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Post by Mirielle Merlon on Jan 21, 2017 22:54:06 GMT
Look to a map of Ashdell, and you might notice a fortified heart surrounded by a ring of towns and farms, concentric with a broader ring of fortifications at the forest's edge. A target, if you will, with the Twistheart River shot through it from east to west. Two central cities -- the capital, Coalhurst; and Charran's Wake, the great harbour. Four major towns, two north of the river and two south. And at the outermost boundaries, in position to protect the towns and their farming villages, seven great forts, four north and three south. The design matched the history of the place: Ashdell had begin as a small settlement cut from the hostile forest, and had expanded piece by piece. Each town had supplanted a fortified outpost, and retained some level of defensibility. Those seven forts, though, comprised Ashdell's most significant line of defense by far. Their position made them ideal, too, for another form of defense entirely.
Consider the following. Some time ago, Ashdeller scouts made contact with Leichenfurstenbund, the land of the Vampire Counts, directly to the northeast of Ashdell. The scouts became aware of the strength of the Bund: numerous infantry, knights both living and undead, and insinuations of serious magic. Not long thereafter, the Bund's forces seized the capital of Silverclaw Valley, along with two strategic towns and several important mines. Silverclaw Valley was located not far from Ashdell, to the east. Meanwhile, an emissary of Ashdell's Sovereign Guilds made informal contact with some of the fractious vampire clans who plague the highlands west of the Bund -- and northwest of Ashdell.
Northwest, northeast, and true east: Ashdell found itself half-surrounded by one vampiric power or another. It was at this point that the King and the Sovereign Guilds began investigating options. They issued invitations to foreign magicians and consulted with enchanters. But few answered the call, not even from the somewhat-reduced Council of Magi. Ashdell was left with a clear idea of what had to happen, but no real mechanism to enact the strategy. That strategy centered on the locations of the seven great forts.
It was at this point that the vampire-dominated Empire of Vaundsburg, somewhat far to the south, marched five thousand living and undead into Therien, a stone's throw from Ashdell. The vampire issue became more pressing by far.
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Post by Mirielle Merlon on Jan 21, 2017 23:17:27 GMT
Various actors pursued a number of potential solutions on Ashdell's behalf. Princess Mirielle, third child of His Majesty Adalric VI, solicited advice from a bloodthirsty saurian god with her own life at stake. Stormwall the Centaur, sometime emissary of the Guilds, met with the master enchanter Gilderoy Gilmour, and sought to bargain with the great gryphon Velaeri. The Guilds maintained strong contact with their trading partners in Mystmarch, home of the Runic Circle, one of the continent's great magical schools. Other messengers went to the notorious Foard of Maesters in distant Elbion. One team of woodsmen journeyed to the ruin of Voek Kai.
Ah, Voek Kai. The great subterranean ruin of the Nathigwen, the enigmatic Precursors, lay a good distance to the southwest. A trip from Ashdell to Voek Kai would take about as long as a visit to Vaundsburg. Centuries past, the Mapheri Empire purged the first eleven levels of the ogres and trolls that had plagued traffic from Pakellan to Elbion. The deeper levels, however, remained inhabited by undead and elementals of various kinds, and a great door held them at bay. Over the years, treasure hunters weathered and destroyed many of those threats, and claimed a suitable proportion of the ruin's secrets.
Ashdell sent a team of scouts not in search of treasure, but to examine the door.
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Post by Mirielle Merlon on Jan 21, 2017 23:25:58 GMT
Eleven stories down, through ancient stonework and pitch blackness, would test the most weathered scouts. Therefore, Adalric VI had appealed to the Miners' Guild. Eight grim halflings, their skin and clothes impregnated with coal dust, entered Voek Kai. Eight cheerful halflings reached the door. The ninth of their party, a Council-trained journeyman mage on contract, was decidedly less sanguine about the dark and the hazards beyond the barrier. The halflings assured him in jocular and uncouth detail that he likely wouldn't be going through. There was no need, after all -- especially if his work disturbed something on the other side. They rubbed that in as well.
The journeyman was named Datherin. His first ritual was one of awareness and comprehension. Two hours he worked at it, until silver lines stood out on the stone of the door, its frame, and the wall around. He sketched and took notes throughout, while continuing the ritual.
Next, while the halflings played cards, napped, and took turns on watch, the journeyman began a much more subtle and difficult process. This one reflected the ancient wards on the door onto a painstakingly carved wooden miniature. The ritual took six hours. At one point claws scraped on the other side of the door, and he almost had to start over.
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Post by Mirielle Merlon on Jan 21, 2017 23:35:36 GMT
After eight hours of ritual, the journeyman took a well-deserved rest. When he woke, though, he understood a concern he hadn't been able to put into words. His miniature duplicate of the door's wards felt incomplete in significant ways.
With some trepidation, he and the halflings proceeded through the door.
Here the darkness seemed thicker, and the coal miners more on edge. Pickaxes and prybars at the ready, they set up a tight perimeter around the door and burned their lamps brighter. The journeyman started his rituals over again, going as quickly as possible.
Eight hours later, three bloody halflings clawed their way back through the door, bearing the journeyman's notebook and his carving. Once more, claws scraped on the other side. Though the first eleven stories of Voek Kai offered little in the way of true threat, the last three scouts didn't stop moving until they'd left the Precursor ruin behind.
Each of them was injured, wary of undertaking the return journey, but they needed shelter. Tom Stubtoes suggested they proceed to Gyn and take sanctuary with its benevolent witch-queen. Benner Rawn figured they should head for the hospitality of Acholt, the most direct route back to Ashdell. But Old Tholomew the crew chief was adamant: they didn't know what they were carrying, or if it would bring harm to Ashdell, so they needed a real, considered second opinion. They needed to go clear the other way and speak with the Foard of Maesters.
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Post by Mirielle Merlon on Jan 21, 2017 23:45:00 GMT
The College of Elbion just about dominated the skyline of the bustling city. Elbion boasted about as many inhabitants as all of Ashdell, far as the three halflings had ever heard, and all of them were big. Humans, to be precise, and very few others. Grimed with dust and blood, and carrying the journeyman's effects, the halflings made for the College. The conversation went more or less as follows:
"Only students and faculty are allowed inside."
"We have urgent business for the Foard of Maesters."
"I highly doubt that."
"We got sent by the King of Ashdell and the Sovereign Guilds. We've carrying dangerous magic that we need to know about. Just tell us who to talk to."
"...all right, there's an inn around the corner. Take a bath and someone will be in touch."
They did. Old Tholomew, for one, hadn't taken a bath in twenty years, but the detritus of Voek Kai and the blood of his friends just wouldn't come off without a proper scrub. And the next day, after certain messages had been sent and received by magical means, they got their audience with a Maester of the First Order. The rank was not especially high, but he was twice the sorcerer that their Council-trained associate had been. And once he got past the idea that he could punt any one of them across the room, he proved surprisingly receptive.
There was a reason for that.
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Post by Mirielle Merlon on Jan 22, 2017 0:00:46 GMT
The final meeting took place between the Maester -- a golden-haired man in his late twenties and a fine-cut robe -- and Old Tholomew the crew boss. They met in a well-appointed room on the very edge of campus; it compared well to the king's palace in Coalhurst.
"I have come to a decision," said the Maester, whose name Tholomew had never caught. "Numerous factors affect this decision. For one, though your Council-trained associate was not the most rigorous of practitioners, he captured some unique observations." He laid a hand possessively on the notebook, and the other on the little wooden model of a gate through a wall. "For another thing, these magics are clearly of Nathigwen origin, unusual durability, and some danger. You were correct to come to us. These matters deserve sequestration and study."
Old Tholomew, who couldn't count to twenty but had not been born yesterday, nodded amiably. "We're fine with that," he said, and held up a finger when the Maester smiled. "If."
The smile froze. "If?"
"The King of Ashdell sent us, friend. Sent us to bring back something that could help our folks back home. Now, you know that for a fact, that's why were waiting and all, so here's the deal. You can keep Datherin's notes, aye, and the carving, but on the King's behalf, I've got two conditions. Number one, I'm sure you or someone like you will go study the original. When you do, there's six good men that died at that door. If there's anything left of'em, put'em to rest."
"I can confirm that such an expedition is being examined in a theoretical sense. If the opportunity arises, I can see that your request is respected."
Old Tholomew nodded grimly. "I'll take that as a yes. Second thing, last one. I need something to bring back to Ashdell that'll do what this done." One stubby finger thudded on the notebook, indecorously close to the Maester's ink-spotted hand. "Now, we might have bit off more than we could chew, but what we need is something that'll do the job, yeah?"
"Perimeter wards to keep the undead out of specific locations?"
"Right. A castle, a town, maybe the whole kingdom if it can be done."
The Maester's eyes lost focus as he ran through variables that Old Tholomew could no more understand than a fish could learn to fly. "Even in theory, that would be an unusually difficult and prominent working. You should understand that our sorcery is a subtle thing, an art and a science. It is not a stone wall to be mortared together by brute effort. You should also know that such a working would be costly in the extreme. Nevertheless, you've offered some interesting context on His Majesty's public request for magical advice. Perhaps more context than you should have offered, my little friend."
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Post by Mirielle Merlon on Jan 22, 2017 0:19:30 GMT
It wasn't the first time that Old Tholomew had taken condescension from a human. Sure wasn't the first time it had happened in the day or two since he'd entered Elbion territory. He smiled, and when the Maester met his eyes, the human lost his train of thought.
"Sure, you've got an advantage now," said the old mine boss, folding his muscled arms. "You've got a better shot at winning that consult contest His Majesty's running. That's one little way you owe me, see. Here's the other ways: now you've got a workin' model of a Precursor spell with a passel of notes stuck on. Vaundsburg and the bloodsuckers are right upriver, not that much farther away than them marching to Therien, which they just did. You've got more options now for doing your wizard thing if they come calling. So here's what I'm thinking. You give me this-" He prodded the little wooden model. "-but just for Coalhurst. One walled city, not that big to you. Doesn't have to work perfect, just has to get vamps hot under the collar if they come inside. I don't know clart about magic, but I'd bet good money you could put that together pretty quick, call it practice for your next one -- and maybe that's for your city and maybe it's for my king's contest -- and send it on home with me and mine."
"Ah, but there's a flaw in your reasoning, my li-" The Maester's eyes tightened. "The flaw is this. If I give you a prototype based on this model and this mage's research, Ashdell is in less need of whatever workings this enigmatic contest requires. Moreover, any project based on the same material would be at a disadvantage relative to an entrant who took another tack on the problem."
"Maybe, sure. Thing is, Ashdell doesn't have mages, not in any serious way. You give us a thing, we can't make more, but we can sure as heck hire you to make more, and better, if we like what you send. Call it a sample."
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Post by Mirielle Merlon on Jan 22, 2017 0:30:44 GMT
Tom Stubtoes and Benner Rawn met Old Tholomew back at the inn just off campus. They met him with a full pint of ale and locked the bedroom door behind them. Slurping the local brew, they congregated on one of the big human-scale beds.
"Well," said Tholomew, wiping suds off his lip, "here's the thing, boys. Just like we figured, he kept the real deal, the notebook and the model. Don't think I could have pried'em out of his hands. But he's gonna make us a thing for Coalhurst. Says it oughta take him and his students maybe a week, then they'll send us all on our way with it, give it an escort to make sure it gets there, all kinds of good things. Now, he's not too high-up the way they reckon it, but he shook on it with a king's reppersentative, so that might just be good as gold."
Benner chuckled. "So you gave him a model an' he's going to give you a better model that'll really do the thing. And you gave him the book too, and we've got this." The younger miner patted a rustling satchel.
"You got how many copies again?"
"Three," said Stubtoes, "from three different scribes. This is a smart town, boss. Lots of folks here that know letters and drawing."
Tholomew grunted in approval. "Three's good. Any one of'em gets a bit wrong or whatever, the other ones pick it up. Should be plenty for a wizard to work with, if His Majesty manages to net one. Well, boys, we're in business." His fist knotted around the handle of the pint. "I think we can say we done right by Nuckler and the rest. I really think we can."
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