En Dharasha Everae RP thread

[mrm3ntalist]

It is well known, mainly amongst the Elves, that a large collection of books from an ancient Miyeritar library are stored in En Dharasha Everae - the same collection that a lich was after. The Elves of En Dharasha Everae are seeking the help of their kin,familiar with the Miyeritar empire, in order to help decipher any of its secrets. The collection is guarded by rangers and only the Seluonal or the First Mage can grand access to the collection.

[Tantive]

A missive arrived for 'Mendel' from Doron Amar, sealed with red wax stamped with an espruar rune, decorated in a field.

[SeedsOfDoubt]

*After feeding the lazy lion in the grove, Nai takes the other half of the boar back to the village so that nothing goes to waste. On the trip to and from her eyes to the ground as she flies high overhead in dragon form on the look out for any unusual Black Orc activities*

[mrm3ntalist]

A meeting took place in the Reaching Woods regarding long forgotten secrets. Mendel was one those taking part. Once the meeting was over he returned to the village looking for Tirion. Everyone that saw Mendel, could tell that something was on his mind... Something he was not very comfortable with.

[mrm3ntalist]

Since the meeting in the Reaching Woods, many rumors were spread. The main subject was about some Miyeritar Tomes and the help needed studying them - even help from individuals that would never be considered in the past. One thing is for certain, an expert in Miyeritar lore is still needed.

[TheKai]

A handsome figure sits outside of the Elfsong Tavern. Hair cut short, eyes a bit hollow, he sits staring at his empty bottle of feywine. Passerby walk by him paying him no attention; just another drunken patron. After a few moments, he begins to speak in rhyme, his voice somehow carrying over the noise of the tavern.

"The days have gone, the tides are turned,
And yet the short lived, have yet to learn.
Strike at one, you strike them all,
It matters but little, your faith will fall.

See fate is a fickle thing, best never to tempt it,
With Tymora, Beshaba, you may as well end it,
Labelas know whos comes, who goes, as we have ever known,
Trust those crones, and free you will never roam.

A curious thing, these humans,
As daring as the day is long,
A curious thing, these humans,
Mostly good, with many wrong.

Golden may you be, golden may you claim,
Burnt is your soul, so tame is your flame.
The Philosopher sees through you, as probably Those Who Harp,
Such a folly with the short lived, often a young upstart."

The crowd came to a hush, looks of fascination and confusion obvious on their face. He said nothing, did nothing, except leave his empty glass and leave the establishment.

[Boddynock]

Hidden: show

A handsome figure sits outside of the Elfsong Tavern. Hair cut short, eyes a bit hollow, he sits staring at his empty bottle of feywine. Passerby walk by him paying him no attention; just another drunken patron. After a few moments, he begins to speak in rhyme, his voice somehow carrying over the noise of the tavern.

"The days have gone, the tides are turned,
And yet the short lived, have yet to learn.
Strike at one, you strike them all,
It matters but little, your faith will fall.

See fate is a fickle thing, best never to tempt it,
With Tymora, Beshaba, you may as well end it,
Labelas know whos comes, who goes, as we have ever known,
Trust those crones, and free you will never roam.

A curious thing, these humans,
As daring as the day is long,
A curious thing, these humans,
Mostly good, with many wrong.

Golden may you be, golden may you claim,
Burnt is your soul, so tame is your flame.
The Philosopher sees through you, as probably Those Who Harp,
Such a folly with the short lived, often a young upstart."

The crowd came to a hush, looks of fascination and confusion obvious on their face. He said nothing, did nothing, except leave his empty glass and leave the establishment.

Liam, having been working recently close by in helping clear the scene of a tragedy, arrives in short order to deliver his reply. Unsure of whether or not the original author of the libelous song is still within earshot, Liam trusts that fate, and the rumor mill, will deliver his reply to where it needs to be heard.

You claim Labelas, god of history, sees the past without haze.
But can you be said to have the same skill, or is this all just a turn of phrase?
This is all your lot can do, it seems. You brag and you boast and you bluster.
But when it comes to a meeting with me, your courage never seems to muster.

What is it you fear? Why do you hide? Why deny a meeting face to face?
I think you fear the truth getting out; people realizing their trust is misplaced.
It seems once again, despite your pride, all you've to show is arrogance.
The facts have never supported your claims, you spread lies like a pestilence.

I, for one, think I speak for many, when I say we tire of this charade.
You try to work the rumor mill, but the people seem to me unswayed.
Perhaps they are simply smarter than you have given them credit to be.
They know if you had a shred of proof, the law would already be after me.

But you sit, instead, and sing about the folly of short lived races.
But in all your years and experience, you never learned any social graces?
Perhaps you elves never bothered to learn, how to get along well with neighbors,
But usually running off at the mouth with lies, creates relationships belabored.

Perhaps next time, before you speak, you should meditate on your god.
Think for a while on his teachings, give it at least a cursory nod.
Labelas is the god of the past, and holds dear knowledge and history.
But you, it seems, totally lack the first and cloud the second with false mystery.

I'll not bother with you again, I'll leave you in the past.
I am confident in Tymora's future, the luck of her forecast.
So you can sit and whine and wallow, wasting your long life in the whiskey.
I'll look to the future, leave my fate in her hands, though it may be risky.

For I live to be bold, to be bold is to live! That's the mantra I hold dear.
I'll shout that dogma from the mountains, I'll preach it far and near.
And while I do, here you can sit, and play the drunken fool.
I'll be out doing good works, now that I've taken you to school.

For those of you who heard this man's song, and wish to avoid an alcoholic's fate.
Don't put your faith in gods of the past, but come to the Temple of Tymora in Baldur's Gate.
Don't cry over spilled milk, don't focus on what has been.
Focus instead on your future and trying to earn Tymora's grin.

I implore you all to come, come and seek the Lady's Hall
For the Lady Who Smiles will welcome one and all.
Come and give up your worries, give up your trouble and your strife
And let our Lady Luck guide the fate of your life.

Liam bows gracefully after his recitation, waiting to see if perhaps anyone rises in the defense of the libelous performance to which he responded, scanning the crowd of those gathered with a confident smirk and raised eyebrows.

[Tantive]

A missive arrived for En Dharasha Everae. The scroll bore a red wax seal with the sigil of Doron Amar.

[mrm3ntalist]

During the chaos that ensued once the Orcs attacked those present at tournament in Triel, a group of Elves teleported away with a fallen elven like figure. Once out of harms way, explanations were given. The elven figure accompanied by a half elf went away in the Misty Forest, while the rest went to the village where they discussed ancient secrets that are kept there.

[Kauaiian]

Where the trees dance....

The wood elf stood for a moment, outside of the Standing Circle. The trek from Silverymoon was long, longer than he would have preferred. But he finally made it, much to his relief. His mission was clear, though the end so far in sight. The last two decades weighed heavily on him, but by Mystra's grace, he would succeed.

Fond thoughts played in his mind as he sat down, the words of his now deceased mentor echoing. "Seek the Home of our kin. The secluded haven where the waterfall's laughter is drowned only by the merriment of our People. Seek the heart of the Tel'Quessir. Lend strength to our cause, but never forget your faith. Spread the word of the Goddess, and strengthen the bonds from within. Seek our Home where the trees dance."

[Invoker]

"It is said, that what does not kill you, makes you stronger..." said the black-robed figure in a distant tone, facing away from his audience.

The words escaping the dark void within his cowl were spoken in a surprisingly musical accent for the Common Tongue, and resonated like pebbles bouncing on the walls of an abysmal pit on its endless way downward, as if coming from the innermost recesses of a vast mind.

Slowly turning around, he added "A lie, regrettably. Most of the times, what does not kill you makes you wish you were already dead...wouldn't you agree?". Seeming to concur, the agonizing bandits laying on the ground around him just gurgled, choking in their own blood as it spread in a wider and wider crimson carpet feeding the verdant grass mantle of the Northern Farmlands, their lives slowly oozing away from every pore.

After a last glance in the distance towards the northern access to the fair city of Baldur's Gate, he gracefully, unhurriedly glided away in a spectral walk, fading after a few steps towards the Fields of the Dead as if one of its resident ghosts.

[Invoker]

The runes carved in the monolithic portal stones at the edge of the Dharashan Glade come alive with power as they are activated from the henge far beyond the forest. A black-robed, cowled figure appears in front of the ever-vigilant rangers on guard duty. After a brief pause and eyebrows raised interrogatively, the guardians grant him access to the heart of the village...

[mrm3ntalist]

The past days everyone in the small Elven village is aware that something is going on in the Arcane Study. The rangers standing guard outside of the treetop structure and the many visits by mages and other loremasters of note, such as the Archmage Kael, The First Mage Ithilwen, Saerthal and Hoihe is evident of that. Other of the increased activity however, One word can be heard often lately

"Miyeritar"

What the future will bring upon them, only time will tell.

[mrm3ntalist]

A large gathering of elven mages and loremasters from all over the Sword Coast took place in the Misty Forest. The group entered the Arcane Study and were not seen coming out for days. Except Mendel who seems to go in and out at regular intervals carrying food and water.

First Mage Ithilwen, Saerthal and Velaris seem to be leading this, while Councilor of Doron Amar Elyssa and priestess Aeili offered their invaluable help as well. Amiena, Seldruin and Atria will also help while Isiolia, Mendel Nai and Tirion seem to just stand guard and bring the food and drinks for those studying the tomes.

[Tsidkenu]

A slim, blonde-haired figure emerged from the depths of the Misty Forest under the glamer of invisibility. While she had her own reason for arriving so unexpectedly in En Dharasha Everae, she was very pleased to have encountered Mendel and a few other citizens by the creek. After a warm welcome, fate would have it that she arrived on the selfsame day that the Seluonal was planning to examine the ancient tomes recovered from the lost Miyeritari library. Co-incidence, or the stars aligning perfectly?

Hidden: show

((Seriously I had no knowledge of or intention to participate in this event until I teleported over to the Misty Forest today! Big thank you to Soulcatcher & Mendel for organising it and letting me tag along ))