(IR) The 1st IC-thread of the 1st Turn of the 5th IR

[Creamsteak]

Deep within the bowels of the underdark, resting in one of the many nestled caverns, the illithid Yug'rig'noth breaks from his deep resting state of metamorphosis. Yug'rig'noth, strongest of all illithid egoists on Oerth had been, for many centuries now, undergoing slow metamorphosis based states lasting years at a time. He would break his rest to sate his deep hunger, offer a prayer to his god, defeat any lower egoists seeking to challenge himself, destroy a few of his remaining enemies, and then return to his resting state. This last period has been his longest rest, his title as high priest has been usurped by a tadpole so young that it believed the stories of Yug'rig'noth to be nothing more than the idle banter of old misled priests.

Only a quarter-mile above Yug'rig'noth, the second most powerful illithid egoist on all of oerth was offering a prayer to illsensine. Strangely, the prayer goes unanswered, the voice of his master was without response. He had not asked for much, only how to slay Thul'hur'mca the shaper. As the official egoist high priest on Oerth, this one had long sought to destroy his superior in the high temples. Only Thul and Istagon remained in his way to becoming the supreme overlord of all illithid. Both of his superiors were far more advansed than he could ever be, and it would not be "unusual" for illsensine to endebt more favor to them if one were to act, hoewever, in other temples throughout the underdark none of the priests would recieve any answers to their calls this day.

 

[William Ronald]

The Winter of Our Discontent

(Serpenteye: If the bit about the symbol of Istus is too much, rule that it did not happen. By the way, I found out that the stars in Greyspace are affixed to the boundary of the Crystalsphere, so they should not vanish. They probably mark the limits of how far one can travel in Greyspace. I also took the liberty of keeping track of time. So, this is the first day of the first month of Common Year 604. I hope that this helps you in keeping track of time)


In the early hours of the day that most in the Flanaess called the first day of Fireseek of Common Year 604, Al'Akbar kept watch on his lands. For the demigod and his people, it was the first day of Tevat in the year 3263 after the Baklunish Hegira.

The last two days were filled with strange visitors and tidings. The celebrations of the festival of Needfest had ended as celestials and genies seeking sanctuary and asylum told tales of horror and war. Many had descended on the Malkuvah Baklunim seeking refuge from the storm.

As the first refugees from other planes and worlds appeared, Emperor Al'Akbar issued an order to all civilian and military officials in his lands. "The storm is nearly upon us! Prepare for battle and ready the people. Now is the Time of Testing in which mortals and immortals will be tested. Now is the Time of Testing when peoples and worlds shall be tested."

Al'Akbar ordered his clergy, as did the hero gods Azor'alq and Daoud, to be ready for war. Those in other lands, such as Bissel, the City of Greyhawk, and in the County of Urnst volunteered their services to local and national rulers. Ambassadors pledged that the Baklunish Empire would stand with the nations of Oerth and Greyspace against common foes.

Above the skies of the Baklunish Empire, a spindle of many threads appeared, symbol of Istus, Lady of the Fates. The threads became increasingly tangled and people pointed to the skies in wonder and horror. The spindle and the threads faded, reappeared, and faded one last time.

Al'Akbar saw the Net of Fate vanish as he heard the screams of the clerics of many gods. He felt a wall, a barrier and could not tell if the rest of the multiverse beyond Greyspace was walled off or had ceased to exist. His wives Ahava, Balqis, and Vashti wept. Azor'alq's expression was a mask of horror while Daoud wailed as a son for his mother.

Al'Akbar's face was clenched, eyes wet with tears. "This is worse than I ever imagined," the demigod said in a choked voice. "We are alone and walled off. I cannot sense any god save those in Greyspace. Nor can I even find evidence of the crystal spheres of Abeir-Toril or Krynn."

"In the wake of the Twin Cataclysms, I dedicated myself to my people. I do so again, and dedicate myself to them again, to Oerth and all the worlds of Greyspace. The storm is here, and let the peoples of this world and this crystal sphere stand as one against our foes."

With a wave of his hand, the mist surrounding a hidden structure just outside the city of Ekbir. In the starlight and the light of Oerth moons, a tall white fortress stood revealed, its central spire reaching into the skies for hundreds of feet. People whispered in hushed towns as they saw the beauty and strength of the building, whose style recalled that of the ancient Baklunish Empire yet showed the influence of many lands. "The White Tower stands ready. Work is finished on the underground shelters."

Al'Akbar's mind reached out to the fleeing drow refugees beneath the Baklunish lands. He urged them onwards to the surface, promising sanctuary to them.

An host of celestials and genies marched to the gates of Ekbir vowing fealty to Al'Akbar, swearing to defend his lands and all of Greyspace if needed. They entered the city, their faces filled with grief and shock.

As the sun rose, messages from the city gates told of devils seeking embassy. Al'Akbar waited for them inside the palace of the Caliph of Ekbir, waiting to see what tidings they brought at the dawn of a new age.

 

[Sollir Furryfoot]

Arch-Merchant Glu'boise of the Empire of Lynn

It's been about a month now since the Combined Merchant's Guild has taken over the Empire of Lynn, and about three weeks since the Arch-Merchant Glu'boise appeared and took charge of things. Apprehension already showed on the mercane's face when he was alone within his private chambers in one of the many palaces of Emperor Lynn IIII. It was obvious that even from such a short time period the mercane was annoyed to some extent, after all, the people of Lynn had hardly recognized him as a true sovereign...he wasn't, but it wouldn't hurt for them to show some respect instead of just ignoring him! It was to be expected though; after all, the Lynnians had gone through about a dozen previous owners before, since the time they made their bid for their limited sort of immortality. The people knew who Glu'boise was and they realized he was the new owner-yet he earned no praise nor worship, barely any acknowledgement. He was going to prove his worth to these people however, and as a result the Combined Merchant's Guild as well. He knew he had the talent of a legendary leader-or at least a businessman, and knew the in's and out's of expanding the worth of nations through his previous activities within his guild.

*rap tap tap clitter clack* the sound of a bony hand sounded upon the ivory door of his private chambers. Glu'boise snapped his fingers and the scrying globe which had rested before him vanished, tucked safely away into an extraplanar dimension to which only he knew the secret to. He knew what his visitors were-but he didn't know whom they were. As a mercane, he had dealt with all sorts of folks-humans, angels, formians, planetouched, even demons and devils. In the forefront of his mind, he knows nothing that devils offer is ever truly free. His curiosity overwhelms his judgement however, and he had already made preparations to meet with his visitors in the palace's antechamber. The knocking at the door was the signal that his visitors were waiting, although properly entertained for the moment.

Sighing, he made his way to the door, looking at himself in a nearby, adjacent mirror momentarily. Ten magical rings, one adorning each of his fingers glittered with potent and mysterious eldritch magic, emanating so much power that his form was almost engulfed by the sight of those ten precious rings. He was draped in the proper attire of a diplomat to Lynn, a woven vest of gold as thin and smooth as silk with a silver robe on which rose-tinted glass butterflies were adorned; overall not a half-bad outfit, he thought as he examined his reflection. Etiquette was always one of Glu'boise's strong points and a source of pride for the mercane. Had he been the one to visit the devils, he mused, he would be dressed up in an even stranger fashion than the one he wore currently.

Sufficiently poised and prepared, Glu'boise made his way to the antechamber to meet with the devils.

 

[Airwhale]

Meanwhile, in space.....

The merchant planet of Ginsel is the epitome of machiavellian society... Throughout the years, it has been ravaged by a complex, shifting matrix of alliances, via marriage, trade, and opportunity. As appropriate for a merchant planet, the fiercest conflict often manifested socially, for a loss of face can cause a nation to lose drastic sums in trade.

This all changed several years ago, with a young RanzwickTurro, one of the few gnomes on Ginsel and leader of a small nation of Ginsel. He ruled his people well, but a sudden change came over him after a failed assassination attempt. Almost mortally wounded, his right hand woman (who was often suggested to be the true power behind the throne) managed to save his life at the expense of her own. This near death experience seemed to change him, and he managed to con, convince, and trade his way into all of the kingdoms, and eventually subverted them to his cause. Now he stands alone as leader of ginsel, and this task was achieved peacefully.

My name is Foran. I am familiar with both sword and spell, and it is my responsibility to protect the life of RanzwickTurro. We are representing the elvish nation of Cenalterien. Cenalterien is the sight of the largest elven shipyard in all of grayspace, growing the elves strange and beautiful crystal ships. It is also home to the great explorer Keoghtom, who is also known for developing the most powerful wizardly healing balm known to Grayspace. He is one of the few humans that the elves allow free, unescorted access to their planet.

Reportedly, ships from the imperial elvish navy have been destroyed by unknown causes. We are to renegotiate the contract between the Imperial navy and the great shipyard, for increased production, and we are also to help explore the cause behind the disappearing ships. We approach the edge of the sphere, dotted with several star gems. I prepare to open a gate in our sphere, to allow us access to wildspace. I cast my spell, and the gate starts to open, but something is wrong. It opens about a foot, starts to undulate rapidly, and then quickly closes in upon itself. The sphere suddenly turns blood red, then black again.

I hear a scream behind me. I turn to find that the ship priest has fainted, seemingly from shock. While some ship hands tend the fallen priest, most stay at their post, speechless, blood draining from their faces.

Something felt very... wrong.

Ranzwick realized what happened first. Without any explanation, he said, quite simply:

"Set course for Ginsel. There will be rioting soon."

That was the day the gods abandoned us.​

Thanks to Ranzwick, the riots were quickly subdued. A meeting was called, for Ranzwick to confer with myself, Keoghtom, General Legubim, head of the shipdocks in Cenalterien, and the free trader Callan. Ranzwick was attempting to explain the prevailing theory of the spheres closure.

"...So, the common belief among sages, is that we have been closed off to protect us, that the gods sealed the sphere to keep something out. Thus, we would expect the sphere to be reopened once the gods deal with whatever is out there. We simply have to wait it out."

Callan: "Something was out there. Many free trader ships have become lost in the last month... It has been quite unprofitable."

Keoghtom, thoughtful, shock his head gently. "I believe the sages have it wrong. Well, not wrong, more backwards... Perhaps they sealed us off to keep something... in.... I suggest that we abandon plans to make the devils machines."

Legubim: "Imposable. Our enemies in grayspace have access to it. We would be left defenseless if we do not pursue it. Further, we must use it to remove any threats, before they become spaceboane."

Ranzwick: "Agreed. Keoghtom, we know how you feel about the technology, but, there is no alternative. I agree with the general. Hostile forces in grayspace must be neutralized quickly. We start against the Archlich, with our ally, as we discussed."

Legubim: "NO! He is a vampire! He long ago abandoned the gods of good. The navy will not ally with him!"

Ranzwick: "The navy isn't here, Legubim. We have discussed this. Place your faith in me, as I have placed my faith in you. Besides" Ranzwick smiles "The vampire has a sense of honor. And we have a saying in Ginsel. The shortest distance between two points is usually unprofitable. Now, We all know what to do, no? Legubim, you oversee the implementation of the devils technology. Please, be cautious. We know little about the true motives of the devils. Callan, you are in charge of organizing the convoy to the vampire’s lands. And Foran, I have a special job for you...."

 

[William Ronald]

AIRWHALE:

[sblock]You can purchase diabolic technology, non-diabolic technology, or non-polluting technology. Thus, you can purchase non-diabolic technology that is polluting or non-polluting diabolic technology or non-polluting non-diabolic technology. Serpenteye instituted these additions to the rules some days ago. The non-polluting and non-diabolic technology cost a little more than standard diabolic technology. There is also an option of converting from diabolic to non-diabolic technology at a price.[/sblock]

MELKOR:

[sblock]As I recall, DralonXitz has claimed Fireland and the Dragon Isle. Uvenelei controls the Tharquish Dominions and he and Azmodean have split Ishtarland. Have your friend check with Serpenteye. [/sblock]

 

[Anabstercorian]

"Eli! We must flee at once!" roared Rary, his staff in hand as he bade his boon companion see reason. They were deep in the perilous depths of the Castle Maure, where no sunlight would ever fall, not even should a Pelorite call it.

The high, vaulted arch of the room gave it a sense of great space, as though one were high on a mountain top, or anywhere but miles beneath the surface of the earth. But Eli made use of all this space, struggling as he did with a fierce Balor!

The room was not lit by fire, but by great fluxing currents of energy that pulsed between two iron spires rising from either side. Eli called down a polar wind and smote the Balor, who took flight from the hardy trio, only to be outflanked and slain by the fierce and mighty Robilar, who had been warded and empowered by Rary moments before.

Less than a minute beforehand, the room had been entirely calm, without a hint of danger, but without warning - without any lever pulled, without tripwire sprung, without line of silver broken by mortal step - all had been thrown in to dischordant chaos! The great iron spires had sparked and sizzled red hot, and a Gate had sprung open between them, from which was disgorged the fierce balor Quol-hazHat, who now lay steaming and smote at Robilars feet. Yet he was not the only sign of horror, for great, steaming waves of sulfurous smoke had begun to pour through vents in the floor and walls, and an echoing, inhuman ululation had sounded as though from miles off.

Great influxes of demons were returning to this wild place, hurling themselves willingly in to ancient traps that had no escape - but now have escapes, for after years, centuries of neglect, they had decayed. Great, wild forces of monstrous refugees now inhabited the darkness below House Maure.

What on earth had brought them there, in to bondage or imprisonment once more?

The Triumvirate Rebellious returned from their delve, shunting through the Astral with a Teleport Without Error, and were abruptly hurled en route through a violent astral wind! Instead of Rary's Winter Palace, they landed violently in the midst of the Nyr Dyv, coughing and sputtering.

"What in blazes has gone wrong with the heavens this day?"

"I don't know," muttered Eli, rising from the water and unfurling his magic carpet before aiding Robilar and Rary aboard, "But I intend to find out post haste."

 

[Airwhale]

William Ronald: (public)

[sblock] The elf would never think of using the technology without making it enviromentally friendly and removing any diabolic taint from it... such a goody two shoes! =) [/sblock]

 

[Anabstercorian]

Eli gazed out over the city of Grayhawk. Riots. Bedlam. Violence.

All of these are things familiar to him, comfortable concepts, but he despises their proximity to the city he loves, the city he wrested from the Circle of Eight with trickery and subterfuge!

"It's so sad," murmured Natak, draped against Eli's left side. "And so tragic," whispered Matak, gazing out over the city. There was a sudden explosion of fire in the temple ward, followed by an eruption of lightning called down from new-formed storm clouds. Eli rubbed his temples gently with his claws. "Matak, Natak," he commanded, "Put on something decent, and quell the riots as humanely as you can. I cannot have this - this madness in my city."

He rose from his gilded throne on the balcony, and strode inside, to his bedchambers, where the great scrying mirror rose. He took a brief moment to observe himself.

Skin pale from months spent underground, and then days spend avoiding the bitter sun. Hair kept neck-length, an almost blue black. A goatee and mustache extending to the sternum. Well muscled, sharp purple eyes with sharp brows. A long, flowing robe of soft blue cotton with black diamond embroidery and adamantine buttons fastening it up the front, and sleeves so enormous even his great scaled, clawed hands could vanish in to them with no evidence to their presence.

Yes, he thought with a smile. He was a villain indeed. And yet he was responsible for the welfare of all of Grayhawk, and by extent, most of the Grayhawk Isthsmus, and he was respected if not loved by those he ruled.

The Mirror sprang to life, and swirled with color for a moment. After a minute, Robilar appeared, dressed in his most regal finery, eyes fiercely alert. Then, Rary, his white beard extending from his bald head almost to his knees, appeared beside him, the mirror split in twain.

"We are alone," announced Eli to his brothers in arms.

"Let us rejoice."

 

[Edena_of_Neith]

THE WILL OF ECLAVDRA:

After Lolth disappears, the disintegration of the drow occurs, even as Eclavdra had foreseen.
Without Lolth to hold them together, these chaotic evil monsters revert to the lone wolves and mad dogs that they truly are, ready to turn on each other and extinguish their own kind forever from the Oerth.
For nobody hates the drow more than the drow, save the elves only, and the drow would gladly see their own race obliterated.

Armed with the Regalia of Lordly Might, having prepared for this crisis for decades, long warned by spells of foresight, Eclavdra and her loyal drow from Erelhi-Cinlu move to prevent this fate from happening.
Eclavdra and her army, begin a swift and absolute war of conquest.
Eclavdra and her army, which ever grows in numbers and strength, moves from city to city. Proclaiming herself the Will of Lolth, she offers eternal salvation to those who would follow her, and eternal damnation to all others.
Armed with the Regalia of Lordly Might, Eclavdra has the stature of a Goddess. When she appears within a city, it is as if Lolth herself had come. When the inevitable initial resistance occurs in the first drow cities attacked, the drow there find Eclavdra is potent beyond any ability to resist. The mere presence of Eclavdra melts their bodies like wax, reducing their adamantite armor to molten pools on the ground. Mighty drow spells fizzle, bolts and arrows evaporate, lore and force are overwhelmed, and the very minds of the defenders are crushed into broken feeblemindedness.
Armed with the Regalia of Lordly Might, Eclavdras' voice shatters stone and flesh alike. The footfalls of her dainty feet shake the Oerth like an earthquake. When she unleashes her magic, hurricanes of reddish fire rake across stalacmite, stalactite, and great constructs alike. Her magic is like some colossal, infernal beam, shattering, cutting, reducing enormous and supposedly invincible structures to flinders within seconds. Drow and their servitors caught in this magic simply evaporate at it's touch.

There is no escape. Eclavdras' army blocks all escape. Eclavdra herself blocks all escape. Tunnels and caves are collapsed by powerful magic. The shearing beams of Eclavdras' might cave in parts of whole caverns. Drow who teleport or Gate away are dragged back by specialized spells and the might of the Regalia.

Those drow who hurl themselves in terrified obesiance to the ground, accepting everything Eclavdra says as the absolute truth, who acknowledge Eclavdras' ownership of them - mind and body - are gathered into her army, to move against the next drow city.
Those drow who are brave and defiant, who Eclavdra does not make examples of for the benefit of all the others, find themselves crushed in mind and body, beaten down by the Regalia. They too, find themselves agreeing that Eclavdra is their owner in mind and body, that her words are the truth eternal, and their fear drops them into quivering, cowering wretches, begging for their lives as they lay spreadeagled on the ground.
Before the conquest of each city is completed, all the drow and servitors alike have acknowledged the utter supremacy of Eclavdra in every way conceivable. Those drow and servitors who did not do this, are dead.

As Eclavdras' army grows and tales of her power and terror spread before her, cities heighten their defenses, but the end is the same, and the conquest is even more brutal, if that is possible.
Eventually, drow cities that Eclavdra has yet to move against are reduced before she ever arrives. When she does arrive, most of the inhabitants beg for the privilege of being the property of Eclavdra, and they beg for the privilege of accepting every word she speaks as truth eternal. Those drow who dare to lie, seeking to save themselves through falsehood, find themselves enlightened forcefully. Those that flee, are captured and returned. Those that dare to fight, are made examples of more gruesome than anything previously seen.

In the end, many of the drow cities that become a part of the Queendom of Eclavdor put up no fight at all. In some of them, not even single lone drow attempt resistance. Eclavdra arrives to find the inhabitants of these cities kneeling and begging.
The conquest is still brutal and total, as all the drow and servitors are mind searched. Those harboring questioning thoughts are forcibly reeducated. Those harboring secret plans are converted to the true faith. Those who question, find all the answers are quickly enough forced upon them. Refusing to accept the answers provided is not an option.

In this way, Eclavdra fuses the drow of Oeriks' Underdark into a single nation, incorporating one hundred drow cities into the Queendom of Eclavdor.

Then Eclavdra begins the immediate evacuation of all the cities of the drow.
The drow, their servitors, the undead; all are moved. Their new home is the city of the drow under the yuan-ti capital city, and in the caves and caverns for miles around.
This will be the Great City, when the drow have completed it. A cube 3 miles by 3 miles by 3 miles, it will fill 27 cubic miles of Underdark, and it's highest point will be a mile below ground.
All the Underdark beyond is collapsed, spells fuse the rock solid, and those few ways in via river channels and the like are guarded with the strongest known spells and guards.
Great tunnels will run up to the yuan-ti capital city above.

Eclavdra dominates the lord of the yuan-ti, molding him into a tool of use. All the other yuan-ti officials and army leaders are likewise dominated. Those who resist are killed. Any commoner yuan-ti that protests is killed by his own officers.
When the yuan-ti army tries to revolt, it finds large numbers of it's own are under drow charm and domination, it's food supplies are held by the drow, it's leaders were being monitored all along, and it's weapons have suddenly disappeared.
The revolt is crushed, the rebels slaughtered, and it is made clear - absolutely clear - that the yuan-ti will bow to Eclavdra. They will bow, now, and they will bow, for the foreseeable future. Those who will not bow, will lack their heads to bow with.

The Ice Elves of the Adri, evil elves from another era, cruel and remorseless, find Eclavdras' tactics far more appealing than the lofty (read: weak and stupid) tactics of their surface brethren.
After initial diplomatic contact is made, Eclavdra and the Ice Elves forge a pact of alliance unlike anything seen between elf and drow since before the Descent of the Drow, 20,000 years priorhand.

 

[Melkor Lord Of ALL!]

Prince Rothgar Darksteel was tall for a Duergar, looking quite majestically in his black and silver armor, enchanted with magic, mithril and other incredibly rare materials, like it was apropariate for a heir to the throne. His men, even the Royal Guard, veterans who boasted to know no fear, were getting nervous, for the first time being so long on a surface, and preparing for a far longer, greater journey.

Lord Gallador was standing there, inspecting his armies, a pale, tall, thin figure in simple black armor and crimson robe, his raven hair flowing down from the helmet. He smiled upon seeing Prince Rothgar, he could never become accustomed to those sinister smiles. Lord Gallador was usually quite welll-mannered, but Rothgar couldn`t stop feeling that he is being percieved as lesser being. And the aura of Power, Majesty that surrounded Gallador certainly didn`t help.:

"Greetings Prince, I see that your people are uneasy, but you must have faith in me. Your father allied with me, and he prevailed over his enemies, follow in his steps and your power will be far greater, you will have entire Kingdoms to rule, on this world and others, your race will achieve a trully glorious destiny. I want your Royal Guard and wizards to join my children in strike against the Archlich, even before the rest arrives on flying ships. The Gods have left, as I have forseen, the time has come to take this world in our own hands!"

Rothgar Darksteel considered those words when he returned to give orders to his men. The Priests of Laduguer were panicked after losing contact with their God, but Gallador didn`t follow any, a sign of either great courage or foolishness. But could he trust the Vampire King? Uneasy about the things to come, he looked into darkening sky. The storm was coming.