrates of the Accords - thereby nullifying the powers of most of those magistrates in power - I would offer my own services as such a Magistrate. My independent knowledge of the arcane would stand in direct opposition to the Tower when they attempt to sway the laws their way by spouting hot air phrased as wisdom, as well as a good advisor to yourself on matters pertaining to such. In my ageless wisdom, I am also schooled in proper thought and procedure, and would have little interest in allowing trials under my power to be led astray, lessening confidence in the Well's leadership and it's choices.

I would not write assuming you to be ignorant and lie that this is purely for your benefit, however. I have my own ambitions pertaining to politics, and having the titling of Magistrate under my belt would give some sway in future entrances to the Legateship candidature. It would also enhance my own general standing in the Well as an independent magus, for which I can have no complaints.

If you are desirous of further discussion on the matter, write or call via the Bellows and I shall respond with all haste available.

Always the Well's,
Magus Pim
#6
CAM ON CRASSUS, DRINK SUM SYTER'S SIN



#7
QDIM 7TH, IY 7787

Dear cousin,

As we have discussed previously, please find enclosed a draft contract agreement with the Banda Rossa, for potential services we professionals can render your organisation.



Quote
Services of the Banda Rossa

Within this contract are contained the terms of service between the involved parties, the Banda Rossa and the Torchbearers, henceforth referred to as the contractor and contractee. Both parties are of clear mind, health and wit during the drafting and signing of said contract.

Laid out are the terms of service, provided by the contractor and agreed upon by the contractee:

- The contractor shall make the contractee aware of any attempt by a third party to involve the contractor in actions against the contractee, in order to give the contractee the opportunity to provide a suitable counter-offer within a reasonable timeframe. This includes, but is not limited to: attempted bans from the Krak and it's environs, use of the contractor in covert or overt aggression against the contractee, use of the contractor's knowledge of the contractee to blackmail or otherwise inconvenience the contractee. These examples given should form the baseline of this clause, and should be interpreted in good faith when a member of the contractor is approached by a third party intend on causing inconvenience or harm to the contractee.



- The contractor shall render service in providing an armed escort upon request of the contractee, dependent on the contractor's current state and ability, and on the contractee's requirements. The contractor shall be paid a sum in dinars agreed upon between both parties at the time of this service. The contractor shall provide it's own arms, armour and accessories to outfit the escort, and the contractee shall do the same. Supplies for rest shall be provided by the contractee, as shall any fares required for travel by land or sea. The contractee shall have reasonable priority in any accountrements found, with anything left over to be divided amongst the members of the contractor present.



- The contractor shall not independently use knowledge gained through execution of this contract to inconvenience, harm, or otherwise be used to the detriment of the contractee, for the duration of the contract and thereafter. Anything of this sort which may have reputational damage or otherwise harm the contractee shall be kept securely or destroyed until such a time as it no longer poses a risk. Upon request, the contractee can request information held within the contractor's records, to which the contractor will provide a response within a reasonable timeframe if such information is held.



- Both parties shall endeavour to make themselves available within reason at the behest of the other party to discuss items pertaining to this contract, in order to avoid potential misunderstandings or damage to either parties' reputations or persons.



- This contract shall be valid for four weeks (28 days) from the point of signature from both involved parties. A bond of 1500 dinars shall be paid weekly from the date of commencement and every seven days thereafter until the four-week period is up, at which point the contract may be renegotiated. If the contractee desires to break contract before the alloted period is over, a lump sum of 80% of the remaining cost shall be paid to the contractor, and the contract nullified.




[Space is left, for a pair of signatures.]
Mythanar of the Banda Rossa
___________________________________________________




I hope the proposed terms are to your liking. If so, please return the enclosed contract - a copy has been provided for your own records - with your signature in the appropriate place and the appropriate payment, at which point the contract will commence for the given period. If you are discontent with the proposed terms, please return the contract with any suggested changes and we shall see if they can be incorporated.

Your cousin,

Mythanar
#8
Correspondence / Re: [A letter to Echemmon.]
July 06, 2023, 07:24:51 PM
[ A response, penned in a hand clearly unused to writing. ]

Neither the dinn dinars of the Gold nor the friends of the Purple were on our side. It only matters that we fought the battle, for to give up hope is to give up the fight. You did what you could, and I am pru proud  to have had you at my side.

Hold your head high,


[ There is a crude drawing of an axe in place of a signature. ]
#9
Correspondence / Re: To Legate-Candidate Echemmon
June 29, 2023, 09:13:39 PM
[ The letter is read aloud in a busy, smoky, hall. Racuous laughter and the slamming of horns and mugs on a table, as the letter is burned over a brazier. A response is penned, in a hand more used to axehandles than ink. ]


Every battlefield, a temple. Leave comfortable shrines to the fat and rich, there is no glory to be gained there.
#10
Pour one out for a real dwarf

I enjoyed every interaction I had with Kragg - good job man!
#11
My few interactions with Itaja were memorable, and I enjoyed every one of them! Thanks for letting me 'worm' my way into your cult!
#12

Kypros was styled as a leper, an afflicted man and a pariah. He travelled through the ash storms as a refugee with the leper colony he belonged to. They all succumbed to the storm, but he survived, and was nursed back to a semblance of health by other refugees and those downtrodden.

A talk with Shisa.

[hide]Outside the Well, overlooking the Tablet, Shisa Derakhshani and Kypros talked of politics and of the White League. Shisa proposed Kypros as the face of it and perhaps the Legate, one day. All night, until the sun came up once more.



[/hide]

A vision of the Chalice.

[hide]After being beaten down by a bandit in an underground oasis, Kypros was visited by a vision in the form of...a white pudding. It spoke of how long it had lived there, disturbed from it's slumber by the violence. It named the chalice as the Dakhwar, and said it had been around since long before the Kinslaying Wars. He took this news to his companions  -Leiah, Amulius, Kythaela -  and then to the Balladeers.





[/hide]

The Hunt for Diakos

[hide]With word out that there was a bounty of a Voice for Diakos, the search began. Ranging to Qadira-on-Sea and almost to the very edge of the Ash Desert, they came upon him and returned him "safely" to the Well. Kypros always had his suspicions, however, and voiced them openly for all to hear, resulting in the loss of his White pin - a loss which would provoke his turn.



[/hide]

The Fall

[hide]Travelling the Creep, Kypros was accosted by a stranger, who talked at length about the Wyrm. Kypros saw this as a way to redeem the Well, to render it pure again and free from the taint of all that would corrupt it, led astray by the mentions of all who were at fault, and so he took it. Introduced to Itaja, he whispered to the Wyrm and it whispered back.



[/hide]

The Sabotage of the Shade

[hide]Grasping his moment, at the start of the largest ash storm the Well had seen in a long time, he laid into one of the pylons powering the Shade. Cracking it, he fled to watch the chaos unfold.











[/hide]

The Assembly

[hide]Forced to reveal his face at last, those in attendance saw Kypros' skull-like visage, and knew now why he hid it. Brought up to the stand under accusations of breaching the Shade, he needed only stand there as accusations flew from all corners to all comers.

[/hide]

The Capture

[hide]In distaste at having been again given relation to the League of White, Kypros made a radical decision in dyeing his armour the blackest of night - the opposite of what they stood for.  After a confrontation with Jabir, his old companion and friend, he fled into the Gutters, where the other paladin followed him and laid him low. There, Kypros spoke of the Wyrm and the good it could bring, before being dragged off to the Janissaries for interrogation. There, he led them a merry dance, relying on his reputation as a once-paladin to keep him safe. And it did, up until the last moment where he revealed his cards.







[/hide]

The Death

[hide]Rescued by dark magic, Kypros threw his lot in with Itaja and the Bashmu-kar once more, entering the Pyramid under the cloak of invisibility, and corrupting the Stele of Law. His suspicions had been right all along to Diakos' allegiances. There, he was laid low in service to a higher, darker power, and drowned in the Well - a fitting end, mask concealing his face to the final moment.











42 days is all it took.[/hide]

The Loot

[hide]One very nice mask that I ended up basing a lot of Kypros' attitude around!

[/hide]

The Assorted Miscellany

[hide]Screenshots that don't fit in any of the other headings!













[/hide]

A thanks to everyone who was involved with the Problem Child of the Well. Especially to Jabir, Leiah, Arterian, Snorri, Koukol and the usual travelling companions who happily let Kypros rave wildly, and to those most commonly on the end of his ire - Aubrey, Brudron, and anyone who ever pinged Evil. Also generally to anyone who took the time to interact with him and have their views of the White shaped by his absolutely frothing fervour - thanks to you all!
(and to the DMs, for putting up with it/encouraging it! - thank you especially!)

And lastly, a massive shoutout to Kitten Tsu, who drew the frankly amazing art below!

[hide]
[/hide]

[hide]
[/hide]
#13
Iyar 21,  IY 7787.

All around me in the Whites are preening politicians. They puff themselves up like birds to show off, and there is but Gold underneath. Arterian has come to realise this, and the perversion of the tenets of the White - but others twist what we stand for with their politicking. Ibn Ghalish was right.
The rot comes from inside.

We have traced the whereabouts of Diakos. The more I find on the trail, the less I think of him. Is he truly White, or is his soul black? Does he serve the Wyrm, and sent an assassin to stop us? I care little for the Voice as a bounty, but something deeper stirs here I would find the root of. I need to find companions I can trust, the White-Gold is of no use.
Uproot the weed. Burn it so it does not spread.

A Grey Render was summoned in the labs of the licensed, and those involved ran for help. Of all that stood there, Janissaries all, only Snorri and I took up arms to help. They are nothing but slaves to the Sultan and care little for the people. Even those that sign up to them now, I can feel the blackness in their hearts.

The affliction has halted it's progress. The waters of the Well keep it at bay, for a time, but it still wreaks havoc on me. There was word of a plague of iron, a spreading metal plague that turned a creature to metal from the inside out. Could this be the answer? Could it save me? When all is done and my duty finished, the chalice found and wrong set right, I would like to smell the flowers.
Do I want to be saved?
#14
A journal, bound tightly in leather, kept upon the person of Kypros. Many pages have been torn out, to start anew.

Iyar 16,  IY 7787.

It is the time of Blossoms. In the dunes, I see budding colours spread rarely across the sands. I crave pick one and tuck it into a shirt, a splash of brightness. To feel the beating sun on my face, the caress of another.
But, I will not. To see the flower wilt and rot is a reminder of the affliction.
So I pluck the petals from the most fragrant, filling the small mesh bag that I hang around my neck. It is a small thing, and tries it's best to mask  the stench of that which wracks my body. It is a comfort.
What little comfort that can be had.
The ash storms blight the sands. I came as a train of those others from the Outer Rings who share the affliction - a columnar colony of the disgusting, the limping, the forgotten and shunned. The sands were not kind. Behind us, a trail of bones and blight.  Some suffered more than others, and with a rusted blade pulled from the dunes I sent them to find peace in their slumber rather than gasp their last alone. The heat and the storms were not the only dangers that lurked. Only I reached the Well, to find a place. Only among those poor and destitute did I find it. There I was nursed to what frail health remains, wrapped in white bandages to cover the marks of the affliction. The waters they let me sup from the Well hold the worst of the affliction at bay, and so I drink deep of them when I can. They showed kindness. They gave what they could, what little they had, to a man doomed to die. I have dwelled on this nightly since I arrived.
Nightly, I toss and turn, jaw clenched and breath hissing.
In return, I have donned the White League's scant adornments. Some in the League look upon me with curiosity, some disgust, but it matters little. Those bandages which I change nightly are mark enough for my loyalties, a pure white that covers maimed and lesioned skin.
Keep it hidden. Touch no-one, let no-one see.
Like the flower, I am doomed to wilt and rot, but until then I am a champion.


A series of scrawled notes follow the entry, and a small drawing in ink.

A vision of the chalice, came to me in the southerly oasis. Must it be sought, not for fame or glory, but to drench the sands? A way to lift my suffering or ease it forever?
Shisa, you are the sun. I would lay my hand upon your cheek, but I must not mar you.
Arterian and Aubrey speak with the tongues of Golds. Watch them.
Jabir, my companion. You share the same heart as I.

#15
An old man in his twilight years, finally goes to his Lord's gates.
[/size]



Bard had been a man long past him prime for many a year. As a young man, he carried the fire of the Lord in his sword, shouting cries as he defended the land side by side with others like himself. As the years went on, there were less and less of them - til it was just him. Looking around at unfamiliar faces, he laid down the sword he had carried for so long, and travelled as a preacher, bringing succour and peace to those who could not find it themselves. He found peace within himself then, hair threading with grey 'til it mirrored the wrinkles that spread across his weathered face.

The fire for preaching long since gone, in his final era, he donned once more the armour and blade and returned to the Ward, to fend off the encroachment of evil wherever it may be.

In unrestrained service to the Ward, he took part in the hanging of a Necromancer, alongside those of Blackhearth, Greywood and others. Upon his death, the fiend's amulet shattered, bringing forth tortured souls who ripped the dead from the ground. With sword and a prayer, they fended off the dead and put them back to rest. With a prayer to his Lord, he set to consecrating the ground to let those disturbed sleep once more. Gifted new armour by a friend, Wolfgang Cholers, he set out to protect the common folk wherever he could.

With a planar invasion from the Slaad, he rallied men and women of sword and sorcery to the gates and fended them off. They travelled to the Rifts and into a seam to where the Slaad dwelled, those of rot fighting those without. Carving through them they encountered a Slaadi God, towering over them. It invited some of their number onto it's hand where they were transported on a journey. Far too lawful for such, Bard had his suspicions about those who travelled, and sought a way to lift a seeming taint from those who had gone through the planes with the God.


Warning others of the threat the Slaad may pose, he came to blows with Manir Torr, a Glittsman. Refusing to fight, it was eventually broken up by others - but not without a good deal of healing ash gone.


With the Vault looming, Bard prepared a final note in his pack for those who may look, and set himself to the grim task. At the Vault itself, nary a man from the Ward stood forth except a Velstran Winespill, who displayed his cowardice in withdrawing his stance upon seeing his Recondite opponent. Donning the mantle of the Ward's champion, Bard stepped forth with the power lent by his fellows, and was gifted temporary blessed armour for the contest. Putting up a fight for King and faith, he fell - but a miracle raised him from the edge of death itself as the Vault opened.


Entering the Vault, Bard took the fore with others reluctant to. Taking blow upon blow on his Moonspear armour, he rallied those through winding paths until misfortune struck. A first successful cast of Flesh-To-Stone was averted by an Orzan dwarf - others having failed to stick -  but a second pierced his defences not long after, rounding a corner at the head of the force. Frozen in stone, he crumbled beneath the blows of spectral horsemen as others ran to preserve their own.





It was a pleasure to play Bard, though sad he died as I'd just gotten into the swing of things! Thanks to everyone who played alongside me, to Wolfgang, Zchublek, Stavros, Dela, Lalena, Arthur and others I may have missed - and to Vaust for being a pleasant target for my Slaad-related ire!