(IR) The 3rd IR, Turn 3 (thread 1)

[Forrester]

Re: IMPORTANT - PLEASE READ

Edena, we have to talk. It suffices to say, I think you've missed some posts.

The Angel looking at Forrester is angry.
To Forrester, it looks and feels like he is looking into the sun, in the desert, at high noon.
He feels the anger of the other Angels too, all around him, like the shimmering heat from molten metal.

Angelic voices whispers:

You forsook Irongate ...
You forsook those who pleaded for your intervention ...
You forsook them to eternal suffering ...
You forsook them to endless horror and pain ...
You are guilty ...
Guilty ...
You have committed a great crime ...
You are guilty ...

The battering is like being hit by the blows of titans, from all sides, knocking Forrester first this way and that.
There is nothing he can do to avoid the blows.
No amount of self protection stops them from penetrating through.

Now will you forsake your people?
Will you leave them to die?
Will you allow those who trust in you to perish in this way?
Will you allow Oerth to perish in this way?
Will you forsake your people as you forsook Irongate?
Will you forsake your people as you forsook Irongate?
WILL YOU FORSAKE YOUR PEOPLE AS YOU FORSOOK IRONGATE?

Here's how I've seen the Irongate tale progress:

1) Irongate calls for the help of the UC
2) Acererak says he'll let half of them live if I don't interfere.
3) I say that he should back down and allow me to evacuate Irongate completely. And if he doesn't, I'll crush him.
4) HE says that he is ACCEPTING MY ULTIMATUM. (After insulting me a few times ).

Then Turn 3 starts.

5) Edena posts that because Acererak pulls back, the people of Irongate ATTACK HIM! Which is just completely and totally incorrect -- the deal was he pulls back, I get them out over the next month.

6) Maudlin, as Acererak, correctly states that he's not going to go for being attacked, and says that he eats the forces going after him.

7) Edena states that Irongate falls, and Acererak eats hundreds of thousands of souls. BUT:

8) When I bring up to Maudlin/Acererak that he broke his word, he says that he only attacked those attacking him (which shouldn't have happened in the first place). I think to myself fine, if some people left Irongate to go after you, fair enough, but I'm going to start the evacuation now.

9) He complains that the evacuation is going to take a whole month, but he'll deal with it.

So basically Maudlin/Acererak and I have come to the understanding that:

1) Irongate has not fallen,
2) He's pulled back (as long as he's not attacked, which he shouldn't be), and
3) I'm CURRENTLY evacuating the inhabitants, slowly, with teleportation circles. It should take a month, I figure. Not a quick process.

. . .

And then you post that the Angels are beating me up because I forsook Irongate. In fact, they mention it a few times.

Never mind their hypocrisy for not interfering, but yelling at me for not intefering. Even though I did.

Never mind the fact that they yelled at me for asking them to protect Toril while I was on Oerth, because they thought I was being all warlike . . . and now, they're ordering me BACK to Oerth.

The fact is that I saved Irongate by getting, through sheer diplomacy, Acererak to back down.

Of course, now they're all sick and they'll all probably die horribly from the disease, but that's not the point.

The point is, I didn't deserve the Angel abuse!!!

Forrester

 

[Forrester]

An Apology

Sorry if I was a bit snippy during my last two posts, Edena. You are in the middle of truly HUGE and wonderful task, and I can see how things might slip by you -- especially the Irongate thing.

A Humble Forrester

 

[William Ronald]

Additionally, speak with dead and other necromantic spells are used on anyone who in life would likely have knowledge of the disease or a cure. This is done in the Kevellond League, in Suhfang, and in allied territories. (Until Darkness posts, I represent his interests. Erypt is a very old country.)

Also, the real life analogue of Erypt, Egypt, had the master physician Imhotep.

 

[Forrester]

As I posted earlier, I can cure my people within about a week's time.

But I cannot cure others -- for I'm not leaving the place where my troops have dug in. And there are many civilians out there who need our help.

So I will do the following:

One hundred sick individuals of every race, class, and strength will be sent back to Toril, in quarantine. The Angels will be asked to stand aside -- and they should, for what we are doing here is the gods' work. And as we have 11th level magic, we should be able to easily protect ourselves from catching the disease.

And the research will begin.

A team of epic archmages will create a small pocket dimension in which the laws of physics and magic work as the do on Oerth/Greyspace, not as they work in Toril/Realmspace.

When outside of that pocket dimension, the archmages and clerics (well, we call them doctors, actually) will cast many (11th level!) divinations in order to determine what the best route is of curing the disease using Oerthian magic and/or technology. Divinations will be cast to suggest tomes to be found on Oerth that might give news of how the disease works, but I am guessing that this is not a disease only native to Oerth. But perhaps it is -- perhaps it has never been seen anywhere else. But we will check . . . there will be many divinations and maybe even an 11th-level Wish or two cast.

And 11th level magic can do a lot, I understand.

One helluva lot.

When inside the pocket dimension, the cleric/doctors will try to use the methods discovered through divination and Wish to treat the sick, using their lesser magics and lesser technologies.


And I await an update from them . . . anxiously.


Forrester

 

[Creamsteak]

My Clerics and Druids will be used to help secure military safety by concecrating the sleeping grounds of my armies. The disease was earlier stated to be evil and necromantic so circle's of protection against evil will be set up around soldier quarters and facilities to protect my men from being infected.

We will also attempt to remove disease from infected soldiers and all together attempt to maintain military security.

 

[GnomeWorks]

Kessel GnomeWorks slowly enters his large hall, looking as exhausted as he felt. He winds his way through the room to his black leather chair, and lands in it. He then turns it, so that he can better look out the large windows over his vast technological empire.

"Well, we have done well, I'd say." He mutters to himself. "We have managed to keep the disease out of the Lortmils."

He turns towards the desk, sighing. He then goes over the map one more time.

"We have lost the Iron League... most of the Eastern League is gone... all that is left is Chauntosbergen, and the Lortmils."

Kessel glances at the map, then burrows through his left sleeve. When he pulls it back it, it is holding the Ace of Diamonds.

"Well, we should have taken you out long ago. You're pointless to have hidden up there, now." He says, and lets the card drop onto the desk. It floats down casually, to cover the Pomarj.

"Hmm... what else do we have here?" He muses, continuing to dig through his sleeve.

He pulls out his small hand once more, and examines the Ace of Spades. He looks it over careful, determining it's usefulness. As he examines it, he begins to hold it with both hands, endlessly turning it, beholding the beauty of the curves of the edges of the card, the designs on its back.

"Always a wild one, you were. Untrustworthy." Kessel speaks with no expression. "However, now is a desperate time. Even those we do not trust must be called into service, to stop what is before us."

He looks at it edgewise, and with a flick of his wrist, it sails out beyond the desk in a circular motion. It comes back quickly, to rest neatly upon a stack of cards, which is not as thick as it should be. It is a perfect, pearly white, and appears to have never been used.

Kessel looks at it. "So be it." He mutters.

The telephone on his desk rings suddenly with loud impertinance. "Damn thing," He curses, and lifts it with as much violence as his tiny frame can muster.

"Yes? ... Certainly. ... Now? Right... ... Of course I can... ... Why can't... ... Alright!" He slams the phone down in disgust.

"Damn scientists. Always needing supervision. I am certainly interested in their progress, but why can't I read about it in Discover like everyone else does?" As he hops down from his chair, a single card drops from his sleeve down onto the floor.

"Oh, dear - can't lose that one, now, can we?" He says, and bends over to pick it up. He dusts it off lightly, and replaces it back into his sleeve - without examining it's face.

Kessel whistles a lively tune, kicks his desk, and walks over to the door. He proceeds to jump up and open it, and walk through it, slamming it behind him with much force.

And once more, all is quiet and dark in the hall of the one called Kessel GnomeWorks.

 

[Anabstercorian]

Oh dear oh dear

Anabstercorian teleports to speak to Iuz himself.

"I think that any argument we may have once had for me betraying you is quite null, now. Vecna is too much of a treat to be allowed to continue to exist. His disease may well bring about the goal of my Solistarim underlings, but I and they know that in the end, it will destroy their goal of holding the Flannae. We had considered sending you against them without our aid and letting you weaken each other and swooping in to consume the fallen, but this is no longer feasible. We have no intention of allowing your failure to result in our failure. I will be frank."

He stares him straight in the eye.

"I will support you in fighting Vecna with ALL of my strength. Vecna can go pork his mammal harlot all Ilsensine-damned day, for what I care. In addition, I will turn efforts to fighting the disease.

He leaves.

***

He keeps his word. In a sense.

People who are dying of the disease are found dead the next morning - Not of the disease, but of a single bullet through the head...

 

[Forrester]

Re: Oh dear oh dear

Anabstercorian teleports to speak to Iuz himself.

Vecna is too much of a treat to be allowed to continue to exist.

Freudian slip, Illithid?

 

[William Ronald]

Druids and other experts on plants, animals, mold, fungi, and mineralogists are employed in the Kevellond League to investigate possible cures. Anything of possible use is noted. Any discoveries are shared with Gnomeworks and anyone else researching a cure. (If we stumble across a common weed that cures the common cold, we pass that along. The main goal is a cure.) Bards, scholars, sages, and even barkeepers are asked about their knowledge of diseases and cures. Priests, druids, and seers work with sages and scientists to try to target a cure. Their efforts are shared internationally. Quite literally, anyone on Oerth who can help is asked to help. (With the exception of the people who started this.)

In the interim, Archcleric Hazen, Heward, Keoghtom and Murlynd will try to cure as many people as they can. As will all those in the Kevellond League with cure disease abilities.

Lord William Ronald of Keoland, Speaker for the Kevellond League, addresses a group of experts. Some are scholars. Others are just wise old people from small villages.

"We need your effort and your wisdom. Work with your team leaders and try to find anything that will help. Even old tales may provide the key to the cure. We will not surrender or back down in the face of this threat."

"Team leaders, forward what you have found to the contacts we have given you. The cure may be of a magical or mundane nature. It may even be right before us. We shall not succumb to the Red Death."

The disease is reference to known mundane and magical conditions and similarities and differences are noted. All work is forwarded to the Lortmils Technocracy and other allies in this fight against disease.

(Everyone who is looking for a cure, please post your efforts. I refuse to be beat. In real life, I have seen people survive what many deemed hopeless.)

Strangely enough, chamber pots bearing the supposed likenesses of Vecna, Acerak, and the Church of Shade leadership become quite popular in the Kevellond League. (Walk, do not run to your dictionaries.)

 

[Maudlin]

Finally, Acererak replies from within his crypt beneath the earth.

What pretty death, all over the world. I can see their souls, you know. Tormented and twisting, haunted by the knowledge of their families dying, of dying themselves. They will find peace, eventually. My peace. Not the ones that survive though. Their minds will break first, before they die.

(pause)

I did not spread this plague. I did not.

I created it, yes. Nature creates hundreds, and relies on the critters of the earth to spread them. Not I, I was more merciful. I infected only a small number of people with no possible escape to the outside world, as something of an experiment, really.

But that's not what happened. No, they did get into the outside world. They were taken there. Stolen from me against my will.

Look to your grandiose saviour for the cause of this disease! Look to Forrester! He infected all of you! Not a single of your civilians would be dead, but for his vainglorious meddling in my affairs. They would have gone towards their fate quietly, with a measure of dignity. But lo, a hero came, and took them to a brave new world!

I name it the Judas Kiss Plague. Forrester, you sought to save, but doomed them all.

I had claimed the people of Irongate. They were MINE! You do not steal from me! You do not threaten me, you do not bluff me! You may think you have, but when the piper comes calling, the price is a millionfold. Remember that.