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Post by Stormwall on Jan 7, 2017 19:47:05 GMT
Roy GilmourGUILDHALL OF WOODWORKERS COALHURST KINGDOM OF ASHDELL There was no point in asking 'why me?' The Sovereign Guilds of Ashdell tended to interact at arm's length with the movers and shakers of foreign lands. Often, very often, their messenger of choice was Stormwall the Centaur. He spoke a few languages, he'd seen a few things, but all his knowledge and experience were as nothing next to their primary criterion: he was tall. Unless he was negotiating with a rider, a frost giant, or a gryphon, he tended to loom by default. Dealing with small people -- humans -- he often had to remind himself that their stature could belie all kinds of lethality and power. Such might be the case today. No, he didn't intend to loom today. Gilderoy Gilmour wasn't a household name. As magicians went, he was a retiring type, the sort whose name got passed around among professionals and nobles rather than the hoi polloi. He had a specialty, too -- enchantment -- and thus he was the kind of magician who you called to, say, ward your vaults or assess your cursed treasures. On the recommendation of certain merchants, and in consultation with the Guild of Blacksmiths, the Guild of Woodworkers had requested the presence of the notable enchanter, here in a massive meeting hall. The room contained only Stormwall, a chest, and a lot of empty chairs around a table.
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Post by Roy Gilmour on Jan 19, 2017 3:39:02 GMT
It was not as much as a long way from the abandoned fort at Shatterhold to Ashdell in terms of distance as much as it was a long in terms of time. He had stayed there for three days as the meetings between various warlocks proceeded before heading to the Kingdom of Ashdell known for its workers' guilds for an enchantment job. The trek went through the flatlands that spanned west from Shatterhold, across Lake *insert name here* (we probably should name them) through the mountains of the former Silverclaw Kingdom which were the biggest obstacle. Then as soon as he entered the territory of Ashdell, he would hire a carriage to the capital city of Coalhurst itself. Gilmour arrived on a damp spring morning greeted by the smell of forges, cut timber and the local flavors steaming through the chimneys of the inns. He quickly made his way around the city to the guildhall of woodworkers where the warlock introduced himself to the guard and was led within a large meeting hall. Across the enormous table was the giant figure of a centaur. The enchanter raised an eyebrow for a moment surprised at the sight of a centaur. He rarely saw centaurs and always seemed taken aback by how big they were. "Greetings, I am Gilderoy Gilmour, enchanter for hire." The warlock calmly introduced himself as he approached the table. "My services were requested, so here I am."
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Post by Stormwall on Jan 19, 2017 4:57:35 GMT
Roy Gilmour"Well met, Gilderoy. I'm called Stormwall. I'm a messenger and scout for the Sovereign Guilds. Please-" Stormwall gestured to the chairs around the table. "Sit where you like. It's only the two of us, and this." He stooped and grabbed the chest by its rope handles, then slung it into the table. Carefully, though: the last thing he wanted was to scratch the table with the bottom corners of the chest. He cracked the lid open, revealing perhaps two dozen newly forged axeheads and a similar number of long, straight work-blades for cutting underbrush. "The Guilds have two issues to solve, and we believe you can help us. You might have learned, on your way into Ashdell, that we're surrounded on all sides by an enchanted forest, much of which isn't friendly. The woods tend to repossess farmland and roads. The trees grow with unnatural speed -- what would take a decade takes a year; what would take a year takes a month; what would take a season takes a week. The edges of Ashdell are constantly in flux as a result." Stormwall pulled out one of the smooth, silvery axeheads. "The Woodcutters' Guild requested these tools from the Blacksmiths' Guild. They're some of the finest ever made, but they're still only metal. Simply put, the Woodcutters would like you to enchant these so that the trees they cut won't grow back anytime soon. Whether that's possible or not, or what form the enchantment might take, is your department. I should mention that the Guilds consider your performance on this matter something of an audition for the other issue. And, of course, you'll be compensated accordingly."
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Post by Roy Gilmour on Jan 24, 2017 5:18:55 GMT
Gilmour carefully listened to the words spoken by the centaur as he took a seat to the nearest chair and comfortably sat. Before him a large chest was put forth and opened. Within it - tools that lumberjacks and woodworkers used. As Stormwall explained the issue, he began digging through his mind about possible solutions. Immediately, his fel magic came up. It was, in the end, magic that consumed life. Yet, that was too dangerous. Ashdell's Guilds probably would never be able to 'sniff' it out but Ashdell was too close to the Council of Magi's influence sphere. He did not need to leave a trail. The other alternative was as not as great but it was the standard - alteration. It had many names in the books of sorcery. Molding, altering were just some of the many words that described the process of magic used to disrupt a natural order. Herbalists that knew forms of magic were mostly versed in that school of magic, being able to manipulate their gardens to an extent. Some, he had seen, enchanted their pots of flowers or the soil itself to help with growth. Or mitigate growth. Superficial things really. This case was nothing different, just on a greater scale. The quantity of tools would decide whether a ritual was needed or no. That was not an issue. "You said two issues. I can only assume that the next one would be revealed to me after a job well done with these woodworking tools ?" Gilmour guessed as he motioned his hand to gesture at the chest in front of him.
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Post by Stormwall on Jan 24, 2017 14:07:08 GMT
Roy GilmourStormwall hesitated, then shrugged. "That was what the Guilds wanted, yes. Personally I have no taste for such games. Neither does His Majesty, who I serve as much as I serve the Guildmasters. Let me lay out the problem." He wore a simple pair of saddlebags, much like a two-legger's belt pouches or pockets. Twisting around, he pulled out a rolled map. He pinned its curling corners down with axeheads. "We're here, as you know. North is the Vampire Bund. Northwest is the Deamhan Fhole, plagued by vampire tribes. East is Silverclaw Valley, where the Bund recently took the capital and a pair of fortified towns. South is Vaundsburg, vampire-ruled and boasting numerous undead. We are surrounded by vampires. We need solutions for both detection and repulsion on a kingdom-wide scale." He produced another map and weighed down its corners as before. "This is Ashdell. Two central cities, surrounded by four towns, which are surrounded by seven forts. These are the places that need to be secured."
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