Velociryx, one of the Lords of the South, currently residing on Devil's Island, in Kumala, was recently named HighLord in the STEEL Dominion Alliance [REALM], where he shares power with that alliance's current HighLord, AvidDriver.

This reporter journeyed to Devil's Island to get full details in hopes of an interview, and although the elusive Lord agreed, the details gleaned from that meeting were cryptic at best.

Here's what we know:

First (if the author may be permitted a moment of personal observation), Devil's Island is aptly named!  The entire place is a steaming morass of punishment.  Towering trees, oppressive heat, and the promise of death at every turn, courtesy of giant anacondas, fierce jaguars, or worse.

Fortunately, Velociryx's forces are vigalent, and keep the main byways cleared of the worst of the dangers, but between that, and combatting "Devil's Vine", the troops are kept in near constant motion.

And what is "Devil's Vine," you may ask?

Simply put, it's an awful, rope-like, thorny vine that "sweats" a viscous goop that burns like fire when touched and causes a rash that lasts for days (and it can grow up to a foot a day!  "Reminds me of Kudzu, blasted stuff."  Velociryx told me during one of our walks outside the city gates).  

The author knows the full extent of these effects because, alas, he attempted to use some of said vine to fashion a hammock so as to avoid sleeping on the ground (sleeping on the ground in Devil's Isle is formally known as "A Very Bad Thing." - army ants, rogue anacondas, cats who will drag you off and eat your head, and all manner of other dangers...no no...it's no good to sleep on the ground...it is not advised, however, to try and fashion a hammock out of Devil's Vine either, as the rash you get in places you don't want a rash, EVER, is beyond unpleasant).

All that to say that this author was not in his best form by the time he actually reached Vel's capital of Cerilon.

Once there, however, I must say that the city itself was pleasant enough, and though large, it still retains some of its backwater charm...a thing I've discovered that is common of many of the townships of those most excellent SouthLanders.

As to the man himself, he actually had relatively little to say on the promotion, jokingly toasting me with "here's hoping I have not just risen to my level of incompetence."

In speaking with him, I came away with the picture of a man who is a passionate reformer, very interested in the safety and well being of the Lords of the smaller townships in the realm, and not much interested with the comings and doings outside Kumala.

I asked him about the trouble between NC and STEEL, and he had this to say:  "From the look of it, only one side thinks there's a war on...the other side's sending care bears, or care vans is it?  Something.  Anyway, it usually takes (at least) two to Tango, yes?  But...they are far from one another, so beyond opportunistic sniping, I don't see it developing into a full blown bloodbath.  I could be wrong, of course...we shall see."

On alliances in general, he told me:

"The current alliance system is broken and makes no sense...allies all over the continent...impossible to do more than offer moral support for your supposed alliance brothers and sisters.  Being in an alliance should MEAN something.  If you get in trouble, it ought to mean more than sending you well wishes and a prayer, but if it takes two weeks to get troops to your far flung allies, then in times of war, it means the promise implicit IN the alliance is bound to be broken for those far from the alliance core...and that's in cases where alliances HAVE cores...most are more like extended social clubs, really."

When asked how he planned to do things differently, he replied, "I won't say no comment, but I will say that there are some alliances who are already on the right path, and we could learn much from them.  Think locally, trade globally.  The hubs are one of the keys."

Beyond that, he would say no more on the subject.

When our conversation turned to the smaller and independent Lords of the Realm (those not affiliated with any alliance, or smaller Lords, regardless of alliance affiliation), he talked at length about the need for all of Illyriad to continue the time honored tradition of safeguarding the small and the weak, and ended with the cryptic phrase, "The Chimera Project will begin to change the face of that though...change how we go about doing that.  At least in Kumala, and who knows?  Possibly beyond, in time."

I stayed in Cerilon for three days, then took a tour of the other seven cities in Velociryx's steaming, off-the-beaten-path realm, and by the end, I found myself not wanting to go back.

There is no way of telling how serious a reformer he actually is...time and his own actions will tell the tale better than I could, but I am both interested and curious.  He is a serious minded fellow (a rare trait among humans, in my experience), and has some interesting ideas, but I left with as many questions as were answered.

What did he mean "The Hubs are one of the Keys?"  How does "think locally, trade globally" translate into an actual, usable alliance strategy?  And what, exactly, is "The Chimera Project?"

This reporter will be watching with interest, and as I learn more, you'll be the first to know!

~The Blind Scribe~

She gets a little riled when she thinks someone is trying to ninja her newbs ...

 

I assume he is talking about within an alliance rather than confeds between alliances.  I agree that having your members spread over half the map is pretty stupid, but I think we've kind of fostered the attitude that people don't have to worry about their own defense because they only have to cry in GC and whoever is closest will step in to rescue them.  I see individual players who have eight cities in three or four different regions, but that isn't a matter of a broken alliance system.  Alliances can mandate that all members gather in a certain area for defense, they just don't.  They let people build wherever they like.  The ones that do congregate tend to get grief for it because then they naturally want that limited settling/gathering area to themselves and everyone else says "no, you gotta share with us, even though we cover nine whole provinces we need a presence here too".

 

As for confederates, if they aren't close enough to actually help you then why did you sign the confederation with them in the first place?  ARM has a handful of confeds, all very close by, and none that we don't trust to help us defend ourselves.

/me nervously checks fingers

The storm triggered my Elven senses.  It was not a natural event.  Who caused it is a question for another time.  The important thing now is that it has happened, and Elves have long memories.

Unless the storm's creator had a serious-and-most-unhealthy grudge against the jungle flowers and edible tubers that made up the bulk of the ship's cargo, there was little question that the storm was directed at me, though whether it was intended to kill or strand is as yet unknown.  All I know is that the fact of the storm triggered an inquisitive impulse in me.  

No doubt, depending on what my inquisitive impulse uncovers, some stronger, baser response might ultimatley be called for, but again, that's for later, and I have resolved to study the matter with an open mind.

I washed ashore within sight of the rescue effort in progress, though with no means of contacting my would-be rescuers to let them know I was waterlogged, but otherwise relatively unharmed.  I was not sure if I wanted to do so in any case, as it occured to me that the spell's caster could have been among the "rescuers," either to finish the job in the event that the storm did not, or to verify that I was, in fact, no more.

In either case, I opted to keep the fact of my continued existence hid for the time being.  

Instead, after watching the earnest-seeming efforts to rescue me from the watery deep for a time, I made my way overland back to the outskirts of the City of Kell, in Velociryx's domain, where I installed myself in one of that city's least glamorous drinking establishments.

No reason in particular, save for the fact that I was deep in the grip of that strange impulse now, and determined to see where it led, which is the way of my People.

I'm glad I did, although what I discovered by pure happenstance raises yet more questions in my mind.

Velociryx is surely not the only Lord to have disguised himself and slipped quietly into the dark corners of his own Realm for various purposes.  My own Grandfather was known to do similiar to sample the delights of the various low born Elven Maids who...but alas, that's a story for another day.

In any event, it is by no means unusual for a Lord to do such things, so although I was surprised to see His Lordship when he entered, I took advantage of the natural shadows that my corner table afforded and hid my surprise to watch the comings and doings from a distance.

Velociryx met a rugged, rough-edged human of rather slender build in the corner opposite from the one I was skulking in, and again, my Elven sense served me well.  I heard the Lord address him as Felestro, and that name gave me pause.

I know of only one Felestro in these parts, and him, I know only by his fearsome repeutation. 

The same man then, or a pretender?  Or a code or alias of some sort?

I did not know.

The subject of their conversation was most curious, and I scribed it word for word.  Rather than offer up any embellsihment, I simply present it here for your consideration:

Velociryx:  "What news, Felestro?"

Felestro:  "The Men of the Company are ready.  When the first of the Chimera are born, we will give them a worthy trial by fire."

Velociryx:  "Excellent.  I wish it were not necessary, but these are dangerous times we live in.  They must be ready."

Felestro: "No worries there.  The men of Bad Company will...."

(At this point, Velociryx shocked the entire bar into silence by backhanding the famed killer with such force that I feared for the man's safety.  The blow seemed designed to take the man's head off.)

Velociryx:  "What is the first rule of the company?"

Felestro (shamed and a bit crestfallen): "You don't talk about B...the Company."

Velociryx:  "The Company does not exist.  Say that name again and I wil kill you where you sit."

And in that moment, despite the fact that during my entire stay with him earlier, I had never heard him raise his voice, nor say an unkind word to anyone, much less resort to any sort of physical violence, but....I believed him.

More importantly, Felestro believed him and merely bowed his head in submission.

"What of the other matter?"  Felestro asked in a moment.

At this, Velociryx threw up his hands in frustration.  "I was delayed."

"Your guest?"

He nodded, and I immediately realized they were referring to me.  "My guest, yes.  Nice enough fellow for an elf.  I wished him godspeed and safe journey, then wasted no time in reaching out to K...tried all day, but to no avail.  Every time I proposed to eliminate a barrier, he'd raise another.  Bottom line...he's either not ready, or not willing to deal with us."

"So we still need another Master Tradesman."

"Gods yes we do...it's all I can do to handle the daily business of the Alliance.  I can't take on that and the duties of the Master Tradesman.  And lead the Chimera project, And see to the formation of The Legion.  And lead the company-we're-not-supposed-to-talk-about-cos-it-doesn't-exist."

"Can you keep it together till you get him on board or find someone else?"

He shook his head.  "I know when I'm overmatched.  We'll have to simply let some projects idle until we get more people...till we reach critical mass."

"But you said that if we didn't create a functioning system from whole cloth that..."

"I know what I said!"  He roared, and I feared another backhand might be coming.

Felestro seemed to fear it too, for he actually flinched away.

"I know what I said."  Velociryx continued more calmly.  "But if he's not ready to deal, then he's not ready to deal.  I would rather assemble our engine piecemeal than risk the whole project, even if we might have to recussitate certain bits later.  It is unfortunate, but..."

"We could threaten him."

"We will do no such thing."  Velociryx said evenly.  "And I'm within my rights to kill you for even sugessting it."

Felestro said nothing to this, and the two men held one another's gazes for the longest time.

"We'll not be threatening him, or anyone else.  It is not our way."

"Understood."

I did not like that word...'understood.'  There were undertones of nastiness in it that disturbed me.

They spoke about mundane topics for a few moments, then parted ways, and left me in my corner to contemplate all that I had learned.

Apparently, there are more projects planned than just The Chimera project, and at least some of them are interconnected.  Interrelated in some way.

The Chimera Project.  Something called 'Bad Company' that's not supposed to exist.  A trial by fire for the Chimera when they are born.  Some scheme involving trade that requires the presence of a dedicated Master of Trade (probalby related to the topic Velociryx and I discussed during our interview ("Hubs are one of the keys.").

So....many interconnected pieces to the puzzle, but what does it all mean?

I am not sure.

My gut is telling me that the impression I got of Velociryx during our interview was correct.  That he is, at the core, a compassionate reformer, but he's a more complicated figure than I first reckoned, as this second (much more candid) look reveals.

There are lots of initiatives going on, and he seems to have a council of advisors outside normal channels.  These advisors include at least a few less savory types, and therein lies the question.

Am I being duped?  If I am not, does this good hearted reformer run the risk of being corrupted by the less savory types he has at least some dealings with?  Does he run the risk of disagreeing with his cutthroats once too often and falling victim to them, or can he keep his various factions of supporters more-or-less allied with him in some common purpose?

Are there any darker overtones to any of the projects I've heard whispered?  If not, why the secrecy?

As I see it, there are two basic courses of action open to me.

I can ride into Cerilon and announce my miraculous survival (based on the conversation I overheard, I do not believe Velociryx was in any way involved with, or responsible for the storm that has marooned me here), and ask these probing questions of the man direct, or, I can keep my presence hidden for the time being, and see what else might be gleaned by keeping an ear to the ground a while longer yet.

For now, I send this, and drift off to a restless sleep, uncertain of what my future holds.  Uncertain when I'll see my homeland again, or even if I want to.

There is something both strange and compelling about this land and the story I have stumbled into...

~The Blind Scribe~

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You should do more - and Devs take note - this is what game lore is made of!  :D

is this stuff Elgea Politics&Diplomacy related or is it a really cool outburst of your own creativity? 

So I would guess it is a mix of both Diplomacy and Caravansai stuff...

Here's a map of the region, showing my travels to this point.

1) Not knowing how hard overland travel was, I foolishly requested to be dropped on the shores near the City of EastGate, which lies some twenty miles inland.  Worst twenty miles of my life, just to get to Vel's lands.

2) From there, it was west through the jungle to Cerilon, and it was on this leg of the journey, that I learned not to fashion hammocks out of Devil's Vine.

3) After my interview with Velociryx, he took me on a whirlwind tour of his Realm, through the city of Parthaway, then to Cloudpeak.  We didn't stay in etiher place long, so I only have the barest impressions of them, but I can say that both were busy, bustling places.

4) From Cloudpeak, we skirted the edge of Candle'Bre's (that's the name of Vel's holdings, collectively...The Duchy of Candle'Bre) border, then onto her main center of trade, Kell.  

5) After that, it was back north to Cerilon to resupply

6) then on to Dol'Doras on the coast.

7) From there, south to the city of Calimba (bright and boisterous, and filled with song)

8) before arriving at Sutheron, where I took a barge across the shallows to the Horn of Ghedd, and 

9) overland from there on the Shimmering Highway to the city bearing that same name, where I borded His Majesty's Trading Vessle, The Tiger Lilly, which ran aground where I've marked the map with an "X"

then 10) back to Kell, where I chanced to overhear Velociryx talking with Felestro Shadewalker.

Okay, I admit it.  I followed him.

Not two nights after I happened to run into him in the sleazy drinking establishment in Kell, I followed (stalked?) him back to Cerilon and waited for him to make another late night trip to meet with his collected ruffians.

I did not have to wait long, and this time, what I found was yet more distubring.

He met with a ship's Captain who had made the trip special from Southeron.

Of all Velociryx's cities, three are coastal, but one of these (Cloudpeak), only just.  Yes, you can see the ocean from most of the apartments in the southestern quarter of the city, but the way down is a sudden drop of nearly two thousand feet.

A port city, it is not.

Dol'Doras has a passing good port, but is poorly situated to do more than serve the southern portion of Devil's island.  One would have to sail from there, around the Horn of Ghedd, or worse, waste the better part of two weeks sailing west to round the greater bulk of Devil's Island to even begin making for the mainland, and sadly, Southeron, while being fairly ideally situated, is cursed with wickedly shallow waters and trecherous reefs, making entering the sheltered port a feat best reserved for daredevils or madmen.

That said, if Vel wants to ship something, it either arrives by Knight's Ocean Port in the north, then overland through near a thousand miles of trackless jungle, or south from Shimmering, then meandering up the Horn.

There were brief diplomatic talks with KV Kumala early on, when Velociryx was first emerging as a regional economic power, but as I understand it, those ground to a chilly halt when no agreement could be reached over some fertile farmland (-896,-636) just outside of the city of Parthaway.  That, coupled with the provacative use of a semi-permanent armed garrison on Mount Spurling (-894, -639), and the two lords have not spoken since.

All of that so you will understand something of the sort of man Velociryx was meeting with.

This blessed fool had not only sailed into the dangerous shallows of Sutheron's harbor, but done so unannounced, and in the dead of night, THEN proceeded via horse up the Devil's Road to Cerilon, all apparently in great haste and without stopping.

By the time he arrived in the SouthShanty district of Cerilon, he was a sight to behold, I can assure you, and smelled worse than even the foulest Orc I've ever run across.

Nonetheless, he seemed both agitated and animated...practically beside himself in his excitement.

"They've agreed!"  He told his Master breathlessly.  "They agreed to your price...they'll part with them!"

Velociryx's eyes lit up in much the same way I remembered them doing when he spoke so passionately about protecting the weak and helpless around the Realm, and I confess that I felt a surge of pride at what I was seeing.

Here was a man content to get in the muck and mud in order to build a better future, and a good thing too, because such men are hard to find, and...

I was on the cusp of singing his praises till I heard the next words tumble from his lips.

"Bring them up the trail (by this, I took him to mean the Devil's Road, which cut straight through the heart of the jungle), still in their chains and shackles, all the way to the gates of Cerilon.  I want the Chimera to see thim just that way."

Chains?

Shackles?

Was he buying prisoners?   Were they violent criminals?  Madmen sold as slave labor?  Or worse, captured women and children taken prisoner in one of Illyriad's numerous ongoing skirmishes?

And what was he going to do with them that he needed them in chains along the horrifying march up the length of the Devil's own road?

And what fate awaited them at the end of that march, when the Chimera laid eyes on them?

Were they to be...food?  

A sacrifice to some unholy thing Velociryx was building in his hidden jungle stronghold?

Had I been so completely wrong about the man?

I determined to find out, so I followed the Boatman when he left Cerilon, back the way he had come, down the Devil's Road to Sutheron, then back to his ship, which would undoubtedly be returning soon, and with a most unsavory cargo.

That explained his skill in navigation.  

Most Lords of the Realm took a dim view of Slavers, and wanted nothing to do with them, so they had to learn to operate on the fringes.  Had to be able to scurry in and out of the most meager of ports and harbors...places that respectable Captains would simply pass by.

Was I now seeing the man behind the mask?

Was this who Velociryx truly was?

I hoped not, and it was that hope that led me on my mission of late night thievery.

Into the camp of the wiley BoatMan, and into his vest pocket, where he had tucked the scrip given him by Velociryx.

I have reproduced it below. 

Evidence.

Proof, both of my poor judgement, and of this ruffian's misdeeds and dark dealings.

Based on what this note contains, I see little choice.  I will hide myself away until the slaves arrive at the gates of Cerilon and confront him then, in full view of them.

Someone must stand up for them, and if this supposed reformer will not, then it must be me.

It may cost me my life, but I cannot let this stand.

Elven Slaves.

Gods!

I will not.

I'll continue it here of course, but there's no reason why you can't enjoy it both places... 

~Scribe~

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Today we received news that was both good and bad.

On the one hand, a dear friend of our HighLord's was bound for other lands, and what can be more exciting than the start of a new adventure?

On the other, Trill's absence would be sorely missed, and as such, it was a time for a measure of sorrow and reflection.

We threw her a big send-off party and wished her well.

There was much feasting, drinking, and story-weaving that evening, but also, there was a general air of trepidation.

After all, we were at least nominally at war, and there had been reports that the Grand Master of the Alliance Family himself was under siege.

There was some discussion of this matter 'round the table that evening, even though it detracted from the celebratory nature of the gathering.

Velociryx stated our course clearly enough, however, by informing us all that his charter was to tend to the safety and well being of our smaller alliance members, and help them grow strong.  He was doing that (thus, the formulation of The Chimera Project), and had a standing offer for unlimited resources and materials should the need arise.

"So...we are, in fact, carrying out the last order we were given, and we shall continue to do so until we are ordered to change course.  We'll be right here, doing what's expected of us until our friends tell us they have need."

And that settled it, so we all went about our business.

What I want to tell you about most of all though, is what it's like to be involved in The Chimera Project, and how it is different from merely being in an alliance and the recipient of various and sundry resources.

When you're enrolled as we, the members of this first class are, you are sponsored into the alliance, and your sponsor takes full charge of your maintenance and upkeep while you're in the program.  That is to say, he declares himself responsible for you until your "graduation."

This is compelling, because it gives you a dedicated point of contact to go to with questions and resource requests.  Not that any alliance member wouldn't, or couldn't help you...they all do.  Everyone's quick to lend a hand andn pitch in as needed, but having a central point of contact for such things is invaluable from a coordinative standpoint.

The whole system is essentially hub-and-spoke, with your sponsor being the resource hub, and your various towns being the spokes on the wheel.  

You make a request, and resources are dispatched in the desired quantity, along with whatever Prestige is needed to facilitate a faster build.  Both offered up in unlimited quantity until you reach a certain level of self sustainability as determined by the Alliance Leadership.

There are three of us in the current "Pack" of Chimera.  Myself, operating out of the township of Haven, Finn, operating out of the town of Uusimma, and Kleo, a fiery redheaded human female of elfin stature but with the heart and courage of a Titan, operating out of Sunrise Castle.

I cannot speak to the experiences of the others, but for me, the effect is nothing short of astonishing.

Hordes of Master Builders and laborers poured into Haven.  So numerous were they that we had them sleeping in our citizens' homes, barns, lofts, and sometimes, on rooftops in an effort to accomodate them all...they literally outnumbered our townsfolk for a while.

The first things to be built were gigantic storehouses, capable of holding many hundreds of thouands of tons of raw materials, and those, I must say, were built with lighting speed.

On completion, the builders left as quiickly as they came, to be replaced by miners and farmers, who expertly began assembling our city's infrastructure, such that we could begin supporting ourselves.

My sponsor has a total of eight cities, and five hundred sixty caravans.

These caravans have a combined resource capacity of 1,680,000 tons of raw materials in a single load.

They visit no less than three times a month (OOC:  for convenience, I'm standardizing around the notion that one game day = one month).

Needless to say, development happens very quickly.

Normally, the paradigm is one full member has one Chimera at a time, but my sponsor (nominally listed as AvidDriver, the GrandMaster of our alliance) is away on business for the alliance family, and Velociryx's own production is such that he can support two Chimera anyway, which is what he's currently doing.

Our third pack member, Kleo, is being sponsored by an enormously fat, and quite entertaining Dwarven Lord known only as 'Machete'.  He has forgotten more about Devil's Island that I will ever know, and as one of the island's first inhabitants, is among the most decorated and highly regarded members of our alliance.

It has been an exhausting period, but also one of enormous growth and possibility.  There are times when I think surely I'll not be able to keep pace with the incoming torrent of supplies (That's what they call them too...when they send mass hundreds of caravans loaded to the gills with supplies...a 'resource torrent'...and it very definitely is!), but things are coalescing at a speed which still astonishes.

I look forward to seeing how things continue to develop in the days and weeks ahead.

~Scribe~

i love this kinda things. 

His description of me "an enormously fat, and quite entertaining Dwarven Lord known only as 'Machete'. " is insulting!

A friend of mine once called it cuddle padding. Given the amount of snuggling going on in GC it would seem you have an advantage over the rest of us!  

More proof that the Chimera project is working...for the first time since we've been tracking such things, there is no stone or iron to be found at any price, anywhere in Kumala.

Each of the three of [REALM]'s Chimera have two towns now (with the founding of "Hidden Vale," pictured below), and with the promise of unlimited resources being showered upon them to facilitate rapid building, it's putting a strain on the entire region.  Signs of this are evident everywhere by the eerie lack of traders.

"There's just none to be found...anywhere in Kumala" Said one trader who wished to remain anonymous.  "I get asked by merchants from Devil's Island multiple times a day, but there's nothing."

Rumor has it that Velociryx has placed orders privately with powerful, independent merchants throughout Kumala, and if true, this could mean limited availability of these two resources in the Kumala region's open markets for the forseeable future.

When asked about it, Vel had this to say:  "Yes, demand is increasing in the region, and The Chimera Project is responsible for a big chunk of that, no doubt.  I expect that supply will catch up in time, but until it does, you can expect that what supplies are available on the open market will be more expensive than we're used to paying here.  Unfortunate, but also unavoidable...we have the funds, and we're paying market rates for the goods."

In addition to the six towns of The Chimera, Velociryx himself recently founded "The Hermitage," the ninth town under his direct control.  This will, no doubt, place further resource demands on a regional system already struggling to meet it.

"Temporarily," Velociryx assures us.  "Our first goal when developing new towns in this fashion is to get their native resource production up to at least fifty tousand raw resource tons a day (OOC: per hour), so they can stand more-or-less on their own.  Even so, with the amount of Prestige we're dumping into the project, they can spend it faster than they can make it...thus, the shortages for the time being."

The problem even briefly got beyond the control of Velociryx's normally extremely organized drovers and quartermasters, as the cities of Calimba and Kell faced temporary food shortages.

"It wasn't so much a food shortage as an allocation issue...some wires got crossed and two expected grain shipments were delayed.  Nobody did more than have a lighter dinner than they were used to, and then, it only impacted two meals...we're back on track now."  Velociryx told reporters.

And so they seem to be.  There's an economic miracle rising up in the steaming jungles of Kumala, and it'll be exciting to see what shape it takes as it continues to develop.

** Tylo Ghent posting for The Blind Scribe, stationed in Kumala

Okay, it's confession time again.  I'm the one who convinced Vel to have the party.

What?  You didn't get an invitation?

Forgive the oversight, and in that case, allow me to explain.

See...it all started with an alliance (that shall remain nameless to protect the "innocent") and their declaration of war on the grounds of annoyance and boredom.

Velociryx had been brooding about this for quite some span of days, and I was trying my best to introduce some semblence of levity to our usual array of meetings and conferences, which had taken on a decidedly gloomy tone, but, much to my exhasperation, nothing I tried was working!

Try as I might, I simply could not improve the HighLord's mood.

"It's the most pathetic justification for a war I've ever heard of."  He said darkly.  "If they wanted a fight, why not just start one?  Drumming up some faux "reason," then trying to spin it into something with actual merit just seems pathetic to me, I'm sorry to say.  It's a disgrace to the whole idea of diplomacy and intra-alliance dealings.  Did these guys get their diplomatic skills from the Harpies?  Pfft!  I daresay that a drunk nine year old could have done better!"

I had no answers, but I listened to him with a sympathetic ear, and he expounded on his thoughts, and made his general distaste known in great, vivid detail.

At length, and in the middle of listening to his tirade (and, admittedly, on my sixth tankard of Jungle Ale), I hit upon an idea.

"Why not throw an 'Annoyance Party?'"  I said.

"A what?"  He looked at me with one eyebrow cocked.

"An annoyance party.  Invite people whose opinions of you mean little, or friends with good senses of humor, and have a party with the express purpose of annoying one another."

"Then what?  We...we all get drunk, annoy each other, and?  What's the punchline?"

"Actions have consequences."  I told him with a wink.  "After we spend the evening annoying each other, we declare random wars, curse the memories of the children of our newfound frenemies, and duke it out for a while."

He looked at me perplexed for a long moment.  "That's nuts."  He said at length.  "It makes absolutely no sense."

"Precisely."  I told him.  "In other words, it's a mirror image of the way you feel about our current war."

At this, he did something quite unbecomming of a HighLord.

He spewed wine through his nose in a mad fit of laughter.

"Love it!"  He said as he tried to avoid choking to death.

And that's how the "Annoyance Party" was born.

We plan to make it an annual event in Cerilon.

Mark your calendars, and if you didn't get an invite this year, then obviously it's because we didn't consider you worthy and were annoyed with you for one reason or another.  ;)

~Your Humble Scribe

It was a very strange dream.

I was tied to a chair and a faceless man was hovering above me, a bullseye lantern positioned in such a way that its light shone directly into my eyes, mostly blinding me and reducing the figure before me to that of a looming shadow.

I was shocked and more than a little angered at being tied up, but then, the miscreant drew back and hit me squarely in the jaw, hard enough to spin my head around.

"I want something."  He said in a menacing tone.

"What?"  I croaked as I spit out some blood.

"I have no idea....but I want it just the same."

This confused me.  "But...if you want something, then does it not follow that you should have at least some notion of what it is that you want?  Else...why go to the trouble of binding me, striking me and making a demand."

This, sadly, earned me no reply save for another blow.  "Shut up.  I want something and you're going to give it to me, or I'm going to keep hitting you."

"But...that makes no sense!"  I protested.  "You can't come in here, tell me you want something, not have the first clue what it is that you want, and expect me to figure it out...God's Teeth, YOU apparently don't know yourself, so how am I supposed to know?"

Another blow.  "No idea.  I'm bored and annoyed, and I wanted to beat on something to demonstrate to you that actions have consequences.  And....stuff."

I wanted to scream in frustration, but did not want to give my assailant the satisfaction.  "So...let me get this straight."  I said to him, worried on some level that my comments might see me next swallowing my own teeth.  "You tied me up and started striking me because you were bored and I annoyed you somehow.  You tell me that I can make you stop if I but give you what you want, but you have not the first clue what that might be yourself, and so, insist that the ball's in my court to figure it out and offer it to you if I'm genuinely interested in having you stop hitting me...a thing it should be obvious that I"m interested in, since I didn't ask for the treatment in the first place."

"Yes...exactly.  That wasn't so hard, was it?"  The mailed fist drew back again, and I winced away from the blow that was sure to follow.

I woke up then, and could not get back to sleep, no matter how hard I tried.

It was a most curious dream, and it troubled me greatly...

It's been a busy time in south eastern Devil's Island (Kumala), and the signs of this alliance's continued growth and expansion are everywhere.

"We've entered into a pretty exciting phase."  Velociryx told us.  "Three of our cities, Kell, EastGate, and Cloudpeak, have matured sufficiently to begin casting their collective eyes outside the bounds of the city proper, and into the lands surrounding them.  Over the last several weeks, we've had survey crews--under guard, of course--out marking off new territory...by month's end, we hope to have doubled the amount of land we currently lay claim to, and doubling it again after that is not out of the question."

He was silent on whether or not the alliance planned to claim the whole of Devil's Island for themselves, saying only that "we'll do what makes the most sense for us to do, in terms of facilitating our mutual defense, but look...it's a very big island, and we can't even lay claim to the whole of our little penninsula...."

Vel was also largely silent on the matter of the grove of ancient trees [-896, -636] currently claimed by another group.

"Well, clearly it's troubling."  He told our reporter on the scene.  "Being so close to the city of Parthaway, we, of course, feel that we'd be within our rights to lay claim to it, but we've been exploring other options.  Ideally, we'd like to purchase not only the grove, but the whole city that's laying claim to it, so we can open up settlement opportunities in the southern portion of the peninsula, all the way to Shimmering, but so far, those efforts have been brushed aside, so...we'll see."

We'll see indeed.  This could be a thorny challenge for the young alliance.  It will be interesting to see how things develop in the months ahead.

One thing is certain though.  The alliance is becoming increasingly entrenched on Devil's Island, and is apparently determined to not only tame the land, but also, to make it a permanent home.

Off topic:  If you're enjoying this story, no worries, I do plan to continue it (complete with explanation of the recent attack!).

I've been bogged down with another project tho...a free multimedia retelling of one of my earlier fantasy novels.

Thought you folk might find it interesting/fun, so am posting the link here as a sneak peek, a day in advance of the official launch.  :)

http://develsworkshop.com/2012/10/candlebre-the-reckoning-book-i-darkness-falls-multimedia-presentation/" rel="nofollow - http://develsworkshop.com/2012/10/candlebre-the-reckoning-book-i-darkness-falls-multimedia-presentation/

 

It was a conversation I had been dreading for days, but also, one that I knew could be put off no longer.

I came in straight from the field, blood and mud and grime streaked, not sure if that would help my case, or hurt it.

Velociryx was not in Cerilon, but had set up a command post to monitor the situation in embattled Calimba, and was currently in a hastily constructed camp on a bluff that overlooked the city, some six miles from it.

As I entered his tent, I saw him slumped at his desk, head down.

It was the only time I had ever seen him weeping, and it stopped my heart.

"H-How?"  He choked out.  "How could this have happened?"

I shook my head grimly.  "I do not yet know, but I swear to you I will find out, and we'll make whoever is ultimately responsible pay."

He stared at me for a very long time, and I saw him calculating.  Assessing.

In some of the possibilities that flitted through his mind, I saw my own death, and I can't say I blamed him for thinking it.

Had our positions been reversed, I'm not sure I'd have been so gracious, patient, or understanding.

At length, he merely said:  "This was supposed to be a simple transfer of cities from me to you...grow your holdings on the western side of the peninsula, so I could focus on the east...we need to find out who doesn't want to see this happen...find out and crush them as they have tried to crush us.

He let out a long, ragged sign.  "Calimba...my beautiful city..."

"We'll get it back."  I vowed.  "I can fix this."

He nodded and I left him quickly, lest the conversation be drawn out any further, but my words echoed inside my head.

I can fix this.

I wanted to believe that, but honestly, I didn't even know where to start.

But perhaps I should back up a step, or mayhaps several.  When last I wrote, the pack of hungry Chimera were feasting on resources and Velociryx had just been named the largest landowner on Devil's Isle.

What happened just after that was...I had an idea.

A vision of how we could better control and police our piece of the island, and thus, exert more control overall.

I remember being so excited when I unrolled the map across Vel's expansive desk and pointed excitedly.

"See...if you sell me the cities of Dol'Doras, Calimba, and Sutheron, that gives you more expansion options in the eastern portion of the island..."

"Given the King's decree that no Lord may posess more than ten cities in the realm...yes, I see it...and it would consolidate us both in a nice, tight pattern, with shared borders for ease of defense...I like it!"

I beamed proudly at this.  "I'd like to start with Sutheron then...we could do sort of a mock wargame, you know?  A simulation of the preparations for a siege before taking control of the city...would give our troops some much needed practice for later, and you said yourself that the Chimera should have a trial by fire."

"Well, yes...but I didn't envision that it might damage my own cities."

"Oh no...no damage...the whole thing would be a mockup.  There'd be no actual fighting, but all the preparations would be the same.  Practice...that's all."

He considered this a moment, then nodded.

"I like it....yes!  Let's do it.  Sutheron first, then Dol'Doras...Calimba last...the city of music.  You'd better treat her well.  I think she's my favorite out of all my kids...erm...I mean cities, but don't let my other cities know it."

He smiled at that, and I smiled with him.   "No worries...she won't be going anyplace, and she'll always be a part of the family."

That's what convinced him, and that's how it had begun.

Innocently.

Just a few land grants and transfers to sort things out on the peninsula before the next phase of our expansion...

If I had to put my finger on one specific moment in time when things started to go astray, I guess it would have to be the start of the King's Tourney.

The whole of Devil's Isle was abuzz about it, as I'm sure was the whole of the Kingdom.

Because we are, as yet a small alliance, we knew better than to think we had a prayer of winning such a contest, so some of our members, including the redoubtable hero of our Realm, the Dwarf-Lord Machete, ventured afield to join forces with the Kaendrian Crows for the duration of the competition, on the thinking that shared glory was better than no glory, and Velociryx gave these various departures his blessing and wished them all good hunting.

For a time afterward, the Halls of our alliance capital ran quiet, and were filled with more echo than voice.  It was an even mix of chilling and eerie, and I confess that during those days, unless it could be helped, I did not spend much time in Velociryx's Great Hall.

One of my Chimera Pack Mates, Kleo, the mighty huntress from the central isle, however, did, and it was during this time that she was named to the post of Chief Recruiter for the alliance, and recruit she did! 

True, many of the new faces were Orcish ones, and as an elf, this gave me some pause, but truly, after getting to know them, I fell in with them easily enough, and was pleased for their company in our homeland.

Now, so far, you may be wondering how these events could have led to Calimba falling under an actual siege, rather than a mocked up one, and it began with this:

Some weeks after the King's Tourney began, two things happened in close proximity to one another, that set a curious chain of events in motion.

I missed it at the time, but in looking back now, there can be no mistaking it.  This was planned, though by whom or what, I cannot say.  Still.  And it infuriates me to no end!

The first event was a letter from our Hero, Machete, who reported that the tournament went well, but that the Crows had been ousted from the guardianship of the Kumala "node," and were rallying troops to try and reclaim it.

Velociryx lept at the opportunity to lend a hand, and immediately ordered every troop that could be spared from the City of Calima, under the command of one Gavin Hargreves.

I confess that I did not know much about the man, save for the fact that he seldom spoke, never raised his voice in anger that I heard, and was utterly devoted to Velociryx.

Just before his departure, I heard he and our HighLord conferring in the Throne Room.

"Realistically, what do you think my chances are?"  The General asked.

"Slim to none if you must know, but we need to show our Brothers, the Crows that we are useful...that we can contribute more than just trinkets and resources, and don't worry...I'll pull your bacon out of the fires if anything should happen to you...you're too valuable for me to lose, understand?"

He did, and the two men embraced before Hargreves mounted his charger and led some three thousand Calimban troops (a mix of heavy and light cavalry, with archers and swordsmen in support) off on their grand adventure.

Save for Hargreves himself, who was returned to us headless, along with his (equally headless) mount, it was the last we saw of them.

So that was the first.

The second was this:

Not quite two weeks after the troops had departed, I heard screaming just outside the gates of Cerilon.

A woman's voice, and I hastened to the gates to see what was the matter and if I could assist in any way.

"Scribe....Scribe I'm glad you are here!  We have to tell Velociryx!"

"Y-you were screaming...are you hurt M'Lady?"  I asked Kleodora in concerned tone.

She waved me off.  "Oh, that...no...that was mostly frustration.  I can't HURT them, blast their hides!"

I noted then, that she had a gash on her lovely forehead and another on her sword arm.

A fight then, and a fierce one, from the look of things.

"Hurt...who, precisely?"

"The minions of the Heart of Corruption."

"The...whowha?"  I asked, not sounding particularly Scribish just then.

Her brow furrowed rather prettily as she turned me back toward the way I had come and we hurried inside the gates.  "I've been tracking them for nearly a week now...the...vines, or growth, or whatever you want to call it that the Heart of Corruption spawned...all that's gone now, and these...Podlings, or Heart Minions, or...I don't even know what to call them precisely, but they've sprouted up in the place of the vines and are on the move...several score of them passed through my territory, headed here, and I've been tracking them...they're still moving, so I don't know if they mean to stop at the coast or keep going, but either way, there's a change in the Heart, and I thought Vel should know."

"Indeed he should!"  I agreed, and we picked up our pace.

They were called, as it turned out, Melders.

Being new to the region, I had never heard of them before, but when Kleo and I sat down with Velociryx to bring him this latest news, he seemed to know of them.

"Dark tidings indeed."  He murmured.  "And yes...to answer the question neither of you have asked yet, but which is writ plainly enough on your faces, I have at least some experience with them.  In fact, that's how I met Machete...I daresay I would not be here now if not for him...he saved my life."

"Aye, and I'll not soon let ye forget it, lad!"  The great Dwarf said with a rumbling chuckle as he set his tankard of ale on the table where we were all gathered.  It gave off an unsettling thud of finality.

"Both of us were marked by the day, we were."  The Dwarf continued, rolling up his sleeves to show me a series of long, ropy scars that traveled up most of the length of his well muscled arms.

Velociryx opened his shirt to reveal similar scaring on his chest, with a central mass that looked eerily like the drawings I had seen of the Heart of Corruption since beginning my research on the matter, and I found myself wondering for the thousandth time who these people were, that I had fallen in with.

"Well, if they're on the move, there's nothing for it...nothing we can do, except hope that they don't decide to stop here.  I can tell you that although we would fight valiantly, there would be little hope.  I have seen firsthand what their spores do to living tissue, and it isn't pretty."

We spoke at length about it, and later that afternoon, were joined by Renn and one of our newest Chimera, Zagar, who all confirmed seeing Melders in the vicinity of their holdings.

Whatever they were doing, there were a lot of them.

"Almost like a migration."  Renn offered.  "Like maybe...they did whatever they had intended where the Heart of Corruption was, and now..."

He didn't finish, and he didn't need to.  

It was unsettling, especially because these creatures...whatever they ultimately were, were so foreign to us.  So alien.

At the end though, we all agreed that we would triple the guard on our respective city gates, and pray that they simply passed us by, and this state of affairs continued for nearly the next month.

At its peak, we received the grim news that General Hargreaves had been slain, along with his entire force.  Two days later, his body was returned to us in the condition I described previously, and Velociryx, though he had known the likely outcome, was stricken with grief.

"Summon the Priests and Wizards."  He commanded.  "I promised him that I'd pull him back from the abyss if he met a bad end, and that is a promise I intend to keep."

This unsettled me.  Renn too, I noted, for he shifted uneasily at the pronouncement.  "My Lord...are you sure this is wise?  We know little about the Melders, but what we do know suggest that they are highly magical in their nature...a spell of this sort and power, cast while they are agitated, active and so near..."

"There's little choice, Scribe."  He told me.  "Every day he remains as the corpse he is, the spell gets harder to cast, and given that he was returned to us headless, it's already going to be difficult...Melders be damned, I keep my promises!"

He did, and I helped him.

Much to our collective sorrow.

To this day, I cannot tell you exactly what went wrong, and I'm an Elf.  Elves and magic go together like...tree houses and chocolate chip cookies, and...well, never mind.  In any case, I can tell you that the spell that got cast wasn't Elfin magic, though my own Wizards wove it out.

No, this was...an abomination.

I will not apologize, nor make excuses for us.  

Yes, had we been more watchful, we could have shut it down (I oversaw the process myself), and even after the spell was complete, had we been more decisive, it's possible that we could have killed that which we had just created (or reanimated, or...whatever it was we had done), but the sorry truth is...we didn't.  We weren't as vigilant as we should have been, and thousands ultimately paid the price.

It started off mundanely enough.  

A group of elderly, stately looking Wizards in the finest of their finery, solemnly joined in a circle, swaying slightly as they chanted the words to a spell nearly as old as time itself, in a language even older than that.

It was beautiful, in its way.  Stark and terrible in its beauty, and I was caught up in it, as I am when I see most things magical.

But less than a quarter of the way through the ceremony, just after we had reattached the fallen General's head with a binding incantation, something...happened.

A gust of wind blew in, powerful enough to extinguish all our candles and the three fire pots as well, bringing with it screeches, screams and cries from the night.

Then came the thunder...A fierce, growling thunder.

Had the word occurred to me then, perhaps that would have been the catalyst, but alas, it did not...only later did it re-enter my mind, and by then of course, it was much too late.

The wind, the thunder and the sudden darkness though...these were all mere trifles.

Distractions.

The main event was what happened with the spell.

An oily tentacle rose in the midst of the room, composed of nothing but shadow and thought.

It coiled itself around the energies that was our spell...that had been, to that point, steadily feeding into the body of Gavin Hargreves, and slowly...ever so slowly and carefully was breathing life back into that corpse, and then....

The energies darkened and intensified.

No longer did they feed into the lifeless body in measured steps, but rather plunged, deep and sudden, that empty vessel taking the full measure of those energies in a single instant.

There was a crash and an Elven scream, then more than one, though how many, I could not say.  I only know that when I regained my senses, my voice was but one of a chorus, and that although we could not name the reason for our fear, we also could not stop our own screaming.

In time, however, the limits of our own bodies took care of that, and one by one, our screams died in a series of hoarse, rasping coughs, and a short while after, the angry whine of those mystic energies faded as well.

I was about to breath a sigh of relief at that when one final growl of thunder rumbled, then went silent, and dear gods what took its place...

....a heartbeat.

A deep, slow...almost ponderous heartbeat that was loud enough for all of us to here there in the quiet after the maelstrom, and with every beat, I swear that each of us in the room jumped.

Jumped and flinched at the thought of...but no.  There was no thought then, because it was only half formed.

The truth of it was that we couldn't complete the thought.

It was that terrifying.

Then, our worst fears were realized when the body of Gavin Hargreves twitched once.

Again.

Then began sitting up on the stone table where we had lain him.

Somewhere screamed anew...I know not who, and three of my Wizards fled the room that instant.

I ordered the members of my House Guard I had with me to bar the doors as I gave chase, with my remaining Wizards just behind me.

Get the Wizards back here...reform the circle, then reenter the sealed chamber and put that thing down.  That....whatever it is that we have created.

That was the plan that flitted fleetingly through my mind as I raced to calm my men, and in time, I did.

Calm them I mean.

Courage and nerve restored, we went back to the sealed chamber to end the matter, but of course, it was far too late for that, and the chamber was not nearly as sealed as it had been when we left it, which is to say, it wasn't sealed at all.

The door, a sturdy brass and oaken thing, had been reduced to bits of kindling, and the half dozen guards I had posted outside...all slain, and tossed about the hall as though they were a mad giant's forgotten playthings.

Six lifeless, broken Elven soldiers.  The best of my personal guard, gone.

I wondered with dread how many more there would be before we contained this beast, and ran to rally more of my men, and that's when the word occurred to me.

The word that had been following me in one form or another since I first tried to leave this cursed island.

The rest, you can guess.

The General, or rather, whatever twisted thing came back when we tried to work our magic, went home to Calimba.

Once there, he killed the Lord-Mayor of the city and installed himself as the undisputed Master of that place, forcing the Court Mystics to mask his true form from the general population, and killing any who would not bow to him.

As soon as his base of power was secure, he declared the city to be wholly independent, and began making regular patrols within a day's ride of the city gates to enforce his will, and I responded with the only option I had left, in my estimation.

I rallied my own forces and marched on the city to lay in a siege of it, which I had been planning to do anyway, but in mocked up style.  Now, it was for real, and I was as terrified as my men.  Nonetheless, we had to root him out.

Two days after the siege began, it became clear that the General would not come quietly, and in fact, he had taken to beheading the corpses of those slain by our siege efforts, and displaying them atop the wall, while shooting the headless bodies back at us.

Whether this fascination with headless bodies was a specific strategy designed to dishearten us (which it very definitely did), or some after effect of his own death and headless state before we partially restored him, I cannot say to this date.

In the end, all I do know is that my men kept up the pressure on the mighty gates of Calimba, the city of light and music until at last we sundered them, then charged in and gave battle to those who remained inside.

In all, I lost more than two thousand men before we brought the creature low with enchanted weapons and silver.

We re-beheaded the body and burned it, sealing the ashes in a silvered urn and dropping them into the sea so as to take no chances, and while that solved the immediate problem and brought what was left of Calimba into my fold as planned, none of it would restore her glittering spires, nor put notes of joyous music back into the air of her streets.

I was touring the damage...walking along a dust and corpse strewn lane that had once (as near as I could tell) been a market district, when Velociryx found me.

"Are you coming to dinner tomorrow evening?  Main Hall, Cerilon?"

I shook my head and bowed it.  "I'm surprised you would even invite me after...all this."  I said wearily, not meeting the HighLord's gaze.

I saw his shadow nod in the late day sun.  "Aye...there's much to recover from, tis true, but this was not all your doing.  My own stubborn pride surely played a role...had I been content to let that one promise to a dead man go, I could have saved thousands of lives.  It is a mistake I'll not make again...I...I sometimes forget that in this position, I must temper my decisions based on what's good for the whole, and not what's "right," because the two aren't always the same.  Mostly yes...but not always.  I forgot that, and it cost us.  It cost us dearly."

"Don't be so hard on yourself."  I told him.  "No matter that it was a bit sloppy and bloody, we came through, and I'll rebuild her.  Down to the last spire and fluttering banner, I'll restore her to her former glory.  You have my oath on it."

He smiled wanly at that.  "Everyone else will be there, and they'll not understand if you can't come.  In fact, it could start a rumor that I had you murdered or banished you, or something equally silly.  Promise me.  The rebuilding can wait a day."

"What's the occasion?"  I asked him.  "Why are we all getting together?"

He seemed surprised, but then shrugged.  "I guess perhaps you would lose track of days, being in the field with the troops and all.  Thanksgiving."  He told me.  "The fall festival of our Mighty King, and despite these recent troubles, we have much to be thankful for."

And that was certainly true enough.

"I'll be there."  I told him.

And I meant it.

Where else would I go?

That word entered my mind again.

Where else indeed.

I wondered if was even possible for me...for any of us to leave this island (which I increasingly thought of as cursed), and resolved to put that to the test, not long after the Thanksgiving Day feast.

~Scribe

In an important development on Devil's Isle today, the City of Argenia has been peacefully handed over to Velociryx in exchange for an undisclosed sum.

Settlers were standing by, and this immediately led to the settlement of a new town, Vestford, further north of Argenia.

"I've reached the northen extent."  Velociryx told a small gathering of reporters.  "This is where we stop in the north.  And now that this has been accomplished, it's time to turn to...other matters."

Rumors have been swirling for months that, due to the previous aborted attempts at negotiating a peaceful settlement of the provacative land claim in the Ancient Forest southeast of Parthaway (-896, -636) and the rebuffed offers to purchase the city of KV Kumala, that stronger measures might be considered.

Could this statement be a prelude to that, or are there other matters currently before the young alliance?

At the moment, there are more questions than answers, but we will keep you posted.

~Nicholas Hanby, reporting for the Blind Scribe

It's been a busy day for Velociryx, who today, expressed grave concern for the wildlife in the region.

"Look...we understand that many of the jungle's creatures can be used in crafting and enchanting items...we get that, and we're by no means putting a stop to all hunting in the realm...what we are saying, however, is that poachers caught killing and or harvesting inside our sovereign territory will be killed on sight.

It's our intention to give the wildlife a place to grow in safety, and when we feel the time's right, we'll cull the herd ourselves."

This decision was reached after hearing arguments from the Council of Lords, a newly formed advisory board of land owners on Devil's Island about fears that all the wild animals might soon go extinct on the island because of rampant, unchecked hunting and a rapidly expanding human population.

"Between the two of us (ed: here, the HighLord refers to himself and his Scribe), we have far and away the largest contiguous landholdings on the island, so it just made sense to locate the preserve here.  It's a joint venture between the two of us, and applicable to the full extent of both territories.  The rules are simple...effective immediately, poach, and you risk life and limb.  Selected hunting and harvesting permits will be considered, so interested parties should contact us to work out the particulars."

He told this reporter.

~Nicholas Hanby, reporting for the Blind Scribe

Attentive readers will no doubt have noted a new byline as of the last entry, and may be wondering why that is and how that came to be.

This entry will explain the curious events leading up to Master Ghent's "career change," in addition to shedding more light on the subject of life on Devil's Isle in general, and inside the REALM in particular.

It began as "Graduation Day" approached.

You may recall a certain Scribe's trepidation about the Chimera, back when he thought they were actual monsters who ate Elven slaves...back before he became one of their number and went from being a fan of the alliance leader, to being profoundly suspicious of him, then back to being a fan, actually joining Chimera, and getting a posting in the Court of the HighLord.

All this, after what he felt was an attempt on his life via weather spell (possibly called 'Stormbind' though that term may be related to something other than the name of the spell), which left him rather waterlogged and stranded very far from home.

After the nasty business with the undead general (courtesy of the Melders and a misfired spell to ressurect the unfortunate man), which left the City of Calimba a shadow of its former self (war and famine having reduced the population from nearly twenty-six thousand to less than eight thousand), there followed a period of rebuilding.

It was backbreaking work, yes, even for the members of the HighLord's council. It appears that before REALM's HighLord was a HighLord, he was a man of the people. A commoner, if you will, and because of that, he did not shirk from physical labor, and made sure that none of his Court did, either.

"Hard day's work with sweat in your eyes and cuts on your hands...good for the soul." He told an unhappy Scribe in the midst of one of the innumerable sixteen hour days that followed. "And, since we're in leadership positions, when we're done here, we'll sup, then convene for a few hours to discuss the events of import in the REALM before catching a few winks and starting all over again."

"Sounds charming." Scribe muttered drolly.

And so it went.

Rebuilding Calimba stone by stone, yes, but also, taming the once fearsome jungle. Mastering it, and as anyone who has ever wrestled with Devil's Vine will tell you, that is no easy task.

Fortunately, it was a task made somewhat easier by virtue of the fact that the alliance had drawn the attention of several folken who had recently migrated to Kumala. Among the new arrivals were Timrath, and his brothers Apollonius and Wazdakka, from...well, they were somewhat unclear in that point, but apparently from far to the north and east, with Wazdakka, the youngest of the three, (bearing strong signs of Orcish ancestry), actually having been born aboard a ship as their family left (or were chased from? - again, these details are unclear) an island that is supposedly not unlike our own, but in the extreme eastern portions of the Kingdom.

These brothers were not islanders, living north of Devil's Island itself, in the lush and fertile lands that run north from the coast until they hit the great burning desert (more on that later). The elder and youngest brother made their homes in these endless forests and rolling savannahs, while the middle brother, Appolonius, struck further north and made his home in the desert proper. Why this is so, we cannot say, but it apparently has nothing to do with a familial feud or the like...the three are always together in Court and seem to get along famously. One can only speculate then, that the middle brother has a love of sun and sand.

In any case, they joined our merry band of madmen, along with a trio of Orcs (Mudd-Slinger,Clermont, and UnWritten, followed not long after by a dwarf known only as "The PeaceKeeper."

Zagar the Elf Lord and his travelling companion Sidhe joined at around that same time, as did the human called Baych, so the Court could well be said to be expanding at a rapid clip.

Of all the new arrivals though, none brought quite as much buzz as the arrival of the Dwarf called Bezi.

The day was steamy and muggy, which is to say it was like almost every day of the year on Devil's Isle, and Lady Kleodora was out picking herbs in the garden just behind the Main Hall in Cerilon.

I was on a bench within earshot when one of her dogs (she never went anywhere without at least one of her great Mastiffs) suddenly went stiff and alert, a low growl in his throat that made every hair on my body stand on end.

The three of us...Kleo, myself, and the dog heard the snap of a twig and a muffled curse, then, emerging from the jungle came a gruff-looking Dwarf who appeared to have walked from the western end of the island to the eastern without stoping to bathe or sleep. There were bugs in his matted beard, and his axe oozed with the sap of the Devil's Vine.

He speaks to her in his native tongue, but she (not being fluent in Dwarven) does not understand.

In fact, of all that he says, there's only one word she understands...."Machete."

Nodding at this at least, she inquires, "So...you want Machete. You're looking for Machete."

He shakes his head and motions as if in a hurry. again speaking. "Machete!" he says .

Curious and concerned, she bids him follow and leads him toward the Main Hall, and I confess that my own curiosity got the better of me, so I tagged along as well.

We made the Main Hall to find the usual suspects all in their usual places, and Velociryx looked up from his charts and figures as we entered.

"My Lord...I bring this Dwarf, who seems to be looking for Machete."

"For me ye say?" The Dwarven Warrior asked over a comfortable belch as he stood and wiped the ale foam from his beard. "What can I..."

Suddenly, a smile lit up his face and he roared with laughter. "Bezi!! you old buzzard! what brings you out this far?"

Machete slapped Bezi on his back and led him to one of a number of overstuffed chairs set 'round the seldom used fireplace.

"Kleo...mead for my old friend, if you would?"

She nodded at this and went to fetch a servant, and the two started to talk in low tones.

On her way out of the chamber, she chanced a glance at the HighLord, who pretended to be busy with his figures, but was obviously listening intently.

What they were discussing that afternoon, I cannot say. Neither Lady Kleo nor I spoke the language, and no information about the conversation was forthcoming later, but it's a matter that bears watching and leads to unavoidable speculation.

Time will tell what it means.

At any rate, all of this to underscore the fact that we were growing, and at a rapid pace.

That was a good thing, because it made taming this unrelenting place all the easier...more hands meaning faster progress, and all that.

So, it was none too surprising when the day arrived that our first two Chimera were ready to cut the strings that bound them to their Sponsors and make their own way in the world.

The first two to meet all the requirements were Renn and the Scribe.

In celebration, a small, quiet ceremony was held wherein both men were presented with a banner and badge befitting of their station. The blazon of the Chimera, which both fly proudly over their own Main Halls.

The blazon of the Chimera contains three main elements: The Lion, The Gryphon, and the Eagle. Strength, Courage, and Generosity...this last bit is of import because each of the Chimera is expected to Sponsor at least one new Chimera who will follow in his footsteps.

(OOC: the badges of both men can be seen in their profiles)

Now, you must understand something about us and our ways. This may seem barbaric to you, but I assure you that it is most necessary, because Kumala is an unforgiving place.

When the ceremony had ended, Velociryx placed a kind hand on each man's shoulder.

"Run."

He told them unceremoniously.

They looked momentarily confused.

"Run!" He roared at them. "Already there are forces marching on one of your cities, a thing which I have arranged personally. They will do their level best to burn you to the ground. You have these blazons, but you've not formally earned them until you survive this last test. Break the siege and stand fully on your own. Good luck and Godspeed, brothers...now run!"

And they did.

Renn broke the siege of Sokkala in two attacks. Scribe took three to break the siege of Sutheron, but both men succeeded.

Now...you may recall reading an earlier entry about a "Trial by Fire," to be delivered by members of The-Company-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named....this is the trial by fire that was referred to.

This is what the HighLord meant.

A final test to ensure that all who called themselves Chimera had the practical battlefield experience to go with everything else they had learned as they grew.

Interestingly, up to this point, the Scribe had been focused almost exclusively on matters of trade and raw production.

He had just begun focusing on matters of magic, but hadn't paid much attention at all to his military.

Yes, he had a military, and it even had some combat experience, but that had been a joint effort involving the entire Court...he had not appointed so much as a single General, having relied on the expertise of his fellow Court Members during the incident with the Undead General.

So it was that our Scribe was desperate to find someone...anyone who could actually lead his troops into battle, and so it was that he discovered that Tylo Ghent had spent four years serving as a mid-ranking officer in what he called "The Rift Wars," where he led mid-sized bands of warriors (with some success, it must be said) against the undead hordes that poured forth to battle the living in years past.

He was, in a word, the best option available at the time, and the Scribe promoted him.

Three attacks later and the siege was broken, and Tylo Ghent the Reporter, became Tylo Ghent the General...a posting he has to this day.

~Nicholas Hanby, Reporting from Devil's Isle

(couldn't get the "insert vid" option to work, so...just the link...

So yesterday I was in my city of Hidden Vale.

Just spending time with the local administrator and overseeing this particular corner of my vastly expanded holdings, and it's an odd thing, you know?  Having holdings at all, much less vastly expanded ones.  Most curious, that.

Anyway, while there, the Lord-Mayor of the city told me that I really MUST spend time with two of the more colorful characters who inhabit his fair city, a couple of Swampers called Tal and Ezarn.

Swampers aren't generally "my kind" of people.

I'm more at home in great libraries and universities than I am in rickety, shallow-bottomed boats with a pair of bearded, nearly toothless men who look and smell as though they've never actually met a hot bath in scented water.

Nonetheless, the journey that originally brought me here was one grounded in a sense of adventure, and I spent the early part of my time here blazing trails through sections of jungle choked with Devil's Vine, and worse, so my body remembered, even if my mind rebelled and recoiled slightly.

It was in that remembered spirit of adventure that I said yes to the Lord-Mayor's proposal though, and I'm glad I did!

The two men, Tal and Ezarn had grown up in the swamps not far from what was now the thriving city of Hidden Vale, and insisted that they knew the best fishin' hole in the area.

Wanting to show off to their Lord and Master, they guided me through two days of hiking through hellish terrain (much more hellish than I recalled, if you must know), then to their "little bit o' paradise," which was a 'cabin' (and I use the term generously) on the edge of the water.

A strong wind would probably have blown the place over, but this was their palace, and they gave me the grand tour of both of its rooms.

We sat down at their table on chairs which were little more than the uprooted stumps of trees and supped on a thick stew containing at least two kinds of meat and a variety of brightly colored vegetables, none of which I could identify.

Then, after lunch (which really was delicious, despite my misgivings), they took me to their shallow bottomed boat, and proceeded to row me out into the thickest part of the swamp for the better part of a full day.

It was at this point in the journey that it occured to me that if Tal and Ezarn were more than simple Swampers...if they were, in fact, assassins acting on the orders of Haven's Lord-Mayor, my goose would be well and truly cooked, as I'd have little chance against them both in their own territory, and even if I survived an assassination attempt here, my chances of making it back to civilization from the depths of this trackless place were next to nil.

It troubled me, yes, but also, it was too late to do anything about it.  If they meant me harm, then my fate was already sealed, so I settled back and tried to enjoy the trip.

In time, we arrived, and I must confess, my guides were correct.

The fishing was unlike anything I'd ever experienced.

We literally caught more than we could fit in the boat without risk of swamping her.  As it was, we were riding so low in the water after only six hours of fisihing that the least disruption would send the swamp rushing over the sides of our tiny craft, so most of the way back home, I spent bailing frantically to keep us from losing our means of transportation through the foreboding bog.

I'm happy to report, however, that Tal and Ezarn were not assassins, that I came through the adventure no worse for the wear, and several pounds heavier on account of gorging myself on delicious and expertly-cooked fish, and that I plan to order the swamp to be claimed as part of our sovereign territory at the very next opportunity.

'The Boys,' as they insisted on my calling them, knew an amazing amount about Elven Lore, though they be Human Swampers.

How they came to know such things given the isolation of their home is beyond me, but I shall relay in brief what they told to me.

It seems at some point in Elgea's distant past, the great burning desert in northern Kumala was as lush and green as the island we all now call home.

Even more interesting was that it was one of the ancient Elven Homes.  In this case, home to a wild, painted group of Elves whose hunting prowess and connection to the land was rivaled only by their mastery of magic.

At some point, tall pale men descended from the north and began hacking their way into the jungles taking timber to build their LongHouses and fortresses.

The Elves attempted to communicate with the large, loud-and-graceless strangers, but to no avail.  Elves who appeared before the North Men were simply cut down like animals.

The Elves struck back, but it quickly became clear that the North Men were more numerous by far, and fierce fighters in their own right.

True, they may not have been graceful or lithe, but their were fearsomely strong, and their tactics, brutish or not, were effective.

Fearing for their continued existence, the Elves resorted to magic to save them, and Shamans from all the Elven Tribes in that part of the forest gathered together to cast a mighty spell designed to rid the land of the hated North Men once and for all.

Rid the land of them it did, but there was a price to be paid.

The land itself was so poisoned...so blighted by the magicks of the spell that nothing would grow there, and the things already living there began to wither and die, and when the green things died, they turned into a fine, useless ash, rather than being returned to the earth to be reused by our Great Mother.

This is what created the great desert of the north, and legends say that in each of the locations of the forty tribes that once called the area home, in the place where each tribe's leaders held Council, are the tears of the Elven People.

Today, these tears are highly prized because of their rarity, but in truth, there are few known uses for them.  They are mere trifles.  Baubles without practical value.

They do serve as a reminder, however, that sometimes, in the quest to solve one problem, we can inadvertently create another for ourselves.

I had heard bits of that before, but as my Gran Pere told the tale to me, the Elves of the forest knew full well what effects the spell would have, and strove to create the desert as a barrier against the North Men, who were known to favor colder climes, on the thinking that such a burning land would prove an impassable barrier to them.  Then, the story went, the Elven People could live in what remained of the Emerald Death for the rest of eternity without interference.

Whichever interpretation is true and correct, it was mightily surprising to hear some version of the tale passing the lips of a couple of Swampers on Devil's Island, and at some point, in listening to their story, it occured to me that history is a tapestry, with each thread being contributed by a different actor on the stage of the world, coming together to weave a whole.

That's what gave me the answer to the charge that HighLord Velociryx had given me, to develop a strategy to help us grow our alliance.

A recruitment strategy, if you will.  The results of my inspiration are below, for your consideration.

http://youtu.be/9kYyFWjSCMM" rel="nofollow - REALM Recruitment Vid - Final

~Scribe

There was a current of fear and uncertainty in the Halls of the HighLord.

A gauntlet had been thrown down, and it threatened to derail all that we had worked for to this point.

A silly thing, really, but it's amazing how sometimes the silliest little things can have consequences that echo through the ages.

So it was with the settlement on Imp Island.

Imp Island is a less-than-impressive spit of land.  A mere speck off the coast of the main island, but blessed with year round good weather, being sheltered from nearly all storms by the protection offered by Thunder Bay (which, I assume, is named as it is to be a joke - like calling a towering giant 'Tiny,' because I've never seen more than the occasional light rain fall across Thunder Bay).

In any case, the trouble started when Bezi the Dwarf sought to expand his holdings, and cast his eye toward the tiny, sheltered island.

"Fine."  The HighLord told him with barely a thought.  

No Lord in all of Illyriad had laid a sovereign claim to the island, and as far as we were concerned, it was ripe for the taking if we wanted it.

So it was that settlers were sent, and industrious Dwarven craftsmen began unloading and duly building a new settlement there.

A representative of Lord Poeme, speaking from the city of Kryptonopolis disagreed, and petitioned to his HighLord (ruler of a vast collection of far flung city states with many, many times our scant population and manpower), and made an issue of it.

Per their charter, he claimed the land belonged rightfully to him (informal 10-tile Illy convention), and he expressed his desire to eventually build a settlement there himself.

War was actually threatened over this tiny speck of green in an otherwise sparkling blue bay, and let us be frank about the matter, this was a contest we could not win, a fact we knew full well, which was the reason for the aforementioned current of tension and fear.

"They say war will come if we don't remove the settlement."  Timrath told the assembled Council.  "I should say that's fairly unequivocal."

"Agreed."  Velociryx said with his hands on his head.  "Not much wiggle room there.  Have our brethren in STEEL been contacted?"

"Yes, but their answer was most troubling."

"What was it?"

"They told us to stand down.  To cave in and give the Lords of Soon anything they asked for."

Velociryx looked stunned, and fell silent.

Something cracked and broke loose on his face and in his eyes, just as something had cracked and broken loose in the Covenant of Steel that bound the three alliances (STEEL, REALM, and FORGE) together.

"We approach our allies for assistance, in good faith and through proper channels, and THAT is all the reply we get?"

No one spoke in answer.

"With friends like that, I'm not sure we NEED enemies, you know?" He blew out a frustrated breath.  "We can't just cave though, you know?  What kind of signal would that send?"

There was silence for a long moment.

"So...the bottom line is...we're on our own.  We've been threatened, our allies refuse to answer our call for aid, and if a solution is to be found, we'll have to do it on our own...our "friends" have left us with our arses hanging out in the wind."

"Well,"  Timrath offered, "We could still force the issue then...if they want it gone that badly, let them take it.  We can't expect that anybody would come to our aid, and we would surely lose the contest, but they would not erase us for that one little island, and it would give them a diplomatic black eye to the rest of the world."

And that was likely true...a Titan picking on a small child.  Still...how much pain could we endure if we chose that path?  We were as yet still young and fragile.  Too much pressure applied could shatter us completely.  A frightening thought.

"What if we offer to sell the settlement?  Then, everybody has a graceful exit, right?  We get to claim we weren't chased off, and they get what they want."

"I already approached them with that."  Machete said, slamming a massive fist onto the oaken table.  "They said since it was rightfully theirs, any offer to sell it to them amounted to extortion."

"Not really...we're offering to sell them the labor that went into creating the village...not the land, and they had nothing to do with the labor."

"They disagree."

"Well then, what can I say but that some people have a funny way of looking at the world, you know?  Okay...selling it's off the table.  Other options?"

No one spoke.

"Come on, People!  We either cower before them and do as they demand, or make them take it from us and get a bloody nose--in the very best case-- for it.  It falls to us to figure out a way to handle this...preferably one that doesn't involve thousands of deaths over what should be an insignificant speck of land."

Something about that statement did it.  Like pulling a lever, suddenly everyone had something to say, and the debate raged long into the night, and into the next day...

In the end, what was settled on was an idea brought to the table by two of the fairer folk among us...working with heads together and speaking in low whispers, Sidhe and Kleodora drafted the beginnings of the plan we ultimately used.

"What if we agree to remove the settlement but make an amendment to our Charter, holding their alliance--and only their alliance--to the same territorial standard as they hold the rest of the world, and to the rest of the world, we'll continue to use our, "claim sov or you don't own it" paradigm?"

Several sets of eyes poured over maps of the region.  "Well...if Lord Poeme's HighLord will go for it, then Poeme's own expansion plans would have to be shelved...if he has a valid claim on it, then so do our cities of Bounty and Dented...conflicting claims cancel and it's a no man's land."

The question was...would they accept those terms.

No one wanted to pick the messenger to ride to the city of Kryptonopolis to find out, because no one wanted to (potentially) sign the poor man's death warrant.

Ultimately, Velociryx sent one of his own riders with the proposed settlement, and every Lord in the Council Chamber waited on pins and needles to hear back.

Velociryx gave everyone apartments in the Main Hall to accomodate them for an extended stay, as no one was interested in leaving before understanding what would become of us.

In six days time, we had our answer, when the messenger burst back into the Hall, alive and well and waving a scroll case in his upraised right hand.  "They said yes!  I have the agreement in writing here!"

"So, crisis averted then?  They agree to abide by the same restrictions they're holding us to?"

"Indeed so!  I have a signed charter from their HighLord himself, stating as much!"

The whole room breathed a sigh of relief, and the current that had kept everyone keyed up for days on end, died as quickly as it had been generated.

It wasn't perfect, but it was as big a win as could be expected under the circumstances, and certainly better than many of the alternatives we had been dreading, and it earned Ladies Kleodora and Sidhe a standing ovation, and the two beauties, already with no shortage of admirers, got several invitations to the upcoming Christmas Ball on the spot.

As for me, as soon as I had filed the new treaty away and made the appropriate changes to our Charter, I cornered our HighLord to get his read on things.

"I wish we could have kept the settlement."  He told me plainly.  "It's not that this is a bad deal, because it isn't, and it's a lot better than we could have been facing if the answer had gone some other direction, but long term, this is going to come up again...it closes off too much of Devil's Island...turns too much of it into an outright dead zone.  Eventually, we'll have to address that."

"Eventually."  I told him.  "As in...not right now....as in, not before the Christmas Ball."

He smiled at that and nodded.  "Quite so.  Definitely not before the Christmas Ball, and in truth, this agreement can see us through for quite some time, but the day will come when we'll need to circle back to this....just understand that it's out there...somewhere on the horizon."

"Understood."  I told him, glad that he was pleased, and grateful that with this event behind us, attention could now turn toward planning this year's Christmas Ball.

With so many trials and tribulations faced so far, spirits were flagging.  Indeed, Calimba sat like an open sore and took all the joy from the Feast of Thanksgiving, but now...with something we could call a diplomatic win under our belts, and with Calimba slowly recovering from her many wounds, the Christmas Ball was suddenly looking fine indeed.

~Scribe

The world was all hazy light and noise and confusion.

I did not know where I was, but I surely wished that the screaming would stop.

It took me the span of several heartbeats to realize that this, at least, was (or should have been) under my control, as the screaming was issuing from my tortured throat.  Still, even knowing this fact and consciously trying to quiet my own ragged voice accomplished nothing at all.

It hurt...Gods but it hurt, and my body seemed to have a mind of its own.

It wanted to scream, and scream it did.

There were other sounds besides.

Voices, though I couldn't make sense of the words at the time.

"Hold him...hold him!  Ahhhh Christ, cut it!  No no, that one! "

"I've got him...I've...arrrrrgh!"

"Here comes another swarm...make ready!"

Blackness.

I told you I was going to try to leave this place, and I'm an Elf of my word, although I confess that I am conflicted by that decision.

On the one hand, it's not hard to fall in love with this place.  With the harsh and unforgiving nature of the land.  With the fact that you can never quite let your guard down, or Kumala herself is likely to rise up and try to kill you, and then of course, there's the place's natural beauty.

Such beauty as you northern folk simply have no words for, and could never imagine.

It's awe inspiring, it truly is.

Then of course, there's the Christmas Ball to consider.  I'm excited about that and want to attend.  

On the other hand, I cannot shake the feeling that the land is cursed, and by extension, any who dwell here are also cursed.

A beautiful prison is still, at the end of its day, a prison, and I wanted out of my cage and off the island.

I wanted that badly enough to risk life and limb to attempt it.

Again.

Knowing full well what had happened the last time I'd tried (the finally tally where the shipwreck was concerned was 86 dead, by the way).

I informed my HighLord of my intentions and told him that if I made it off the island, I'd appoint a second here, and rule in absentia, and he was fine with that.  I think he was curious too, though I suppose he could have been humoring me.  There was something in his eyes, however, that said maybe he felt vaguely trapped also.  Most curious, but of course, I did not ask him about it.

In any case, he offered to see me to the coast, expecting, I think that it would just be the two of us, but his Court was as loyal as they were protective, and those who were in the Council Chamber when I made my announcement (the Orc Prince 'Waz,' Lady Kleodora, Machete, and the Finn) all agreed that it was much too dangerous to go as a pair, and volunteered to accompany us.

So it was that we all set out, striking a path that led northward and east from Cerilon to the Hermitage, from there to Argenia, and thence to the small but quite serviceable port at Vestford (Velocirix finally having acquired a proper port situated toward the mainland).

The only part of the journey that was expected to be even passingly dangerous was the last leg from Argenia to Vestford, because a proper road had not yet been constructed to connect the two, but by now, we were all old hands at this.  We all knew Kumala well and felt that she had few (if any) surprises left in her.

How mistaken we were!

Nonetheless, this is the mindset each of us had as we left the great city of our HighLord and rode northward, and the weather was fine indeed!

Only in the mid 80's and the humidity was tolerable.  Not a cloud in the sky, when we could see the sky, of course...a simply stunning day, and our spirits were high.

They were high on the second day as well.

And the third, when we reached the Hermitage.

They continued to be high, and the weather strangely held until we reached Argenia.

It even held a while longer than that, letting us get about halfway to Vestford before She (meaning here, Kumala herself) turned on us.

Passing near to a low, weathered mountain called Coral (both because it appears to be made of coral, and because the trees around it are heavily infested with a kind of snake bearing that same name), the snakes began to....well, to be honest, at first it was hard to say what they were doing.

Attacking us, was my first thought, and there were thousands of them.

They wriggled and writhed and slithered out of the densest part of the jungle and made straight for us.

Of course, I think subconsciously we had all been expecting something (and at least in my particular case, there was nothing subconscious about it--I was convinced that our luck would not hold...that the island would actively try to prevent us from leaving), and now, here it was.

Snakes by the thousand, pouring out of the thickest growth and making for us.

We all drew steel and lit fires, but here's the thing:  When dealing with thousands of individuals in a swarm, these implements are nigh on useless.  Something is bound to get through whatever defense you can erect, and so it was here.

What was both puzzling and troubling though, was that the snakes did not seem to care about us either way.

They were...

Oh Gods they were fleeing.

Running away from something worse, which meant...

I shouted for my companions and turned to face the direction that the snakes were coming from full on, straining to see what might be coming through all that impossibly dense growth but it was just no good, there was....

...movement!

Yes, there on the left!  I could have sworn I saw....

That's when the vine hit me like a bullwhip.

"Melders!"  Someone screamed, and that seemed as good an explanation as any.

Some form of elemental earth magic was animating the vines, and not just any vine...oh no.

Whatever force was behind this was specifically animating Devil's Vine.

A tendril as thick as my thumb wrapped itself around my throat and began pulling tight even as I thought this, and I could see that it was fairly bleeding its cursed sap...

That's when the pain hit.

More vines encircled my legs and the knees and pulled me to the ground.

"Help!"  I cried..."I need he..."  My words were choked off as another vine forced its way into my mouth.

I felt spores bursting and knew I was done for.

Then...blackness.

Then, after a time, that hazy, confused light I mentioned before.

Screams and desperate shouts and voices before the blackness claimed me again.

Stormbind, of course.

It had to be.

I dreamt, and in my dream, the Heart of Corruption spoke to me.

Told me that I had been marked.  Branded by the land itself, and I was to wear the mark with pride.

That I would wake from my sleep soon, and would know pain for the rest of my days.  It would serve as a reminder that I belonged here now.  To Kumala.

That's when I realized that Kumala was not land...or rather, was not merely land, but a part of something else.  Some great beast that we could not completely see, and could only comprehend as...this. 

This place.

And if that were true (if my fevered dream/vision could be trusted in the least), then maybe the Heart of Corruption was an actual organ of sorts.  Maybe it was really...literally the beating heart of Kumala, and as such, perhaps it wasn't corrupt in the least, at least not from her point of view.  True, maybe it "corrupted" the land we lived on, but if the land was merely a metaphor for some larger, greater entity, then the corruption was just a shadow of the metaphor.  Not real.

I understood then.

Had a moment of perfect, blissful clarity about what Kumala was, why we could not leave (and shouldn't want to), what the Melders actually were, and why they were so dreadfully important to us all, and I knew that when I awoke, the clarity would be gone and I'd be just as confused about it all as I had been before the dream.

Just as in the dark.

One thing I did know, however, and knew that I'd remember later, was the Devil's Vine.  When the Heart of Corruption began spreading, that's how it did it.  It "took control of" Devil's Vine and made it grow even faster than the stuff did naturally.  The two were...linked somehow.  I knew that, even if I might be a bit hazy on the particulars.  Still, that was important, wasn't it?

I thought so.

I still do.

True to her (Kumala's) word, I hurt everywhere when I awoke.

So did the others, but of all of us, I had gotten received the worst treatment at the hands of the animated Devil's Vine (the Heart of Corruption, I told myself).

Anywhere the vines had touched, they burned, and anywhere they burned, they left a scar.

The scars stood out starkly on my pale Elven skin, and I looked rather like a monster.

I've never been an especially vain sort, but why did it have to be my face?!

I was dismayed, but Waz came to my rescue, and pulled me out of my sorrow.

He said it would hurt some, but only briefly, and when he was done, I'd bear my new scars proudly.

I asked him what he meant and he explained.

When he did, I agreed, and that is how I (an Elf) came to have tattoos of Orcish design on my face.

They cover the scars, and I bear them (thank you, Waz!) and the marks of Kumala with pride now, as I shall for the rest of my days.

The healers of the HighLord tell me that I'll be able to get out of bed in another day or two, and that is good.

The angry redness will have gone out of skin around my new tattoos, and I should present quite a striking picture at the Christmas Ball.

Maybe Kleo and Sidhe will dance with me.

I think I'd rather enjoy that.

Dancing with Angels.

For now then, I will get these words into the hands of those that can get them to you, and rest.

Know this:  Having tried once more to leave, and having been marked for my efforts, I'm convinced.

I have forgotten most of what came to me in my fevered dream, but not all, and I will not try to leave this land again.

A storm's coming, and we must, each of us, decide how we'll react when it arrives.

What we'll do.

As for me...I'm staying right here.

Right where I belong.

~Scribe

Ahhh...what can one say about the annual Yule Ball?  A fine tradition by any reckoning, and ours had been weeks in the planning, but here's the thing, and a topic I suspect we'll be wrestling with for years to come.

The sorry truth of it is that Kumala is an unforgiving bitch of a Mother.  She's a hard, brutal land, and as such, the fairer sex tend to shy away from her, preferring to keep their lands in climes that take less effort to wrestle to the ground and bend to their will.  For this reason, our Balls were always something of a tense, lonesome affair.

Sure, there are no shortage of fair maids from the local townships, and these very definitely get invited, but nothing glitters in the night quite like a highborn Lady wearing her very finest, jewels glittering and hair dressed as she takes a turn around the dance floor...these are the Angels of the Evening, and the competition for their attention is fierce indeed, even to the point of death, though this is rare.  

Still, it's truer than true that not a Ball comes and goes without things coming to blows or blades at some point in the evening, with first blood generally (but as I say, not always) deciding the matter.

This year was...different.  Different in ways I struggle to define, and I'm not talking about the new additions to my face.

We had come through, you know?  In many ways, there was a sense of...not merely survival, but of arrival.

We'd had our first diplomatic crisis, and it didn't blow up in our faces or kill us, and it could have.  We all understood that it could have.

So there was that, but it wasn't just that.  There was also a sense of taming this Great Beast of a land, and in that, enormous strides had been made.

The Devil's Road, once a deadly shortcut taken at one's own risk, was now more like the Devil's Highway, with paved lanes and heavy traffic (a fairly even mix of foot, wagon, and horse), and the jungle was beaten and cut and burnt back on a constant basis to keep it from encroaching too heavily on our civilized areas.

At last survey, there were in the neighborhood of sixty cities on Devil's Island, and more than half belonged to members of our proud Alliance.  Nearly 90% belonged to us, or members of our extended alliance family, so there was much to be proud of by way of accomplishments so far.

Even better, with less than twenty members, and only three quarters of a million people under our banner, we had managed to scrape and claw our way from 101st place on the King's Roster of Noble Houses to 53rd, and in a very short time, at that.

Our rise was nothing short of meteoric, and we had just (for the first time ever) taken our place as the highest ranked of the three alliances in our alliance family (consisting of [REALM],  [STEEL], and [FORGE]).  These were good things.  These were big, important milestones for us, and the future was bright indeed.

This was the spirit that so infused the Christmas Ball.

That sense of momentum.

Of purpose.

Of not merely waiting for Fate to hand down this or that decree about our futures, but rather, boldly striding out to meet it.  To work it with our hands, wrestle it to the ground if needs be, and truly make it our own.

We were the little alliance that could, and there was a bounce in our collective step because of it.

The Ball was all glitter and light, and although it was not cold, I had my Court Mages summon snow as we gathered around our Christmas tree in the courtyard of the Main Hall.

It lasted about an hour, then melted away...claimed by the thirsty Goddess, Kumala, and when it did, we retired inside for an evening of dancing and feasting and song.

A beautiful, glorious night, and we all danced the tribal dance (fittingly enough, simply called 'Come Kumala'), and our Angels of the Ball were gracious and took the time to dance with each of the men of the Court.

Kleodora even complimented me on my tattoos, putting me at ease about them and telling me they made me look savage and roguish, and that she very much approved.

After blushing an even deeper shade of scarlet than the ink on my face, I murmured my thanks, and she spun off to dance with another.

I caught sight of an intoxicated Velociryx...our HighLord, dancing atop one of the feasting tables late in the evening after our meals had been long cleared.

Shirtless, I could plainly see the ropy scars that seemed to grasp toward his heart, thought about Kumala and her Heart, even as we danced the dance called 'Come Kumala,' and wondered for the thousandth time at what power this land...this fierce goddess had over us, and what she ultimately had in store for us.

But mostly, I lost myself in the moment and danced with our assembled host.

There was life here, and love and family.

There was purpose here, and the land itself seemed to be calling out to all of us, both to whisper in our ears about the trials and dangers ahead, and also, to embrace us.

To welcome us home.

Come Kumala, it seemed to whisper.

And we did.

~Scribe

This will, in all probability, be my last addition to this story in 2012.  

With Christmas fast approaching, I wanted to spend a good, solid day to get the story where I wanted it...wrap up a few loose ends, and start gearing up for the next "phase" of the tale.

So far, if you've been journeying with me from the start, we've covered some 23k words together (for the purposes of comparison, your average novel has ~100k words in it, so we're about a quarter of that), and have seen the alliance grow from a sleepy little backwater to...well, perhaps not a powerful group, precisely, but getting there.

Getting there right quickly, I'd say.

In any case, there are a number of interesting possibilities as we move into the new year, and I don't have any more idea what will happen than you (though I've likely got at least a few more insights...or at least, I'd better! ;) ), but...whatever happens, we'll go there together!

Thank you for traveling with me this far, Merry Christmas, and here's hoping I see you at back here at the start of the new year!

As a Christmas Present, I've brought the blog fully up to date, and have included about a dozen different songs so you've got a "soundtrack" to enjoy while you're reading.

The music files are high compression ogg files, so if you don't see the media player, try switching to the Chrome browser (the page has been optimized for Chrome).

Music is very much a part of my creative process, and I thought it'd be interesting to treat you to the songs running thru my head as I wrote various bits (mostly, relevant to the story, too!).

So...I get to combine good rock and roll with fantasy, and what's not to like about that!

(track list to date is below the graphic) - Enjoy!

~Scribe

chrome-extension://fcdjadjbdihbaodagojiomdljhjhjfho/css/atd.css" rel="nofollow - http://badcompany.develsworkshop.com/" rel="nofollow - http://badcompany.develsworkshop.com/

Track List So Far:

Track 1, Bad Company (Bad Company)

Track 2, Fortunate Son (CCR)

Track 3, Superstition (the version by Beck, Bogart & Appice) (Scribe's suspicions of Vel, Chimera, etc)

Track 4, Sympathy for the Devil (Stones)

Track 5, Highway to Hell (AC/DC) (Devil's Road!)

Track 6, Good Intentions (Toad The Wet Sprocket)

Track 7, Your Disease (Saliva) (Melder's stuff)

Track 8, Abracadabra (Steve Miller) (thought this was fitting re: the misfired spell & Hargreves :) )

Track 9, Thunderstruck (AC/DC)

Track 10, Carry On, Wayward Son (Kansas)

Track 11, Red Neck Yacht Club (Craig Morgan) (our "Swampers"!)

Track 12, Honest Mistake (The Bravery) - Our diplo "incident"

Track 13, Don't Fear the Reaper (Blue Oyster Cult) - escape attempt 2.0

Track 14, Come and Get Your Love (Redbone) - Come Kumala!

The music died as a breathless messenger burst in on the festivities.

"It's Cloudpeak, sir!"  He said with a trembling voice.  "They spotted some raiders in the Dyallom Gall patch...scouts are riding ahead of a squad sent out by the First Expeditionary to see if we can learn the identity of the raiders before blood is spilled."

Murmurs went up all around the chamber.

The Dyallom patch was sovereign territory.

We claimed that land.

We owned that land, and everyone in the area knew it full well.

"So this is deliberate then."  Machete said, cracking his knuckles.  "Very well."

Kleodora put a staying hand on the Dwarf's shoulder.  "Let us not be too hasty...we do not yet know where they came from."

And that was true enough for the moment.

But we would know, and when we did...

When we did, it would change a great many things...

A second gauntlet had been formally thrown down.

~Scribe

***

A funny thing happened on the way to the war, and it happened to the Finn.

There we were...all of us waiting on pins and needles for Vel to get back from his meeting with the demigod Zolvon over the attack against us.

The atmosphere could not have been more tense and tempers were short, to say the least.

Into this tension thick enough to cut with a knife came...a smell.

An odor so foul, so wretched that it defied all logic and reason.

"Gods...what is that?"  Kleo said disdainfully as she sniffed the air warily.

The Sidhe Princess in our court actually did gag as she left the room to find fresher air.

In walked the Finn, bringing with him an even more fearsome version of the same stench, a feat I had not imagined to be even possible.

"Finn...for the love of all the gods man...what have you been doing?!"

"Sewage mains burst all over my cities....damn near all of them.  You should probably check yours too.  I have no idea what's going on, but it looks like we're going to have to do some major renovations."

And that's when it happened.

That's when the Goddess Kumala chose to reveal herself.

Preceded by the most awful stench in memory.

The two events combined to burn themselves indelibly onto my mind.

Not that I could ever forget the day I actually met a Goddess, but when combined with that stench...

I shudder at the memory even now.

In any case, the air just in front of the Finn shimmered and swam, and suddenly, she was there.

It was just like that, too.

One moment there was a faint glittering in the air, and the next...the Goddess was among us, taking up the space where the shimmering had been only half a heartbeat before.

She did not actually touch the floor, but hovered some six inches above it, and the first thing I noted about her was how striking she was.

Not beautiful in the classic sense of the word, no.

This was no fragile waif nor Courtly Lady...this was a Battle-Bred Princess if ever there was one, and her features bore traces of Elven, Human, and Orcish ancestry, mingled together in a manner not at all unpleasing to the eye.

Again, one could never call her truly beautiful, but in the same moment, your eyes were reluctant to tear themselves away from the sight of her.  Everywhere you looked, there was something new to fascinate. 

She was a wonder.

For me, it was the bluish tint to her skin, with the deep black spiral of tattoos that covered her body.

I was mesmerized, and I was not alone.

Nearly as one, we all dropped to bended knee and bowed our heads reverently.

"I am your Mother."  She told us in a voice that managed to be both fierce and kind in the same moment.

"Come Kumala."  We all whispered in unison.  It was as though she had plugged into our souls...gotten into the very marrow of our bones.

We knew who it was, just as surely as she knew we were her children.

"This one."  She pointed to the Finn.  "This one summons me forth with his...pipes?  Tunnels?"

"The...sewage mains?"  Finn asked, confused.

"As you say."  She told him.  "They are...wrong."

"Wrong?  How do you mean, M'lady?"

"They must be...moved.  Placed...differently.  As must that which sits atop them."

It took a moment for that to sink in.

Gods and Saints...she was talking about moving whole cities.

She was asking...no...the Goddess never asks, only informs...us to move whole cities.

"How many of the things-atop must be moved?"  Finn asked in a dreadful whisper, fearing the answer, but knowing we would comply, no matter what it proved to be.

"I will show you."

She did, and when she did, several things became apparent, although I lacked the language to explain it.

The Goddess blessed me with the foresight and knowledge to describe what I was seeing, and I shall duly pass it along to you.

She waved one exquisite arm and a map shimmered into existence in mid air.

A rendering of Devil's Island.

On its surface, our cities pulsed and glowed, as did the roadways that connected them.

With the twitch of a finger she caused a number of our cities to shift their positions and form a new configuration.

Yes.

The enormity of the discovery hit me with all the force of a hurricane.

Kumala was a Titan.

A creature so vast that she could not be understood or comprehended except as the earth itself.

Devil's Island was her...brain.  WE were her brain, or at least the synapses that fired within it.

And the heart....it wasn't corrupted at all.

WE corrupted it.

"Yes."  She said, plucking my thoughts out of my head.

"The warring in Elgea corrupts my heart...infects the body.  Periodically the Melders must...purge.  Heal me."

"You are the Knights of Kumala.  My guardians.  The Melders know you now.  You are marked.  Serve me well and your rewards shall be endless.  Be strong in the face of this man-god.  You are under my protection, and so long as you keep Faith with me, you will not be defeated.  You are my People...my Children, and I am your Mother Goddess."

She knew we would.

She knew it before she even spoke.

As did we.

We bowed.

We wept and prayed.

And then we danced the Kumala until we were dizzy and drunk with the essence of the Goddess.

We felt her speaking in our minds as we danced, telling us that it was so hard to keep her essence contained in so small a form, and that she could not remain with us long, but that we would see her again in times of our greatest need.

She also spoke into my mind, personally, with a message meant only for me as we were dancing.

"You, Scribe, are specially marked and chosen.  You will be my Prophet.  It is why I bound you to me...to this place.  You and one other."

Another moment of revelation just then.

It was the Goddess all along.

I smiled at the newfound knowledge.

At some point during our dance in celebration of Her, she departed from us, or at least her physical essence left the room we were in, but she's never gone from us...not really.

We live on the surface of her skin.

We live within her, and She in us.

I glanced around the room just then, and saw the Finn staring off into space with a look of wonderment written plainly across his features.

I knew that look, for I could feel it on my own face.

He was the other Chosen, though what his role was to be in the plans the Goddess had in store for us, I couldn't begin to guess.

Nonetheless, we recognized the look one one another's faces, and nodded to acknowledge that recognition.

Come Kumala.

Dance.

These are our perceptions of the events that have shaped our alliance to this point.  Are they shaded by our proximity to the events themselves?  Absolutely!  That is as true for us as it is for anyone who has ever put pen to paper (virtual or otherwise).  

Of course, mixed in with the actual alliance events are my own additions to Illy's mythology (the Kumala stuff), and I'm hoping that I'm not straying too far from what the developers had in their minds there, but mostly, I'm just trying to tell an engaging story that tracks with our alliance's history, and to that end, I'm glad you are enjoying. :)

~Scribe