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[Assad]

William Kings body is limp as the massive orc tosses him into the River Chionthar.
His body splashes into the water and he is swept downstream. His body sinks beneath the surface as his heavy armor pulls him under. Harsh currents occasionally thrust his body back up to the surface of the rapids.

A few miles downstream from Triel, his armor is caught on the large branch of a tree dangling in the water. He remains in place, seemingly dead, as the water rushes around him.

The farmer spotted him quickly, for Williams armor, rinsed of mud and blood from the water, shined brightly. He rushed down the banks to pull his body out of the water. After a few minutes of positioning himself, and awkward tugs and pulls, he heaves Williams body to shore.

Minutes later, William coughs up water. The farmer carries him all the way back to his house 100 yards off from the banks of the river.

Williams eyes open slowly as the farmer is swiftly tending to one of his wounds...

[Hoihe]

Hoihe after being rescued by Amarven has made some salves alchemically to help with infected wounds. Then after the elves departed he went with them up north and into the Moors. There he found a cave to hide in and recupate.

[Azmodeth]

*Azmodeth had to remain away from Triel, during the last fight, recovering the last of her injuries she is ready to continue contributing, but rumours abound of the disaster of what has happened. She was too late, to be of any assistance. She takes slight pity on those who died but fought well, she tries to help out local farmers and militia who have regrouped and survive and are recovering bodies streaming down the rivers, looking for survivors.

Luckily, Azmodeth was sent to go get some healing supplies, further south from Uriel, who took command the last time she was in Triel, and can at the very least use these to help those she finds recovering or in need, on thier way away from Triel.

Azmodeth's equipment is in bad shape still, and not fit for much else, less they ultimately be damaged beyond repair.*

[Nomster]

After looking over supplies, preparing potions and bandages, Valge walked outside the palisade of Triel to ask who else was wounded from the first attack and who needed wards. As people came towards her and she started to bless them, Valge could hear the sound of fighting behind her back. "Fighting... but that's inside the fort! I just came from there and everything seemed alright..." she thought to herself and turned around to look. The fort had been infiltrated and was overrun by black orcs and the like. Quickly she threw herself on the ground and rolled down the rest of the way towards where the archers were standing. "Here I thought I would avoid the front line and yet find myself in the middle of it."

By Io's blessing Valge was unharmed surprisingly enough and quickly began to heal those who were wounded. The melee fighters were fighting at the entrance of the fort with the archers moving to shoot from the outside. The hostile forces took advantage of this and the archers were soon set upon by large trolls. They saw no other option but to retreat over the stone bridge and be split from the rest. The stone bridge had been set up with explosives before which had not been detonated, it was unclear why the idea hadn't worked but people were thankful for the retreat route.

The stone bridge proved to be a strong holding point as the trolls marched forward, more than twice the size of anyone defending and a very fearful sight. Arrows, bombs and spells of fire and acid were hurled at the trolls who were being kept in place by walls of fire and twines encircling their large feet. Continuously the defenders had to fall back and many were wounded. Valge hadn't thrown a single spell to harm anyone but she realized if she didn't do something she would die alongside the rest of them. "Surely its not -my- fault if the trolls decide to take a shower in acid rain or walk through fire..." She asked for help from elementals who were able to distract the trolls while she cast her spells. It didn't do much against the trolls' thick hides but anything at that point mattered for their survival. When the last foes who had followed them at the stone bridge fell, they still couldn't quite believe it, they had been betrayed by their own side.

People blind with grief wanted to go back and save whoever they could and had to be talked and held back until they regained their senses. It would be a foolish mission to take on an army by themselves whilst being injured and fatigued as well as low on ammunition and spells. The elves of En Dharasha Everae refused to take part in such folly and left with their wounded to their home village.

---------------
The last people standing
From top to bottom,
Mendel, Garag, Feralyn, Callas, Nemna, Ray Lee, Missy (the sun dial, went to hide in the bushes ), Shyntvayas, Valge, Laisren aaaand tiny Deacon on the bridge.

*Valge joined a few minutes before the fort was attacked from the inside. I can't account for anything that happened prior but hope I got the events right.

[Gilthanus]

A wood elf, bloodied and battered stumbles in to the Fist Guards at the Gate:

Lorain hunt bugbear, see many orc. Many champion, much strong. See Magic ones and leader, did not hide enough. Orcs see, give chase. Many come. Ran fast.

Then he passes out from his wounds.

[Duster47]

* The two archers stood together until the end, a hail of arrows launched from their bows. Suddenly, there are attackers behind them. Mercenaries paid to aid the defense turn on their former allies. Swords slash. Metal clangs. Wood shatters. One recalls something her mother told her many winters past, "Trust is the biggest liability of all." Pain. Falling. Nothing…

Hours after the battle, the vile victors pull two females, a barbarian human and moon elf, from the wreckage that was once the stairs into the hilltop fort of Triel. They were strangely clinging together in their apparent deaths. The brutes of the Dark Horde failed to notice both are barely alive, each flirting with her last breath, then not.

The river was stained red with the blood of the fallen. The two women were unceremoniously tossed into the cold water along with other former citizens and defenders of Triel. The barbarian's fur-lined leathers naturally protect her from the wet and cold of the distant north and now protect her from the river's cold waters. She easily floats to the surface. Her partner however is weighed down by her metal armor. After a few moments in the water, she struggles to breathe before the river finishes what the Horde started. Hands clasp. Air. Life.

They drift together in and out of consciousness for several miles down the river and then gain a foothold on the shoreline. They drag each other from the water before hypothermia ends their struggle. They spend the rest of the day tending to each other’s wounds with whatever bandages were not lost or healing magic they could conjure while drying their clothes next to a small campfire. Later, they slowly journey for days down the river bank until at last they see the bridge spanning the river south of Baldur’s Gate.

Many unfortunate souls, some would say foolish souls, lost their treasures, their land, and their lives in the disastrous defense of Triel. For others more fortunate, a new friendship was forged. Such was the fate of Nerys and Ileleste at Triel. *

[Atlas]

-

[Hoihe]

((Careful there Arkaine with that mace, you might accidentally hit Hoihe's head with it!))

Hoihe has remained in the cave of his choosing for now, casting the last few sendings he had to inform people then settling in to write into his journal.

[Maverick 40]

((Need clarification for RP purposes, were the Dwarves of Kraak Helzak present? The elves of Dharasha are about to move forward with the idea they declined sending warriors in light of the treachery on the northern roads and their mistrust of the battle environment. Please answer back in an IC perspective post. I look forward to hearing the Dwarven perspective of this event ))

[Hoihe]

((I think Kelburn was present. And aye, I wish Mrieder's character was present. Would be an awesome read.))

[LISA100595]

*placeholder*

[Tempist]

The Dwarven Druid pulls himself from the river, dazed and confused.....looking around he shrugs. Watching the smoke in the distance from the burning lands around Triel his face is marked heavy in sadness. The Druid kneels....

"I have failed you Father....I was unable to protect nature around the city...many trees have been destroyed. I ask your forgiveness, and I will do my best to reclaim the land from those who would do it harm. I will not rest until there has been a reckoning."

The dwarf rises, and moves off into the forest, shifting into a bear, he begins to run.....vanishing within the trees.

[7threalm]

In regards to black orc attack on triel,

A message never came in time for the dwarves to march to Triel.

The dwarves of Kraak Helzak decided to marched to the east not knowing the status of the black orc army, but were vastly out number by the large number of mercenaries north of Tirel. They decided to try another longer southren route but by the time they reach the outskirts of Triel the village was already lost. The battlefield was chaos with elves and men arguing with each other, running in fear, allowing themselves to be flanked, blowing up anything they could find,setting fields on fire, dropping posion in the nearby river .

Dolinar Stood there shaking his head. The army and he knew the battle was already lost, so instead of sacrificing his dwarven kin they turn around and headed to the north back home to rally for what will surely be dark days ahead.

Back at the keep Dolinar reported the events to king, explaining that the longshanks depended to much on their gods instead of steel and true and tested tactics for the battle, and the elves were arguing and attempting to wage the war themselves ducking in and out of shadows with their bows.The few skirmishes that the dwarves could see were full of religious zealots barking orders at random adventuring bands trying to create order but the adventures didn't follow the orders , the elves trying to order the humans and the humans ordering the elves. The battlefield was nothing but unorganized chaos.

King Battlehammer shakes his head and motions for Dolinar to leave the room...

(since we didn't have a large number of organized dwarves i know their were a couple at event but I wouldn't consider our guild was there)

[DM Novus]

Triel—idyllic center of grain north-east of Baldur's Gate—is now in the foul grip of the Black Orcs.

Heroic plans laid in advance by factions dedicated to defending Triel from the Black Orcs could not buffer the fury of the warband, and were overwhelemed, as the Orcs act with unusual determination to lay waste to civilization in the north. And the heroes did suffer...

Defenders of Triel were taken by surprise with a turn of events related to the mercenaries from Soubar that were allowed to defend the palisades. These mercenaries turned sides, and overran the Flaming Fist contingent. Combined with the hero-adventurer's decision to face the Black Orcs upon open ground— where they stood the weakest of chances to rebuke the attack—led to the overall slaughter.

And the slaughter continued...for it seems that although the mercenaries did overcome the palisade defense and therefore aid the Black Orcs attack, the tribe followed through their bloodlust and brutally murdered nearly all of the yet-to-be identified mercenary force. This was not foreseen...but did not go unnoticed by those that stood at a distance from Triel, and watched in horror as the Black Orcs fed upon the corpses.

Many bodies did float half-dead down the river, thrown down into running currents by the Black Orcs as they howled in victory. A few survivors were to note that at the end of it all, when the fires subsided, a towering figure beyond even normal Black Orc standards stood at the portal to the town gates, thrusting a gigantic battleaxe high in to the air, screaming taunts into the direction of the northern road...

Now, that hours and days pass since the defense of Triel failed, and as the Black Orcs remain in the village to raid the grain stores of Triel, those that have survived, and those that regain consciousness after rescue, share some common knowledge: if there was any semblance of gain in the defense of Triel, it was that near half of the Black Orc warband was killed. This Black Orc force is weakened...but now it is they who occupy the high ground.

Rumors stir in Baldur's Gate that the Council of Four has taken to a hastily organized conference after reports of the fate of Triel arrive. What influence can be brought to bear either from the Council or upon it, remain to be seen...

Some factions dedicated to the defense of Triel now call for liberation, while others question both the loses their guilds and their kin might continue to face for the sake of battling what appears to be both a known and cloaked enemy and, if allowed to go on, where this focused leadership and fury guiding the Black Orcs will strike next...

---

///Recent comments by players in multiple threads related to the ongoing Fate of Triel storyline have been heard and discussed by the DMs involved in this storyline...which are a few, should you be wondering, even if not all of the DMs have been running events in game. That said, the situation now is to slow down the unfolding events, and allow for both in game and forum-based roleplay to take it's course, and give space for the DMs to act upon it and give good roleplay it's due...not to mention, work with Luna during the upcoming Server upgrades to initiate a Server 2 for large scale events, hopefully mitigating the dreaded server Lag, in an attempt to improve the overall experience for players.

[Kaden Asen]

As expected, plans were set. . .strategies discussed, and high hopes of valor voiced. Adventurers had battled The Black Orcs ever since they had first arrived, though most had forgotten the first defeats and lives lost. They had forgotten the violence in the dark, the seemingly unstoppable advances of the hardened beasts. They required defenses, consolidation of numbers, and brute force. . .not clever plans.

When the orcs attacked it was sudden, the offered defense was hasty and without a higher coordination. Some political factions went to their claimed positions, but the field before the gates turned into a violent melee of adventurers against the orcs. The advancing orcs butchered any adventurer foolish enough to press their ranks, and battered at those who held together. . . .

Stepping over the bodies of many who ran forward, Thedran met the wave of Orcs that rushed from the east. His shield braced against his shoulder, when he met with the orcs the clash of arms was titanic. He had fought the beasts as a lad, he knew their strengths and played to their weakness. They were mighty, they were savage, and they were as close to fearless as one may come. The brute force of their attacks could turn back the defenses of those unprepared to meet them, and those lacking the training to confront them.

"This is your -Honor-, bear it with pride and never lay it down. It shall preserve you, if you preserve it."

The speech he had received when Zacho had bestowed the stone he had carried for so long. . over one hundred pounds of torment.

The orcs were strong, and they were savage, and neither would save them from the strength of The Rock. He was among the strongest of The Coast, his physical strength having matched and undone balors and giants alike. On they pressed, one. . .two, five and more. Their savage swings clanging against the braced shield. Sparks flew in the song of the battle, and the shouts of the combatants was drowned out in the song of steel. On they pressed, but unlike the beasts they were, Thedran was a hardened soldier. They were talented in violence, he was -trained- in it. His sword swung in a practiced rhythm, slicing at any enemy foolish enough to press him. His strokes never left him exposed, and his feet kept a strong marching pace to keep his weight perfectly balanced against the surging pressure of the orc attack.

Forward they came, mounting into a horde. Thedran smiled grimly. .

"Good help is so hard to find"

Was his thought as the first blast issued forth from over his shoulder, one of his few friends and valuable ally was behind him. Lillith was a warlock, and the months and years they had grown to know each other had built a bond and understanding. If Thedran could stop it in it's tracks, Lillith would render it to a pile of ash. The blasts took the orcs full in the front, bouncing between the now helpless beasts as Thedran continued to hold the front. For each sword stroke, came the displays of Lillith's prowess crashing into the ranks of their enemies.

As the fodder wave was dispatched, Thedran heard the rumble of the approaching vanguard. He braced as the orcs rushed forward to envelop the remaining defenders on the eastern flank. Those not pushed back by the orcs, retreated quickly from the trio of massive trolls that scaled the ridge!

Thedran pulled up his shield, and was struck soundly across it sending him reeling back. His with his ears still ringing he side stepped the follow on blow that was to end his life.

"Lillith!"

He bellowed his friend's name, while trying to stagger free of the trap he was in. The trolls had surrounded him and he would not survive the three brutes battering him without better position.

"Run!"

He ordered her back, to flee if she thought it was the right time. He managed to scramble back a few feet while ducking another blow. He glanced at the troll that swung at him, only in time to be struck by the third. He caught the blow full in the ribs, he heard his armor crunch and his ribs cracking under the pressure of the blow. Through the blood running over his eyes he saw Lillith unleash a blast into his attacker's face, she was with him. Battered and drooling blood, Thedran had managed to gain his better ground. The fight was on.. . .

He turned and fought the trio of trolls, he managed to avoid many of the blows but he was battered to his knees more then once. The blood from his mouth was garbling many of the names he tried to recite, his armor and shield again and again took blows that he was sure would be the end of him. His three enemies swung and smashed at him, clearly trying to dispatch the "Food" that dared defied their might. He struggled against their efforts, defiantly challenging the trio of trolls. It seemed to drag on, the blows of the trolls smashing his armor and shield, but they did so at a cost. Each time they swung at Thedran, Lillith's response answered them in kind. The burning acid working it's way over their bodies mercilessly. Bit by bit the trolls were brought to the ground, until all three lay smoldering into piles of smoking goo.


Thedran staggered free of the site, and leaned on his knees beside his friend. After a moment, he spat out two teeth, and a stream of warm blood. He straightened and inspected his armor. It would need repairing, the rents and dents it the mirthril testified to fury of the attack. He could stand, but he was under no disillusions that he would be "fine" when the attack ended.

Just as the pair were regrouping, the second wave crashed onto the ridge and swept away the remaining defenses. The bandit's behind had ripped to deep a tear into the defenders to recover from before the orcs simply over ran their positions with sheer numbers. Thedran intercepted the charge from the south, though in his weakened state his merely managed to slow the surging attack. . .as he took the final blow of a fist to his drooping head he slumped to the ground and slide down the hill. . .