If You Prick Us, Will We Not Bleed?
The recent build up to the newest dreadful attack in Ta’Vaalor on Friday night is detailed from the journal of Legaci at the officials, “If You Prick Us, Will We Not Bleed?”
Category: Towns
Topic: Ta’VaalorDate: 02/04/2017 01:06 PM CSTFrom: FORESTELFSubj: "If You Prick Us, We Will Not Bleed?"– Past – Today is Leyan, day 1 of the month Fashanos in the year 5117. It is 04:35 by the elven time standard. It is currently dawn.The taller than average, very young appearing butler of shoulder length, fine deep red hair sighed heavily while glancing at the crimson dragonstalk candles – almost sliding from his hold. “Another restless evening without resolution. He can be as stubborn as a human and worse than a mule sometimes, perhaps I should be bringing him a cot oppose to these candles“ Jharvis mused to himself before reinforcing his hold on the candles. He had traveled the streets of Ta’Vaalor, Shimaerslin Wey countless times and always fancied how the thin copse of trees surrounded a large stone building nestled at the foot of the city wall. Constructed of grey sandstone, the structure boasts numerous windows that reflect the moonlight filtering through the foliage. To the east side of the wey stands an ornate silver gate where a middle-aged blonde elven priestess and a robed erithian monk seemed to be engaged in conversation. As his presence drew their attention he followed his notice with a respectable nodding to which they returned in gesture, before continuing with their conversation.
Wearily, after making his way to the Shrine of Leya, he approached the area where he saw another kneeling and winged – holding two flaming blades. His slightly narrowed, nearly translucent frost blue eyes, were closed as if suggesting a deep meditation. His waist-length, platinum blonde hair which tumbles over his shoulders and down the small of his back spread around the small white altar as if a spider’s webbing inviting a victim. “Gratitude, for your services performed last month and continuously, in general Jharvis. Leave the candles beside the altar and then you can consider your services over for the evening.”
The shadows surrounding Legaci’s black ora no-dachi swirl around and a low murmuring can be faintly heard from within the gloom. Mildly concerned and startled, Jharvis takes an unnoticeable step away from the evil aura emitting from the blade. Jharvis cautiously inquires “Master Ty’Soru?” A word is not spoken only a gaze of acknowledgement from the young winged yet elven cavalier. With a brief pause Jharvis moves to continue with “Why continue to handle a blade like that in such times?” As his words conclude he moves the candles to the side of the small white altar, as instructed but not before shuffling through a large asortment of scrolls, books, parchments and albums.
“True evil likes to taunt, loves to harm and desires most to be heard. Look at the one blade as a medium, a tool, to allow that opportunity while the other maintains a sense of.. balance. One blade will not allow the other to dominate my actions.“ Waves of heat rise from the surface of the executioner’s sword, held within Legaci’s other hand, creating a hazy aura about it. Legaci’s eyes open to a narrow to catch sight of Jhavris looking at the countless assortments of recorded history around him. A smile nearly dents his face as Jharvis picks of a painting created by a local adventurer and before Jhavris can ask he offers “The greatest of elven artisans once recorded history not just through song, dance or written forms but through the expressions of art as well – among other means of course.”
While turning the painting every direction but the correct one Jharvis curiously asks “If I maybe so bold, milord?” Legaci offers a slow nod and Jharvis continues with “Other’s, including myself, would see this as an utter waste of time. You’ve read over one thousand eight hundred and what fifty three scrolls and still, nothing? Perhaps, it is time to look in another direction?” There is only the smallest of pauses as his eyes turn to the food untouched yet served “Eating and sleeping wouldn’t be a bad suggestion either. But, then again. I am young fashioned like that. I enjoy the premise to that which the consumption of food offers. You know, survival?” a condescending tone heard as the question falls to silence.
– Past – Today is Niiman, day 2 of the month Fashanos in the year 5117. It is 02:23 by the elven time standard.
His final instructions of service for the late evening morning he repeated to himself “Candles, quill, a chart for tactical notations regarding Ta’Illistim and Ta’Vaalor.“ Unlike the evening prier Jharvis found himself pausing just within the Cleric Guild, Courtyard. Thin columns of ivory form a circular design around the golden domed building and it is here his ears seemed to strain for clearity. “Is that, voices?“ he questioned himself silently before continuing into the ivory gold-domed building.
Confusedly, in the distance, a soft voice could be heard asking “Then, you’ve discovered something?”
Although the voice sounded familiar and the distance before reaching the shrine of Leya is short, it was still too difficult for Jharvis to clearly identify. What he can identify, once heard, was the voice of his master “Look for yourself here and here. And, I am sure Lady Treeva heard something which has yet to be reported but referenced this moment here or here.” As Jharvis approached the shrine of Leya another sat closely beside Legaci among a sea of old scrolls and parchments. He held a withered scroll which appeared too delicate to hold with anymore than two thumbs and two fingers.
Mercies softly request’s from Legaci the old scroll for further examination. Her eyes slowly inspect the details of the scroll as Jharvis moves to yet again place the gathered candles beside the small white altar. With a troubled brow and a concerned tone Mercies asks “If.. this true how would they have gotten out of their cells, prisons? It would be impossible.”
Legaci within a reasonable tone counters with “Nothing is impossible when a mind is set to proper path. In the meanwhile, we’ll continue this led through the proper chain of command. Lady and First Legionnaire Esana normally patrols the region around the hours I do, she is running an investigation with other defenders of Ta’Illistim as well. Most have not been able to locate records before 5110, regarding this issue. Now, look at the date scribed on that scroll, closely.”
Year History 5107 Elven Nations, Ta’Vaalor: Led by Captain Frentilein, forces from Ta’Vaalor moved out of the city last night and made an assault on the Ravelin. The Captain generously allowed citizens and foreign militias to join under her banner and swell the already formidable forces of the Vaalorian Army. All present, rightfully, deferred to the Captain in decisions for tactical combat and advancements. Lieutenant Thissa‘s scouts made several reports through the evening about the dwindling forces of the orc occupation forces and as a result few casualties were received. The final barricade rose ominously before them, however, Lieutenant Atharin met the match much as he had the other barricades and the structure was removed in no time. As the last of the orc forces were decimated, the orc elder appeared and taunted the combined forces of Vaalor. With no more orcs at his disposal, the elder grew irate and began to speak, in the common tongue, of the destruction that was owed to Vaalor for all that she had done to his people. It came as a great surprise to many that the defeated orc elder was not as he seemed. Working under the illusion of an elder, the mastermind behind the occupation of the Ravelin was none other than a Faendryl bent on the destruction of Vaalor. He was quickly apprehended and thrown in stocks, where he lamented on all he was losing. His threats were many and the Vaalorian Army has kept him in the Citadel under arrest so that they might garner more information from him. Denizens of the Ravelin were moved back into their homes early in the morning following the freedom of her streets. Elven Nations, Ta’Vaalor: Due to the volatile activity that occurred at Ravelin over the past few weeks, there is concern that the gnomes were waylaid at some point on their way home, as several Aelotoi traders in Ta’Vaalor claim to have last seen them alive after meeting with them for economic reasons. Given the mysterious circumstances of the disappearance, search parties will be sent out to locate the missing gnomes. Elven Nations, Ta’Vaalor: Four days and nights of constant invasions are led against the mysterious force of orcs that laid claim to the Ravelin, which is located north of Ta’Vaalor off of Fearling Pass and upon the Mistydeep River. During that time reports flooded the city of the peculiarly strong barricades, which seemed to track those that attempted to tamper with it. Major injury was caused to those near it, some utterly fatal, as the barrier was reported to send waves of energy both into the ground and sky; many times calling lightning to do its bidding. Mages led by Lieutenant Atharin, and supported by citizens of Ta’Vaalor, attacked the first barricade set within the steppes of the Ravelin where a small town has formed. During the initial phase of magic used to bring down the barricade several Vaalorian mages, those of lower rank within the corps and a handful of the elders, were injured from the magical backlash, however none were permanently harmed. The barricade’s magic was weakened enough to allow soldiers, and willing citizens, a chance to batter it down. While the attack was successful, the orcs within the area rose up in greater numbers and continued to attack those attempting to reclaim the Ravelin well into the night. Upon the secondary steppe, within an area named the Wyvern Plaza, a second barricade resonated oddly and was unable to be brought down. Lieutenant Atharin was reported to have headed to Illistim to do research on the information he was able to glean from his brief study of the offending piece’s magic. Elven Nations: Quality-enhancing potions developed by a group of enterprising aelotoi have sold in massive quantities over the past week in Ta’Nalfein, Ta’Loenthra, Ta’Illistim, and the fortress city of Ta’Vaalor. Hordes of individuals of all races report the benefits of the potions as being life-changing, swearing by the positive effects that the potions impart. A small group of scholars in Ta’Illistim have raised a slight ruckus about the potion, however, in saying that the potion will only offer ill-effects. As there have been no sign of this being the case, the scholars appear to be mistaken. Elven Nations: In less significant news, the missing status of two Rosengift gnomes, Eriot and Burs, almost a week ago. Several of their personal items were found far to the southwest of Ta’Vaalor, well past Yander’s farmland. The state of their items point to some sort of explosion or fatal alchemic reaction. Information from gnomes searching for them confirms that at least one of the goods they were trading for in their travels was dangerous in nature, prone to volatile and violent activity. Several forest gnomes who were acting as seekers for their lost kin issued a public and formal apology to the aelotoi who were harassed concerning this issue, as it is now clear that they were not at fault in this matter. Mercies gently rests the antique of a scroll upon the altar allowing Jharvis a moment to gaze upon that which Legaci and she had been studying. The scroll, upon a closer inspection, had been written in the common language on one side and in an older style of elven script on the other side.
– Present – Today is Day of the Huntress, day 3 of the month Fashanos in the year 5117. It is 8:34 by the elven time standard. It is currently late.
The sky began to fill with huge clouds, dark and grey on the bottom, pale and white atop, their puffy crowns ascending toward the heavens just as Legaci, Jharvis and Mercies had taken to escorting an elven scribe to their local sister township of Ta’Illisitm. The scribe appeared to be a man of respectable means yet his demeanor with regards to the local surroundings and his gaze were wary, as though he was anxious to be elsewhere. A sudden gust blows winter cold rain upon the trio in a stinging attack as the ferryboat and crewman approach the docks. An elven crewmember on the boat picks up an end of a rope and scrambles onto the dock, quickly securing and tying the rope to one of the pillars on the dock.
Legaci with worried eyes gazed over the docks as the captain of the ferryboat exhorts the crew to greater efforts, shouting lustily, “We’ve got paying customers, lads! Row like you mean it, for there’ll be extra rations of wine tonight!” As the captain’s words come to a close Legaci rests his hand over one of the pockets of his waistcoat, covering a scroll which likely held valuable information and information he wished to pass onto another within Ta’Illistim. “No time for details for the moment. I will have to be concise and return home swiftly.” he thinks to himself as he arches one of his crimson wings over Mercies to shelter her from the stinging rains.
The trio arrived to Ta’Illsitim with little to no resistance after the ferryboat had completed its brief journey. It was decided among them that magic would be the swiftest means to return and upon arriving home the scent of blood, death and decay lingered as strong as a mouse rotting within the summer heat. Quickly Legaci stationed himself at Annatto Gate to join the local defenders, Squire Legionnaires and other guardians of the realm which had already gathered. Squire Legionnaires Valaero, Legonilas, Lyeraen were ready and prepared before his arriving at the gate with Squire Legionnaire Malinya soon afterwards joining the assembled. By means of telepathy Valaero took instructions from Squire Legionnaire Nirvanah as she instructed Squire Legionnaire Krystalna in the regards of the Triage and how to man the Drake to others wanting to provide further assistance. There was never a sense of confusion due to the lack of communication.
The clashing of steel upon steel, steel upon armor, arcane enchantments softly murmurred or shouted, combined with death cries and battle screams varying from friends to foe’s left all which had survived the night with a sense of relief. Countless this evening, as had been displayed the evenings before, returned to their homes and families upon their shields oppose to with it. The young caviler, too, found himself returning to a conscience state, extremely weaken and confused. “Wh-h-hat happened? I fought upon the front-lines and then my vision blurred around me. Next thing I can recall, I am hundreds of feet within the air. Held firmly at the shoulders by a war griffin. I remember it releasing me.. falling.. and then, being here.” he barely manages to stagger out before a cold wind blows, carrying with it a raspy voice while making its presence known through mockery.
“Your arrogance gets your comrades killed.“ is heard as the wind continues blowing and carrying a raspy mocking voice, “Where is your Champion? Where are your defenders? Oh yes….dead!” As the voice continues the cries of the wounded and dying echo throughout the triage like hounds howling at the moon. Anguish, pain and suffering all echoing throughout the entirety of the Fortress as reports of the wounded continued to be reported. The cold winds blowing now even more fiercely carries a raspy voice saying, “It seems “Coming at you” was too much for you.” There is only a moment of silence and you don’t even have to see their face to know a smirk rests heavily and proudly upon it as he or she concludes with an even more antagonizing raspily and mocking voice, “I will leave you to the scent of your own decaying dead.
It was only a matter of time before chaos once again fell to order, the wounded were healed and those which could return to the realm of the living were. Cries of gratitude to those which aided were only outmatched by the roars of triumph expressed among the assembled within the King’s Court, concerning the battle. To Legaci it felt more a festering wound. An irritating one which scabs because it continues to itch relentlessly. What makes the moment worse is knowing better, yet continuing to make the same mistake over and over until a simple wound now becomes a permitted scar. And that was how he felt, as far as this overall war concerned. Among those within the crowd he took note of Lady Treeva presence. He had been seeking Lady Siierra and she out within the Shinning City the last two days, ironic he find her in the only place he hadn’t searched. Quietly whispering to Treeva Legaci states, “Salutations, my lady. I would breaks words with you when the moment allows and before you take to returning home this evening.”
Treeva cocks her head towards Legaci, having paused from her conversation with another called Kembal, and speaking politely in Elven to him asks, “Of course, perhaps in a few minutes?” Legaci slowly nods in acknowledgement before returning his attention to the local surroundings and not soon before long Mercies, Tyrrah, Treeva, Sjelxeach, Kynthelig and Kembal are escorted to Malwith Inn, Bar. Drinks are ordered and passed out, all save one partake. Treeva says, “I do believe a night of excessive drinking is called for, now and then.” She clears her throat, the common language slipping forth more readily as she raises her shot in toast. “And this is definitely one of those nights.” All rise their drinks high as Treeva concludes with, “To surviving another night.”
Legaci pauses briefly, allowing those gathered to enjoy their drinks well earned after the series of nights which had previously followed. Yet, the moment that their joyous moment passed speaking to Treeva, he states, “I believe that all time is dear and time to which people allow others, even dearer. Therefore wish to learn something of you. Something I believe only you can provide at the moment because of what has been recorded.. reported, or the lack of.”
Kembal raises an eyebrow as Sjelxeach takes a drink from her elven white wine. Legaci continues with “I believe some nights ago, while defending either Vermilion Gate or Annatto gate the voice which taunts from the shadows spoke something.” Kembal, after placing an order and paying an elven steward drinks from his dark beer, looking rather relaxed. “A clue of origin, perhaps.”
Mercies turns towards and then offers Legaci a cup of warm jasmine tea just as Treeva politely says, “Of course if I can assist in unraveling the mysteries abounding our current situation….” She nods in assent before falling silent to listen, save for the occasional, “mmm.”
Legaci says “Two evenings ago, after reading over two thousand two hundred and ten scrolls, I stumbled across a scroll which dated back to 5107″ Mercies leans against a bar as Legaci slowly recites “Where is your Champion? Where are your defenders? Oh yes….dead!” After the reciting done he continues with “This meant more than expressed“ he theorized aloud while to himself admitted “I believe at least.”
Kembal says, “Something to do with the Fortress’ military history then?” before turning his expression into one of thought.
Legaci turns towards Treeva before asking “I’ve read countless reports. What I seek isn’t something scribed. The night you were present.. can you recall anything it said?”
Treeva muses, “I’ve heard the same taunting whispers of course, from an undisclosed source.” Her shoulders roll apathetically before she downs the shot in her hand. “Hardly anything of import comes to mind.”
Treeva takes a drink from her elven absinthe before Mercies counters with “Not everything we think is unimportant at the time, well….it might be now.”
Treeva slowly says, “The instigator seems to be on the cowardly side, unwilling to show in a face to face encounter.”
Kynthelig says, “With the commanding of such forces, they have little need to come forward.” Kynthelig’s downs the last of his dark beer as the group continues to listen to Legaci until the night nearly threatens the break of dawn. A collective of questions amassed with little insight to go off of other than what the withered scroll before them had already offered. Kynthelig says, “I know little of the happenings, in truth.” Giving a nod to Legaci and taking a sip of his wine. “And have only been gathering what knowledge I may in passing.”
As the conversation came to a close Treeva says, “I would thank you all for the enlightening conversation and bits of intrigue.” Her eyes flash with laughter, an easy grin curving her lips as she apologetically adds, “It’s getting late and time for me to retire.”
Legaci retires with one day yet again bleeding into the next. It is Feastday, day 4 of the month Fashanos in the year 5117. It is 03:57 by the elven time standard.
Relic Hunter to His Majesty King Qalinor Vaalor,
the Sovereign Commander of the Crimson Legion
A Guardian of Elanthia
Lord Ty’Soru, Legaci