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

[James Heard]

Ok, I really don't have any clue what I'm doing. I'm just trying to do something similar to what everyone else is doing. First PbP and all that.

Not so long ago, somewhere in Polaria​

"It's beautiful isn't it, 'Lyndie?"

"Yes M'Lord, of course M'Lord."

All around them was a landscape awash in white, excepting the brightly colored clothing of the two individuals standing - and the swath of black blood from their companion, eyes covered in hoarfrost and staring blankly upwards.

"I've been here before, did I tell you? Once. Some Aerdian fellows around here, somewhere. Idiots, but less boorish than the sorts you normally find in Rauxes. They've been infected."

"Infected?"

"Gnomes."

Murlynd grimaced as if he'd swallowed something unpleasant.

"Oh hush. They're perfectly respectable. And good cooks too, you'll like it here."

"I'd rather find a wife on the Isle of the Ape."

***​

"You're going to do WHAT?"

"I've decided to become a king. I was a mayor once, did I tell you? Can't be too much different than being a mayor, less dealing with the homeless even. I'd make a fine king. I was even a mayor, a long time ago. Did I ever tell you, 'Lyndie?"

The silent groan of Murlynd pronounced itself like an unpleasant smell in a small room.

"Oh hush. I'm going to make you a general. Weren't you a general once?"

"No M'Lord, I've ever been as I am."

"Well then, it's time you made something of your life. A man's got to have some manner of feeding his family. Do you have a family, 'Lyndie? I'm not sure if I have any, but I must have. Or maybe a cat. I like cats, though they make me sneeze. Say, whatever happened to that striking young lady that was with us? I liked her. Healthy. You should eat more Murlynd, you're getting thin. You know what I always say, 'Never trust a thin paladin." I don't know why I say that, but it must be true. Right, 'Lyndie?"

A young rosy cheeked gnomish lad with an almost painfully bright mop of blonde hair burst into the room.

"M'Lords! The race is about to begin!"

"Do you have that harness on yet 'Lyndie?"

The paladin set a glare upon the mad archmage dark enough to freeze the pale heart of Polaria even further, to absolutely no effect. The gnomish boy's eyes were as big as saucers.

"You see 'Lyndie, if I win this race I become king," the archmage said without seeming to notice his companion's discomfort whatsoever. He shrugged on an enormous parka till his arms were so encumbered that they could not even drop to his sides.

Murlynd shook his head and followed his liege out into the snow, pausing only when Zagyg made a few overly elaborate (and mostly unnecessary passes) with his hand - playing up to the crowd - and felt his shape shift and he sat back onto his furry haunches.

Absently Zagyg scratched him behind the ears.

"I was mayor once, did I tell you?"

***​

"Bah! Bah, and fire I say! Whose bright idea was this? Murlynd? Did you enchant me while I was drunk, you devil! This is ludicrous, how can anyone expect to get any work done with people always interru-"

An insipid looking loxo with rubies meticulously picked into the ivory of his tusks casually sauntered into the throne room and almost challengingly dropped to his knees and abased himself without ever so much as looking as if he was doing Zagyg a favor for doing it.

"Your Majesty. Devils outside to meet you. Thought you should know," as he picked himself up off the floor the heavyset loxo scratched himself and sauntered out of the room without even a by-your-leave or a "Goodbye, Your Majesty."

"YOU SEE! This is madness! I swear 'Lyndie, the next time you come up with one of these hairbrained schemes I'm going to turn you into a saltlick and feed you to - 'Lyndie, put that away! There's no need to settle this with violence!"

"Devils, M'Lord. He said devils." After checking to make sure he was loaded, his blade Progress had naturally come into his hand almost unbidden.

"Ah. Yes. Should we invite them in?"

Murlynd rolled his eyes and then pointedly glanced down at his sword.

"Ah."

"Well, let's go down and meet them. Should be interesting. Did I ever tell you about the time I got engaged to a devil 'Lyndie? I wonder whatever happened to her? Healthy girl. Strong bones, and great big-" the archmage had started to wander over to the buffet until Murlynd stepped in close in front of him.

"Devils," he hissed.

"Aye. Are we going to kill them?"

Murlynd closed his eyes tightly and counted to one hundred. By the end he was rubbing his temples and nursing a decidedly godlike headache.

"Yes M'Lord. We're going to kill them," he said in a tone suggesting conspiracy. "Or worse."

"Worse?"

"Yes. We might hold them prisoner."

"Oh come now, how would that be worse?"

"You could interrogate them. Every day."

"Ah. Clever that, press their secrets from them?"

The paladin looked away noncommitally.

"Something like that M'Lord."

"SPLENDID! I shall like that. I once had a castle 'Lyndie, somewhere. A fine one, except for this unpleasant fellow that smelled like bad cheese. Uz or Iz or Pez. Something like that. Unpleasant as hell, teeth like a badger that liked to gnaw on his own behind."

The two walked down the grand staircase to meet with devils.

 

[Kalanyr]

OOC - Yeah I know this sucks, I can't get it to sound right but this is my best attempt tonight.
IC -
The Moment of Silence
The Court of Queen Xin Hope
The Miranda Alliance

As the silence is felt every cleric, including the Queen, in the court falls silent, and makes a small noise like a cry of pain. However the Queen's new advisor, the Lady Mariel stands and though she seems resigned a small smile crosses her face.

The Veil, at last, it is gone. Once more we are free to walk as we are.

And as that thought crosses her mind the appearance of the Elven lady Mariel fades away, and Morwel, Queen of Stars, and mightiest of the lords and ladies of the Eladrin, stands unveiled in her full glory.

"The gods have silent. But do not be afraid, I and my people have been sent by the Seldarine themselves, to give you aid in these dark times. I am Morwel, and I am the Queen of the Eladrin. If we stand strong and give things our best effort, we will emerge from this unscathed, we will find out what has happened, and if possible return the gods. However for the moment, I will do my best to grant the prayers of those within this land, in the name of the silent gods, sadly without the gods here, I seem to be weakened my capacity to grant spells is far less than it normally would be, I can grant no more than prayers of the 1st Rite, for the moment. Send out messengers, and prepare for war, for I am sure that others are preparing even now to take advantage of the silence of the gods "

 

[Paxus Asclepius]

The Wolf God is, on the surface, amused by the panic felt in other nations. His people need know no fear; every god they have been allowed to worship, indeed so much as admit was a god, is still on the face of Oerth. Privately, of course, he wonders, and is concerned.

The devils are admitted to his court with great hospitality, their secrets eagerly devoured as each spills from their infernal tongues. It need not be mentioned that they are sorcerously imprisoned in their chambers the moment they arrive, and that any reluctance they might express to speak will not go unrewarded; the devils know this well, and speak as freely as they can.

*

The emissary from the Wolf God pauses in amusement as the devils enter past her; it is but the work of a moment to resume her natural form and blend with them, and none of the devils think to question the rakshasa maharajah who has graced them with her presence.

 

[azmodean]

Where were you when IT happened?

N'grath was tending to his garden when IT happened, of course, most would not think of the wild and deadly jungles of Barundi as a garden, but N'grath has an unusual perspective on these things. Being miles from what some call civilization, or even any significant concentration of intelligent creatures, N'grath would have not even noticed IT happening if it had not been for his gift. Many years ago a powerfull cleric had gifted N'grath with a Periapt of Spell Resistance. Being powered by divine energy, the effect of the Periapt quickly faded and died when IT happened. Suprised, N'grath paused in his gardening and examined the Periapt. (The infestation of Rakshasa N'grath had been 'weeding' took this opportunity to flee) Seeing that it was completely without power, N'grath Scried its creator, only to see him thrashing on the floor of his temple screaming. Concerned, N'grath quickly slipped into a nearby tree and exited another tree near his friend's temple.

N'grath squeezed into the temple and comforted his friend while trying to discern the cause of the trouble. He noticed that nearly all of his friends magical items, and all of the items adorning the temple walls were without magical energy. N'grath also noticed some other clerics in the temple were in a similar state to his friend, though seemingly not as severely effected. Eventually his friend recovered somewhat, though his eyes were now dull and filled with despair. "What has happened, my old friend?", N'grath rumbled. The priest, seeming to notice N'grath for the first time replied, "the Gods, they are... gone".

As the shock of this statement echoed through N'grath's mind, his friend continued, "N'grath, you must go, Barundi needs you now, terrible things will happen, and you must do what you can... your power must defend the people now as well, for we cannot...". The pain of admitting this seemed to be too much for the priest, and he began once more to weep, while still insisting that N'grath leave.

With a heavy heart, N'grath bade his friend farewell and set out for his grove to mobilize the Emerald Order to minimize the damage the loss of divine favor was sure to cause, and to pick up the pieces afterwards.

OOC: [sblock]Now that I think of it, I guess I should have prepared this post *before* the turn started. Live and learn. I'm making an assumtion here that if divine magic is cut off then divinely powered magical items will also ceace functioning. I'll post a description of Barundi's turn one actions in a bit.[/sblock]

 

[Rikandur Azebol]

The Elves of Aliador treat with the glabrezu with caution and care, keeping their distance. When mocked by the glabrezu, the elves always turn away without response. The elves are horrified that glabrezu are in their nation, much less their capital city, but they remain loyal to their Lord and Lady, and keep their silence.

The Lord and Lady hear the First Maids' communication.
Don't ask how ... they just somehow hear it.

Afterwards, by themselves, the two regard each other in the silence of their sanctum.

Leathnor murmurs: 'Iuz really believes we are terrified.'
Gwyndilyn responds quietly: 'We are not terrified. We are sad.'
Leathnor regards Gwyndilyn solemnly: 'We are ready.'
Gwyndilyn sighs: 'Yes. We will do what is required.'

OOC: Iuz heard that ! And figure out why.
And I repeat, again. Only, and only First Maid, entered Aliador borders ! Demons stayed on the border of the Country. They make faces and gestures, that were clearly reckognisable as nothing more than childish bickering by all standards of sane races. Drow probably felt gravely insulted and all, but as long as they under delicate heel of Elcavdra, all they can is to cry to their pillows and whine about unfairness of life. And I doubt thatthey would tell anyone about this "humilation", imagine all drow nation making laugh of them ... Maybe someone accidentally spill the gossip ?

IC:
Ruling Pair's Sanctum, Aliador.
*Elven servant gently disturbed seclusion of Royal Pair.*

My liege, something appeared on the border ... it's horrible beyond words.

*On the border of Aliador a cage of blackened iron appeared, inside is something ... mutilated almost beyond reckognision. Pathes of furry skin torn out by some claws, disfigured limbs with broken bones extending from the flesh. It is one of the demons that were escorting elven emissary of Iuz. And he murmurs, whines from excruciating pain and screams desperately. Horrified elves could see that spikes from the cage are opening new wounds, while power emanating from the cage heal them ... apparently in very painful fashion. Guards could barely reckognize him as one who farted.*

I'm sooorry ! I'm sorryyy !!! I'mmm SORRRYYY ... AGGGH ! I'm sorry. Aaa.

*Elven runes are carved on the back of the creature, writer surely was a violent and aggresive person.*

You should. Light only blinds. Sadness is hipocrisy. You abadoned Your most precious property, for nothing.

Eclavdra giggles when she hears of the glabrezu in Aliador. She sighs dreamily, musing in pleasure, remembering the glabrezu in ways that anyone else would consider horrific in the extreme (as per Salvatore.)

Eclavdra also somehow overhears the First Maid.

Eclavdra speaks softly, to herself:
'Terror is wisdom. The elves are wise to fear.'
'To be ruled by terror, and to rule with terror, is the core of life.'
'I have great hope for the elves, and yet ...'
'Until they give themselves over to fear, the elves can never realize their true potential.'

(Yours Truly goes into waiting mode now)

Yes, they are hipocrites. And even toy that You send Us didn't understand them well. Big are chances that they will betray their ... honor, and attack Me ?

And, Eclavdra ... my favorite maiden, You were slighty wrong. She's weak and submissive beyond all training that she recived. Wich slave gazes at it's master with bare devotion ? Without even slightest hint of normal emotions ? I let her go as she pleases ... and she stayed ! it scared even me ...

*Asked Iuz with irony while spelling the word honor, and Eclavdra noticed him almost invisible in shadows. Realisation that he just gave in her hands fate of one elven nation was a pleasant aftershock. And that Iuz didn't understand elf-toy ... was very, very funny. He will never understand women.*

Melkor
Dorakaa
*Iuz put a finger on his lips and showed to Meliana someone sleeping in his bed. He smirked mishiefvously and guided little vampiress to her chamber.*

Deviless is very tired ... Yes, my little sister would gladly join a war fought in my name. But ... I cherish my family, and You, joy of my late days. Is Your papa a trustworthy person ? My vampire lackeys are all but dissapointing in comparision with You.

*Demon god smiled beningly to Princess of the Veil. And crouhed in front of her, so she might look him straight into the eyes. His eyes ... red orbs of pure force, that gazing in them was giving shivers. Mortals would die of fear under his glance, but he gazes at Meliana with warmth that not burns, at all.*

And I would gladly test my newest army on the field of battle. My wizards need some real experience, as well as my priests. Imagine ... obedient ogres, giants and trolls along the way with many pet cretures like vywerns, hydras and others. My favorite Abyssal Drake is with the army as well. I'm curious how they will fare in combat against enemy that not fears for his life.

Would You join me in some excersise ? I'm going to walk trough Underdark ... and entertain myself a bit.

 

[Creamsteak]

Yug'rig'noth, awakened from his slumber fully three days into the godless times. His first prayer went without call, and he immediately realized the circumstances. His thoughts roiled with both guilt and greed as he pondered his first actions upon waking. He deduced that the sounds of fire above him were surely not hallucinations, and discerned that the strength of the illithids was being challenged. Yug'rig'noth set out to destroy those who had chosen to attack his temple. He quickly teleported to the surface of the temple, still miles into the underdark, to observe the surroundings. Grimlocks, slaves, and others were tearing the entire temple district apart. It appeared that most if not all of the illithid high priests temples had fallen to the destruction caused by these lesser servitors.

In truth, two high priests still stood strong against the torrent of servitors. Thul'hur'mca and Istigon the enslaver stood strong and weilded their psionic might against the lesser creatures. While Istigon tried to gain control over the most powerful of the slaves, Thul worked to shape walls and destroy the ground on which most of the slaves walked. Yug'rig'noth recognized the other two as the high priests of the other temples, both still younger than himself but wisened enough to know who he was. He loomed over the battlefield patiently waiting for a crowd to take form.

The metamorphosis of Yug'rig'noth allowed himself to appear as an illithid on the surface, but really he was something far worse. His body and mind had been driven delusional during his long states of metabolic cold, while his form changed and warped around him. His psuedonatural illithid form was a monster truly not to be reckoned with by such lesser creatures. Yug'rig'noth took his stance, saw his prey, and decided that this small snack of creatures would indeed not satiate his hunger. He set his sights on Istigon and Thul, and prepared to dine excellently this day.

 

[Knight Otu]

Shorttly after the Sealing, Overking Jahren adresses the people of Aerdi, Ahlissa, and any other land under "his" control. While he holds his speech in Kalstand, all measures are taken to relay it to all corners of Greater Aerdi, be it magic or messengers.

"People of Aerdi!
Today is a day of sorrow, a day of tragedy! For the gods are gone. No longer do Hextor and Heironeous guide us in war. No longer is Pelor extending is warm smile over the lands.
But today shall not be a day of despair! It shall not be a day of surrender! For all is not lost, if we but stand together against the coming storm! We shall be a bastion of stability in the coming anarchy, a beacon for those who fear being lost!
We stand not alone in our dedication - other powers have the same goal as we do! Our grand ally will not leave us alone in these troubled times! He will reveal himself in time, but until then, put all your trust and hope into him! And not all gods have vanished behind a Seal we cannot comprehend. A number of demigods and herogods still remain, and like our grand ally, deserve all the aid they can get, every little prayer!
Today is a day of change, a day of history! Of endings, and of beginnings! The events of today will forever be marked in history. Today is the beginning of a new era, and if we are not careful, it may be the last era we will see!
Today is a day of choices, a day of unity! For we must choose our path, each and every one of us, and in unity, we shall weather the storm, master the perilious crossroads! In unity we shall SURVIVE!
People of Aerdi! Remember my words, and let not outdated concepts or rivalries blind you to the necessity of unity in these days! Let no one be a foe because tradition demands it, because of past offenses! Let only those be foes who show themselves as foes.
Today is the day the gods fell silent, and the mortals had to fend for themselves! Today is a day of Testing! We shall pass the test, and stay strong!"

In line with the "no traditional foes" speech, the fiends are welcomed to speak with Overking Jahren once he finishes his speech.


At a very different site, Ashardalon inspects a finely worked length of chain, delicate and ornate. Finding no flaws, the dargon returns it to a smith who is sweating with fear, and says. "You have done well. Unlike your predecessor, " Ashardalon's claw points to a well-cleaned, but still visible blotch of blood, "who thought he could pass along flawed material. Remember him when you get that urge. Are you keeping with the timeline?"
"Lord Ashardalon, we should be half-way to the basic level in about three months. We cannot hasten the process much further, the arcanists..."
"I want no excuses, I want timelines. And since I received that timeline, you can go back to work."

 

[Edena_of_Neith]

The Aliador that Was

There is a beautiful place in the Flanaess that few know about.
A place known as Aliador.
It has an Andelainian beauty to it, with naturally tall trees, green meadows, rolling hills, and a great vibrant health about it. For those with magical sight, it is strong with enchantment.
It occupies the eastern third of the Theocracy of the Pale, and extends well into the Rakers to the east, this enchanted land of forest and meadow, rushing streams and wide pools. All about it are plants growing with silver berries, strange magical berries that are extraordinarily nourishing and delightful to the taste.
In many places the berry plants have actually grown into large trees, which shimmer like molten silver in the sunlight.

The people of the Theocracy of the Pale do not venture here, because their clergy forbid it. The intolerant clergy of the Theocracy have long been terrified of this place, and will not enter, and restrain their people from entering.
Yet the occasional commoner does enter, and when this happens he or she seldom returns, for what he or she finds is so extraordinary, so pleasant, that the desire to stay overcomes any feelings for home. Those that do return from Aliador typically remember only pleasant things, and never speak of elves or other residents of that pleasant, forbidden land.
The occasional humanoid or giant comes down from the Rakers into this land to hack, burn, and pillage. Few humanoids or giants return to the mountains, and what becomes of those who have gone missing is not known: divinations show they were not slain, but otherwise no information is granted.

What has escaped the notice of the heavily populated regions around this one, is that this is the home of two and a half million elves.
One could understand the mistake: there are no elves visible. People have searched for the rumored inhabitants, and found dryads and other forest beings aplenty, but rarely have they seen elves.
Clerics of the Theocracy have come with Detect Invisibility and True Seeing, but for all their efforts the magic of this place has frustrated their spells. They have not found the elves.
Some powerful wizards have attempted Wish spells to garner the secrets of this place, but there are those here who wield magic as potent as any Wish, and thus no Wish has gained the secrets the casters so desired.
Only those who have come here with friendly and open hearts, seeking the rumored inhabitants out of a desire to understand, to learn, to befriend, have found the elves, and all of those have either stayed or kept the secret of this place carefully guarded in their hearts.

-

The elves live in the trees. Literally. The trees are the homes of nearly all the elves of Aliador.
Within the great trees of Aliador are what most would call extradimentional spaces, but the elves who know the truth call them the Arden Kiethlin, or Hearts of the Trees.
If a stranger is welcomed into one of the tall, lush trees of the forests here by the elves, that stranger would find oneself in a great cathedral of living wood, green light flooding down from the heavens, great natural archways and passages running upward beyond sight, and running downward into unguessable depths. An impossible forest of great wooden stems, like pillars in a great hall but much more lofty, would extend upwards and downwards out of sight. A breeze of life, a breeze of magic, would flow over the stranger, and he would see strands of light - strands of the Weave - running in silver, blue, purple, white, and many-colored splendor to the lofty unguessable heights beyond the soaring wood above, and down through pools of impossible depth into unseen distances below. If he looked long enough, he might see they soared away into other places, dimensions, and times.
That stranger would also hear the laughter of elven children, the singing of elven people, the chanting of elven wizards, the chatter of a whole society as it went about it's business: the noise of hundreds of elves busy with their lives. The cathedral is only the opening, the doorway to the house as it were. The communal hundreds that live up those vast soaring passages, in the amazing labyrinth of enormous chambers beyond, the great caverns of living wood below, up to the skyvaults miles above, or to the depths of the roots miles below, would greet the newcomer with all the warmth and cheer and merriment the elves are justly famous for. A new visitor has come calling, and the elves would delight in making her or him feel at home.

The visitor would quickly realize he was at the gates of a vast city, a city the elves call Varna. For the trees connect, and the great passages run from tree to tree, and communes of like minded elves inhabit different trees, hundreds of trees, thousands of trees, for miles and miles through the lush forests of Aliador.
The visitor would learn that several hundred thousand elves live in Varna, in the trees, in splendor and glory, in might and power, to rival the greatness of the Suel Empire. He would also find they are as courteous and pleasant, as friendly and merry, as a family welcoming their father in out of the snow on a cold winters' night.
The elves, the visitor and stranger would see, come in all colors. Some are vibrant yellow with dark yellow hair. Some are milky white with blue hair. Some are blue with white hair. Some are green with silver hair. Some are bronzed with black hair. Some are jet black with white hair. There are pink elves with silver hair, purple elves with green hair, indigo elves with gold hair, orange elves with hair of flame red, and red elves with hair of bright orange. And all combinations in between these.
Most of the elves are slim or slender, but some are fat. Many are very young, and a few are very old: the majority seem ageless. Some are handsome or beautiful, and some are ugly. Some are as tall as 7 feet, and some as short as 4 feet. Some have extraordinary differences in their facial and body makeup and appearance, compared to others. Some are well groomed and wear ornate, elaborate uniforms. Some have unkempt hair and wear nothing at all. Some wear conservative looking tunics and dresses, and some are dressed in outlandish contraptions that would shame the debaunched nobles of Greyhawk City.
But whatever they look like, and whatever they dress in, they all are welcoming and friendly, all seem comfortable and even merry, all seem to fit here as if they were a part of the wood itself, and all are curious about the visitor.

-

The visitor would learn that other great cities exist in Aliador, such as Varlaith, Varluirra, Varleea, and Verrenlorr. All of them repositories of elves, with all their culture, their lore, their ancient strength, their communal togetherness among those of like mind, and their utter loyalty to each other and to their Lord and Lady. There are dozens of these cities, and thousands of smaller communities. There is even the occasional community of one, where elves desire solitude, but this is relatively rare: only a few thousand of these exist.

The visitor might wonder how so many elves can exist together, without exhausting the food supply.
The elves, seem to derive their main food supply from the very leaves of the forest, and by mystical means make waybread out of them, even as humans make their own bread from specialized grasses such as wheat, barley, and oats. The trees never seem to lack for leaves, though: the vistor will never find trees stripped of their leaves in Aliador.
The elves also partake of the silver berries, and they say a couple of them will sustain one easily for an entire day.

The visitor might wonder how so many elves could stand to live together in communes, since communes are so restrictive and demand such uniform behavior.
The visitor would be made to understand that, unlike humans, elves take great delight in each others' company, are not threatened by each other, and are not bashful around each other (a point that has often driven humans out of their wits, since humans can hardly stand each other.)
The elves would also point out they are very, very tolerant of differences between each other, and bend over backwards to accommodate individuality (another thing that drives humans batty, since humans tend to prefer uniformity.)

The visitor might wonder how the elves could stand all the NOISE. Especially the endless laughter of children and crying of babies. It echoes through the great passages and chambers, through the magical constructs of the elves, up and down the strands of the Weave.
The elves would simply point out they can shut it out if it bothers them. They never explain quite how.

The visitor might wonder that the elves never go outside their trees, and enjoy the lush forests and meadows and sunlight.
To this the elves would laugh, and smile secret smiles, and they would say that Things Are Not As They Appear, and the Guardians are always watching.

-

The trees ward the elves well, but the trees - for all their splendor and majesty and secret power - do not defend the elves.
The Guardians defend the elves.
Yes, the elves have their own army - every elf and elfess in the Realm would die to protect it and each other, and most are highly skilled in the (abhorrent) art of killing, but the real protectors are the Guardians.

The Guardians are those elves who refused Arvandor and the Afterlife to stay in the world, and train, and teach, and protect, and otherwise interact with the Living World.
These are the Norn and the Nymphs.
The Lord of Aliador is a Norn. The Lady of Aliador is a Nymph.
Wielding the most powerful magic known to Aliador, the Guardians under the Lord and Lady have warded the borders, and maintained the enchantment, so that none could enter without detection, and none could escape again without permission, and none could glimpse the secret of the elves without their blessings, and most certainly none could deceive the elves in friendly pretentions, then walk out into the World and give away the secret of the elves to that World.

 

[Edena_of_Neith]

The Aliador that Is

(regards Serpenteyes' post on page one.)

I think a full appreciation of just what Serpenteye wrote is in order, as it relates to the elves.
Imagine that you were a five year old child, with very loving parents. You lived with brothers and sisters who - incredibly - were also all five years old.
Now imagine your parents become sick. They won?t tell you they are sick, but you know. Your mother cries in pain all the time. Your father chokes and makes strange, horrible sounds in the bathroom. You see blood stains on the dinner table, in the kitchen sink, in the bathroom, on the bed.
Then, your parents, disappear. They disappear, without a trace.
The police come, and when you ask them where your parents are, they - acting like monsters and not adults, or perhaps all adults are monsters? - tell you to shut up, then lock you in the house, barricading the doors, boarding up the windows, and telling you they will shoot you if you try to leave.
Looking through the gaps in the boards, you see that all the adults are now acting like monsters too. They are killing each other, leaving bodies lying in the street, and they are advancing on the house with torches and knives, hatred and violence in their eyes.
Funny thing, but the police are encouraging them on, exhorting them to butcher and savage those rotten children, tear every toy to shreds, and destroy every last bit of the house.

Does this sound like something out of Stephen King?
Perhaps, it sounds like something out of A Nightmare on Elm Street?
Or, perhaps, it sounds like my bad imagination?

It is all of these at once, and for the elves of Aliador, the Lendores, and Celene, this is the REALITY. This is what IS, for all those elves.

There is no way I could describe in my pathetic words the terror and horror, the shock, the trauma, that is endured.
Arvandor is under attack? Arvandor may be destroyed? Sigil has fallen? The Seldarine may be dead? Gotterdammerung has come, and the elves are completely alone ... in a world gone insane.
Now the insane monsters - all the enemies of the elves from time immemorial - are at the gates, and indeed inside the gates.
The devils, the most frightful and hated enemies of the elves, storm their way with ease right through all the guardians and defenders, to leave strange blueprints of strange and otherworldly devices at the feet of stunned rulers.
Now, the demons, the drow, the violent humans, the humanoids ... all of them ... have been invited into the most secret and sacred places of the elves. They sit there in places that have been inviolate for millennia, these beings who would normally be attacked on sight. The guardians do nothing. The defenders do nothing. The rulers, do nothing.

In all the elven nations, there is a state of utter shell shock.
Some elves collapse into catatonia. Some commit suicide. Many more go insane. All suffer from debilitating fear, trauma, and shock.
Elven children, the most vulnerable of all, find themselves without parents to comfort them, to keep sanity in a world gone insane. Children hide under the bed, in the cupboard, in the corner, under the blankets, while their parents weep and pray and collapse.

Perhaps, just perhaps, the scene briefly resembles what the Real World would look like, in the last minutes before the Bombs arrived. Air raid sirens wailing, tens of thousands of incoming warheads, even the people on the television gone berserk or crazy.

-

When the Crystal Sphere is closed, and the end does not come, but the house is still boarded up and the crazy adults are still coming for the five year old children, the five year old children finally react.

In Eclavdras? case, she does what she thinks must be done, to save the drow people. Her methods are absolute, her committment is absolute, and she demands absolute loyalty and committment from all the drow she conquers.
It isn?t pretty and it isn?t nice. But, just maybe, it actually works, with the chaotic evil drow. Maybe, and maybe not.

But elves are not drow.
Elves are a lofty people, who believe very strongly in the value of life, the value of the person, and the value of individuality.
The use of force, terror, and coercion, to unite the elven people, is not an option.
And there is not need for such things.

The elves still have something very important, something very precious, something that saves them: they have something humans and drow do not have, and this something makes the difference and enables the elves to survive.
The elves, have the elves.
Unlike humans, elves are drawn to other elves in bonds of affection that are alien to humans. It is not love between a man and a woman, it is most certainly NOT sexual, but it IS intimate, and it spans their entire society.
It is like Frodo and Sam, but it is much greater than that. It could be compared to Elrond and Arwen. It is an intense devotion and love, a thrill and a joy, a sharing and melding, that naturally occurs between elves.
Where humans would be horrified and appalled at such intrusion upon their individual privacy, where humans would be miserable in the company of others of their own kind, where humans would battle and fight for dominance in cliches and groups, the elves flourish and thrive in the closest of communes, the closest of interpersonal relationships, on a mass basis that spans hundreds of thousands of their kind.

Like those five year old children might do, the elves now turn to each other for comfort and emotional survival.
And because they are elves, and because of that intense closeness and bonding, that intense race wide communion (which ... almost ... rivals that of the illithid), they succeed.

The elves pull themselves out of the pit into which they were hurled.
The elves, come back from the emotional brink. They come back, from the precipice upon which their race was about to fly off of.
Sanity and rational thinking returns. Loyalty to society and their brothers and sisters reasserts itself. Their deep trust in their rulers reasserts itself. A sense of comfort reemerges against the horror, the terror, and the world gone mad.

And the elves, faced with that horror, turn even more to their own, in a deliberate, conscious move.
The initial reaction was instinctive: this is conscious.
The elves move to comfort all their kindred. They move to tighten bonds. They close ranks throughout their society. They vehemently assert loyalty to their culture and their rulers. They take oaths to protect their families, their children, and all that they are.
The children of the elves, are finally able to come out from under the bed. They finally, can come out from under the blankets. They cautiously creep back out of their hiding places and dark corners into which they fled.
And the adults cherish their children, and feed strength to them now. They hold their children in their arms, and they whisper words of eternal devotion and protection to them.
The looks of etched terror and pain on the face of children, lessens, as they realize their fathers and mothers are not gone, and there still is a world for them to be in.

And the adult elves, slowly come to realize that they are not alone either, and there is still a world for THEM to live in.

-

Only after the elves recover, does anything else happen.
Only after the elves recover, do they begin negotiations, alliances, and preparations for war.
Aliador takes over the Theocracy of the Pale, as previously stated.
Celene and the Yeomanry (a human nation in turmoil now) join the League of Athyr.
The Lendore Isles ally with Aliador.

Then the second great tragedy hits the elves, and it is a strong echo of the first and greatest tragedy.
The elves, send their children away to safety.
Children are sent to Baklunim, to Athyr, to Highfolk. It is hoped the children can go to the Demiplane of Elves Highfolk can access.
Children are sent to Miranda, to Marchwards, to Elvanian Forest, and to the impregnable mountains of Gigantea and Hyperboria.
Anywhere that is away from imminent danger, the children are sent. Aliador is surrounded by enemies, and her people know full well they face possible obliteration. The safety of the children come first.

Likewise, the Lendore elves plead for their children to be sent to safety, and Aliador answers the call.
The Lendore elves face Portals to Arvandor now closed. Gone are their Gods, gone is their Afterlife, gone is everything they had ever assumed, gone is the safe and ordered world they knew.
They still have each other, and in this the Lendore elves find comfort.
But comfort gives way to bitter pain as they realize their islands are vulnerable, and that their children must go to safety.

In a gesture of nobility, Aliador opens Gates to Ratik, that isolated and desperate nation in which many elves and half-elves are now trapped, and they gather from Ratik all who will come to the relative safety of Aliador, and they send all the children and civilians from Ratik who would come to the safety of other places.
And in the Theocracy of the Pale, which Aliador now controls, the elves send away the human children and human civilians - along with those human and dwarven and other children and civilians of Ratik - to safety. The elves revere life, and although they are willing to sacrifice their own for each other, they will not sacrifice children.

So the horror is relived all over again, as parents and children are parted, maybe forever. It is a scene out of nightmare. This time, there is no togetherness to lessen the pain, or elven communion to relieve the heartbreak - indeed, the elven togetherness makes it worse, makes the separation all the harder to bear.
For the children of Aliador, it is a waking nightmare. They are scarred for life. If they survive, if they grow up, they will be a different people than their parents. Perhaps a worse people, violent and traumatized. Perhaps a better people, sadder and wiser. But they will be different.

 

[Edena_of_Neith]

TO SERPENTEYE

(You, obviously, must ok this post before it becomes official IR history. It is subject to any modifications that please you. You are the DM here. Although I told this to nobody - including William and yourself - I have had this planned, everything below planned out in detail - since early December, a full month ago.)

-

-

-

The Withdrawal

For 20,000 years the drow have lived in the Underdark, and nursed off the deadly milk of Darkness and Foulness from the Lower Planes.
Even before that, Lolth - Araunshee fallen - was there, poisoning the ancestors of the drow, pouring her Evil into them, poisoning them with it?s intoxicating, sweet, and deadly draught.
The drow have reveled in the Darkness. They have been awash in it. They have glorified in it, given over their lives and very spirits to it.
Like some horrific and utterly illegal drug, the Darkness has poisoned and intoxicated and addicted the drow until their very flesh and blood is poisoned black by it?s tonic.

But now, there is no more drug.
With the closing of the Crystal Sphere, there is no access to the Lower Planes or Negative Plane ... at least, not any conduits that lead to the drow.
And Lolth, is gone. Lolth, is not pouring her deadly Darkness and poison into the drow. Lolth, is not enforcing her evil upon them, not preaching hate and horror and terror into their minds. Her omnipresent shadow, is withdrawn.
Likewise, the other drow dieties are gone. Ghaunadaur is not there with his elemental evil, oozing his way into drow minds and souls with primordial blackness. Vhaerun is not there, enticing the drow to murder and empire on the surface. Kiransalee is not there, igniting the drow to ardent vengeance on all who they perceive to have done wrong to them.
Only Eilistraee, the Dark Maiden, remains. As a demipower whose home was the Prime, an Avatar of Eilistraee remains on Oerth. And another demipower of chaotic neutral alignment remains, but no drow deities of evil are present.
In otherwords, the Light remains, no power remains to challenge the Light, and the drow are - when all is said and done - elves who fell, elves who drank in the addictive, sweet, deathly power of primordial evil and darkness, and were corrupted by it.

Now, the primordial darkness and evil within the drow begins to dissipate away, and the drow go into Withdrawal.
It is not something they could have expected. It is not something they could have prepared for. In fact, it is not something they could have even understood. It is most certainly not something they understand now.
It HURTS.
It HURTS, BADLY.
It is the worst of drug withdrawal, payback for 20,000 years of abuse of what they truly are - elves - with flirtation with darkness and evil.
This is not some gentle and slow withdrawal, in which mercy is granted by a relatively benign medicine. There is no doctor or hospital available to mitigate the pain, or adminster anti-toxin to protect the patient. The evil and darkness are horrific things, and in leaving they inflict as much pain and damage as is possible upon those who foolishly drank of their deadly draught.

The drow have a chance to evacuate their cities, then begin work on the Great City.
Then, the Withdrawal hits, with all the subtlety and force of a nuclear blast wave.

All the drow fall deathly ill. No magic they can summon halts this illness. No items of power mitigate the pain. No arrogance and self belief counters the debilitating blast of horror and suffering that is decreed.
All work on the Great City ceases. All work ceases period. The drow, as a race, fall into a stupor filled with pain and horror images. They fall into profound confusion, experiencing thoughts and feelings utterly alien - feelings they would have had, should have had, as elves - and utterly foreign.

Eclavdra attempts, using the Regalia of Lordly Might, to salvage her elite forces.
In the end, Eclavdra cannot save herself, for the enemy here is herself, and even the Regalia cannot protect Eclavdra from Eclavdra.

Of course, the Servitor Races, who are normally evil and savage, rise up immediately.
This is their chance. Their long awaited chance. They take it. They take it with glee and dark delight.
They move to utterly massacre the drow, down to the least and last.
The yuan-ti, breaking free of the drow compulsions upon them, reacting with the hatred and violence of their own evil nature, also move to destroy the drow.

But someone is standing in the way.
In the darkest hour of the drow, when they face utter obliteration at the hands of their own folly, face the consequences in full of their ways, someone stands to defend them.

It is Eilistraee herself. The Dark Maiden. The Diety of the Good Drow.

And Eilistraee brings her followers, and large forces of the faerie, to her aid.

The Servitor Races flee, heading to the surface, abandoning the anticipated slaughter, vowing that that slaughter will happen yet, and they join forces with the yuan-ti, repulsed by Eilistraee, screeching in frustration as Eilistraee and her followers block and destroy every entrance to the Great City under construction.
Then Eilistraee and her good drow, those good elves who follow Eilistraee, and the good faerie, move to save the stricken drow.

The drow are dying. The withdrawal is too much for them to survive. This drug, the drug of evil and darkness, does not permit it?s users to escape with their lives. Such charity is not granted.
But Eilistraee grants charity, and Eilistraee has mercy in her heart. As a diety, she has the power and understanding that Eclavdra did not have, could not have even with the Regalia. And her followers are strong, were always strong. The faerie are steeped in the lore of their own power.
Their combined strength saves the drow from the Fate Decreed, enables them to survive the Withdrawal, gives them the fortitude to mentally comprehend what is happening, to understand their emerging natures, to embrace who they truly are.

This does not happen in a day. This takes months. For months, Eilistraee and her followers watch over the stricken drow, even as Florence Nightingale and her nurses watched over the ill of the Crimean War, and they gently and carefully bring the drow through the Withdrawal. When the elven nature of the drow reemerges, the drow are gently and firmly required to acknowledge and embrace their ancient selves.

At the end of this time, by the end of Turn 1, the drow are a good aligned race, completely rejecting every aspect of their old ways.
Eclavdra is still their leader, but the Eclavdra that was is dead, and she who took her place is more akin to Lady Gwyndilyn, than to anyone once known as Eclavdra.

-

In game terms, this of course tears my power in half.
There will be, on Turn 2, the good drow of the Great City under construction, and the evil yuan-ti empire above. Somehow, I must play both of these groups, who will never see things the same way again.

Most of the Servitor Races join Paxus? power, giving themselves over to the worship of the Wolf God.

(PAXUS, TAKE NOTE.)

The evil yuan-ti drive the humanoid Servitor Races out of their empire, those they did not enslave, and these hordes of humanoids thus descend upon the hapless Touv and Olman Peoples of the Hempmonaland Coast, and upon the lands in Hempmonaland held by the Scarlet Brotherhood.

(GUILTY PUPPY, TAKE NOTE)

As for the drow of the Great City, they spend Turn 1 under the protection of Eilistraee and her followers, and the faerie.
Whether this protection saves them from outside attack, is not under my control. Serpenteye must determine the strength of Eilistraee and her followers. And other players, will do as they wish, regardless of the drow and their problems. Old hatreds and rivalries do not go away with the evil and the darkness.

If Thomas does not return to the IR, and if the drow survive Turn 1, and IF Serpenteye allows that this post is legitimate and does not rule it invalid ... then in all likelihood the drow of the Great City will join Aliador as one power.

The Yuan-Ti Empire will remain a separate and distinct power, the one remaining part (but a strong and sizeable part) of my original power.