After the investigation of the “Webbed Site” the guards reported findings which they believe are linked to the Alchemist Nimrad.
Several guards over time mentioned that he may have been sent back in time. (If that is the case it would be a terrible terrible thing)
Blackthorn calls on the guards to share his thoughts, and for their help!
Meet at Blackthorns Castle
At 8PM Cst / 9PM Est
On Friday December 14th 2012
“The raiders have started to move. They sent a scouting party out yesterday to see which towns are the least defended. Reports back are as followed…
Britian – Well Guarded
Cove – All Raiders killed before even reaching the town no information on the protectors
Jhelom – Poor Defense
Minoc – Average
Moonglow – Well Guarded
New Mag – Well Guarded
Skara – Fair
Trinsic – Easily infiltrated and taken
Vesper – Most raiders were shot down by stealthed archers before reaching town
Yew – Fair
I’m not exactly sure what these reports mean to you, however I know they are moving out tomorrow en mass. Please make sure everyone in town remains safe! Do anything you can. I will keep you updated as I continue gathering intel.”
“Sir, a scout document just arrived, here…” the young guard handed the second lieutenant the note.
“Read it to me please.” James replied
“I’ve made it most of the way in with a large group of Raiders. They seem to be plotting two or three large scale attacks soon. I am trying to work my way in with them as an “Official Member” but some suspect me. They have a large number of troops, trained with weapons and magic. I have only made my way passed a few squadrons, but it seems there is slightly over nine thousand Raiders ready to move out…”
“What!?! Nine thousand!?” James crumpled the papers he was just working on in his hand.
“Sorry sir, should I continue?”
Second Lieutenant James R. nodded.
“I’m not highly”ranked” among them so I can’t say how many will move out, but they are planning on hitting hard and fast. All the cities will need protection for the days they attacking. More to come shortly, if I can.”
A scrap piece of paper is blown by the wind into your hand…
“Notice now, people of Sosaria that ‘The City of Love’, Cove remains peaceful. Despite the aggression the guards have shown towards Cove’s people, we the Confederates have made sure they could still survive. With their docks blocked off, by the Royal Guards, herbs and medicines that they need to heal and cure the sick were impossible to gather; we made sure they had them. When Cove’s fishing was successful and they needed to sell product, we purchased. Cove is happy now and their people are restful, unless some unwanted, unneeded, and forceful people appear attempting claim over them when they were abandoned, due to some bell.
Britain, the Guard’s loved and prided city has begun to see these faults! The people are now finally standing up for their rights! Fighting for fair treatment and a just rule! How do the guards react to this? They tie people up with ropes and toss them into jail! They call that justice, “order”, and following the virtues! Rubish! They are a junta attempting to rule by fear, no care towards their people. If someone strays slightly from what they want, they remove you.
We from the Confederacy are not going to let all the people stand, though some of them are taking the wrong actions. To prove we are still “Virtuous” I have asked my fellow Confederates to assist defending Vesper, and Vesper alone. We will not kill, or jail the citizen however, we will merely make sure that they town remains Raider free and that fires are kept down.
Anyone who wishes to show their support for our cause should do the same. It hurts us to see the towns in such chaos; the people are right, they need have their free will back!
The bottle was tossed into the air. The purple and flame coloured substance twisted and churned with in. Reaching the apex of the toss, the bottle started it’s decent. Nimrad looked at his guest who stood perfectly still. The bottle was less than a foot away from the cold and hard cobblestone. Neither of the two men showed any signs of movement. Continue reading Arch Mage!?!
First Sergeant Clemons paced back and forth in the small office, his hand betraying just how disquieted he was at being summoned by the Second Lieutenant. The veteran Guardsman felt he had better things to be doing than answering to a paper pushing officer. The office was a simple one. A stone desk, one seemingly uncomfortable seat, and nothing but a window to provide lighting. Though Clemons had always held great ire toward the Lieutenant, he had to take a moment to respect the man’s simple practicality. Continue reading Dress Down
It was a bitter and frigid morning in the wilderness east of Yew. Little could be heard over the piercing wind, save the light crunching of boots on snow, as First Sergeant Clemons and his squad moved through. The elite Royal Guardsmen, stalwart in purpose, showed no signs of discomfort as they battled the vicious Britannian winter. Their breath frozen, their lips blue, the dire importance of their mission kept them going. Continue reading Wanted Alive
There was a cacophony of sounds outside, which disturbed Nimrad’s sleep. He awoke with a headache and blurry vision… Continue reading Escaped?! (fiction)
It has been over twenty three days since the last guard report on our person of interest. The new recruits and privates have been doing a good job keeping officers and captain ranks informed. My first thought is that nothing has changed and things are moving smoothly. The last report I received said “No change”. I figured all is well. If in two more days I receive no word on him, I will send a task force to investigate. Continue reading A note upon a Finch’s Leg
“I’ve been in worse,” muttered a middle-aged man as he sat alone in a small room. While not as chic as the office he had held during the Casca days, it served his needs. A simple seat, roughly chiseled out of granite, served its place behind a rather lackluster wooden table that acted as the man’s desk. There were no other chairs in the room, as he intended. Over his shoulder was a small painting, depicting a defensive red serpent guarding a cross. Continue reading Failed Palaver