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Post by Stormwall on Dec 24, 2016 13:32:45 GMT
OOC: Bring character, scouts, armies, anything you want. We're all grownups here. When this thread ends, some lucky warband or country or independent operator is going to control some or all of Silverclaw Valley, to do with as you will. I have no intention of DM'ing this thread. This is simply an opportunity. IC: Silverclaw Valley's existence came as a bit of a surprise, but not as much of a surprise as the Valley got from the outside world. A sorcerous barrier of unknown make both concealed the kingdom and protected it. Without it, the Valley has struggled to protect itself against raiders and bandits. The Valley's barons have risen up in revolt against the king and each other. Both the king and the barons have sent out messengers from the walled towns they control. They're seeking allies, but they'll probably get more than they bargained for. Silverclaw Valley's spearmen and archers may not be enough to protect its granite quarries, suitable for building castles; its salt mines, crucial to preserving food; and its silver veins, some of the richest on the continent. And somewhere in the valley is the secret of the mage who built that barrier in the first place...
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Post by Grozkalla on Dec 24, 2016 18:19:35 GMT
The wagon rumbled along through mud and snow, jumping and jolting at every bump. A large Orc sat at the bench, holding the reins in both hands and wearing a comfortable ermine coat against the chill. The breath of the two horses rose in clouds before them and their nickering came belabored.
He would soon need a place to stop.
Before him rose the walls of a town. He urged the horses onward and soon their shod hooves stamped on a dirt path that could almost be called a road. The bald orc pulled them to a stop before the gates of the town.
Two guards lowered their spears, barring the wagon's path.
"Woah there nelly," he rumbled with a voice like pealing thunder. "Is this the jarldom of Althing?"
"Wotsat? This is Silverclaw Valley, greenskin."
"Oh, well then it seems I am quite lost."
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Post by praiselasol on Dec 24, 2016 19:20:42 GMT
THEME
Apporaching Rustfall City Fortress
A rolling cloud, black and murky, mingled with the white clouds that naturally drifted across the mid-day sun. The black cloud conjured by old magic projected a large shadow on the earth. Below the unnatural umbral reach, marching in long regimental columns was the majority of the crypt banners of the Leichenfürstentum von Aschfalblassenmond, the Corpse Principality of the Ashen-Pale Moon Keep, one of the oldest principalities of the Vampire Bund, or Leichenfürstenbund.
For sometime now the Corpse Princes, or Vampire Lords by those outside of the Bund, had kept to themselves liking their wounds and drinking from their vassals to replenish the blood bled during the fall of the Empire. But, now freed and rejuvenated it was time to extend their sphere of influence once more.
The crypt banners of the Aschfalblassenmond Principality marked the various loyal Vampire Counts who had replied to the call to gather by their Leichenfürsten, Corpse Prince. In the vanguard was the four parallel columns of Leichenhaus Drakenhoff, with their black steel armored vampire knights on black steads, their sigil a yellow dragon against a pale crescent moon. Behind them was the numerous rows of human mercenaries carrying large phalanxes of pikes and halberds, from which the next Leichenhaus, Leichenhaus Von Karnstein with their sigil of a knights arm carrying a blood red blade could be seen waving above their regiments of zweihander crypt knights and mounted heavy cavalry. This pattern of Leichenhaus Knights and human mercenaries would play back all the way to the core of the Reichsritterwher, Knights Army.
At the center, surrounded by fully armored knights, was the Leichenfürsten herself, Mondwylin von Aschfalblassen, a bewitchingly beautiful but, cold figure. She wore a steel plated armor with shoulder armor that bent into the shape of drake wings. Her head was covered by a white veil held together around her head by a steel band. Silver-blue eyes surveyed the semi-frost bitten and muddy plains before the fortress city of Rustfall.
Her banners waved the highest, a black crown on a full moon over a black and blue daimond checkered background. The marching army rumbled the earth as the black shadow moved with them providing cover from the ruinous powers of the sun. Behind her hexamancers conjured more dark clouds to cover their approach. Bats flew back and forth from the center to the front relaying commands. Abruptly, Mondwylin raised her arm and gestured to her commandants to order a halt. The sprawling black mass of knights and mercenaries halted.
"Sound the horns. Announce our arrival" Mondwylin said. The Leichenherr, Undead Lord, beside her nodded and shouted to the horse pulled platforms carrying massive horns behind them to sound. The human serfs blew into the black steel horns and a rumbling doom echoed down into Rustfall. The very valley below flooded with its sound.
Mondwlyin then jutted her hand forward, and the called for Blassenerbe Vor, Pale Ones Advance, rang out and the army moved once more. But this was not an army of conquest, but of kinship. Mondwylin had convinced the King of Silverclaw, the poor Hector Adiru, to accept a Blood Oath in turn for protection against his rebellious Barons. She smiled and then watched a wolf bat land to her outstretched bent arm. It dangled below her elbow. She caressed its furry cheeks, before putting a rolled parchment to its feet buckle.
"Go now my pet. Deliver the message that the Leichenfürstenbund has arrived to honor its Oath." Mondwylin hissed. The Wolf Bat screeched and then fluttered away. Watching it depart she growled in a brooding glare, "I pray that his Lordship Adiru, honors his."
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Post by Roy Gilmour on Dec 24, 2016 20:14:50 GMT
Storm was brewing over the Kingdom of Silverclaw. Not the best of times for Gilmour to be located there. The recently open to the world Kingdom was monetarily strong, according to rumors, but also lacked stability. The enchanter had no choice but to take the job considering the fact that his pockets were quickly drying after his long excursion to the southern wilds seeking an artifact that still remained a myth. Perhaps it always would.
Dressed in black wool woven pants and boots, along with a dark navy tunic and a simple blue cloak, Gilmour fit perfectly the stereotype of a minor noble or an enchanter. He was the latter. A scribe and an enchanter to be exact. His profession was also the reason of his presence in the audience of King Adiru. Hastily, the King had explained to him the job that was necessary. The enchanter did not need to be a mind reader to be able to tell how troubled the King was. Rightly so. Rumors of instability had turned into facts and as the enchanter nodded to the requests of the King a servant barged into the private chamber uninvited.
"Why you-" The King began furiously at the young man.
"Your Highness, it is urgent!!! The Leichenfürstenbund has amassed an army a few clicks from our gates!!" The young man interrupted the King. The latter froze and for a second Gilmour believed he would remain frozen forever.
"Leave us, servant!!!! I will be out in a moment!!" The King commanded the servant who left the chamber trembling. Adiru turned to Gilmour and spoke coldly and sharply. "Your job has become of utmost urgency." He lunged his hand at the table full with sealed scrolls. "Our traitor mage had left those behind after his disappearance. These are supposedly the keys to open the treasury." Adiru paused and Gilmour already knew his job. "Make his spell defunct and seal it on your own."
The enchanter nodded at the request and quickly took his leave but at the door the King stopped him.
"The treasury must never been open unless by me. If I fall, I want this treasury to cease to exist." Adiru ordered and Gilmour realized the importance of it to the King. Whatever was within that treasury may very well be more than accumulated coin.
"Yes, Your Highness." He replied and shut the door behind him heading to where this treasury was supposed to be according to the King's directions. Already he saw guards dashing out, servants moving about and around while panic had taken over the walls of the castle. At the emptier corridors of the castle, a raven lunged down at him and landed on his shoulder. Wrapped around one of its foot was a white parchment.
A message from the Synod.
And specifically from Lord Blacktalon. A noble, or at least introduced himself with such a title, but more importantly a man that was formerly taught druidic ways. He had somehow been able to perverse his druidic powers with black magic. He vaguely spoke of how he came across such perversion of powers but in Gilmour's opinion it spoke of immense strength.
The Bund is moving on Silverclaw. Leave. Immediately.
A friendly warning to preserve the warlock but a bit late. Unnatural flames burned the letter to ash and the warlock continued on his way as the raven took flight once more. The flapping of its wings abnormally silent.
Was Gilmour honoring the pouch of coins that hanged on his waist or was he curious what existed within that treasury and the mystery behind the mage ? Even he could not answer that.
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Post by Luca da Conti on Dec 24, 2016 22:06:22 GMT
Shivercleft Town
Barony of Hamellar
A chair and a table stood just outside the confines of the Town of Shivercleft.
Behind the table sat a man and he seemed annoyed with something. It might have been the long row of people waiting in front of the table or perhaps it was the feather scratching against the parchment, but no longer giving the ink he needed to sign their names. Maybe it was the cold, the deep, deep cold settling into his bones and making it difficult to move his fingers across the papers.
It could have been any of those or none of them.
"Can't the karking Baron get me a good set of feathers? By Vespis." Apparently it was the feathers. He threw his last one to the side and rose from the chair. Luca grimaced as he saw the people remaining, before shaking his head and gesturing to a scruffy looking Orc standing at attention next to him.
"That's enough for today, Orgesh. Tell 'em to come back tomorrow."
The Captain did not wait to see their reaction, instead he simply left. Back into his pavilion, through the mercenary camp settled nearby the town proper.
They had just returned from a campaign in the North. Conquered a stretch of land for this fat Baron de Chevry and his gratitude was large. Feasted for weeks, before finally setting course back home. But they had not been expecting a godforsaken valley standing between them and Perona. It hadn't been there before. But Luca had long since stopped wondering about the fantastical and magical things happening in this world.
"How it go, Captain?" Green, small of stature, but with huge eyes and even bigger brains. Dasha was his personal assistant and a goblin to boot. Every Mercenary Captain needed at least one assistant, but Dash counted for five as far as he was concerned.
"We signed up another twenty, but we will need a few more, if we want to march with a full retinue."
Dasha nodded fervently, before frowning gently. "The Baron might not like that, will he?"
That only received a snort as a reply at first. He settled himself down on the chair nearby the bed, allowing Dash to help him get out of his boots.
"The Baron's paying me to fight his battles for him. He will deal with it."
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Post by praiselasol on Dec 25, 2016 0:21:55 GMT
Through the valley before Rustfall the Reichsritterwher marched. But, just as it entered it halted once more. Another one of Mondwylin's bats flew down low and spotting its designated perch swooped down to cling to the bent armored elbow of the head of the Leichenhaus of Drakenhoff, Reinhard von Drakenhoff, the oldest of Mondwylin's bloodsons. Reinhard, wore red plate armor and had short flowing white mane. He smiled at the beast dangling below his elbow armor. The bat screeched small muffled cries.
"What is it that you have for me Basorphus." said Reinhard. He removed a note and wiggled his arm sending Basorphus off into a hurried flight. He unfurled the note and read its small message. He became quiet and then rolled the note once more and tucked the small finger length note into his saddle. He then then turned to his Arch Leichenritter Arwin, the second-in-command of his bannered host, and motioned him forward. Arwin nodded and strode beside his Leichenherr.
"Mein herr." Arwin greeted Rienhard. Reinhard settled his claw like gauntlet on Arwin's shoulder plate. "Marshall the banners forward, her darkness has graced us with the task of being the herald of the Reichsritterwher."
"Understood mein herr." Arwin agreed. Arwin strode out and shouted to the trumpeters to sound the call for the columns to re-arrange into one solid block heavy cavalry and plate armor crypt knights. The black mass then marched forward away from the rest of the Reichsritterwher. Arwin and Reinhard flanked by a small group of mounted knights rode out in front acting as the head of the black rectangle. They rode all the way to the rampart fortified gates of Rustfall.
Reinhard then shot his hand up and called for a halt. The host of Leichenhaus Drakenhoff halted and the banners of the Drakenhoff sigil and sigil of the corpse principality ruled by Mondwylin rode forward as well to present an identifier.
"Reveal yourself!" A quivering gate captain yelled.
"I am Lord Reinhard Drakenhoff, Leichenherr of her paleness Leichenfürsten Mondwylin von Aschfalblassen, ruler of Leichenfürstentum von Aschfalblassenmond, and leader of the Aschfalblassen Host that rides before you. Your King has assured us safe entry in order to sort the business of the day. What say you...what shall I say to my liege." Reinhard spoke in a soft diplomatic tone. Mondwylin always had said that of all her bloodsons, Reinhard was the most astute in the ways of diplomacy and dealing with skittish warmblütigs, warmbloods.
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Post by Kaelen Silverblood on Dec 25, 2016 6:10:58 GMT
Postern Fortress
Kaelen
had marched for with a small band for several days following the
collapse of the barrier around Silverclaw Valley. The advancement of
Mystmarch had not gone unnoticed by a Baron Melcap and so a letter
requesting to meet with a representative from the kingdom had been sent.
Kaelen volunteered for the meeting because few others had the required
skill set to handle such a sensitive matter. The Valley was in turmoil
as a power struggle broke out, and so a mixture of military and
diplomatic experience was needed for the task. Kaelen was the only man
at Marston qualified since Lord Gareth was away for the Winter Council
meeting. He took with him his men and moved as swiftly as possible
towards the snow covered land.
The band had set up camp just
outside of sight of the fortress of Postern. They stood 200 strong; 150
footmen wielding spears and shields, 100 long bowmen, and 50 beast folk
skirmishers. They were not a large fighting force, but they could move
faster through this snow than any cavalry could hope to. They were
accompanied by a trio of Runic mages that had heard of the the magical
barrier and wished to study its workings. They might have been able to
take a walled town with their current numbers, but the fortress before
them would be too challenging an engagement. Kaelen looked out at his
men as he double checked his armor. They were all a little cold but in
high spirits. Good. They might be called into action at any moment in
this snow filled bowl.
"Captain Blackheart," Kaelen said as a tall wolf like being with black fur that was standing on two legs came close. "Send out men to scout the surround areas. I don't want any other forces to sneak up on us. Send them out in threes and to remain unseen."
"As you command Commander." Blackheart replied in a rough voice as he placed a fist over his heart. The wolfen then slipped off into the tents.
Kaelen walked towards the edge of the camp. A pair of footmen and one of the mages was waiting near the makeshift trail leading towards the road. He nodded to them as he past down the trail. They fell in behind him and began to follow him. It was time to meet this Baron Melcap in person and figure out what it was they wished to speak with him about.
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Post by Sieglinde Whitemane on Dec 25, 2016 7:19:08 GMT
For days now, Sieglinde had been catching sight of the glinting lights of a settlement from across the northern peaks. This morning, she'd finally found a way down to it. Ice and snow caught in her boots, the huge woman trudged down the very face of a mountain into the softer, more hospitable snow below. Grass grew here...and considering how warm it was, it would likely only get thicker the further south she went. She might even see some kind of curious plants that she'd never be able to conceive of.
Even on relatively flat land, it still took the Frostborn a good hour of walking through stones and shrubbery and ice to physically reach any sign of civilization. It was what appeared to be some kind of...extremely tiny hall? Like a cottage for children. When she was close enough to physically approach it through a wet farm of some kind, Sieglinde noted that the roof barely reached past her head. Stepping inside would be an impossibility.
The great White hunter's intense investigation was interrupted by a scream behind her. She turned, arm reaching across her back for the hilt of her blade, every sense honed for present danger. Instead of danger, she saw a child. Barely half her height, smaller than her sword. The little boy dropped the tiny basket he'd been carrying and fell to the ground, scrumpling backwards in the snow. "M-...monster!"
Immediately, Sieglinde scanned the world around her. Trees, grass, a tiny stream of half-frozen running water, that curious farm, the tiny house... no beasts to speak of. She turned back to the child with a warm smile on her face. "Invisible monsters? You've got quite the imagination, cub." Taking a few great, plodding steps forward, the giantkin picked up the little child, bringing him to his feet. "But a true warrior is brave, even in the face of such fearsome enemies. You wouldn't want your people to sing stories of your high-pitched screams, would you?"
As if spitting in her face, the boy screamed again, running away at a full sprint. The Frostborn once again looked around for what might have induced such panic, found nothing, and chuckled to herself. The imagination on that boy. He'd make a fine skald some day.
Having found nothing of interest about the tiny cottage, Sieglinde Whitemane continued her path south. Surely there would be some kind of steading nearby for her to orient herself with. Surely this couldn't be the extent of the south.
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Post by Roy Gilmour on Dec 25, 2016 18:29:31 GMT
The further down he went, the steeper the stairs became and the colder it got. Soon enough the walls shifted from man made to natural. Apparently, it seemed, the King's fortress was more than it looked as Gilmour had ended up in some sort of caverns beneath the castle. There were no signs of recent intrusions here but that did not ease the tense feeling on the enchanter's shoulders.
Slowing down drastically and beginning to look around cautiously for any sort of danger, Gilmour proceeded onward to where the treasury was supposedly located. The warlock's footing became harder as the ground beneath him had become slippery.
What in the world was this place ?
Not long after Gilmour reached his destination. The end of the line. A large unnatural ice covered steel door that could barely be seen if one did not seek it. The reflections of the natural caverns on the ice would usually hide it. Beside it the path divided into two different directions and for a moment the enchanter wondered where they led.
Breaking the seal on the scroll the King had given him and unwrapping it Gilmour felt the magical touch on it. It was not the work of a master but it was not the work of an amateur for sure. A few seconds after opening it, the ice begin cracking behind the door. Was it that easy, just opening the scroll ?
No.
The cracks in the ice was the not the opening of the guarded treasury but the materialization of a massive ice elemental. It did not come with a roar, but it came with sending a ton of frozen stalagmites that if not for the enchanter's quick reaction would have ended up nailed on the cavern walls behind him. This appearance of a magical creature was not something he would've liked, especially with the instability that was happening in Silverclaw and the marching forces of the Bund.
He had to deal with this quickly.
The King's messenger returned bearing the news from the Bund's delegation. Tired, frustrated and stressed out, he could only return a positive answer to the dark Bund.
"Send them in."
((OOC: Rushing for work D:))
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Post by Talyn on Dec 25, 2016 21:30:33 GMT
Two weeks of flight had brought Talyn to an unfamiliar land. Trees grew thick and snow was thin upon the ground. The bite of the sky was soft and mild, even as his broad wings carried him high over the land. For days now, food-creatures had grown smaller and smaller, though they grew ever more numerous. The seals and whales of the sea had given way to fish and fowl of lakes and rivers. The bear and elk of the land had given way to the wolf and deer of the wood. The mighty mammoth of the planes had gone away entirely and the frostfolk of the cave had given way to a smaller and more numerous cousin.
These smaller frostfolk, they smelled very much like the man-things that had raided the nest of his mate and severed her head. With every day, the thin thread of scent that guided Talyn to the eggs of his mate became more and more faint. Today, much to Talyn's dismay, the scent of his mate's stolen eggs escaped him. The only scent Talyn could discern today was the overwhelming stench of rotten meat, of which the entire valley reeked. Somewhere within this green and brown spotted valley was either a long dead creature of great size, or a great number of smaller creatures dead for just as long. Either way, Talyn wanted nothing to do with it. His stomach could tolerate a great many abuses, but even he had his limits and whatever carcass hid within the valley, it had long passed the point where it could be generously called food.
Eager to free himself from the overwhelming stench and rediscover the scent of his mate's stolen eggs, Talyn banked towards the eastern edge of the valley. Into the wind.
The valley was at his back and would soon be behind him. Foul stench and thick clouds alike.
It was the roar of a great beast (Vampire Army's horns) that turned Talyn's head back toward the foul valley. The noise was like the trumpeting of a wounded mammoth, but greater in size and desperate of nature. To Talyn's ears, it was the desperate plea for help and mercy from a rare and succulent beast.
No matter the smell that filled the valley, edible food lay waiting for Talyn. And Talyn had been pushing himself too hard in his race with the mate-slayers.
Banking sharply, Talyn turned back from the mountain and swooped towards the shadowy mass that had produced the sound of a dying mammoth.
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Post by Taryc Alcor on Dec 25, 2016 23:27:45 GMT
Taryc nodded as Kaelen Silverblood silverblood approached, then turned and fell into step behind him. She had never met the man from Mystmarch, but his coin spent just as well, and this adventure included a new land. She was garbed in a furred cloak over her scale and leather armor. At her left hip sat her blade, enchanted minorly to remain sharp and resist breaking. Behind the sword on her left hip sat a small buckler, no symbol on it, but of good make. With her armor and arms, she likely appeared as a normal foot soldier, but she was capable of supporting combat with magic as well, which allowed her to charge more than the dumb brutes of the world for her services. "What are the chances of this going sideways?" She asked Kaelen as she stepped up beside him. She kept her voice low to keep from being overheard, and kept her eyes on the road and surrounding lands.
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Post by Stormwall on Dec 25, 2016 23:41:49 GMT
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Post by Aldacer on Dec 26, 2016 2:01:12 GMT
Aldacer had come when he had heard of the silver to be had. Not that, technically, he was coveting physical goods. His order had no such prohibitions, but infatuation with wealth was a common dwarven flaw, and so he was constantly on the watch for such a downfall. But, his profession used silver quite a lot. There were rumores mages could even enchant it with starlight, or sunlight if powerful enough. Gold, despite the color similarities, was mostly useless excepting as a pretty thing. Rumors persisted once it was useful, but nothing remained of it's empowerment spells in the texts the Order had. Though perhaps Aldacers personal library had grown enough to reveal something. It had shown him other things. So he had come as an emissary of the Venators, to see if trade could be established. There were hanger ons and miners, and really Aldacer was merely a figurehead. An arcane curiosity to show the venerability and power of the Order, and give credence to their cause. Aldacer had just requested enough be given to him to silver the edge of his weapons and runes on his armor, to help lend them weight in Irodil's eyes. In reality, the sight of silver burned the vision of some vampiric and lyncanthropic creatures, and in general fuzzed the senses of most evil beasts. Whether it pleased his God or not was unknown to him really. But the spells worked better with it. Swiftly though, he heard horns in the distance, and the catch of his attention brought to mind that something of anathema to him and his Lord had entered into his sense. It was vague, muddled, and indistinct. But powerful, or numerous, or both. Whatever it was, it was making his nose burn, and his eyes water, even at this distance. The nose burning brought a faint scent, as he sniffed, of rotted meat. And he rose, motioning to the others, light began to coalesce behind his eyes and brim at his fingertips, as he began to draw in the power from around him. Whatever he felt, the affront he had identified would feel it as well if it could do such. "Something defiles the Light. I will go to see. Stay here, and keep the negotiations afloat. I must make sure this is nothing that will permanently impede our progress." praiselasol
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Post by Kaelen Silverblood on Dec 26, 2016 2:07:00 GMT
Location: On the way to Postern Fortress Kaelen had forgotten that he had hired on a few mercenaries recently to bolster his forces as more and more men were needed in preparing for another task. He had especially forgotten he had hired on a young beauty like Taryc Alcor before marching here. She asked her question and it was perfectly serious and legitimate in the situation. But Kaelen just looked at her and couldn't help himself. "I'd say as likely as the chance of me getting you to do it sideways with me." Kaelen gave her a little wink and a smirk. The footman averted his eyes away from his commander as the mage just shook his head in disappointment. The two of them were already use to Kaelen by this point after the years of fighting side by side. They just kept quiet as they all walked further down the road with the gates of Postern Fortress rising higher and higher before them. They would not have been able to take the place via a siege with the numbers they had. It was too solid and well defended. But Kaelen was already formulating a plan in case they proved less friendly than the letter had suggested. "Do not worry about if things do not go well. This Baron is likely seeking the aid of a larger force to take authority here in the Valley. It happens, and we can use it to our advantage." Kaelen said as he eyed the gates. "Remind me what it is each of you can do. It will help with the plan."
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Post by Deleted on Dec 26, 2016 2:27:03 GMT
Mountain Slopes outside Marrton
Skralk snickered at the misfortune of the small man he and the small handful of guerrillas he was accompanying happened across. Beaten with sticks and eaten as fuel was no fate for a man, but it had been this poor mountaineer's. "Manthing not much for Skralk, not much at all." Skralk grumbled as the Ratmen made their way towards a ledge that could shield them from the snows and the cold. Annoyed the Rat Warlock popped a small green glowing stone into his mouth and swallowed, flashing his incisors menacingly at the other Ratlings around him.
The white robed ratmen darted through snow covered trees and across icy cliffs until they came to the mouth of a cave overlooking the settlement of men. "Manthings wear armor to keep us at bay." The warlock chuckled to himself, easing his hands around feeling the power in them. "Manthings use swords to bite at us." Black and green electricity traced across his hands and his eyes turned black as night. "Manthings use stones to hide from the cold."
The ratlings with Skralk spread out, hiding in the snow, burying themselves, climbing up into trees to hide and lay in wait. It was preparing for an ambush. "Pocked and broken shall be the armor." Fangs flashed from the darkness of his hood in the cave. "Rusted and worn shall be the sword." Energy coalesced along the warlock's halberd burning. "And no stone or fire shall keep away Skralk's cold."
The storm above him roiled as the warlock gripped at the very forces of nature. The light of the energy he wielded died and the cave dimmed into utter blackness, the snickering of the insane warlock fading into the back of the cave.
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