(IR) What would your PC do, if he or she received the Sending of the Wanderer?

[Kalanyr]

Ok then that is exactly what we do.

Oh and if noone wishes to take them can I have the Unseelie of Oerth too?

 

[William Ronald]

[B]A Voice in the Wilderness[/B]

On the shores of Hope Island on Toril, a man appears. Shorter of stature than most, but broad shouldered. His bearded face shows the influence of many human races. He is dressed in the garb of an Oeridian of Oerth. There is determination and concern on his broad pleasant features.

Loudly he cries:

"Angels of Hope Island, I come here in peace. I have travelled far from my homeland, and my world to speak with thee. I have spoken to celestials, and learned that there are Angels here, beings who are pure in spirit, noble in nature, truthful, and desiring harm to none - save in the last need.

I am Ambassador Gwilym Raonul of the Kelevondd Alliance of the world of Oerth. We represent the nations of Keoland, Furyondy, Gran March, and Veluna. Your world is strange to us.

There was a message sent recently by someone unknown to us. Many in Oerth heard it. It portrayed your world in an unfavorable light, especially the United Commonwealth of Toril, and its Churches, the Church of Mercy and the Church of Toril. The message proclaimed that you had organized subversion in the Lortmils with a Technocracy. Toril was portrayed as a place of perversions, and madness.

I have lived long enough to not trust everything I here or say. I know full well that a lie -if said loudly and often enough - will be perceived to be true by many. Especially if half-truths and magical means are used to make it seem true. Reality is a matter of perspective. If I were to take the worst members of any race on Oerth, and showed them to a stranger and proclaimed "these murders and perverts are the people of Oerth" than my world would be cast in a bad light.

I seek knowledge of this world and the truth about its inhabitants and their interests in Oerth. I love my homelands and the peoples of Oerth. I would die, if need be, to save it.

Answer me, Angels of Hope Island. Those whom I trust say that your hearts are pure and good. I seek understanding, and I would like to find peace. My world is in peril. Vecna has returned.

I have learned that the people of the Lortmils Technocracy have an earnest desire to use technology to help grow crops, make new goods, and increase the prosperity of the world. As far as I and my allies can tell, they are essentially good natured people.

It is because of my faith in them and my love of Oerth that I journey here. Answer me, I beseech you in the name of all the gods and peoples of Oerth, in the name of all that is good and holy."

 

[Kalanyr]

I understand Edena.

 

[Reprisal]

Using the 20th Century capabilities of her people, the Right Honourable Erika Lesage, Prime Minister of the United Commonwealth of Toril settles herself at a stately looking desk and regards the cameras in front of her.

"It has come to the attention of the United Commonwealth that through the magical capabilities of the being known as the Wanderer, slanderous and distorted material has been spread throughout your world. Though the images seen are indeed quite truthful, it is not that which is untrue, for it is the interpretation by the Wanderer himself that is not the truth. This information the Wanderer has given you through his own voice, as convincing as it seems, is full of distortions, omissions and blatant lies."

The image of that land appears. There are the mountain ranges, snow capped and mighty. There are the fields, castles tall amongst them, manor homes and peasant homes sprinkled throughout. There are the forests, green and verdent, from the tall boreal forests of Luruar to the lush tropical rainforests of Chult.

There are the cities: mighty Waterdeep, noble Silverymoon, proud Zhentil Keep, menacing Mulmaster, Calimport in all it’s sprawl, Candlekeep with it’s endless libraries, and many more. Like the Flanaess, there are the scars of wars and magic ... the High Moor is bleak and barren, the desert of Anarouch shimmers in the heat. Like the Flanaess, there are places of mystery and wonder. The Halls of Eveningstar, the Star Mounds, Ironfang Keep, the mysterious magehalls of Nimbral, the buried wonders of Raurin.

Like the Flanaess, there are places of great beauty: Evermeet, a green and shining island of wonder in the middle of the blue sea, the stately grace of the islands of the Moonshaes, rising in green covered cliffs out of the froth, the grandeur of the Great Rift, the glittering caverns of Mithril Hall.

The elves of this land are like the elves of Oerth, pretty much; some are blue and some are gold, and some are even green, but they are all elves. The dwarves are like those of Oerth, noble and strong and stout. The gnomes are the same, short and clever and darkly humorous. The halflings are similar; some are peaceful gardeners, and some are lonely foresters, but all are reasonably non-violent. Except for the altered geography, and the fact that there are more mages in this land, and they are slightly stronger than the mages of Oerth, this might well be the Flanaess.

(The people of this land, choose to walk a path that diverged from wisdom and the Light.)

"The Wisdom and the Light, as the Wanderer puts it, has not been as pure and good as he might have hoped. As with the history preceeding our own Rebirth, I am quite aware of the devastating wars, wasting famine, terrible diseases, and horrendous evils of human and demihuman alike that the Wanderer's Utopia has brought about. And I might note, that while evil is still known to rest in the hearts of a distinct minority of our people, we have all but done away with disease, famine and domestic warfare. The only thing threatening the harmony of Toril are foreign aggressors, such as those forces allied with the Wanderer..."

Images appear, in order, one by one.

A stately old inn is seen, probably over a hundred years old. It is made of wood, it is aesthetically beautiful, the price is fair, the service excellent, and the food superb.
But now a large number of people are converging on the inn, and with picks and axes they are chopping it down, reducing it to kindling, and hauling off the remains.
And with the inn goes all the trees and shrugs around it, all hewed down and carted away.
An ugly building, 3 stories high, made out of dinghy stone, is put up in it’s place.
The new owner, a gnome, looks it up and down, smiles and nods: ‘This is progress. We will make much more money now.’

A pleasant country village is seen, with a scattering of homes, churches to various dieities, the general store, the blacksmith, the cobbler, the bakery, everything.
But they are tearing it all down, and people are being evicted from their homes by force.
Again, all the buildings are demolished, and all the trees and shrugs hewed away, and everything carted off.

In the place of the town rises a set of what look like tall stone block buildings (apartment tenements), and a new industrial center rises at the center of town, ugly and black, filled with odd and nonsensical looking pipes, beams, wheels, and long tall stacks.
The people are made to live in these stone buildings. They do not look happy.
Now, smoke begins to rise out of the tall stacks at an incredible rate. It very quickly changes the color of the sky to a murky blue, and the fumes cause people to gag, to cough, to hold their hands over their mouths as they hurry to and fro.

(They chose to walk a crooked path, a path that went wrong, terribly wrong.)

The same town, but now it is a city.
There is not a tree or bush in sight.
There are endless rows of tenements, hundreds of them, filling the entire vision, no countryside to be seen at all.
Gigantic buildings tower over the tenements, but these are not churches; they are great buildings of iron and stone, and an awful sound comes from them.
The sound of bellows, of steam, of hammers, of chains, of some unholy uproar, as if all the demons were loose and on the warpath.
The people in the narrow, grimy streets are rushing to and fro like a hoard of demons were coming for them; pushing through each other in an incredible jam, beggars and the destitute and the homeless evident at every corner, being splashed by the filthy slime thrown from the streets as the passerbys step in the murky water.
From the great tall cyclindrical towers are coming multiple plumes of smoke - so much smoke it seems like a forest fire is in progress. No amount of wood could produce that much smoke unless whole forests ARE being cleared to produce it.
The sky is a sickly yellow brown color, and the sunlight coming through the smoke is weak and reddish.

(The people of Faerun went wrong. As they continued walking their new path, reason and care were discarded on the grass.)

"Once again, we see the selective eye of the Wanderer. He, if I may presume gender, has shown you in several seconds what it took our people years to accomplish. Yes, it was painful, but it was growth and as all should know, with growth, comes great pain. That pain, however, is temporary, and the benefits of such progress is many times that of remaining static and stagnant... Reason and care were not 'thrown on the grass,' as the Wanderer would have you believe. It is Reason that has allowed us to rise above what we once were to become what we are."

A large gathering of gnomes, bald men and women in red robes, men and women wearing black garments adorned with the symbols of a skull or other ghastly markings, and many others are congregated around a table.
A conversation is in progress:

‘We have perfected Permanency, and now it can be cast without any penalty to the wielder’
‘Yes, but will it take on items?’
‘Indeed, for we have modified it so that it will cover most spells, and most items.’
‘We can create magical items on an assembly line.’
‘Show us some of these items.’

‘Here is an arquebus (the device) that fires three times as fast as a normal arquebus, it never misfires, and it is twice as accurate.’
‘Here is a cannon (the device is shown) that loads itself, and we are working on making Bolts of Holding for the ammunition.’
‘Here is a device that will propel a ship through water without sails, employing steam, and its steel blades won’t break from any normal cause’

But now one of the gnomes steps forward, and presents a flask of greek fire.

‘When this is thrown, it will burst with 10 fold effect, and nothing will put out the fire until the oil itself has burned out!’

- - -

(Walking their path, they abandoned the care and caution of magecraft. They abandoned the responsibility of power. They chose to turn a blind eye to consequences. Only power mattered, and that was pursued ruthlessly.)

"Indeed, the United Commonwealth of Toril commands a great many powerful devices in the defense of its people and way of life. The images you are seeing, are not how the UC operates today, or even decades ago. At the same time, the mere creation of powerful weapons does not automatically mean that they will be used for good nor evil for tools are without morality, as the Wanderer clearly does not understand."

The forests are being hacked down, trees falling, crashing, thundering to the ground.
The new and horrible sound, the sound of chainsaws, is heard, and the forest is being destroyed at an appalling rate, an incredible rate.
Two iron or steel rails have been laid through the cleared area, and a gigantic machine is sitting on the rails, or a series of gigantic machines. The logs are being laid upon them, piled high, until thousands of trees are laid on the train, for train it is, and the engine roars to life, and with black puffs slowly accelerates, pulling the massive assemblage of logs and steel vehicles away, with a noise like steadily rising thunder.

Some of the trees that were cut are not hewed apart, but instead stripped in mills - strange mills filled with the deafening scream of magical saws, and then placed straight up.
Long rows of these naked posts are set up, then wires - made of some unknown substance - are hung from them, again and again, and more and more posts go up, and more wires, until they seem to block out the sky.
A bird lands on one of the wires, then contacts a second wire. With a flash like lightning, the bird is incinerated. Grumbling gnomes are seen climbing up and working on the wires with devices that are unrecognizable.
They kick the corpse of the bird into the nearby river, which is murky and has a strange sickly smell to it.

The view pulls back, and it can be seen that the devastation to the forests is far and wide, and everywhere these steel beams have been placed over the ground, and the poles and wires are everywhere.
All the quaintly old towns and villages are vanishing, and vast cities are springing up.
Cities where the air is so toxic men and women and children die from breathing it, people are made to live stacked up 10 stories high, 5 to a room, where beggars and the destitute rot in the narrow streets, and where endless vast factories, forbiddening, black, pour endless amounts of smoke into the atmosphere, filling the whole sky with a black pall.
The rivers are poisoned, and those who fall in come out sick, and they die, or must be magically healed ... but magical healing is still as rare as ever, and the clergy are raking in the money more than the new bankers or stock brokers are, shouting and yelling and brandishing slips of paper in a meaningless (and endless) cacophony of sound.

"Once again, I feel compelled to reiterate the fact that the UC does not act in this way anymore! This was in our past, a past I'd not like to remember. As you can now see, our lands are as full of life, as clean and pure, as yours are."

(Some among them had never chosen to walk the crooked path, and had retained wisdom and reason. They gave battle to the gnomes and technomancers, fought to keep them from making Faerun over as they pleased.)

- - -

The druids are gathered in conclave in the sacred grove.
Next, they are seen in the blackish pits of the machines, the factories, throwing their magic, wrecking the machines, stopping the smoke from billowing out into the sky, stopping the poisons from flowing into the rivers.
The sacred grove appears again. Into said grove march figures sheathed in armor, head to toe. The armor is strange; the figures look like they are covered in giant shells. Each figure is carrying a long tube that spits fire: fire that melts rock, and devours trees and shrubs, burning them quickly to cinders.
The grove burns, wails of protest by the dryads as they die unavailing them, for those who are attacking are without pity or remorse.

The image of a court appears. The gnomes are the judges, and the jury.
And the executioners, and the druids, men and women, are taken out and hung, by the hundreds, their bodies left to rot in the poisoned sunlight.

Wizards with red robes shoot blazing beams of light, whether magic or technology is unknown, and those beams cut down trees in a flash, like they’d been struck by lightning.
Mile after mile of forest is destroyed, then fireballs and thousands of the new greek oil explosives are thrown in, incinerating all.
The screams of the dying druids are matched by the screams of dying animals, birds, and the Faerie, trapped and unable to flee the firestorm.

The scene of a dungeon. Druid women hang in rows. With great glee, the men and women who are their jailors, wearing the hideous skull symbol seen earlier, begin their work of torture, ultimately multilating the victims beyond recognition.

"If one was to look at the correct chronology of events, it would be obvious that it was not the technocratic powers that attacked the druids, it was the druids and their allies that attacked the technocratic powers. It has long been the belief of the UC that the inhabitants of a land are the sole executors of its destiny. The Druids and their allies did not believe this, and decided to impinge upon the sovereign right of the technocratic powers to do as it may in its own territory. The attacks by the Druids were nothing less than an act of war, a ruthless attack on innocent and unarmed factory workers and loggers that left women widowed and children fatherless. It is little wonder that the people rose up against the oppressive druidics."

(Drunk with power, victorious over the peoples and forces of reason, they chose to willfully abuse the very magic that had made them strong, and to hand the secrets of its power over to those who should never have been allowed to even know of such things.)

- - -

A man and a gnome are sitting, facing the hideous visage of a great orc, and a small grinning kobold.
The man speaks:

‘This is the new gatling gun, with Permanency and Haste, and with bullets augmented with explosive magic.’
‘Here is the secret of mass producing the new rifle. With this weapon, you can kill your opponents at thousands of yards, and their arrows cannot touch you.’
‘Here is how you build a factory to mass produce weapons of war ...’

He hands the weapons to the orc and kobold, and shows them extensive schematics.

‘Here is how to make Permanency effective over and over, without cost to yourself.’
‘Here are the secrets of magic, which have been wrongfully withheld from you.’
‘Here is how to cast high powered spells.’
‘Here is how to combine magic with science.’

A new image appears. It is like a Nibelungen cavern, for it is full of the den and uproar those dwarves would make.
But it is kobolds who are making this den, as they work in the hellish uproar of a great underground war factory. Magical blades, magical bullets, magic firearms, magical armor, and a number of unrecognizable oddities are all being made, while kobolds gloat over them, grin over them, and peer over schematics.
The scene shifts, and now an orcish city is seen. It is worse than the human cities ... they didn’t even bother to build tenements for their workers, and most live in huts.
But their factories tower into the sky, unleashing ungodly torrents of smoke, and from those factories come great vehicles mounted on the twin rails, and huge versions of the arquebus, over 10 feet long, are sitting on them. The orcs jump and howl with glee as their first magical artillery rolls out the door.

"My, my, our dear friend the Wanderer sure enjoys his repetition does he not? These images occured in our past! This is not the way the UC operates! It will never be, ever again. Might I, once again, reiterate the fact that the humanoids came to the aid of the Technocracy with nothing but honourable intentions? Yes, I believe I shall: The Humanoid Alliance never, ever, raised a hand in the direction of their technocratic allies. It was a time of great war, a hegemonic war, a war that would result in the entire world of Toril taking one of two paths:

"That of Progress, of Modernity, of Mutual Prosperity; and that of Stagnation, of Inequality, of Mutual Despair."

(Those that should have stopped them, failed in their duties. And when the illithid, aroused by the turmoil Above, choose to make themselves masters of the Underdark, nobody even bothered to look for the danger until it was upon them, and they were slaughtered.)

- - -

The Chosen of Mystra sits in her dressing room, peering at herself in the mirror. She looks gaunt and sad, and is holding a sheath of papers.
On those papers, is a long list, the list of druids and elves slain by the gnomes and humans of the Technomancy, as it now calls itself, and by the new and greatly feared Humanoid Alliance.
She shakes her head, and says: ‘We must not interfere. We must allow the world to make it’s own choices, for good or evil. We shall not stop this thing.’

The scene flashes to a drow city 2 miles below her.
The drow are being slaughtered, the mind flayers (illithid) are blasting them, incinerating them, blowing their brains out, devouring those they can catch.
Soon all the drow city is in ruins, and the last survivors are rounded up by the illithid, and march off as mindless automatons under illithid mental domination.

The great House of Baenre falls, and Narbondel breaks in half and falls, shattering, shards flying everywhere. Menzoberranzan is whelmed by the illithid.
Blingdenstone, the home of the Svirfneblin, lays silent and empty, no remaining life in the ruins, every last gnome carried off to the illithid cities.
The priestesses of Ghaunadaur fall to illithid mental power, and their servants, the puddings and oozes, halt, and acknowledge the overlordship of their new masters, the illithid, supreme rulers of the Underdark.

"Those that died are honoured for their courage to stand for what they believed in... This is a universality in the UC. If one was to bother to put things into perspective, the evil Illithid acted on their own volition and were destroyed by Technocracy and the Humanoid Alliance, saving all of Toril in the process."

(Their path led to the ruin and multilation of Faerun. In that ruin, even those peoples of reason and lore were pulled down into folly and darkness. Amongst the technomancers who had perpetrated this wreckage, no act of madness was now beyond their scope of thought.)

- - -

The dwarf king roars in anger: ‘The elves started this trouble. I want Queen Amlaruil of Evermeet and all her mages brought here so they can be tried, properly found guilty, then drawn and quartered! Do you hear me?!
The elven emissary gasps, and states: ‘That is not reasonable, m’lord. The elves are victims of this war also.’
The king glares. ‘Bring me the Queen, or face the wrath of the dwarves!’
The elven emissary looks offended, and says ‘I shall depart now, and come back when you will be courteous and have thought upon the matter, and realized that what you ask is impossible and unjust.’
The dwarven king jumps to his feet in anger, points at the emissary, and states ‘I want him taken, chained up, and given 50 lashes. I want it done now.’
The elven emissary looks horrified and shocked. ‘I am a diplomat. Have the dwarves chosen to throw aside all diplomacy??’
The dwarven king roars ‘Make it a hundred lashes, and to the bone. If he starts to die, heal him! Then throw him out the front gate to rot!’

The flogging is carried out, the dwarves grim and strangely eager to the task, and the screams are deafening. What is left of the elf is tossed outside the Gates, which then slam shut.

"It should be known that though the elves of this era believed themselves to be victims, it is the belief of many scholars, elven scholars included, that the elves did not act out of the goodness of their hearts. Their invocation of Karsus' Avatar ((?)) led to the death and injury of millions of men, women, and children, of all known races, across the world. It was after that act did the dwarves demand that the elves be held responsible for the deaths of so many dwarves for it was the elves that did do these things. For good or ill, justice needed to be served, and it was..."

When the battle is over, they doff their helmets, and the hideous visages of orcs, bugbears, kobolds, gnolls, every kind of humanoid in some unholy harmony, are seen.

"At the time, the Technocracy had nothing to do with the annihilation of the elves of Evereska et al. We did not condone the action at all, but of course, the wise and all-knowing Wanderer once again failed to show you that..."

The Faerie. But they are leaving. Pearly gates open, the Faerie step through, and the Gates close behind them ... forever.
By the hundreds, by the thousands, the Faerie, many mourning and weeping, are leaving.
The very lifeblood of the world is stricken, the Weave falters, the forests are permanently less verdant and green, the power of life is forever diminished.

The elves of Evermeet ... but now they are in underground caverns, cavorting and dancing and feasting as elves do ... with their new friends the orcs, gnolls, bugbears, kobolds, and all the others.
The daughter of Queen Amlaruil, beautiful and radiant, kneels before the great orc king, and kisses him on the feet. Then he sweeps her up in his arms and kisses her deeply, his body pressed to hers.
With a cheer and a roar, dozens of others do the same.
Bugbears sweep up elven women in their arms, elven women clasp kobolds lovingly, elven and humanoid faces stare at each other lovingly, and there is comradery and merriment ... and many children.
Children.
Half elf half orc. Half elf half bugbear. Half elf half kobold. One third elf one third orc one third kobold. One quarter orc one quarter goblin one quarter flind one quarter ogre.
A great dance begins, as elves and humanoids swing their partners around in glee, and the orc king sits with his elven concubine in his arms (she is totally naked, along with three quarters of the crowd), fondling her, while she grins and giggles.

Over all are two statues. One is of Father Grumsh, the Wise Old Sage, venerated by all elves and humanoids, and Mother Sehanine, the Mysterious, who all humanoids and elves venerate for magic and psionics.
Well, actually - only a few venerate these two. Most of the elves and humanoids abandoned their respective religions long ago.

The temples of the Seldarine lay silent and empty. They were not laid to rest with care, but were looted and ransacked, and the sacred shrines defiled.
More importantly, it was the elves who did this.
Elven swords hacked down the statue of Corellon, even arrows are embedded in the great murals, and elven swear words and curses are written on the walls and the shattered altars.

"By the Gods, how racist this Wanderer fellow is! Had the idea that the Humanoids and the Elves, after a lengthy period of peace-making, become great friends and allies ever cross his narrow mind? If the growth of two peoples for the good of the entire world is to be hated on your world, then perhaps the UC should have nothing to do with it. But, unlike the Wanderer, the United Commonwealth has more sense then that, we are fully aware of the great potential all peoples, be they elf, human, dwarf or humanoid, have deep within them. I can only hope that their advances will serve as an example for all like-minded peoples."

(In the new world the gnomes and technomancers had created, depravity became the norm)

A great cathedral, complete with stained glass windows, looms all about.
The sunlight shines down upon the congregation.
The congregation, is having an orgy.
But this is not just any orgy; this is an orgy of the Church of Toril.

Mind flayers are using their tentacles to pleasure women. Beholders are being stroked along the eyestalks by loving dwarven hands, even as the Beholders kiss each other and those on the floor, licking with their long tongues.
Kender giggle in the background, stealing everything as they move through the crowd, pointing out (as if it needed pointing out) in eloquent detail each new scene they witness.
Several ogres are present, wearing girdles of giant strength. They are quite popular.
Even more popular are the half reptilian Yuan-Tin, with their long snake-like tongues that give a new definition to the words french kissing.
An aboleth is present, and is serving as a carpet for two lovers, who are busy with each other even as the aboleth fondles them with it’s many tentacles.
It would appear several undead are present - their cold embrace is a novelty to the living, and spectral figures merge with the warm, living ones.
Even a few skeletons are present, drawing their long bony hands up and down the backs of those present, sending delicious tingles up and down the spines of men and women.

Meanwhile, the high priests and priestesses are having a private romp of their own.
A human woman wraps herself in magically altered Grey Ooze, and as it pours into her mouth and other places she convulses with pleasure (breathing apparently is optional), and it would seem the Ooze itself is radiating a sense of delight of it’s own.
The halfling woman prefers the Black Pudding. Its thousands of tiny microscopic mouths are giving her thousands of tiny nibbles, from head to toe, like a thousand kisses on her flesh, and she croons with the joy of it.
The elven woman yonder prefers the classic, high style version: the Ochre Jelly. As it pours into her every orifice, she cries out in delight, trying to wrap her arms around it as it encases her in it’s gooey substance.
Men, women, slimes, jellies, and oozes all meld with each other, merge with each other in joyous passion.
Of course, the succubi and even a few erinye are present, with all that entails, and they are a definite hit with the men ... and the women.
Cries of passion and cries of pain compete with each other for dominance in the air, which is thick with reddish incense; powerful aphrodasiacs working upon the lungs and minds of all in the room.

Particularly angered by these descriptions, the Prime Minister stands up quickly and bangs her fist on the table. Tears welling up in her eyes, she draws in a deep breath. Panning out, the cameras pick up a giant orc moving to reassure her. The Prime Minister raises her hand in his direction and smiles meekly, "No friend, I am fine."

Exhaling deeply, she opens her eyes and peers deeply into the cameras, sitting down. "How dare you trivialize our most sacred beliefs, Wanderer. Would I make fun of the rituals of your religions? Have I ridiculed your beliefs in all their ignorance and arrogance?!" Settling down, she continues, "If I were to choose between a society that venerates killing, destruction and inequality; and a society that worships life, passion, equality, and most importantly love, there would be no choice in the matter.

"None at all."

The gnome is standing at a pupit, giving a speech, in which he is explaining the basics of ... well, it is gibberish really (quantum physics).
An audience of learned sages, illithid, a number of phaerimm with beholder servants, humanoids, githyanki, and other assorted beings are present, listening.
When the diminuitive gnome is finished, they all stand and applaud him, even the phaerimm.
Now, you are inside the gnome’s head, hearing his thoughts, as he watches them applaud, and he is thinking ‘We have shown that we are superior to all of them, we gnomes, and they appreciate this now. About time.’
You are now inside the head of one of the phaerimm, whose magic and genius is legendary. And it is thinking ‘It is a privilege to learn at the feet of he who holds the Seat of Academia. If only I could actually get to meet the distinguished professor, that would be very nice.’

"Unlike the ignorance of the Wanderer, it has become obvious that the only thing in the way of true knowledge are other people, and the culture of those people. I find nothing at all wrong with a gnome more voiced than a Phaerimm in the ways of the physical sciences, and I applaud the gentle Phaerimm for his will to learn."

(WAKE UP AND PAY ATTENTION. IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT FOR OERTH? IS IT? IS IT??!!
FOR EVEN NOW, THEY SECRETLY TRAIN THE GNOMES AND DWARVES OF THE LORTMILS IN THEIR WAYS, AND THOSE PEOPLE EAGERLY FOLLOW THEM.
LOOK!)

"I only urge those that this message reaches to use a critical eye when viewing any and all mass broadcasts such as this... The capability to speak does not necessarily mean that nothing but truth will result, the same holds true for the Wanderer, and myself. It is the sincere hope that any and all of those wishing to know the truth will strive to discover it on their own. Do not rely on others to tell you the truth for it is far too easy to get lost in the rhetoric and biases of such people.

"It should be known that any attacks on the United Commonwealth and its allies will be considered an Act of War. Though we are not a warmongering people and as such, are more than willing to involve ourselves in a discource with anyone willing to sit down and talk...

"In the future, I will return to you all with questions, ideas and propositions. It is my hope that you will keep an open mind in these matters. Believe what can be proved, not what is said...

"Thank you."

 

[William Ronald]

On behalf of the Kevellond League and its allies, Nyrond, Urnst, et cetera. (Edena, add in who has signed on with me.)

Our world faces a peril like never before. Vecna seeks to rule us all. The Kevellond League is seeking the truth about Toril. We know full well that anyone can make a claim and present it as true. Someone seeks to manipulate us all, whether for our good or ill. We soon expect to have answers to our concerns, that we will freely share with others. We urge all nations to pursue their own investigations into the nature of the Torillians. Whether they are truly as the message portrayed is yet to be determined. However, we are convinced that the Lortmils Technocracy is motivated by a love of Oerth and does not seek to rule over us or be the lackey of another world. Indeed, can anyone truly say that the Torillians mean us good or ill?

Previously, we called for an end of all conflict between nations for the present crisis. Aerdi, your wars mean nothing if Vecna triumphs over all. Marshall your strength for the true battle.

We are ready to stand with any nation, including our traditional enemies, against Vecna. Iuz himself realizes this peril. Indeed, it seems the only thing EVERYONE can agree on is that Vecna is the most immediate threat.

We urge all nations and powers of Oerth, include the Empire of Iuz, the Empire of Aerdi, and all others to stand down in their conflicts with their neighbors. Our situation now resembles that of an old parable:

There were two towns once. In each town, some parts of the city warried with others while others had peaceful relations. Regardless of the faction, there was courage and cunning to be found on all sides.

A dragon came to the lands of both towns. One town chose to continue its wars, and its inhabitants were slaughtered and enslaved. The second town, having wiser leaders, put aside their conflicts to deal with the threat of the dragon. Because of their wisdom and courage, the best was slain and the town was saved.

Which course shall we take, nations of Oerth? Shall we continue our present wars in the face of a foe who could conquer us all. Our shall we, at least for the present, put aside our differences and stand as one. I plan to stand beside those who will fight Vecna. What is your choice, leaders of Oerth? The right to make our own destiny or Vecna's cold hands, forever grasped around our throats, our wars an amusement to a mad god.

We now seek a truce with all nations and powers of Oerth. Vecna awaits. If we do not triumph, those few who survive will curse our memories. I know that I ask a difficult thing: peace with longstanding foes. However, as a popular proverb says, only a fool fights in a burning house. I see no fools among the leaders of Oerth. Stand as one! United, we can triumph over Vecna. Whatever our beliefs, we owe it to ourselves and our posterity to stand together and end this threat forever.

 

[Kalanyr]

The drow upon hearing the message of the commonwealth, act immediately, we are sending infiltrators deisguise as the appropriate races to all areas not allied as us.

Once ,and not before, Vecna is dealt with one way or the other they will stage protests and rallys, something like the following

"My fellow countrymen, you have seen that the forces of Toril have brought peace, freedom and pleasure to their world. Why should you stand to be held back by your nobles and Rulers, rise up and overthrow these tyrants! Surely this will make the people of Toril smile upon you and bestow their benevolences! Take arms against your oppressors claim what is yours!"

(We will also supply weaponry (pretending it comes from the people of Toril) to those who heed this call after the business with Vecna is done)

Edena- How goes the drow I sent across the planes to the Drow of Toril?

 

[Kalanyr]

For now I send messengers to all the nations of Oerth announcing peace with all peoples until such a time as Vecna is dealt with.

Edit-"Alliance" just feels wrong for the drow.

 

[William Ronald]

The ambassador of the Kevellond League bows as if to a monarch of his world. There is an expression of sadness, hope, and determination on his face.

Gwilym Raonul speaks, in a very deep voice tinged with sadness.

"Prime Minister Erika Lesage of the Uninted Commonwealth of Toril, in the name of the Kevellond League of Oerth, I great you in peace and respect. Your words were noble, and as a citizen of Oerth and the League, I am sorry that you have been slandered by the Wanderer - or whoever is claiming to be the Wanderer. I have been shown the history of Toril, its peoples, and the struggles of many to build the world that I know you love as much as I love Oerth."

It is for love of my world and the desire for truth that I have journeyed here. Truly do I wish to see this world, and learn of its history and peoples. I have heard what the Wanderer has said. I wished to see what has transpired from the point of view of the Angels of the isle. I wish edto learn the truth, without distortion or lies. It is only with truth, however it reflects upon each of us, that we can truly know others or ourselves. I asked the representative of Hope Isle, "Who are you, neighbor? Can you show me the history of Toril and its peoples?"

I accepted the offer to see the history of your world and its peoples. I wept at the deaths of the innocent. I prayed softly at their deaths and at the sacrifice of the brave. I felt many expressions as I learned of the changes to Toril and its people. It went nearly ghost white as Toril's sun nearly expired due to the illithid and the Chaos Wave. My heart grew more relaxed as the events of the present day was reached. You and your people have done well, despite the sorrows of your world's past.

(I now have the complete knowledge of the IR threads and a good background of Toril's history. )


"What I saw was beyond all imagining. There is indeed much that is good about Toril, and I seek to learn more. I desired to speak with the leaders of Toril and their intentions towards Oerth. Based on all I have seen, I must logically conclude that the United Commonwealth of Toril seeks to help not harm Oerth. I wanted desperately to speak to its leaders and the leaders of the other powers. I would like to pray in the name of Rao by the side of those who gave their lives for what they believed in. I would also say a prayer for the soul of Ian Payne, first leader of the United Commonwealth of Toril. It was his love of this world which brought the angelic hosts from the highest heavens. Truly did he love his world with all his soul, all his heart, and all his might."

"What other powers of Toril are active on Oerth? Are any of them seeking to dominate the peoples of my world. This Church of Shade seems more than capable of such actions."

What I desire for all else is for Oerth to live and grow. I fear for my world. I have dedicated my life to the benefit of the nations I hold dear to my heart. I have worked to bring the member states of the Kevellond League together. I love Oerth and my god Rao with all my heart, with all my soul, and all my might.

I would ask that the leaders of the United Commonwealth and ask them to assist the Lortmils Technocracy. It seems that they may have given more than the UC would desire, but they are as afraid for Oerth as I. If they erred, it was out of love for their world. I would speak on behalf of my allies. My world is in peril from Vecna's mad desire for power.

I know that the journey to this world required much the angelic hosts. I have seen what sacrifices were made to build the world that you call home. Only in great need would I ask you to come to Oerth. However, I would not want to damage your relationship with Hope Isle. Or unwittingly be the source of another war here. I desired to speak with both Prime Minister Erika Lesage and President Forrester of the United Commonwealth of Toril. They need to answer what was said of them. I do not believe that the UC comes as conquerors to Toril, but I cannot speak of some other factions of your world.

I do not see you or the people of Toril as the enemy. Needless hatred is the enemy. As is disease and poverty. I wish to share what I have learned of Toril with my world. Also, to bring others to speak with those who call Toril home. I believe what is common within us all - a desire for a better future for ourselves and our posterity - is far more important and powerful than what desires us.

I want a better future for Oerth. I wish to see people live in dignity, freedom, peace, and mutual respect. I do not wish to see Oerth become a vassal to Toril or any of its powers. An ally, perhaps. A friend, I would hope so. We need to be true to our cultures, our faiths, and our traditions. I also respect your cultures, your faiths, and your traditions. I am sorry that so many have been slandered by one so hateful.

When I was young, I thought that Oerth was the only world. As I grew in maturity, I learned otherwise. Although we are of different worlds, I believe that we can learn to live in peace. I desire to speak with you of your world and of mine. I also, in good faith, must share what I have learned of Toril with the Kevellond League and all of Oerth. Oerth stands in peril, and in time the threat of Vecna or other hateful powers may threaten you. In the name of Rao, and those who fought and died for the future of Toril, I pray that both Oerth and Toril will endure, grow and prosper. Ideally, as friends and neighbors.

I say now that the actions of you and many others, as well as what I have seen of Toril have helped restore the faith of an old man. May Rao bless you for it. I now wish to speak with the leaders of the UC and other powers of Toril. It may be that we may ask Hope Island, as well as yourselves, for help if Oerth is in peril. I pray for a good future for both our worlds, in the names of those gods and people who love them. It is only by trying to understand and respect each other that peace can have any chance. I will fight for my world against any foe. However, I believe that the UC of Toril, based on its actions, is not among them. Peace. May we all know its blessings in our lives and times. On Oerth, on Toril, and in all worlds and realities. I great you in peace, and pray that there be peace among us.

(At this point, I am logging off. I need sleep. Can I assume that shortly after I finish this post, that Gwilym hears the message from Reprisal, aka Erika Lesage. He also DESPERATELY wants to share what he has learned with the peoples of Oerth. Additionally, he would like to teach the peoples of Toril about Oerth and its peoples. He is committed to his faith, his world, and his nation, but Gwilym Raonul realizes that the UC of Toril has been slandered. He also needs to speak with his government and all of Oerth.)

 

[Kalanyr]

I immediatley send a Divination/Enchantment shielded messenger to Vecna (one of my personal retainers no other Drow or our Allies are informed of this) , I wish to know his views on the ascension of other dieties after he has become supreme and what he offers us in return for our aid.

What is Vecna's Strength since he has chosen to delay his ascension?

 

[William Ronald]

Edena:

(I really have to hit the hay. But I wanted to catch up on this thread before I sleep.)

If possible, Gwilym Raonul will wish to address his government, its leaders, Oerth, and shares what he has learned.

SerpentEye:

I merely indicated that I was willing to consider your proposal but that I needed to consult with my allies. If I gave you the impression that I had made a firm commitment to such a treaty, I am sorry. I wanted to ask my allies and neighbors what they thought and whether we would enter such an agreement. Many of them have been silent. It would be foolish of me to sign a treaty with you and have them sign a treaty with Nyrond. So I sought counsel. Nyrond, in terror of Vecna, wished to join. My allies decided that we all need to stand against Vecna. Indeed, that was the ONLY thing anyone seemed to agree on. If an armed warrior, known for courage and skill, fearing a dragon attack came to your castle and said, "A dragon is coming to your lands. While I have squabbles with my neighbors, we must stand together. Do not leave me defenseless. Let me enter."

Under such a circumstance, I would treat even an enemy with honor assuming that he spoke truly. If you were in the position of Nyrond, I would let you enter. Both of you face the same threat, and if we fail, the same fate. Indeed, the threat of Vecna makes any quarrel you have with Nyrond or your other neighbors look like a disagreement among children about a game of marbles. No offense intended, Emperor of Aerdi.

We stand ready to fight beside Mordenkainen, Iuz, yourself, and many others against Vecna. We will need every ounce of strength and power, every measure of courage and cunning in the struggle to come. I do not consider you a foe. You are a powerful lord of a proud people, who is skilled in diplomacy and war. Does a man fight in a burning house or threaten to wrestle a hurricane? Against Vecna, there is no choice but to oppose him. If I can offer a truce to Iuz and every other power of this world, surely you have the magnaminity to postpone any conflict. Indeed, if we do not triumph over Vecna we will have no future as nations. Instead we will have Vecna's boot kicking our faces ... FOREVER!

We are trying to determine the truth of the Torillians intentions. The Kevellond League will not be manipulated. Nor do I think Iuz, Turrosh Mak, the Scarlet Brotherhood, the Esmerin-Baklunish Alliance, the Drow, dragons, Nyrond, Greyhawk, or any other power of Toril wish to be manipulated. We will not wear a collar whether it is of mithral or of bone. Perhaps the Lortmils Technocracy has the tools we need to defeat Vecna. Or others may have them. I am determined to do what is necessary to save Oerth from this threat. As I am sure you will, Emperor of Aerdi.


Peoples of Oerth, stand as one against Vecna! We shall determine what the people of Toril mean in their actions towards us. For now, any threat from them, real or imagined, is trivial compared with this mad god who seeks to slay and enslave us.

To Vecna (This message is shared with everyone.):

Your time has come and gone. We will not submit to you, or your plots. We are capable of determining the truth for ourselves.

We oppose you. From all that we have learned, you see yourself as the Center of All Things. Hubris. If you were not so vile and disgusting, you would almost be amusing.

You ask us to give your our aid. You will not have it. You will have our wrath, our vengeance, and the points of our swords.

However, in respect to your message, I have prepared a gift worthy of your offer. A goat dressed in the garments of a cheap prostitute, laden with a basket full of cheap wine, moldy bread, and cheese, is brought in to the audience chamber and teleported as close to Vecna as possible.

"A great lord such as yourself should have a fitting consort, should he not?"