A Call Goes Out

[Cast_No_Shadow]

Note, the OOC post related to organising this can be found here.



Dark are the nights over the Moonshae Isles. It's once starry skies now appear bleak and dark black ink stretches for miles. The thawing ground still clangs against the farmers shovel as the stomach's of the ffolk grumble. Even though the frozen Hag has been valiantly dispatched and her cold frosts are retreating, even though her winter's grip is slowly releasing her vile work still damages the lands and the earth. Unceasing suffering appears to be the current lot of the people and their plight has not gone unnoticed.

Recognising their time of need, the powers that be have decided to reach out. To open their arms in friendship and their coffers in generosity to those who would help the Kingdom in it's time of need. Notices are put up around the Isles and heralds dispatched to nearby towns and cities along the Sword Coast. Instructed to find the places of those who might call themselves adventurers, heroes or forces for good, to find good people and those that might help. To go to them and whisper promises of gold, glory and legend.

The message is rarely the same, save one part, those interested are to make themselves known to Captain Rhys. He shall be found in Corwell on the Island of Gwynneth, provision has been made for those that would aid him. Room and board will be provided at the Trapper's Inn for all who offer their assistance. Speak to Big Annie and leave your mark on the board provided there.

[dergon darkhelm]

Hulurin Tosscobble sat quietly fireside at The Blushing Mermaid in Baldur's Gate. The dockside bar wasn't a favorite of the many adventurers that seemed to flood the coastal city this season....and he liked it that way. He could smoke for hours, enjoy a couple of meals and never once see a man in full armor walk through the door or see some wild-eyed arcanist who he reckoned had made some dark pact with who-knows-what-demon to achieve his power. No, the Mermaid was a sailor's bar. Men who had sailed the Sword Coast from Luskan to Chult and back and taken anchor in every deep water harbor in the isles could be heard spinning yarns at the bar. Most of it was balderdash as Hully knew, but sometimes a fellow could learn important news of the realms by just listening to the drunken tales of the mariners gathered here.

Hully listened to it all, but kept a most keen ear for words from the Moonshae Isles. So when the young ffolk sailor, name was Florisi, started speaking of "blackness blotting the stars and banishing Selune from her sky", Hully took notice. Skeptical at first, the other crew of Griffon's Heart seemed to corroborate the claim. He frowned a bit, finished his pipe, bought a full round of ale for the crew and made for the Harbormaster to find information on the ship set next to sail for the Moonshaes.

He had a few letters drawn up explaining the dark troubles and left them for a few close allies that he also knew to be residing in Baldur's Gate at the time. He placed a wax seal one at a time on each missive...... Bu & Drake each long of the Isles, Marcus of course (though Hully assumed he must have already had some magical communication on the matter from Queen Alicia), Horatio the Tymoran who Hully felt might jump sip just for the adventure, Olin the Tempite (could always use a brave blade), and finally, with some hesitation, Arbiteroh. He left fifty golden coins with Master Shawn at the The Blade and Stars with instructions to pass the notes along as soon as possible.

Within a few hours Hully had gathered his belongings, paid for board on the The Lady Gin, a grain hauling schooner captained by a one-armed amnian named Trazoul who was probably fourty winters old but looked twice that age, and walked the gangplank to board.

The mostly amnian crew shouted and bustled in the scripted chaos of departing the harbor. As the old shcooner weighed anchor, hoisted her mainsail, and set a course west southwest for Caer Callidyr, Hully looked quietly forward into the setting sun. It hurt his eyes and made his head blaze.

*He whispered to himself* "If there be some dark shadow comes te the Isles, ye be jus' the basterd te send it back, Hully". * he paused as the sun made it's final dip into the Sea of Swords, as his face drew to a look of concern* "Unless it be that shadow they said ye released yerself."

The Lady Gin ploughed close hauled into a steady northeasterly wind as night fell. Hully stayed on deck, waiting with both fear and hope to view the stars ove the Isles on the distant horizon.

[Adanu]

The harbor of Baldur's Gate was not very fun to swim in, with the broken bits and debris from ships floating about, and stale piss that would clog his nostrils anytime he breathed the dock water in. It was, however, a place where Zyrus came to think.

The riverside at the east gate was good for swimming, but this place offered a quick drink should he want it. He had gotten used to the stares long ago from sailors and passerby guards, and all left the Water Genasi alone while he read the parchment he had ripped from a bar wall. Of course, most left him alone from his size and from the giant sword he kept on his person. The mountain of a Genasi had become well practiced at intimidation just from posture.

The Isles were his homeland, yet he never felt a real kinship to them. He had always been the outsider no matter where he went, with only a select few he ever called friend. Most he called friends were gone now though. Killed by sheer chance or left for other parts of Toril. He stood, but others fell or left. He had learned when he first came to the sword coast that violence was the way of the world, and that he was very good at it.

People often needed adventurers or mercenaries with a talent for violence. Strength ruled, as the Northmen understood, but these weak city dwellers deluded themselves with words on paper; that they would protect them from swords in their face and the strength to use it. Now was no different. Someone on the Isles needed strength to maintain the illusion.

Zyrus tossed the paper into the harbor water, and started into the city. He had errands to handle. A letter, potions, food, a drink. Sleep would come on the ship. He had waited long enough for decent coin and other things, now he moved on.

He would be aboard a ship to the Moonshaes by the morning.

[I-KP]

The waters of the evening time Moonwell shimmered and rippled as tiny toes wriggled just under its cool surface, shattering the reflection of a tall, earthen robed man hoving into view as he approaching the poolside Hin from behind. "Green Sister Why," he spoke.

The young female Hin sniffed quietly and lackadaisically leaned her head backward to peer up at the distinguished man, Master Druid Newander of the Corwell Moonwell, with a distinctly youthful and contented, toothy grin.

The often taciturn Druid returned the faintest hint of a smile -- she enjoyed provoking uncomfortable and awkward responses from this particular Druid, he can be so stoic at times -- and concluded his unadorned greeting by pointing skyward. The Hin's smile faded a shade or two as her blue eyes, directed by the man's finger, took in the cloud-blanketed evening skies. Both she and the Druid remained silent for a time as they stared up at the apparently featureless overcast heavens. In much the same way as man and animal leave sign of passage in the undergrowth of the wood, the skies can also bare sign of a passage, a passage of events yet to come - if you have been taught to know what to look for.

"Aye," the small Hin said in answer with a perturbed uncertainty, toes still wiggling in the water in apparent defiance of the severity of the skyward sign...

[danielmn]

The man in red read the longsheet, frowning slightly. The haggard old man, almost toothless, cackled with a nod of his head near at hand. "Aye, ems been sent all tha way ta tha gate." The man in red nodded grimly, his eyes going to the sky for but a moment, the star he usually looked for hidden, as were most. "Ye be answerin tha call, en?" The man in red snorted, looking slowly sideways to the old man. "No. No doubt greater heroes will be coming from other lands, fresh from trials and adventure, that have not become dull in their edge like THis one. Moreso, This one would likely prove ill suited for anything in these lands at the moment. *he grins slightly* The one Elektra ...invited...this one to go.... "Troll hunting". If most are as mad as she, This one prefers not to become too involved with the problems here that do not directly involve Asurran." The man in red sat again, setting the new cup of ale in front of the old man, as the toothless seadog continued on in his tales of the ilses.

[Cast_No_Shadow]

The Fellowship of the Grain
A very, very brief retelling of this weeks events

And so the mighty party set out. Two Hin, a Wizard and a beast of the Water. Not companions one might normally put together, but need, loyalty or coin drove them forward. On into the hands of Captain Jones. Long a Sailor and it showed.

Captain Jones and his faithful ship, The Foamy Shark.


The Foamy Shark

The journey to Skaug was easy enough, some might even say pleasant, at least for those that enjoy the sea, though we cannot attribute such attributes to all our companions. The grain was found, loaded and the Foamy Shark soon left for the return journey.

However, as in all such tales, luck was against them.


Nice weather

Umberlee was not to be their friend as they tried to return North with the cargo. Ever ill tempered winds drove at them, pushing and pulling the ship. Willing it east. Whispering and howling the ship and its crew into the Trackless Sea.

As they often do, things took a turn for the worse. The Shark was a well maintained ship, fast in fair wind and reliable, she wouldn't sink if she could help it. She was however old, the winds, malevolent and violent fought her. Valiant though the Shark and her crew were, her aged rudder snapped away and the ship listed in the water.


Pretty fellows from the deep

Attacked by roaming fishmen, while attempting to repair the rudder the party found themselves in trouble.

However, one man, one brave man stepped up to fight the menace. The Wizard, furious and powerful.


Maybe he went too far?

The threat was thrown back into the sea and there it waits, circling the wounded ship as it limps along the waves. The party wait as well, trapped at see and drifting ever further East, their only hope a small island looming ahead in the storm.

Find out what Cliché awaits them next week!

[dergon darkhelm]

Hully looked at Marcus and shook his head in continued disbelief as he wiped the thick soot from his face. The man wasn't a battle mage, obviously, but one would think any sensible person would know enough not to throw fireballs on the deck of a ship......even if surrounded by huge sea beasts.

They had the fire extinguished and at least they weren't taking on water. Also, the crew felt there was enough sail cloth not destroyed in the arcane blast to rig The Foamy Shark well enough to limp into some downwind port.

Zyrus had done rudder repairs while the boat rolled in high seas. He certainly proved to be a worth companion both in war and at sea. Hully reminided himself to try to not jest overmuch with the genasi and to stop calling him "fish man".

Hully coughed violently, bringing up more of the thick gunk from the smoke of the fire. He took one of the buckets off the deck and dumped a final wash of seawater over his head. He knew he looked a mess, probably as bad as the ship, but they had both survived the assault.

As the sun began to rise on the eastern horizon Hully noted that the deck was in control with a semblance of order returning. He drew up his cowl and made for below decks to get some rest.

[I-KP]

Dark, broken forms swam about the hull of the limping ship, just beneath the tumultuous waterline, circling like a murder of crows awaiting their turn at carrion. The spray from the breaking waves of the stormy sea made it difficult to count their number, if not impossible to do so. The wide-eyed, sea-weathered Hin gave up trying to count them and instead resigned to there being ‘sodloads’ of them down there.

Watchful eyes up in the crow’s nest had sighted the misty crags of land before them and the damaged ship was held to a fixed bearing of dead ahead. Any land, ney matter how perilous, would be three steps up -- well, down -- from this barely floating folly, she thought. Soon the battered and scorched vessel would be making landfall, one way or another, intact or as flotsam…

[Adanu]

He had never known Sahaugin to be cautious in all his time in the Sea of Swords. This was a first. The Genasi stood near the edge of the boat while the fool wizard was tended to and the humans kept the ship toward the nearby sighted land. His full plated arms were crossed while he kept watch on the shapes. Every so often Zyrus would steal a glance at the druid and the sneaker Hin to keep a mental map of positions on the ship, but otherwise his attention stayed on the waters.

Walking to and from each side on a makeshift patrol, He idly fingered the hilt of Purity's Edge when he saw the shapes nearing the climbing nets, but they didn't come up, so the greatsword stayed on his back.

He also occasionally checked below for any signs of leaks or attempts to break into the ship from below. The Water Genasi just couldn't understand why they were waiting. They were almost as aggressive as Kuo Tua are when it came to raiding, and even with his aquatic elf foster parents they occasionally had to fight off savage raids. What in the oceans are they waiting for?

[Ithildur]

((*thumbs up*))

[Cast_No_Shadow]

Part Two

Caught at sea with little hope the hardy adventurers are blown steadily towards the island, a port in the storm. As they get closer they see that they are not the first to suffer this ungodly fate.


The Silver Cherry beached on the same island

Another ship, wrecked on the island. The inevitability of their fate becomes clear as the Foamy Shark judders and jinks into the rocks. After what seemed like an age the ship finally caught on the sand-beds and keeled over. Abandoning ship they rowed to the Island.

There they found other survivors, among them friends. What luck! Some supplies were in tact and they had two ships worth of wood for fuel. Survival appeared assured, at least for now, but escape? A much harder question, the storm raged out to sea and the beech offered little in the way of shelter.


Lovely weather dear

Did I say survival appeared assured? Alas I spoke too soon. They were not alone on the island, or perhaps I should say they were alone on the island but the waters were full of terror.


Ugly assailants

The half fish, half men type beasts assaulted the survivors, again and again driving them back into the middle of the island.


Artists impression of the fight, actual fighting may have been less dramatic and involved more slime

Forced back into the small jungle area of the island the forces of fish were caught messing around with the supplies, including the all important cargo. After driving them off and capturing one of their number a gurgley burbley interrogation took place.

The attacks and the storm soon stopped and the good Captain Jones managed to work out where they were, but a few miles from a busy trade lane.

As some of the party sailed out in a boat, with nothing but hopes, dreams and a few very colourful magic's they attempted to find help and rescue.


The replacement "wizard" casting colour spray in an attempt to attract attention.

The danger appeared to be over, rather suddenly at that. The immediate threat had passed but in its place questions and mysteries arose. Why had they retreated? What were they doing to the cargo? That storm stopped rather suddenly didn't it?

The wee little Hin druid tried some puddle based magic to find out more of these Fish men and their plan.


Tam Why attempting a careful druidic ritual

It didn't quite go according to plan...

Soon enough however, those out in a boat attracted the help of a Mighty Galleon, the Icy Maw sailing from Luskan, they rescued the party and what was left of the survivors and what cargo could be salvaged, taking them to the nearby port of Corwell which is where we find them now, wet and grumpy but (mostly) glad for dry, fish free land under their feet.

[danielmn]

(( I love Tams boots!!!! ))

[I-KP]

(( You can keep your Wyrm hide armour and your Dragon Scale shields because it’s Sahuagin-skin, googly-eyed Wellies for me from now on! ))

It didn’t make sense. Luring ships onto the rocks, gutting the bloated bellies of vessels, spilling and dashing their load, all in order to attempt to recover and poison food consignments in the hope that other ships will soon sail by and salvage the cargo. There had to be less elaborate and, it has to be said, more reliable ways of poisoning the granaries of the Moonshae.

It was ney even a nasty poison, neither, the wee Hin considered. I must have misfathomed what the pool showed or I did ney sniff the poison wight ‘cause there be simpler ways to make folk shite thems life out than this, like. It be ney but a bent-witted muddle…

(( PS. You complete and utter git. ))

[Cast_No_Shadow]

Tired and battered the Heroes return home, or to Corwell at least.

A new threat was on the horizon however. Firblogs! Giant creatures, wrecking and destroying all in their path! Attacking the farmland outside of town.

Dispatched to investigate our plucky protagonists found a strange sight. There in the middle of the road the battered remains of a man. Moving forward to investigate, they discovered it was nothing but a cunning trap. An ambush!



Cunning wizardry and furious charges soon put paid to their evil plans however and the party pressed on!

Arriving at the farm they found their quarry. Huge creatures destroying everything in sight.



After valiantly defeating their foes, they returned happy to have some rest.

Tam, the ever intrepid druid decided to stick around and help with the recovery.



((Sorry its not as good this week, time is short!))

[I-KP]

(( I’m beginning to get a handle on Tam’s apparent role in this unfolding saga. ¬_¬ We have a seven foot fishman and a fire-happy Elf in the party and yet the Hin is still the object of ridicule. You’re all sizeist bullies. ))

If it wasn’t already painfully evident, someone - or something - was embarked upon a concerted and elaborate campaign of sabotage against the food producing capacity of Moonshae isles. After the thawing of the ‘chillwinds’ the yield for the next harvest looked like being far from bountiful; even so, with the tireless and devoted ministrations of the various Druid circles found dotted about the isles something could yet still be salvaged from the situation. Now, having seen the devastation that the as yet unknown agency of famine was capable of wreaking upon the farmsteads of Gwynneth isle - Firbolg simply do not act with such directed and precise sabotage of their own volition - and their reach also being able to extend to spoiling imported food shipments from across the seas, the outlook for Harvesttide had shifted from being poor to nothing short of bleak.

We did nay end the Covey of the Chillwinds, we only shoved ‘em out, the Hin Seedsower reflected. Shoved ‘em out to whereabouts though? There was no evidence that pointed directly to the ‘Covey of the Chillwinds’ being responsible for this most recent assault on the farmlands but she found it impossible to shake their broken and gnarled visage from her mind, nor the blade-like bite of their coldness from her bones.