The Quelmar Wiki - User contributions [en]

Garzól

2025-11-20T14:20:50Z

Tsamps: Added History section

{{Infobox_character|affilliation=Deroleux Academy|name={{PAGENAME}}|image=Garzol-Portrait.png|caption=Garzól walking through one of the many halls of Deroleux Academy|playerName=Tyler S.|languages=Common, Celestial, Primordial, Sylvan|marital=Single|species=Tortle|gender=Male|height=5'7|weight=200 lbs.|eyes=Yellow}}

'''{{PAGENAME}} '''is a Tortle Order Domain Cleric and player character in the Open Table D&D 5e campaign [[Curriculum of Chaos]]. He is an older gentleman and ex-clergyman who sought out enrollment in the Deroleux's Select Conservatory of the Arcane to learn the inner workings of the world that could not be found in any holy book.

== Physical Appearance ==
Garzól is an aged man, with a slight hunch in his back that is only slightly masked by the large mudstone-colored shell that adorns it. Bronze-yellow scales cover his body, and bright yellow eyes sit within slightly sunken facial features, heavy with age. He wears white robes with faded yellow-brown accents, clerical in fashion but sporting no obvious holy sigil or emblem. Beneath these vestments sits a set of chainmail armor that can only barely be seen peeking out at the collar. Several pouches and bags of various sizes line the man's belt, filled with supplies for travel.

== Personality ==
Garzól is a kindly man, gladly providing his healing services to anyone who needs them. He's a worldly fellow who has seen much in his life and seems to have an anecdote for every situation. He is also very self-aware of his age, often cracking jokes about it that sometimes skim the line of self-deprecation, but that he insists are always just in good fun. Deep within the man, however, is a fire that was lit some time ago that cannot be doused. There is an intensity, an unbreakable conviction for a deeply held belief that carries the capacity for a very different disposition than the one Garzól normally wears. At the end of the day though: he cares for the people around him deeply and will go to great lengths to see them happy. Sharing wisdom, healing wounds, telling a joke, or fighting alongside them, Garzól wishes above all to simply be of use.

== History ==
Garzól was born and raised in a religious congregation in the south of Isonhound near Galloway. From what he's revealed, he had lived there all his life and trained as a cleric, but suddenly decided to leave in favor of academic pursuits at Deroleux Academy. He keeps his holy symbol and book hidden away from view, but still keeps them on his person as they are integral to the use of his magic, a fact he seems to be disdainful of. He regards his magic and his clerical past with a level of irreverence in moments of honesty, and playfully dismisses any complements paid to such aspects by others while in public settings, calling them antiquated and not worth the focus of the youth. When asked what brought him to the academy, he vaguely said that he became disillusioned with what he'd been doing all his life, got a bit mad, and then made a bet...but that's all the detail he seemed willing to give.

== Languages ==
Garzól can speak Common, Celestial, Primordial, and Sylvan. His time as a holy man and healer exposed him to many obscure and old languages that he picked up on over the years, the three listed besides Common being his most proficient.

== Powers and Abilities ==
Garzól's healing abilities yet remain, even after leaving the church. He has access to many clerical spells and rituals, and can prepare and memorize a short list of them at dawn each day to have on hand. Garzól's voice also has a unique commanding power, able to spur the reflexes of his allies at a moment's notice when he spots an opening for them to attack, and also briefly charm enemies as his voice of authority rings in their ears.

== Attacks and Weapons ==
Garzól does not often use weapons in combat, but wields a quarterstaff and shield for protection should push come to shove. Even devoid of those, however, he can use his reptilian claws to slash at foes as a last resort.

== Grades ==
'''Magical Theory 100:''' Ungraded

'''Magical Practicum Seminar''': Ungraded
[[Category:Player Characters]]
{{Worldbuilders}}

Garzól

2025-11-14T14:18:50Z

Tsamps:

{{Infobox_character|affilliation=Deroleux Academy|name={{PAGENAME}}|image=Garzol-Portrait.png|caption=Garzól walking through one of the many halls of Deroleux Academy|playerName=Tyler S.|languages=Common, Celestial, Primordial, Sylvan|marital=Single|species=Tortle|gender=Male|height=5'7|weight=200 lbs.|eyes=Yellow}}

'''{{PAGENAME}} '''is a Tortle Order Domain Cleric and player character in the Open Table D&D 5e campaign [[Curriculum of Chaos]]. He is an older gentleman and ex-clergyman who sought out enrollment in the Deroleux's Select Conservatory of the Arcane to learn the inner workings of the world that could not be found in any holy book.

== Physical Appearance ==
Garzól is an aged man, with a slight hunch in his back that is only slightly masked by the large mudstone-colored shell that adorns it. Bronze-yellow scales cover his body, and bright yellow eyes sit within slightly sunken facial features, heavy with age. He wears white robes with faded yellow-brown accents, clerical in fashion but sporting no obvious holy sigil or emblem. Beneath these vestments sits a set of chainmail armor that can only barely be seen peeking out at the collar. Several pouches and bags of various sizes line the man's belt, filled with supplies for travel.

== Personality ==
Garzól is a kindly man, gladly providing his healing services to anyone who needs them. He's a worldly fellow who has seen much in his life and seems to have an anecdote for every situation. He is also very self-aware of his age, often cracking jokes about it that sometimes skim the line of self-deprecation, but that he insists are always just in good fun. Deep within the man, however, is a fire that was lit some time ago that cannot be doused. There is an intensity, an unbreakable conviction for a deeply held belief that carries the capacity for a very different disposition than the one Garzól normally wears. At the end of the day though: he cares for the people around him deeply and will go to great lengths to see them happy. Sharing wisdom, healing wounds, telling a joke, or fighting alongside them, Garzól wishes above all to simply be of use.

== History ==
== Languages ==
Garzól can speak Common, Celestial, Primordial, and Sylvan. His time as a holy man and healer exposed him to many obscure and old languages that he picked up on over the years, the three listed besides Common being his most proficient.

== Powers and Abilities ==
Garzól's healing abilities yet remain, even after leaving the church. He has access to many clerical spells and rituals, and can prepare and memorize a short list of them at dawn each day to have on hand. Garzól's voice also has a unique commanding power, able to spur the reflexes of his allies at a moment's notice when he spots an opening for them to attack, and also briefly charm enemies as his voice of authority rings in their ears.

== Attacks and Weapons ==
Garzól does not often use weapons in combat, but wields a quarterstaff and shield for protection should push come to shove. Even devoid of those, however, he can use his reptilian claws to slash at foes as a last resort.

[[Category:Player Characters]]
{{Worldbuilders}}

Garzól

2025-11-14T06:34:05Z

Tsamps:

{{Infobox_character|affilliation=Deroleux Academy|name={{PAGENAME}}|image=Garzol-Portrait.png|caption=Garzól walking through one of the many halls of Deroleux Academy|playerName=Tyler S.|languages=Common, Celestial, Primordial, Sylvan|marital=Single|species=Tortle|gender=Male|height=5'7|weight=200 lbs.|eyes=Yellow}}

'''{{PAGENAME}} '''is a Tortle Order Domain Cleric and player character in the Open Table D&D 5e campaign [[Curriculum of Chaos]]. He is an older gentleman and ex-clergyman who sought out enrollment in the Deroleux's Select Conservatory of the Arcane to learn the inner workings of the world that could not be found in any holy book.

== Physical Appearance ==
Garzól is an aged man, with a slight hunch in his back that is only slightly masked by the large mudstone-colored shell that adorns his back. Bronze-yellow scales cover his body, and bright yellow eyes sit within slightly sunken facial features, heavy with age. He wears white robes with faded yellow-brown accents, clerical in fashion but sporting no obvious holy sigil or emblem. Beneath these vestments sits a set of chainmail armor that can only barely be seen peeking out at the collar. Several pouches and bags of various sizes line the man's belt, filled with supplies for travel.

== Personality ==
Garzól is a kindly man, gladly providing his healing services to anyone who needs them. He's a worldly fellow who has seen much in his life and seems to have an anecdote for every situation. He is also very self-aware of his age, often cracking jokes about it that sometimes skim the line of self-deprecation, but that he insists are always just in good fun. Deep within the man, however, is a fire that was lit some time ago that cannot be doused. There is an intensity, an unbreakable conviction for a deeply held belief that carries the capacity for a very different disposition than the one Garzól normally wears. At the end of the day though: he cares for the people around him deeply and will go to great lengths to see them happy. Sharing wisdom, healing wounds, telling a joke, or fighting alongside them, Garzól wishes above all to simply be of use.

== History ==
== Languages ==
Garzól can speak Common, Celestial, Primordial, and Sylvan. His time as a holy man and healer exposed him to many obscure and old languages that he picked up on over the years, the three listed besides Common being his most proficient.

== Powers and Abilities ==
Garzól's healing abilities yet remain, even after leaving the church. He has access to many clerical spells and rituals, and can prepare and memorize a short list of them at dawn each day to have on hand. Garzól's voice also has a unique commanding power, able to spur the reflexes of his allies at a moment's notice when he spots an opening for them to attack, and also briefly charm enemies as his voice of authority rings in their ears.

== Attacks and Weapons ==
Garzól does not often use weapons in combat, but wields a quarterstaff and shield for protection should push come to shove. Even devoid of those, however, he can use his reptilian claws to slash at foes as a last resort.

[[Category:Player Characters]]
{{Worldbuilders}}

Garzól

2025-11-14T06:25:39Z

Tsamps: Created Garzol's page (minus history)

{{Infobox_character|affilliation=Deroleux Academy|name={{PAGENAME}}|image=Garzol-Portrait.png|caption=Garzól walking through one of the many halls of Deroleux Academy|playerName=Tyler S.|languages=Common, Celestial, Primordial, Sylvan|marital=Single|species=Tortle|gender=Male|height=5'7|weight=200 lbs.|eyes=Yellow}}

'''{{PAGENAME}} '''is a Tortle Order Domain Cleric and player character in the Open Table D&D 5e campaign [[Curriculum of Chaos]]. He is an older gentleman and ex-clergyman who sought out enrollment in the Deroleux's Select Conservatory of the Arcane to learn the inner workings of the world that could not be found in any holy book.

== Physical Appearance ==
Garzól is an aged man, with a slight hunch in his back that is only slightly masked by the large mudstone-colored shell that adorns his back. Bronze-yellow scales cover his body, and bright yellow eyes sit within slightly sunken facial features, heavy with age. He wears white robes with faded yellow-brown accents, clerical in fashion but sporting no obvious holy sigil or emblem. Beneath these vestments sits a set of chainmail armor that can only barely be seen peeking out at the collar. Several pouches and bags of various sizes line the man's belt, filled with supplies for travel.

== Personality ==
Garzól is a kindly man, gladly providing his healing services to anyone who needs them. He's a worldly fellow who has seen much in his life and seems to have an anecdote for every situation. He is also very self-aware of his age, often cracking jokes about it that sometimes skim the line of self-deprecation, but that he insists are always just in good fun. Deep within the man, however, is a fire that was lit some time ago that cannot be doused. There is an intensity, an unbreakable conviction for a deeply held belief that carries the capacity for a very different disposition than the one Garzól normally wears. At the end of the day though: he cares for the people around him deeply and will go to great lengths to see them happy. Sharing wisdom, healing wounds, telling a joke, or fighting alongside them, Garzól wishes above all to simply be of use.

== History ==
== Languages ==
Garzól can speak Common, Celestial, Primordial, and Sylvan. His time as a holy man and healer exposed him to many obscure and old languages that he picked up on over the years, the three listed besides Common being his most proficient.

== Powers and Abilities ==
Garzól's healing abilities yet remain, even after leaving the church. He has access to many clerical spells and rituals, and can prepare and memorize a short list of them at dawn each day to have on hand. Garzól's voice also has a unique commanding power, able to spur the reflexes of his allies at a moment's notice when he spots an opening for them to attack, and also briefly charm enemies for a short time as his voice of authority rings in their ears.

== Attacks and Weapons ==
Garzól does not often use weapons in combat, but wields a quarterstaff and shield for protection should push come to shove. Even devoid of those, however, he can use his reptilian claws to slash at foes as a last resort.

[[Category:Player Characters]]
{{Worldbuilders}}

File:Garzol-Portrait.png

2025-11-14T05:39:30Z

Tsamps:

Heroforge portrait of a turtle-folk cleric

Inovi

2025-11-11T22:03:41Z

Tsamps: Fixed typos

{{Infobox_character|name={{PAGENAME}}|image=Inovi-Portrait.png|caption=Inovi preparing for combat|playerName=Tyler S.|species=Clank|gender=Male|height=7'0}}

'''{{PAGENAME}} '''is a Wanderborne Clank Sorcerer created by a nomadic community to be a mobile source of warmth, light, and protection in the dark world of the Daggerheart mini-campaign, [[Red Rranos]].

== Physical Appearance ==
Inovi was built to be a walking furnace with an ever-burning flame, one that could scorch the flesh of monsters in the dark as well as warm an entire campsite of nomads at night. He is tall and bulky, covered head to toe in rough, heavy plates of dark gray and black metal, with grates placed throughout where the fire that flows through his hollow frame can emit its light from or be expelled out of for defensive purposes. A grated door in the construct's stomach opens to a crucible-like cavity in his body where flame is magically generated, which can then be piped to his other body parts from within. His face consists of two lantern-like eyes and a grated plate in place of a mouth, and two horn-like exhaust pipes snake out from the top of his head, usually emitting ashy smoke from their ends. Similar pipes jut from Inovi's back as well. A coil of overlapping metal plates drapes down from Inovi's waist and strapped to the side of it is a ragged backpack seemingly stuffed with junk. A threadbare children's doll with black button eyes is strapped to the opposite side, notably unaffected by the intense heat of the construct's stomach furnace despite being so close to it. Seemingly welded onto Inovi's chassis sometime after his creation, several thick chains fall limply from certain parts of the construct including his back, shoulders, and arms. While walking, the chains drag along the ground behind Inovi like a long cape.

== Personality ==
Inovi was not made to have much of a personality, but as his purpose was to provide home and hearth to his community, he developed a gentle and protective nature despite his intimidating visage. Inovi also was not created to talk very much, so he has a bit of a hard time doing so when he tries. He speaks in a slow and strained manner, referring to himself in the third person whenever he talks. He is steadfast in his intention to complete the purpose he was designed for, even now devoid of his original creators.

== History ==
Inovi was built some time ago by a nomadic community that was desperate for protection and light as the world grew darker around them. Inovi served his role well for many years, protecting his community as they traveled and slept, keeping them warm and able to see even when the darkness was deep and cutting. And even when his burgeoning personality became an annoyance to some members of his community's leadership, he always strived to live up to his designated purpose every day. But one day, something arrived that Inovi could not drive away, nor explain in the aftermath. He was awoken in the night, though by what he didn't know. His flame wouldn't light, no matter how hard he tried. He could see no threat nor hear any struggle, but in his core, he felt that something horrible was actively happening in the silence. He continued to try and light his magical flame as he stumbled around his community's camp in the pitch darkness, until after several hours his light finally sparked to life, only to reveal that everyone was gone. No blood on the ground, nor damage to any tents was visible; belongings left exactly where they were before the community slept. But no living soul could be found, and Inovi learned what it was like to be alone for the first time.

Inovi gathered the belongings of his community -- his family -- and did the only thing he could think to do: wander. He wandered as his community once did, but now with no one to warm by his fire, nor illuminate with his light. Yet, he still felt a pull towards his purpose, but a deeper aspect of it this time: a long-term goal designated deep in his mind by his original creators, one that they were not even sure would be possible. With no other part of his purpose able to be fulfilled, however, it was the only part that Inovi could strive for now. And so, the construct ventured into the dark, ever wandering and ever searching for the thing that could finally complete his mission.

== Powers and Abilities ==
Inovi bends the power of his ever-burning flame to his will in combat, shaping it into many types of attacks such as beams, bolts, and explosions. His bulky frame also grants him considerable strength, especially when combining physical motions with jets of fire he can expel from his back for extra force.

== Attacks and Weapons ==
Inovi carries a large metal fire poker with him which he can stick into the furnace in his stomach to gather fire around it's tip and then sling it outwards towards enemies, sending a bolt of collected flame arcing towards them. Inovi can also superheat parts of his metal body to inflict searing physical attacks with red hot metal. Inovi also uses the chains stuck to his back, shoulders, and arms like whips, mostly cracking them in an intimidating fashion to create distance between himself and anything that gets too close.

[[Category:Player Characters]]
[[Category:Red Rranos]]
{{Worldbuilders}}

Inovi

2025-11-10T23:41:43Z

Tsamps: Created Inovi's page

{{Infobox_character|name={{PAGENAME}}|image=Inovi-Portrait.png|caption=Inovi preparing for combat|playerName=Tyler S.|species=Clank|gender=Male|height=7'0}}

'''{{PAGENAME}} '''is a Wanderborne Clank Sorcerer created by a nomadic community to be a mobile source of warmth, light, and protection in the dark world of the Daggerheart mini-campaign, [[Red Rranos]].

== Physical Appearance ==
Inovi was built to be a walking furnace with an ever-burning flame, one that could scorch the flesh of monsters in the dark as well as warm an entire campsite of nomads at night. He is tall and bulky, covered head to toe in rough, heavy plates of dark gray and black metal, with grates placed throughout where the fire that flows through his hollow frame can emit its light through or be expelled out of for defensive purposes. A grated door in the construct's stomach opens to a crucible-like cavity in his body where flame is magically generated, which can then be piped to all the other parts of his body from within. His face consists of two lantern-like eyes and a grated plate in place of a mouth, and two horn-like exhaust pipes snake out from the top of his head, usually emitting ashy smoke from their ends. Similar exhaust pipes jut from Inovi's back as well. A coil of overlapping metal plates drapes down from Inovi's waist and strapped to the side of it is a ragged backpack seemingly stuffed with junk. A threadbare children's doll with black button eyes is strapped to the opposite side, notably unaffected by the intense heat of the construct's stomach furnace despite being so close to it. Seemingly welded onto Inovi's chassis sometime after his creation, several thick chains fall limply from certain parts of the construct including his back, shoulders, and arms. While walking, the chains drag along the ground behind Inovi like a long cape.

== Personality ==
Inovi was not made to have much of a personality, but as his purpose was to provide home and hearth to his community, he developed a gentle and protective nature despite his intimidating visage. Inovi also was not created to talk very much, so he has a bit of a hard time doing so when he tries. He speaks in a slow and strained manner, referring to himself in the third person whenever he talks. He is steadfast in his intention to complete the purpose he was designed for, even now devoid of his original creators.

== History ==
Inovi was built some time ago by a nomadic community that was desperate for protection and light as the world grew darker around them. Inovi served his role well for many years, protecting his community as they traveled and slept, keeping them warm and able to see even when the darkness was deep and cutting. And even when his burgeoning personality became an annoyance to some members of his community's leadership, he always strived to live up to his designated purpose every day. But one day, something arrived that Inovi could not drive away, nor explain in the aftermath. He was awoken in the night, though by what he didn't know. His flame wouldn't light, no matter how hard he tried. He could see no threat nor hear any struggle, but in his core, he felt that something horrible was actively happening in the silence. He continued to try and light his magical flame as he stumbled around his community's camp in the pitch darkness, until after several hours his light finally sparked to life, only to reveal that everyone was gone. No blood on the ground, nor damage to any tents was visible; belongings left exactly where they were before the community slept. But no living soul could be found, and Inovi learned what it was like to be alone for the first time.

Inovi gathered the belongings of his community -- his family -- did the only thing he could think to do: wander. He wandered as his community once did, but now with no one to warm by his fire, nor illuminate with his light. Yet, he still felt a pull towards his purpose, but a deeper aspect of it this time: a long-term goal designated deep in his mind by his original creators, one that they were not even sure would be possible. With no other part of his purpose able to be fulfilled, however, it was the only part that Inovi could strive for now. And so, the construct ventured into the dark, ever wandering and ever searching for the thing that could finally complete his mission.

== Powers and Abilities ==
Inovi bends the power of his ever-burning flame to his will in combat, shaping it into many types of attacks such as beams, bolts, and explosions. His bulky frame also grants him considerable strength, especially when combining physical motions with jets of fire he can expell from his back for extra force.

== Attacks and Weapons ==
Inovi carries a large metal fire poker with him which he can stick into the furnace in his stomach to gather fire around it's tip and then sling it outwards towards enemies, sending a bolt of collected flame arcing towards them. Inovi can also superheat parts of his metal body to inflict searing physical attacks with red hot metal. Inovi also uses the chains stuck to his back, shoulders, and arms like whips, mostly cracking them in an intimidating fashion to create distance between himself and anything that gets too close.

[[Category:Player Characters]]
{{Worldbuilders}}

File:Inovi-Portrait.png

2025-11-10T22:27:13Z

Tsamps:

Heroforge portrait of a construct character

Bedlam in the Badlands/Player Recaps

2025-11-09T03:55:15Z

Tsamps:

{{Worldbuilders}}
Players document their characters' experiences in the Badlands here.

Please remember to link significant people and places to their associated wiki pages when appropriate. (The visual editor tries to do this automatically.)

See [[Bedlam in the Badlands/The Story So Far|The Story So Far]] for the DMs' session overviews.

=== Session 1: Kickoff Megagame - New Place, New Identity, and New Dream with an old scar of redemption ===
'''DM: Mercedes'''

'''PCs: [[Himo Nilo]],[[Raazdrog]], [[Stix]], [[Delaia]], [[Demir]], [[Caesana]], [[Jynx]], [[Leonard]]'''

'''NPCs:[[Bedlam in the Badlands/NPCs|Raegina]],Baftzmyr, Kicyr, Cilvdywutc'''

'''Significant events:''' [[Himo Nilo]] has just arrived at the junkyard. It has been months of traveling alone with the hope of improving himself. Sweat constantly drips off his forehead as he is not used to this area. He received a letter from his contact arboretum asking for new hires and who goes by the name, "The Chairman." He left for the Arboretum, has been on the road since, and doesn't know anything. After all, he was given only a description of [[Bedlam in the Badlands/NPCs#Raegina|Raegina]], her cohorts, and had no tools. He scraped the money he could and went over to the junkyard putting everything he could on the line just for the security of a little bit of breathing room. He watched Grind,Smash, & Cleave with great intent because he has never seen functioning robots, but sharpened himself when he realized he was fighting them. Attacking the robots, he realized they explode on death. He let instinctual training kick in and just kept throwing his dagger at Grind, Smash then Cleave. Adrenaline still rushing, he learned how to scrap creatures, but not that he was good at it. At least now he could possibly gather parts he needed to jerryrig what he wants. When he got the chance to improve Grind, he attempted two things to make it better. The first is he tried to increase the accuracy of the attacks, but as he worked on it, he got really nervous and fumbled with arm, almost removing it entirely. He barely improved it and attempted to improve the armor but proved impossible since he had no effect means of attaching parts wile casting mending. [[Stix]] meanwhile, made the saw light ablaze whenever it swung to attack, and [[Raazdrog]] managed to add a ranged weapon to it. He did have two really great ideas that both of them liked. The first is he renamed Grind to Sparkburn. The second is he built off of Raazdrog's idea to give a voice. Raazdrog gave it "I am fire. I am death." to repeat while fighting enemies. Himo added to that by having it also repeat "Feel the Spark. Feel the Burn!" When [[Bedlam in the Badlands/NPCs#Raegina|Raegina]] offered a wager for the best bot created, she gave everyone 10 additional GP and Himo bet seven of that ten on Sparkburn, and the other three went to Cleave. Sparkburn ended coming out on top and he made 31 GP out of that and Raazdrog's got 35 GP. Raazdrog's managed to convince Himo to give Stix 10 GP from both of us since they helped improve Sparkburn, to which Himo agreed and almost seemed relieved that Raazdrog's prompted him to do it. When the horn was blasted, Himo immediately got on the war rig and started repairing Sparkburn. When they got to an entrance of the Arboretum the war rig was flipped onto its side by an Oliphaunt. He managed to catch himself landing and immediately tried to help others up but it wasn't enough with his one hand. While fighting, Himo climbed on the war rig while it was on its side to get a clear vantage point, and saw the scale of this invastion for the first time. He focused hard on the Capra hard and got off the war rig when he was told by [[Bedlam in the Badlands/NPCs#Raegina|Raegina]] to get off. After cleaning up the Pustuloids, Capra Demons and Lesser Rage demons, a massive wave of wild magic energy was released. When the fight had ended, all spellcasters were spent including Leonard who saw the Rig get rammed into its side and decided to help out. [[Delaia]] and [[Raazdrog]]'s defender were severly injured, and realization dawned on Himo when he knew that the conservatory was desroyed. A few more demons were picked off while they were trying to flee, and while people were talking about uniting, Himo only thought of one thing. Using the very tool that turned his life into a living nightmare; Explosives'''.'''

===Session 1: Kickoff Megagame - Trading Route Troubles + Aggression From Above: Koro's Account===
'''DM:''' Amanda

'''PCs:''' [[Pryderi]], [[Silgr Þyrikk]], [[Chanterelle Viscaryn]], [[Davin Dunefoot]], [[Rhogar Dreel]], [[Rimsa Pavdad]], [[Koro]], [[Demir Malchan]], [[Lincoln "Toots" Whiterock]], [[Pearl Dust]], [[Larry]]

'''NPCs:''' Lord Pavan, Swordmaster Krispin, Tradesman Kareek, Stanley the monitor lizard

'''Significant events:''' Jeez...this place is insane. I guess the multiple sulfurous explosions originating from Hell Circles should've maybe tipped me off to that, but I figured I could avoid all that craziness if I just did what I've ''been'' doing this whole time! Simple job got served up on a silver platter from Duke Solon: escort duty of some goods and traders heading into Fed territory, easy peasy; been doing that type of thing for a while before coming to the Arboretum and never ran into any trouble that couldn't have been solved by standing around and looking tough. I assumed it would be more of the same this time around, just with more company than usual, and certainly better than getting served up as a punching bag against the Scrappers' war machines. It was a fairly sized convoy: couple camel-drawn carts and some horses to carry the lord Pavan and his bodyguard Krispin, the trade envoys at the head of the small group. There was one cart that seemed more important than the others though. Drawn by a large monitor lizard named Stanley, the mystery cargo remained covered by thick tarps at all times, and the driver, Kareek, was not forthcoming about its contents either, despite Pryderi's inquiry. With the last thing that, at the time I thought, would make the job somewhat interesting firmly drowned in secrecy, I decided to settle in for the long haul...but that's when it all went to hell.

Davin, a bow wielding halfling draped in the garb of one experienced in desert living, extended his senses into the distance searching for threats...and pinpointed a group of shadowy figures ahead of us. He was able to ascertain that the figures were no ordinary desert travelers, nor normal animals native to the dunes, and so we decided on a defensive approach. Unloading the carts of the wooden barrels and boxes, we fashioned a rough defensive perimeter of carts and containers, keeping what traders and animals we could within the circle. They were upon us not long after we finished setting up...these...''things'', they looked like dogs but ones that had been...'''melted'''. They flung themselves at us, tearing apart the animals first, but swiftly moving on to the traders if they had an opening. It seemed like they barely felt the impact of our attacks, I'm not convinced they could even feel pain. I was struggling to even hit them with my sword...probably because it was too...uh, short! Yeah, it wasn't a longer blade like the ones I was used to wielding, just the one I was able to steal from back east...yeah that's probably it, probably should've gotten around to replacing it sooner. I saw Pavan's bodyguard, Krispin, struggling to hit with his sword as well. His blade wasn't curved like the ones I preferred, but the length was right, I wondered if there was a way I could get it from him...but that would have to come after the battle. There was a larger hound leading the pack, cloaked in shadow and radiating heat, and it spewed a great beam of lava across Rhogar's body and many of the containers behind him; seemed like it nearly killed him on the spot. Oh, also forgot to mention that Stanley and the cart he was hitched to took off into the desert as soon as the hounds appeared, some help he was! A couple of the other animals got spooked too, but some members from our little troupe were able to round some of them up in the middle of the battle so we wouldn't be stranded if we survived. It was anything but easy, but eventually we were finally able to take out all the hounds. The traders had taken some casualties despite our efforts, but we didn't even have a second to catch our breaths before a flare shot over the horizon from the direction we had come from: [[the Arboretum]] was under attack. Pavan told us to forget the goods and to immediately hop on a cart and head back to assist. We did as we were told and were swiftly pulled back towards where we came. (Was able to convince Krispin to trade swords though with Pryderi's assistance, score! Not actually sure if the sword I gave him will serve him well, but I'm certainly happy to be rid of it. Only wish the old man could've been here so I could look him in the eye as I discarded it, good riddance).

Arriving at the Arboretum we saw a nightmare: demons flooding every inch of the place, inside and out. Everywhere you looked you could see a battle; metal hitting metal, claws rending flesh, it was chaos all over...except for one place. Above the very top of the massive tree was seemingly a dark cloud that upon closer inspection, was revealed to actually be a swarm of countless flying demons, seemingly targeting the defenses mounted atop the Arboretum. Pavan urged us to be the ones to rush to meet the swarm and keep them from assisting their grounded allies. My mind immediately told me it was impossible, but for some reason my feet followed after the group. Our druid, Rimsa, ran off to join another part of the battle, and a tiefling named Demir joined up with us during our ascent. At the top, we split up to try and cover more ground, and at the start it seemed like it was going to be alright. A large, feathered demon seemed to be leading its brethren up there, but Silgr was able to send it careening down the side of the tree by somehow freezing it in midair with a flash of one of his runes. He and Rhogar were able to get Pavan and Krispin to one of the ballistae while Chanterelle, Pryderi, Demir, Davin, and I were able to start carving a path towards the double shot ballista...but our success didn't last. The smaller demons would come in waves; they could swoop and slash at us and be repositioned in the air before we could get a swing on them. I found myself wishing for a bow in my hands again, but it seemed even our allies with ranged abilities were being torn up. Even worse, the feathered demon had seemingly broken free of Silgr's rune before it hit the ground and was rapidly ascending back up the side of the tree. One by one we began to get knocked unconscious, I myself would've likely fallen from the tree after a particular claw strike hit me hard if it wasn't for Chanterelle and Pryderi...it wasn't looking good. Additionally, a loud boom rang out from below us, and a violent quake shook the tree. Soon after, the cloud of demons above us began to dissipate, seemingly having completed the objective they came for (which I later learned was the destruction of the Arboretum's magical forge), but it seemed like the ones engaging us were still keen on wiping us out. I'll admit, I wasn't sure how we were going to make it out of there, but then, from the southernmost side of the tree, two literal bears that had scaled the entire height of the Arbotetum, one bearing a lizardfolk in wizard robes on its back, crested the top of the battlements and began laying into the demons. After realizing the new arrivals were on our side, our group was also able to rally and wipe out the demons before they could destroy the two remaining ballistae. The feathered demon appeared briefly, but it too followed its departing brethren away from the Arboretum.

The rest of the day was a blur. I remember bits and pieces of a big speech about the three factions banding together to restore the Arboretum and defend its denizens from the demonic forces that had made themselves known, but my body's aches seemed to distract my mind from fully comprehending it. And while this was a victory, I was left to wonder just what on [[Quelmar]] I had gotten myself into...

=== Session 3: WereVultures by Night (As Told by Stix) ===
'''DM: Chris'''

'''PCs: Davin Dewfoot ,[[Raazdrog]], [[Stix]], [[Delaia]], Steady Wind, [[Leonard]]'''

'''NPCs: Suki, Brandran, Hektor'''

I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to write here. I was told to keep a log of the missions we’re sent on, so that’s what this is, I guess. I (Hi, I’m Stix) was summoned along with Delaiah (I really can’t seem to escape her), Davin, Dee, and two other familiar faces, Raazdrog and Leonard. We were taken before Suki, who said she’s the de facto healer for the Arboretum, and also claims she runs the Casino in the Federation? I heard of people ~~and she who mustn’t be named~~ talking about this ‘Casino’ concept and gambling. Suki said she’d teach me, so I guess I’m going to learn how to gamble at some point. She also gave us our mission- to escort an escaped Shend prisoner named Brandran to the Federation HQ and deliver him to Hektor himself. I brought up the fact that it might be unsafe and the whole madness thing might be an act and he might be a double agent. The rest of the party was mostly concerned about getting paid and what to name our horse companions (A and B, Incase whoever is reading this is wondering.) We were told it would be a 7 day trek if we paced ourselves accordingly. And the first 3 days went fine. On night 3, as I kept watch, I noticed some vultures circling our camp. In the morning they were still there, so I pointed them out to the crew. Delaiah actually said something smart, and pointed out that it might signal to other caravans that we were also out in the deserts. Davin managed to shoot them both out of the sky, and we continued on our way. And everything was fine. Until the evening. In the middle of the night, we were attacked by several more vultures, two large kinda vultures, and four foul smelling sand worms. Thanks to Delaiah knowing some weird hell’s language, we were able to figure out that they were after Brandran. I immediately shoved him in my locket to keep him safe, which was both a great and terrible idea. It kept him safe for several rounds of combat, but caused most of the adversaries to target me, and, being just a doll, it didn’t take much to get me out of the fight. From what I was told, the two larger vultures turned out to be were shapeshifter vultures, and Brandran is one of them as well. From what my party members could surmise, they wanted to take him back to the Shend? Maybe? At some point, I was woken up, and we finished off everything that was left. However, the were vultures kept healing themselves no matter what we tried. In the end, we tied all three of them up, and brought them to Hektor for questioning. He thanked us, and arranged for a safe caravan back to the Arboretum.

===Session 5: Bombs (and how not to make them) 101: Koro's Account===
'''DM:''' Mercedes

'''PCs:''' [[Syl]], [[Ollie Ollivine]], [[Glorivesh]], [[Koro]], [[Mizuka]], [[Avel]]

'''NPCs:''' [[Bedlam in the Badlands/NPCs|Raegina]], Baftzmyr, Kicyr, Cilvdywutc

...I really should listen to my gut when it gives me a bad feeling about something. I mean, I guess I was for a while; I knew doing jobs for the Scrappers was a death wish more often than not, but after that fight on top of the Arboretum, after needing to be saved from certain death by others because I couldn't keep up with those demons...somehow all the "training" I suffered through wasn't enough. I thought I needed to be challenged more, I know I have what it takes I-I'm probably just rusty after all this time...yeah, that's probably it. For some reason I thought the best way to shake the rust off was to take a job for the Scrappers. Apparently their home base, the Junkyard, was infested with pests, seemingly some demons that retreated from the battle at the Arboretum. I figured this would be a great way to get my groove back: fighting some lower strength demons who can't just fly away after they get their cheap shots (still need to find a longbow somewhere), sounded like a cakewalk...and that, of course, is where I was mistaken.

Not only did we have to walk hours through the desert on foot just to get to the Junkyard, exhausting half of us before any fighting even began, but after arriving we were "recruited" by a woman named Cilvdy to make some...questionably designed explosives that would apparently draw the demons out of their hiding places within the piles of junk. Oh, I guess I should also mention who else was on this job. Syl was the only one I was previously acquainted with; they were apparently cleared for this mission by their boss, so we didn't have to worry about any demotions...hopefully. There was an elf named Ollie who had a giant frog companion, a scarred and tattooed elf named Avel, a vulpine performer named Mizuka, and a sorcerer named Gloria who's human...I think. Cilvdy set us up in a crude assembly line and we got to work, seemingly not really having a choice. Even though I was exhausted from travel, I was able to pick up the presence of someone watching us from afar; Raegina was here, and she was observing our group's progress. The only other people present for the show that was about to commence were Baftzmyr; a masked figure with an ornate headdress, and Kicyr; a half elf with a boisterous personality, both of whom seemed to be slightly antagonistic towards Cilvdy, though it seemed that she herself was none the wiser to this.

There really isn't any other way to say this: we couldn't stop blowing ourselves up. Or more specifically, we couldn't stop blowing up whoever was unfortunate enough to be at the end of the assembly line. I was at the first step, folding the origami that would act as the casing for the explosive, so I was out of harm's way, and I was perfectly fine to stay there until we were done, as some of our group sustained some substantial damage from these misfires. I was convinced that more harm would be done to us doing this process than during the actual combat with the demon pests, but as is seemingly becoming more and more common these days, I was incorrect.

After equipping us with the bombs that we were able to successfully construct, we were finally allowed to head out into the Junkyard to clear out the demons. As we were fanning out trying to find suitable locations to throw our bombs, I climbed to the top of a junk pile to try and get a better look at the surroundings, and that's when this demon...chicken...''thing'' jumped out at me. It didn't have a head, but instead it's neck just ended in this huge mouth, I'm not even sure it had eyes so I don't even know how it could see me...it was disgusting. I scarcely had a chance to draw my blade to retaliate before the chaos erupted. I heard explosions as the rest of the group began throwing their bombs, drawing out more of these poultry-like creatures, but also these huge writing leeches that accompanied them. I saw one take a chunk out of Syl's hood and just, ''dig'' into them. From my high vantage point, I could see this same thing happening to many other people in the group as well. Even when the leeches were killed the wounds they left would just ''gush'' blood uncontrollably, it was a scene out of a nightmare. Just like at the Arboretum, I had no focus when faced with these monsters; there was no calm threat assessment or confident show of force, panicked instinct took over. I remember rushing to Syl and trying to carve a path through the demons to give them some breathing room. I remember sprinting over towards Avel and Gloria and all I could see was red, just...blood everywhere. I remember slashing away at a group of three leeches that were latched onto Ollie and her frog, as well as Mizuka, our only healer. I think that was when it went quiet, and my senses returned to me. I heard no more otherworldly screeches or growls, only the soft hum of Mizuka's harmonica as she used her healing magic to stop the wounds of those who were still bleeding, it was over.

The happy-go-lucky CIlvdy came to congratulate us and showed us how to harvest materials from the creatures' corpses. I couldn't really focus on that though, my eyes were drawn once again to Raegina, who seemingly hadn't taken her eyes off us the entire time. Kicyr was with her this time though, and the cambion handed her lieutenant a bag of gold, still never taking her eyes off of us. I guess our performance was acceptable to her, but somehow the passing thought of a scenario where she wasn't filled me with more dread than any of the bloody scenes I witnessed today...

==== Gloria's account ====
I took the job with the scrappers for a few reasons: first, it was the first thing that popped up after the attack on the arboretum that I could help out with between putting my own accomodations back together and helping with the conservatory. Second, it gave me a way to get back in touch with Baftzmyr and Kicyr to see if I could figure out if there was room for friendship or anything else there, or if I'd poisoned the well a bit. Third, it gave me a chance to contextualize several of the people I've been meeting around the place, like Gobbo Greenskin. I needed a sense of where they're coming from to really be able to know if there's something I can do to help, or something I can tailor my performances to. And finally, I wanted to get my hands a little dirty and deal with some of the demons that started all this chaos. Good news: mission accomplished on all counts. Bad news: I'm apparently not very good at building bombs, and pretty fragile when it comes to fighting demon leeches. But that's getting ahead of myself.

First off, we had to walk out there. It takes a few hours by foot, and the sun is punishing. Skin feeling cold and clammy to the touch of most people doesn't mean I don't sweat or overheat, but I managed it better than several of the others. Probably might help if someone sold parasols or other desert gear. Worth checking into later, if these sort of excursions become a regular thing. From that point we met with the lady lieutenants of the scrap heap: Baftzymyr, Kicyr, and Cildywutc just "Cilvdy" seems to be her preference. The first two ''definitely'' sort of hate me still for the time being, and the latter was most interested in getting us to build paper bombs filled with black powder.

The goal was to fold the bombs, fill them, and then dip the finished product in hot wax with a fuse that could be easily lit and thrown to flush out the demons that were hiding around the various scrap piles. Cilvdy walked us through the steps and we each took a station. I ''thought'' that with my musician's steady hands, I'd be a good fit for the final step, and because a lot of the others were exhausted, it seemed dangerous to put them there. Turns out, I'm at least as prone to explode as anyone else. After barely managing to avoid maiming my hand by bodily throwing myself into the explosion of one bomb, we switched things up. Syl and Koro insisted on switching places with me, and I had absolutely no objections at that point. And now I have a distinct fear of losing digits when handling explosives, so I'm going to try to never have to do that again if I can help it. Mizuka and Avel were both a really big help during the bomb-making too. It's interesting how their magic differs from my own, and it might be worth looking into studying the approach at some point in the future after I figure things out with V.

After we got the bombs together, we took a bit of time to recuperate. I'm pretty sure I'm the one who needed that the most, but I wasn't the only one to suffer an accidental explosion, so maybe we all needed it. Anyway, we went out to the junkyard and spread out to deal with the pesky demons (demon pests?). As were were just getting set up to start lighting bombs, Koro got attacked by a couple of the beasts that were hiding on the scrap he climbed on top of. Very quickly from there, all the hells (or I guess the Abyss) broke loose. There were maybe two dozen of these monsters: nasty demon leeches that could stick to you and keep you bleeding without magical healing to staunch the wounds, and these hideous... meat chickens. Which, yes, chickens are meat animals already, but believe me, these things were just ''awful'' looking. No feathers, just like fleshy monstrosities. I do not recommend trying to eat one.

Things got a little hectic in the fight. Cilvdy got attacked by a couple, and I helped her out. Syl seemed to be holding their own despite practically being surrounded. Ollie picked a few off with her bow and with the help of her giant frog. (Which, let's be real: has to require some ''crazy'' upkeep out in the badlands! Lots of water!) Koro went wild, taking out at least a half dozen of the creatures himself. (Not sure if I was feeling a little scared of him, or just impressed. He was a little monstrous himself, but nothing that was worrying.) Avel stayed pretty safe, from what I recall, and he held his own, but I lost track of him when I nearly passed out from blood loss. I... had a harder time than I expected. A handful of the creatures got close, and I couldn't manage a clean shot with my spells or to get away from them without getting hit. I'm very fortunate that Mizuki was there. She's a bit of a lifesaver, for real. She used some sound spell to cause an explosion at one point, and it left my ears ringing, but she was even closer. Still, she managed to offer some healing words and keep me from ending up as the incubator for nasty demon eggs. Which, yeah, it would've been ''nice'' to know that these demon chickens apparently lay eggs in people they knock down. Could've been vital information that the resident demon-parts expert Baftzymyr could have ''shared'', but I guess we didn't get to know that. I'm not sure if it's because she was still mad at me that she left us all in the dark or if she just wouldn't have told us either way. But she wanted to harvest the eggs, and maybe they're easier to get out of a person than they are out of the dead monsters. I ''hope'' they're easy to get out of a person, but I'm a little afraid to ask on the chance it's not the answer I want to hear. Note: stay far away from demon chickens if you're close to keeling over.

We wrapped things up with Baftzmyr showing half of the group how to harvest the eggs, and Cilvdy showing the other half, including myself, how to slice up the demon leeches into something that they find useful. We got paid, and we did an okay job of it all, although the eggs were too difficult for anyone but Baftzmyr to get them out completely intact. Still, Cilvdy was happy with how we did, and on top of the payment she gave us a discount coupon for her explosives stand. (One that I'm probably going to try to trade away, because of the above fear of blowing my hands up.) As everyone else started walking back to the arboretum, I was able to talk Cilvdy into giving me a ride on her horse. That let me get in a private conversation to learn a bit more about everything going on there, and get a sense of the feelings minefield. (Not spilling any of their secrets in this public report, no. If you want to try to talk me into revealing them, you can meet me in person, but be warned, I am sworn to secrecy by the unbreakable girl code!)

=== Session 6: The Tower That Wasn't (9/21/25) ===
'''DM:''' Cat

'''PCs:''' [[Mezzi]] (they/them), [[Diana Belkacem|Diana]] (she/her), [[Davin Dunefoot|Davin]] (he/him), [[Dallas]] (she/her), [[Himo Nilo|Himo]] (he/him), [[Polvo]] (she/her)

'''NPCs:''' [[Bedlam in the Badlands/NPCs#Sir Anthony|Sir Anthony]], [[Bedlam in the Badlands/NPCs#Jerbo|Jerbo]], [[Bedlam in the Badlands/NPCs#Dapple|Dapple]], The Osteomancer

Himo has walked nearby the chapel as the service was ending Himo met an arcanist who goes by the name Jerbo. After some conversation, Himo learned that kobolds had attacked the Arboretum with the help of a demon. Confused, he pushed for more details, but didn't get much out of it but agreed to help if he got a few more people involved. When he got over there, he was surprised to see entirely new faces.There was the usual faces like mezzi, which surprised me, but also a mouse like person he hasn't seen before. After some quick introductions, The group learned they were going to find someone who goes by The Osteomancer who might know something about what happened, and it's a 2 day travel over. Himo and the rest of group went to Dapple's Stable to rent a few horses. He paid the deposit and they set of to the north east to this Osteomancer.

Along the way The group met a lone dog that seemed to have been abandoned what seemed to be a short time. We continued on our journey until we reached a trapped door. opening the trapdoor, a ladder heads down a worked tunnel and Himo voted to go in front. When they entered, they met the Osteomancer, A loxodon living alone in what appears to be a simple home. A deal was struck to help them out if they helped us with the why the kobolds attacked. The Osteomancer, was dealing with something made of absence, that erased identities the longer someone was there. To protect us from this, The Osteomancer led us to a somewhat large humanoid skull engraved with a lot of divination runes on it. There each of us shared our memories, to remember who we were. The group learned of his escape from High Lunas when he first picked an Arcane Lock. Other information we learned was it could only be seen with reflections, and we were given a scroll with an egg to crush it when we started using the scroll.

When we got to the structure, It was like walking into an insane asylum. A pitch black outside, to bright white inside and it made seeing outside really hard. What was up, down, left, right, front,back when everything around is the same? Himo found himself close to a center of complete silence, crushed the egg and began reading the scroll. Suddenly white lights appeared as well as a ghost of some kind but not like your standard ghost. It was trying to make me dissapear while the lights whittled down my teammates. I placed my cannon down to give me a "wall" against the lights which worked out well. Mezzi started making the lights inactive which was good because Davin and Polvo, were both being injured a great deal. I completed the scroll with every creature there incapacitated and we left. The tower collapses and we return to the Osteomancer

In payment, the Osteomancer explained that in dragon-worshipping Swikedom, "the divine Blood Law relegates kobolds to the Thrall caste, below all save Warmbloods like us," but that kobolds who revere Kurtulmak above Tiamat may try to escape their thralldom, denying that the Blood Law is divinely ordained. "One such group," she revealed, "led by Snizz the Fortunate, used the demons as a way out of bondage, but their freedom -- such as it was -- ended when your comrades cut them down."

We learned that kobolds with make deals with anything to get out of the blood law. A group led by Snizz the Fortunate, made a pact with demons, that ended when they were cut down. The Osteomancer Finished off by saying "The Beast of Cinderspire will roam free."

=== Session 7: Tracking Demons 102 (As Told by Stix) ===
'''DM:''' Mercedes

'''PCs:''' Stix, Steady Wind, Himo Nilo,

Koro, Raazdrog, Ozmir Nightshade

'''NPCs:''' Baftzmyr

So. Here we are again, I guess. After my last adventure in the desert with crawling creatures under the sand, I suppose I wanted more? I guess this is what I’ve been told desire is? I don’t think this is desire though. I figured I take less resources than the others who need to y’know….eat and drink. So, I heard about a new mission headed up by Baftzmyr and showed up to the Junkyard. I was slightly surprised to see Himo and Raazdrog there, though I guess I shouldn’t be since both of them, but especially Himo, are obsessed with that boy we enhanced and named Sparkburn. I wasn’t surprised to see Dee there, he seemed to do pretty alright in our last mission out into the sands. There were two new faces as well- Ozmir, who I haven’t seen around the Arboretum at all, and Koro, who I was …happy? Pleased? To finally converse with. We’ve been always just missing each other, but I’ve heard other people talk about him. I was very surprised to not see Delaiah there, but it was a welcome change. She’s nice, but she’s nosy, and talks a lot. So, anyways. The six of us get to the Junkyard, where Baft was waiting for us. She explained that there is a very large demon creature that’s stuck in the sand someplace west of us. Unlike Suki, she did offer to accompany us into the desert, and gave me the old buddy Sparkburn to ride for the journey as well. We were only out for a couple of hours before she spotted some rippling in the sand. Turns out that it was another kind of dretch, which were the sand swimmer creatures we fought with the WereVultures. However, these ones looked different and were mutated in some way. I realised this pretty quickly when Sparkburn punched one, and the fire damage I enhanced him with healed the dretch instead. Koro rushed up and dispatched it pretty easily, and Raazdrog and I noticed the rest of the dretches running away to the east. We followed them to find a rather large crater in the ground. Baft then offered the group a large oragami pig bomb? I volunteered to run to the edge, drop the bomb in, and run away. The plan went off without a hitch, and I dove into my locket for safety as a wall of force and sand hit everyone. In the middle of the crater was a large demonic creature that we later learned was the Baron of Filth. What a dumb name. Anyhow, I was straining to listen through my locket to figure out what’s going on when Raazdrog tapped and called into it, telling me to come out. A group of us then rushed up to peer over the edge of the crater to get a better look when the fighting really began. It used the lantern on his chest to shoot coils of magic and energy at us that ranged in flavor and consequences. I think I got hit with a lightning coil at some point during the fight and I know Koro said he felt pretty heavy. And, to top it all off, the ‘Baron’ summoned more of those mutated Dretch things to just cause more complications to the whole ordeal. And, if that wasn’t enough, anytime the Baron struggled or tried to free himself, the sands shifted, causing a sandslide down the crater to the large monster. Most of the fight was attempting to hurt the Baron while picking off the dretch and avoiding falling in. Some of the group decided to willingly slide down into the pit and face him head on. Unfortunately, this caused Koro and Dee to both get knocked unconscious and Himo to get buried in the sand. We are in Raegina’s debt that Baft accompanied us, if she wasn’t there, I really don’t think we could’ve gotten Koro and Dee back up. Though, Raazdrog did do some pretty decent healing as well. We did manage to hit the Baron enough to down him, however, I guess it caused the lantern contraption in his chest to overload, causing a massive fireball explosion. Once we all recovered, we helped to heal and stabilize each other, and make sure we were all mostly back on our feet. We took some time to scrap the Baron for some components before making our way back to the Junkyard and Arboretum, a job completed and mostly unscathed.

==== Koro's Account: ====
You know, there's an old Snobbish saying about being fooled twice and the shame being on the one who was fooled...or something like that; not sure why that's popping in my head just now. Anyways, I took another job for the Scrappers. A large demon was spotted out in the dunes near the Scrapyard, seemingly being stuck in the sand somehow. After my last job with the Scrappers, I was...concerned about the approach they were going to take with dispatching such a thing, and for some reason I could feel in my gut that this wasn't something I'd feel comfortable sitting out on. So, perhaps against my better judgement, I joined the group bound for the Scrapyard, all unfamiliar faces to me except for Stix, a sentient...doll of some kind? I'd only seen them in passing before in the Arboretum, but this time they were accompanied by a large scrap construct they called 'Sparkburn'. Steady Wind was an armored tabaxi that seemed to possess similar abilities to Rhogar and Silgr, Ozmir was a lightly armored tiefling who created psychic blades, and Himo and Raazdrog seemed like inventor types like Gobbo.

To my surprise we were accompanied on this mission by Baftzmyr, Raegina's masked lieutenant. Apparently this demon was formidable enough to actually warrant personal involvement from Scrapper high command. As would be expected though, they still ordered us to do the tracking; are they testing us or something? First with the bomb making and now with the tracking, it feels like they're trying to "train" us in a weird way...not entirely sure how to feel about that. On our way to the demon's location, we came across a strange pig creature that could dig through the sand with ease. We chased it for a bit before it decided to stand its ground and fight, bursting out from the sand. It was a relatively easy kill, but looking towards the direction it was heading, we could see many more moving mounds of sand heading out to the demon's location as well; were these its minions or something? Cautiously we followed their trails, eventually reaching a large patch of undulating and shifting sand, Baftzmyr indicating that the demon was located just below it. Baftzmyr produced a large bomb housed inside of an origami pig, clearly another Cilvdy original, and Stix put it in place over the buried beast. As we hastily took cover by digging a shallow trench in the sand, the bomb exploded, filling the air with sand as a deep crater was left in its wake. At the bottom was this enormous gray skinned demon; bipedal seemingly, but perhaps not used to traveling the shifting sands with its immense weight, causing it to get stuck. Its mouth was peeled wide, the edges stretched thin and pinned to its huge arms, its bottom lip stretching down past its chest. In the center of this horrific creature was something not biological though: a lantern-like object was snugly tucked in the center, glowing a bright orange.

We didn't have much time to take in this fresh horror though, as more of those pig minions began to swarm us, trying to defend their master. Their stench was unbearable when so many were in one place, and Steady Wind found out the hard way that it seemingly carried a poison in its wake as well. We tried to clear out the pig creatures first, but the large demon began shooting out tendrils at us that could reach our position, so we knew we couldn't ignore it. Raazdrog conjured a field of light that surrounded the creature and made it easier to hit, even in its constant struggle from within the sand pit. Himo, Stix, and Ozmir were occupied with the minor demons at the edge of the pit, but Steady Wind had been captured by a tendril and drawn close to the large demon, being knocked out shortly after. I saw that his body would be pulled beneath the sand if nothing was done, so I headed into the pit myself to try and get the beast's attention. I was able to levitate Steady Wind's body out of the demon's range in hopes that Baftzmyr could help him, and I took up a defensive position to try and dodge the demon's attacks. It didn't do much good though, despite my efforts the thing was able to knock me out in two hits, I couldn't even dodge one attack. The next thing I knew I was healed by Himo and more of the group had been drawn into the depths of the pit. Not long after though, Raazdrog was able to plunge his trident into the demon's head, seemingly killing it, but the lantern in the beast's center began to glow brighter and brighter. Before I could even shout out to the remaining group that was nearby, the device exploded, sending me to unconsciousness once again. I was lucky the group still had healing abilities left though, it was barely enough to get me and Steady Wind back from death's door with Baftzmyr's help.

Verbally saying that I owe my life, even partially, to one from Raegina's inner circle feels a little dangerous in itself though, so I may keep that thought just to myself...
===Session 12: The Doll, The Vulpine, and the Corpse Girl: Koro's Account===
'''DM:''' Mercedes

'''PCs:''' [[Gobbo Greenskin]], [[Demir Malchan]], [[Koro]], [[Diana Belkacem]], [[Steady (Dee) Wind]], [[Razzadrog Eyepoker]]

'''NPCs:''' Cilvdywutc, Jitcwal, [[Stix]], Sandra Sanderson

Cilvdy, Jitcwal, and Stix got kidnapped. We didn't know much at the time, but apparently some lizardfolk and Yuan-ti tricked some of our allies into a trap job that ended with those three getting snatched and ferried away to some unknown place. Tensions were high immediately, and admittedly, I was also driven to a bit of a panic. I don't know why exactly, but the news hit me pretty hard, harder than I would've thought it would. All that I could think about for days after was what could be happening to them, what their captors might be doing to them every second we weren't getting them out of there; it was maddening honestly. I was restless and agitated, I needed to get out of the Arboretum and actually do something that would help us find them. Luckily, Syl had the same idea, and together we decided to head out to the site of the kidnapping to try and track down the culprits.

It took some doing, and for Syl's sake I won't go too much into the details (and maybe my sake a little bit too...don't tell Lenore), but long story short: we found a smuggler's den inhabited by one of the Sandra's gang members who was there at the time of the kidnapping, but had been injured in the process. We interrogated her for information, eventually finding out that Sandra was a powerful bard who led the Shabby Scales, a mercenary group for hire. They were hired by someone else to capture Baftzmyr in order to lure in Raegina, but they ended up getting Cilvdy, Stix, and Jitcwal instead. Apparently, they had made off with the prisoners to a rendezvous point further east of the den, but the lookout wasn't told the exact location. Inside the den was also what looked like a miniature version of the lantern-like object fused into the Baron of Filth's chest, apparently the down payment given to the Shabby Scales by their client for this job. I decided to bring it along since we planned on letting the injured scout live, and as soon as I touched it, I felt searing energy rush up my arm and a soothing voice speaking in my head in a language I couldn't understand. It didn't feel like anything else happened though, so I didn't tell Syl about it as we exited the den. I wasn't aware of it at the time, but the lantern was apparently magically influencing me to keep it close and safe, for reasons I'm honestly lucky I never had to fully find out.

It was dark when we left the den, so we had to head back to the Arboretum. We still didn't have enough to pinpoint where our friends actually were, and it felt like our scouting effort may have been wasted, but upon returning to base, we got the final pieces we needed. Himo, having apparently used some kind of contact he had to gather additional information, found the exact rendezvous location: Triton's Terrace, a watering hole at the base of the eastern mountains. He also learned that the client who hired the Scales was a literal demon, and one that was looking for revenge for the killing of the Baron of Filth. Wasting little time, I took off to prepare and gather a team to head to the location to extract our kidnapped friends.

Everyone was familiar to me on this mission except for one: Diana Belkacem, a human woman who seemingly had a similar skill set to Gobbo and Razz, running with a construct companion that fought by their side. Using horses lent to us by the Scrappers we made a direct path towards Triton's Terrace, and it didn't take long for shit to hit the fan. With the numbers we were bringing, stealth was more of a pipe dream than an actual option, so the guard out front of the cave entrance nestled in the oasis noticed us immediately and a battle commenced. Backup quickly joined him and an all-out brawl unfurled on the oasis shore, construct pieces and blood scattering about. This bruiser-like guard was an absolute tank, Razz threw a Faerie Fire spell on him to make him easier to hit, but he was still soaking up all of our strikes like they tickled. Even worse, he literally ate '''''TWO OF HIS FELLOW GANG MEMBERS WHOLE''''' in order to heal himself mid fight; a battle of attrition would be putting it mildly. And as if we hadn't had enough, Sandra herself showed up to the fight too, accompanied by this mysterious old elven woman none of us had seen before. Sandra and I exchanged some blows atop the cave entrance, and Razz came over to make it a two on one fight. She attempted one last dive for the lantern on my belt before she teleported away, along with the mysterious elf. It was around this time that the effects of the lantern began to show themselves, as when I took aim at some of the demons fighting alongside the Shabby Scales, the soothing voice it emitted in my head would build to a scream, disrupting my aim and making it nearly impossible to hit them. Luckily, the team was still able to manage...barely...but when the dust settled, we were the ones still alive.

Once we picked everyone up who had gotten knocked out, I used my sword to cut the belt that was holding the lantern off my body, letting it clatter to the sand. Now that I was fully aware of what it was doing to me, I explained the danger of it to the team. We entertained the idea of destroying it there and then, but it was right next to the entrance of the cave, and we didn't want to trap ourselves if it ended up exploding like before when we still had to get out friends out of there. In the end, we left Diana's construct outside the cave to guard it as we went inside. Gobbo and I could hear Cilvdy's voice from inside, and our haste to finally get to her caused us to run into a few traps, but eventually we finally found them, trapped within an anti-magic cage. Touching the cage seemed to give off a powerful shock, one that knocked Gobbo clean out. The other artificers were able to drain the cage's charge and lockpick the door to finally free the three captives. As we exited the cave, Razz and Dee found contracts detailing bounties on the killers of the Baron of Filth, and the location where the Baroness of Filth wished to lure Raegina to with the capture of Baftzmyr. We took the bounty money that was stashed in the cave for ourselves, but after emerging, we found that the lantern had been teleported somewhere else, and I can only imagine it's now in the hands of Sandra again. Honestly, I didn't mind too much though, with Cilvdy and the rest safe and sound (minus and arm and a leg, seriously may never get used to that), I found myself thinking that it was a more than worthy trade.
[[Category:Bedlam in the Badlands]]

Bedlam in the Badlands/Player Recaps

2025-11-09T03:49:48Z

Tsamps: Added Koro's account of Session 12

{{Worldbuilders}}
Players document their characters' experiences in the Badlands here.

Please remember to link significant people and places to their associated wiki pages when appropriate. (The visual editor tries to do this automatically.)

See [[Bedlam in the Badlands/The Story So Far|The Story So Far]] for the DMs' session overviews.

=== Session 1: Kickoff Megagame - New Place, New Identity, and New Dream with an old scar of redemption ===
'''DM: Mercedes'''

'''PCs: [[Himo Nilo]],[[Raazdrog]], [[Stix]], [[Delaia]], [[Demir]], [[Caesana]], [[Jynx]], [[Leonard]]'''

'''NPCs:[[Bedlam in the Badlands/NPCs|Raegina]],Baftzmyr, Kicyr, Cilvdywutc'''

'''Significant events:''' [[Himo Nilo]] has just arrived at the junkyard. It has been months of traveling alone with the hope of improving himself. Sweat constantly drips off his forehead as he is not used to this area. He received a letter from his contact arboretum asking for new hires and who goes by the name, "The Chairman." He left for the Arboretum, has been on the road since, and doesn't know anything. After all, he was given only a description of [[Bedlam in the Badlands/NPCs#Raegina|Raegina]], her cohorts, and had no tools. He scraped the money he could and went over to the junkyard putting everything he could on the line just for the security of a little bit of breathing room. He watched Grind,Smash, & Cleave with great intent because he has never seen functioning robots, but sharpened himself when he realized he was fighting them. Attacking the robots, he realized they explode on death. He let instinctual training kick in and just kept throwing his dagger at Grind, Smash then Cleave. Adrenaline still rushing, he learned how to scrap creatures, but not that he was good at it. At least now he could possibly gather parts he needed to jerryrig what he wants. When he got the chance to improve Grind, he attempted two things to make it better. The first is he tried to increase the accuracy of the attacks, but as he worked on it, he got really nervous and fumbled with arm, almost removing it entirely. He barely improved it and attempted to improve the armor but proved impossible since he had no effect means of attaching parts wile casting mending. [[Stix]] meanwhile, made the saw light ablaze whenever it swung to attack, and [[Raazdrog]] managed to add a ranged weapon to it. He did have two really great ideas that both of them liked. The first is he renamed Grind to Sparkburn. The second is he built off of Raazdrog's idea to give a voice. Raazdrog gave it "I am fire. I am death." to repeat while fighting enemies. Himo added to that by having it also repeat "Feel the Spark. Feel the Burn!" When [[Bedlam in the Badlands/NPCs#Raegina|Raegina]] offered a wager for the best bot created, she gave everyone 10 additional GP and Himo bet seven of that ten on Sparkburn, and the other three went to Cleave. Sparkburn ended coming out on top and he made 31 GP out of that and Raazdrog's got 35 GP. Raazdrog's managed to convince Himo to give Stix 10 GP from both of us since they helped improve Sparkburn, to which Himo agreed and almost seemed relieved that Raazdrog's prompted him to do it. When the horn was blasted, Himo immediately got on the war rig and started repairing Sparkburn. When they got to an entrance of the Arboretum the war rig was flipped onto its side by an Oliphaunt. He managed to catch himself landing and immediately tried to help others up but it wasn't enough with his one hand. While fighting, Himo climbed on the war rig while it was on its side to get a clear vantage point, and saw the scale of this invastion for the first time. He focused hard on the Capra hard and got off the war rig when he was told by [[Bedlam in the Badlands/NPCs#Raegina|Raegina]] to get off. After cleaning up the Pustuloids, Capra Demons and Lesser Rage demons, a massive wave of wild magic energy was released. When the fight had ended, all spellcasters were spent including Leonard who saw the Rig get rammed into its side and decided to help out. [[Delaia]] and [[Raazdrog]]'s defender were severly injured, and realization dawned on Himo when he knew that the conservatory was desroyed. A few more demons were picked off while they were trying to flee, and while people were talking about uniting, Himo only thought of one thing. Using the very tool that turned his life into a living nightmare; Explosives'''.'''

===Session 1: Kickoff Megagame - Trading Route Troubles + Aggression From Above: Koro's Account===
'''DM:''' Amanda

'''PCs:''' [[Pryderi]], [[Silgr Þyrikk]], [[Chanterelle Viscaryn]], [[Davin Dunefoot]], [[Rhogar Dreel]], [[Rimsa Pavdad]], [[Koro]], [[Demir Malchan]], [[Lincoln "Toots" Whiterock]], [[Pearl Dust]], [[Larry]]

'''NPCs:''' Lord Pavan, Swordmaster Krispin, Tradesman Kareek, Stanley the monitor lizard

'''Significant events:''' Jeez...this place is insane. I guess the multiple sulfurous explosions originating from Hell Circles should've maybe tipped me off to that, but I figured I could avoid all that craziness if I just did what I've ''been'' doing this whole time! Simple job got served up on a silver platter from Duke Solon: escort duty of some goods and traders heading into Fed territory, easy peasy; been doing that type of thing for a while before coming to the Arboretum and never ran into any trouble that couldn't have been solved by standing around and looking tough. I assumed it would be more of the same this time around, just with more company than usual, and certainly better than getting served up as a punching bag against the Scrappers' war machines. It was a fairly sized convoy: couple camel-drawn carts and some horses to carry the lord Pavan and his bodyguard Krispin, the trade envoys at the head of the small group. There was one cart that seemed more important than the others though. Drawn by a large monitor lizard named Stanley, the mystery cargo remained covered by thick tarps at all times, and the driver, Kareek, was not forthcoming about its contents either, despite Pryderi's inquiry. With the last thing that, at the time I thought, would make the job somewhat interesting firmly drowned in secrecy, I decided to settle in for the long haul...but that's when it all went to hell.

Davin, a bow wielding halfling draped in the garb of one experienced in desert living, extended his senses into the distance searching for threats...and pinpointed a group of shadowy figures ahead of us. He was able to ascertain that the figures were no ordinary desert travelers, nor normal animals native to the dunes, and so we decided on a defensive approach. Unloading the carts of the wooden barrels and boxes, we fashioned a rough defensive perimeter of carts and containers, keeping what traders and animals we could within the circle. They were upon us not long after we finished setting up...these...''things'', they looked like dogs but ones that had been...'''melted'''. They flung themselves at us, tearing apart the animals first, but swiftly moving on to the traders if they had an opening. It seemed like they barely felt the impact of our attacks, I'm not convinced they could even feel pain. I was struggling to even hit them with my sword...probably because it was too...uh, short! Yeah, it wasn't a longer blade like the ones I was used to wielding, just the one I was able to steal from back east...yeah that's probably it, probably should've gotten around to replacing it sooner. I saw Pavan's bodyguard, Krispin, struggling to hit with his sword as well. His blade wasn't curved like the ones I preferred, but the length was right, I wondered if there was a way I could get it from him...but that would have to come after the battle. There was a larger hound leading the pack, cloaked in shadow and radiating heat, and it spewed a great beam of lava across Rhogar's body and many of the containers behind him; seemed like it nearly killed him on the spot. Oh, also forgot to mention that Stanley and the cart he was hitched to took off into the desert as soon as the hounds appeared, some help he was! A couple of the other animals got spooked too, but some members from our little troupe were able to round some of them up in the middle of the battle so we wouldn't be stranded if we survived. It was anything but easy, but eventually we were finally able to take out all the hounds. The traders had taken some casualties despite our efforts, but we didn't even have a second to catch our breaths before a flare shot over the horizon from the direction we had come from: [[the Arboretum]] was under attack. Pavan told us to forget the goods and to immediately hop on a cart and head back to assist. We did as we were told and were swiftly pulled back towards where we came. (Was able to convince Krispin to trade swords though with Pryderi's assistance, score! Not actually sure if the sword I gave him will serve him well, but I'm certainly happy to be rid of it. Only wish the old man could've been here so I could look him in the eye as I discarded it, good riddance).

Arriving at the Arboretum we saw a nightmare: demons flooding every inch of the place, inside and out. Everywhere you looked you could see a battle; metal hitting metal, claws rending flesh, it was chaos all over...except for one place. Above the very top of the massive tree was seemingly a dark cloud that upon closer inspection, was revealed to actually be a swarm of countless flying demons, seemingly targeting the defenses mounted atop the Arboretum. Pavan urged us to be the ones to rush to meet the swarm and keep them from assisting their grounded allies. My mind immediately told me it was impossible, but for some reason my feet followed after the group. Our druid, Rimsa, ran off to join another part of the battle, and a tiefling named Demir joined up with us during our ascent. At the top, we split up to try and cover more ground, and at the start it seemed like it was going to be alright. A large, feathered demon seemed to be leading its brethren up there, but Silgr was able to send it careening down the side of the tree by somehow freezing it in midair with a flash of one of his runes. He and Rhogar were able to get Pavan and Krispin to one of the ballistae while Chanterelle, Pryderi, Demir, Davin, and I were able to start carving a path towards the double shot ballista...but our success didn't last. The smaller demons would come in waves; they could swoop and slash at us and be repositioned in the air before we could get a swing on them. I found myself wishing for a bow in my hands again, but it seemed even our allies with ranged abilities were being torn up. Even worse, the feathered demon had seemingly broken free of Silgr's rune before it hit the ground and was rapidly ascending back up the side of the tree. One by one we began to get knocked unconscious, I myself would've likely fallen from the tree after a particular claw strike hit me hard if it wasn't for Chanterelle and Pryderi...it wasn't looking good. Additionally, a loud boom rang out from below us, and a violent quake shook the tree. Soon after, the cloud of demons above us began to dissipate, seemingly having completed the objective they came for (which I later learned was the destruction of the Arboretum's magical forge), but it seemed like the ones engaging us were still keen on wiping us out. I'll admit, I wasn't sure how we were going to make it out of there, but then, from the southernmost side of the tree, two literal bears that had scaled the entire height of the Arbotetum, one bearing a lizardfolk in wizard robes on its back, crested the top of the battlements and began laying into the demons. After realizing the new arrivals were on our side, our group was also able to rally and wipe out the demons before they could destroy the two remaining ballistae. The feathered demon appeared briefly, but it too followed its departing brethren away from the Arboretum.

The rest of the day was a blur. I remember bits and pieces of a big speech about the three factions banding together to restore the Arboretum and defend its denizens from the demonic forces that had made themselves known, but my body's aches seemed to distract my mind from fully comprehending it. And while this was a victory, I was left to wonder just what on [[Quelmar]] I had gotten myself into...

=== Session 3: WereVultures by Night (As Told by Stix) ===
'''DM: Chris'''

'''PCs: Davin Dewfoot ,[[Raazdrog]], [[Stix]], [[Delaia]], Steady Wind, [[Leonard]]'''

'''NPCs: Suki, Brandran, Hektor'''

I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to write here. I was told to keep a log of the missions we’re sent on, so that’s what this is, I guess. I (Hi, I’m Stix) was summoned along with Delaiah (I really can’t seem to escape her), Davin, Dee, and two other familiar faces, Raazdrog and Leonard. We were taken before Suki, who said she’s the de facto healer for the Arboretum, and also claims she runs the Casino in the Federation? I heard of people ~~and she who mustn’t be named~~ talking about this ‘Casino’ concept and gambling. Suki said she’d teach me, so I guess I’m going to learn how to gamble at some point. She also gave us our mission- to escort an escaped Shend prisoner named Brandran to the Federation HQ and deliver him to Hektor himself. I brought up the fact that it might be unsafe and the whole madness thing might be an act and he might be a double agent. The rest of the party was mostly concerned about getting paid and what to name our horse companions (A and B, Incase whoever is reading this is wondering.) We were told it would be a 7 day trek if we paced ourselves accordingly. And the first 3 days went fine. On night 3, as I kept watch, I noticed some vultures circling our camp. In the morning they were still there, so I pointed them out to the crew. Delaiah actually said something smart, and pointed out that it might signal to other caravans that we were also out in the deserts. Davin managed to shoot them both out of the sky, and we continued on our way. And everything was fine. Until the evening. In the middle of the night, we were attacked by several more vultures, two large kinda vultures, and four foul smelling sand worms. Thanks to Delaiah knowing some weird hell’s language, we were able to figure out that they were after Brandran. I immediately shoved him in my locket to keep him safe, which was both a great and terrible idea. It kept him safe for several rounds of combat, but caused most of the adversaries to target me, and, being just a doll, it didn’t take much to get me out of the fight. From what I was told, the two larger vultures turned out to be were shapeshifter vultures, and Brandran is one of them as well. From what my party members could surmise, they wanted to take him back to the Shend? Maybe? At some point, I was woken up, and we finished off everything that was left. However, the were vultures kept healing themselves no matter what we tried. In the end, we tied all three of them up, and brought them to Hektor for questioning. He thanked us, and arranged for a safe caravan back to the Arboretum.

===Session 5: Bombs (and how not to make them) 101: Koro's Account===
'''DM:''' Mercedes

'''PCs:''' [[Syl]], [[Ollie Ollivine]], [[Glorivesh]], [[Koro]], [[Mizuka]], [[Avel]]

'''NPCs:''' [[Bedlam in the Badlands/NPCs|Raegina]], Baftzmyr, Kicyr, Cilvdywutc

...I really should listen to my gut when it gives me a bad feeling about something. I mean, I guess I was for a while; I knew doing jobs for the Scrappers was a death wish more often than not, but after that fight on top of the Arboretum, after needing to be saved from certain death by others because I couldn't keep up with those demons...somehow all the "training" I suffered through wasn't enough. I thought I needed to be challenged more, I know I have what it takes I-I'm probably just rusty after all this time...yeah, that's probably it. For some reason I thought the best way to shake the rust off was to take a job for the Scrappers. Apparently their home base, the Junkyard, was infested with pests, seemingly some demons that retreated from the battle at the Arboretum. I figured this would be a great way to get my groove back: fighting some lower strength demons who can't just fly away after they get their cheap shots (still need to find a longbow somewhere), sounded like a cakewalk...and that, of course, is where I was mistaken.

Not only did we have to walk hours through the desert on foot just to get to the Junkyard, exhausting half of us before any fighting even began, but after arriving we were "recruited" by a woman named Cilvdy to make some...questionably designed explosives that would apparently draw the demons out of their hiding places within the piles of junk. Oh, I guess I should also mention who else was on this job. Syl was the only one I was previously acquainted with; they were apparently cleared for this mission by their boss, so we didn't have to worry about any demotions...hopefully. There was an elf named Ollie who had a giant frog companion, a scarred and tattooed elf named Avel, a vulpine performer named Mizuka, and a sorcerer named Gloria who's human...I think. Cilvdy set us up in a crude assembly line and we got to work, seemingly not really having a choice. Even though I was exhausted from travel, I was able to pick up the presence of someone watching us from afar; Raegina was here, and she was observing our group's progress. The only other people present for the show that was about to commence were Baftzmyr; a masked figure with an ornate headdress, and Kicyr; a half elf with a boisterous personality, both of whom seemed to be slightly antagonistic towards Cilvdy, though it seemed that she herself was none the wiser to this.

There really isn't any other way to say this: we couldn't stop blowing ourselves up. Or more specifically, we couldn't stop blowing up whoever was unfortunate enough to be at the end of the assembly line. I was at the first step, folding the origami that would act as the casing for the explosive, so I was out of harm's way, and I was perfectly fine to stay there until we were done, as some of our group sustained some substantial damage from these misfires. I was convinced that more harm would be done to us doing this process than during the actual combat with the demon pests, but as is seemingly becoming more and more common these days, I was incorrect.

After equipping us with the bombs that we were able to successfully construct, we were finally allowed to head out into the Junkyard to clear out the demons. As we were fanning out trying to find suitable locations to throw our bombs, I climbed to the top of a junk pile to try and get a better look at the surroundings, and that's when this demon...chicken...''thing'' jumped out at me. It didn't have a head, but instead it's neck just ended in this huge mouth, I'm not even sure it had eyes so I don't even know how it could see me...it was disgusting. I scarcely had a chance to draw my blade to retaliate before the chaos erupted. I heard explosions as the rest of the group began throwing their bombs, drawing out more of these poultry-like creatures, but also these huge writing leeches that accompanied them. I saw one take a chunk out of Syl's hood and just, ''dig'' into them. From my high vantage point, I could see this same thing happening to many other people in the group as well. Even when the leeches were killed the wounds they left would just ''gush'' blood uncontrollably, it was a scene out of a nightmare. Just like at the Arboretum, I had no focus when faced with these monsters; there was no calm threat assessment or confident show of force, panicked instinct took over. I remember rushing to Syl and trying to carve a path through the demons to give them some breathing room. I remember sprinting over towards Avel and Gloria and all I could see was red, just...blood everywhere. I remember slashing away at a group of three leeches that were latched onto Ollie and her frog, as well as Mizuka, our only healer. I think that was when it went quiet, and my senses returned to me. I heard no more otherworldly screeches or growls, only the soft hum of Mizuka's harmonica as she used her healing magic to stop the wounds of those who were still bleeding, it was over.

The happy-go-lucky CIlvdy came to congratulate us and showed us how to harvest materials from the creatures' corpses. I couldn't really focus on that though, my eyes were drawn once again to Raegina, who seemingly hadn't taken her eyes off us the entire time. Kicyr was with her this time though, and the cambion handed her lieutenant a bag of gold, still never taking her eyes off of us. I guess our performance was acceptable to her, but somehow the passing thought of a scenario where she wasn't filled me with more dread than any of the bloody scenes I witnessed today...

==== Gloria's account ====
I took the job with the scrappers for a few reasons: first, it was the first thing that popped up after the attack on the arboretum that I could help out with between putting my own accomodations back together and helping with the conservatory. Second, it gave me a way to get back in touch with Baftzmyr and Kicyr to see if I could figure out if there was room for friendship or anything else there, or if I'd poisoned the well a bit. Third, it gave me a chance to contextualize several of the people I've been meeting around the place, like Gobbo Greenskin. I needed a sense of where they're coming from to really be able to know if there's something I can do to help, or something I can tailor my performances to. And finally, I wanted to get my hands a little dirty and deal with some of the demons that started all this chaos. Good news: mission accomplished on all counts. Bad news: I'm apparently not very good at building bombs, and pretty fragile when it comes to fighting demon leeches. But that's getting ahead of myself.

First off, we had to walk out there. It takes a few hours by foot, and the sun is punishing. Skin feeling cold and clammy to the touch of most people doesn't mean I don't sweat or overheat, but I managed it better than several of the others. Probably might help if someone sold parasols or other desert gear. Worth checking into later, if these sort of excursions become a regular thing. From that point we met with the lady lieutenants of the scrap heap: Baftzymyr, Kicyr, and Cildywutc just "Cilvdy" seems to be her preference. The first two ''definitely'' sort of hate me still for the time being, and the latter was most interested in getting us to build paper bombs filled with black powder.

The goal was to fold the bombs, fill them, and then dip the finished product in hot wax with a fuse that could be easily lit and thrown to flush out the demons that were hiding around the various scrap piles. Cilvdy walked us through the steps and we each took a station. I ''thought'' that with my musician's steady hands, I'd be a good fit for the final step, and because a lot of the others were exhausted, it seemed dangerous to put them there. Turns out, I'm at least as prone to explode as anyone else. After barely managing to avoid maiming my hand by bodily throwing myself into the explosion of one bomb, we switched things up. Syl and Koro insisted on switching places with me, and I had absolutely no objections at that point. And now I have a distinct fear of losing digits when handling explosives, so I'm going to try to never have to do that again if I can help it. Mizuka and Avel were both a really big help during the bomb-making too. It's interesting how their magic differs from my own, and it might be worth looking into studying the approach at some point in the future after I figure things out with V.

After we got the bombs together, we took a bit of time to recuperate. I'm pretty sure I'm the one who needed that the most, but I wasn't the only one to suffer an accidental explosion, so maybe we all needed it. Anyway, we went out to the junkyard and spread out to deal with the pesky demons (demon pests?). As were were just getting set up to start lighting bombs, Koro got attacked by a couple of the beasts that were hiding on the scrap he climbed on top of. Very quickly from there, all the hells (or I guess the Abyss) broke loose. There were maybe two dozen of these monsters: nasty demon leeches that could stick to you and keep you bleeding without magical healing to staunch the wounds, and these hideous... meat chickens. Which, yes, chickens are meat animals already, but believe me, these things were just ''awful'' looking. No feathers, just like fleshy monstrosities. I do not recommend trying to eat one.

Things got a little hectic in the fight. Cilvdy got attacked by a couple, and I helped her out. Syl seemed to be holding their own despite practically being surrounded. Ollie picked a few off with her bow and with the help of her giant frog. (Which, let's be real: has to require some ''crazy'' upkeep out in the badlands! Lots of water!) Koro went wild, taking out at least a half dozen of the creatures himself. (Not sure if I was feeling a little scared of him, or just impressed. He was a little monstrous himself, but nothing that was worrying.) Avel stayed pretty safe, from what I recall, and he held his own, but I lost track of him when I nearly passed out from blood loss. I... had a harder time than I expected. A handful of the creatures got close, and I couldn't manage a clean shot with my spells or to get away from them without getting hit. I'm very fortunate that Mizuki was there. She's a bit of a lifesaver, for real. She used some sound spell to cause an explosion at one point, and it left my ears ringing, but she was even closer. Still, she managed to offer some healing words and keep me from ending up as the incubator for nasty demon eggs. Which, yeah, it would've been ''nice'' to know that these demon chickens apparently lay eggs in people they knock down. Could've been vital information that the resident demon-parts expert Baftzymyr could have ''shared'', but I guess we didn't get to know that. I'm not sure if it's because she was still mad at me that she left us all in the dark or if she just wouldn't have told us either way. But she wanted to harvest the eggs, and maybe they're easier to get out of a person than they are out of the dead monsters. I ''hope'' they're easy to get out of a person, but I'm a little afraid to ask on the chance it's not the answer I want to hear. Note: stay far away from demon chickens if you're close to keeling over.

We wrapped things up with Baftzmyr showing half of the group how to harvest the eggs, and Cilvdy showing the other half, including myself, how to slice up the demon leeches into something that they find useful. We got paid, and we did an okay job of it all, although the eggs were too difficult for anyone but Baftzmyr to get them out completely intact. Still, Cilvdy was happy with how we did, and on top of the payment she gave us a discount coupon for her explosives stand. (One that I'm probably going to try to trade away, because of the above fear of blowing my hands up.) As everyone else started walking back to the arboretum, I was able to talk Cilvdy into giving me a ride on her horse. That let me get in a private conversation to learn a bit more about everything going on there, and get a sense of the feelings minefield. (Not spilling any of their secrets in this public report, no. If you want to try to talk me into revealing them, you can meet me in person, but be warned, I am sworn to secrecy by the unbreakable girl code!)

=== Session 6: The Tower That Wasn't (9/21/25) ===
'''DM:''' Cat

'''PCs:''' [[Mezzi]] (they/them), [[Diana Belkacem|Diana]] (she/her), [[Davin Dunefoot|Davin]] (he/him), [[Dallas]] (she/her), [[Himo Nilo|Himo]] (he/him), [[Polvo]] (she/her)

'''NPCs:''' [[Bedlam in the Badlands/NPCs#Sir Anthony|Sir Anthony]], [[Bedlam in the Badlands/NPCs#Jerbo|Jerbo]], [[Bedlam in the Badlands/NPCs#Dapple|Dapple]], The Osteomancer

Himo has walked nearby the chapel as the service was ending Himo met an arcanist who goes by the name Jerbo. After some conversation, Himo learned that kobolds had attacked the Arboretum with the help of a demon. Confused, he pushed for more details, but didn't get much out of it but agreed to help if he got a few more people involved. When he got over there, he was surprised to see entirely new faces.There was the usual faces like mezzi, which surprised me, but also a mouse like person he hasn't seen before. After some quick introductions, The group learned they were going to find someone who goes by The Osteomancer who might know something about what happened, and it's a 2 day travel over. Himo and the rest of group went to Dapple's Stable to rent a few horses. He paid the deposit and they set of to the north east to this Osteomancer.

Along the way The group met a lone dog that seemed to have been abandoned what seemed to be a short time. We continued on our journey until we reached a trapped door. opening the trapdoor, a ladder heads down a worked tunnel and Himo voted to go in front. When they entered, they met the Osteomancer, A loxodon living alone in what appears to be a simple home. A deal was struck to help them out if they helped us with the why the kobolds attacked. The Osteomancer, was dealing with something made of absence, that erased identities the longer someone was there. To protect us from this, The Osteomancer led us to a somewhat large humanoid skull engraved with a lot of divination runes on it. There each of us shared our memories, to remember who we were. The group learned of his escape from High Lunas when he first picked an Arcane Lock. Other information we learned was it could only be seen with reflections, and we were given a scroll with an egg to crush it when we started using the scroll.

When we got to the structure, It was like walking into an insane asylum. A pitch black outside, to bright white inside and it made seeing outside really hard. What was up, down, left, right, front,back when everything around is the same? Himo found himself close to a center of complete silence, crushed the egg and began reading the scroll. Suddenly white lights appeared as well as a ghost of some kind but not like your standard ghost. It was trying to make me dissapear while the lights whittled down my teammates. I placed my cannon down to give me a "wall" against the lights which worked out well. Mezzi started making the lights inactive which was good because Davin and Polvo, were both being injured a great deal. I completed the scroll with every creature there incapacitated and we left. The tower collapses and we return to the Osteomancer

In payment, the Osteomancer explained that in dragon-worshipping Swikedom, "the divine Blood Law relegates kobolds to the Thrall caste, below all save Warmbloods like us," but that kobolds who revere Kurtulmak above Tiamat may try to escape their thralldom, denying that the Blood Law is divinely ordained. "One such group," she revealed, "led by Snizz the Fortunate, used the demons as a way out of bondage, but their freedom -- such as it was -- ended when your comrades cut them down."

We learned that kobolds with make deals with anything to get out of the blood law. A group led by Snizz the Fortunate, made a pact with demons, that ended when they were cut down. The Osteomancer Finished off by saying "The Beast of Cinderspire will roam free."

=== Session 7: Tracking Demons 102 (As Told by Stix) ===
'''DM:''' Mercedes

'''PCs:''' Stix, Steady Wind, Himo Nilo,

Koro, Raazdrog, Ozmir Nightshade

'''NPCs:''' Baftzmyr

So. Here we are again, I guess. After my last adventure in the desert with crawling creatures under the sand, I suppose I wanted more? I guess this is what I’ve been told desire is? I don’t think this is desire though. I figured I take less resources than the others who need to y’know….eat and drink. So, I heard about a new mission headed up by Baftzmyr and showed up to the Junkyard. I was slightly surprised to see Himo and Raazdrog there, though I guess I shouldn’t be since both of them, but especially Himo, are obsessed with that boy we enhanced and named Sparkburn. I wasn’t surprised to see Dee there, he seemed to do pretty alright in our last mission out into the sands. There were two new faces as well- Ozmir, who I haven’t seen around the Arboretum at all, and Koro, who I was …happy? Pleased? To finally converse with. We’ve been always just missing each other, but I’ve heard other people talk about him. I was very surprised to not see Delaiah there, but it was a welcome change. She’s nice, but she’s nosy, and talks a lot. So, anyways. The six of us get to the Junkyard, where Baft was waiting for us. She explained that there is a very large demon creature that’s stuck in the sand someplace west of us. Unlike Suki, she did offer to accompany us into the desert, and gave me the old buddy Sparkburn to ride for the journey as well. We were only out for a couple of hours before she spotted some rippling in the sand. Turns out that it was another kind of dretch, which were the sand swimmer creatures we fought with the WereVultures. However, these ones looked different and were mutated in some way. I realised this pretty quickly when Sparkburn punched one, and the fire damage I enhanced him with healed the dretch instead. Koro rushed up and dispatched it pretty easily, and Raazdrog and I noticed the rest of the dretches running away to the east. We followed them to find a rather large crater in the ground. Baft then offered the group a large oragami pig bomb? I volunteered to run to the edge, drop the bomb in, and run away. The plan went off without a hitch, and I dove into my locket for safety as a wall of force and sand hit everyone. In the middle of the crater was a large demonic creature that we later learned was the Baron of Filth. What a dumb name. Anyhow, I was straining to listen through my locket to figure out what’s going on when Raazdrog tapped and called into it, telling me to come out. A group of us then rushed up to peer over the edge of the crater to get a better look when the fighting really began. It used the lantern on his chest to shoot coils of magic and energy at us that ranged in flavor and consequences. I think I got hit with a lightning coil at some point during the fight and I know Koro said he felt pretty heavy. And, to top it all off, the ‘Baron’ summoned more of those mutated Dretch things to just cause more complications to the whole ordeal. And, if that wasn’t enough, anytime the Baron struggled or tried to free himself, the sands shifted, causing a sandslide down the crater to the large monster. Most of the fight was attempting to hurt the Baron while picking off the dretch and avoiding falling in. Some of the group decided to willingly slide down into the pit and face him head on. Unfortunately, this caused Koro and Dee to both get knocked unconscious and Himo to get buried in the sand. We are in Raegina’s debt that Baft accompanied us, if she wasn’t there, I really don’t think we could’ve gotten Koro and Dee back up. Though, Raazdrog did do some pretty decent healing as well. We did manage to hit the Baron enough to down him, however, I guess it caused the lantern contraption in his chest to overload, causing a massive fireball explosion. Once we all recovered, we helped to heal and stabilize each other, and make sure we were all mostly back on our feet. We took some time to scrap the Baron for some components before making our way back to the Junkyard and Arboretum, a job completed and mostly unscathed.

==== Koro's Account: ====
You know, there's an old Snobbish saying about being fooled twice and the shame being on the one who was fooled...or something like that; not sure why that's popping in my head just now. Anyways, I took another job for the Scrappers. A large demon was spotted out in the dunes near the Scrapyard, seemingly being stuck in the sand somehow. After my last job with the Scrappers, I was...concerned about the approach they were going to take with dispatching such a thing, and for some reason I could feel in my gut that this wasn't something I'd feel comfortable sitting out on. So, perhaps against my better judgement, I joined the group bound for the Scrapyard, all unfamiliar faces to me except for Stix, a sentient...doll of some kind? I'd only seen them in passing before in the Arboretum, but this time they were accompanied by a large scrap construct they called 'Sparkburn'. Steady Wind was an armored tabaxi that seemed to possess similar abilities to Rhogar and Silgr, Ozmir was a lightly armored tiefling who created psychic blades, and Himo and Raazdrog seemed like inventor types like Gobbo.

To my surprise we were accompanied on this mission by Baftzmyr, Raegina's masked lieutenant. Apparently this demon was formidable enough to actually warrant personal involvement from Scrapper high command. As would be expected though, they still ordered us to do the tracking; are they testing us or something? First with the bomb making and now with the tracking, it feels like they're trying to "train" us in a weird way...not entirely sure how to feel about that. On our way to the demon's location, we came across a strange pig creature that could dig through the sand with ease. We chased it for a bit before it decided to stand its ground and fight, bursting out from the sand. It was a relatively easy kill, but looking towards the direction it was heading, we could see many more moving mounds of sand heading out to the demon's location as well; were these its minions or something? Cautiously we followed their trails, eventually reaching a large patch of undulating and shifting sand, Baftzmyr indicating that the demon was located just below it. Baftzmyr produced a large bomb housed inside of an origami pig, clearly another Cilvdy original, and Stix put it in place over the buried beast. As we hastily took cover by digging a shallow trench in the sand, the bomb exploded, filling the air with sand as a deep crater was left in its wake. At the bottom was this enormous gray skinned demon; bipedal seemingly, but perhaps not used to traveling the shifting sands with its immense weight, causing it to get stuck. Its mouth was peeled wide, the edges stretched thin and pinned to its huge arms, its bottom lip stretching down past its chest. In the center of this horrific creature was something not biological though: a lantern-like object was snugly tucked in the center, glowing a bright orange.

We didn't have much time to take in this fresh horror though, as more of those pig minions began to swarm us, trying to defend their master. Their stench was unbearable when so many were in one place, and Steady Wind found out the hard way that it seemingly carried a poison in its wake as well. We tried to clear out the pig creatures first, but the large demon began shooting out tendrils at us that could reach our position, so we knew we couldn't ignore it. Raazdrog conjured a field of light that surrounded the creature and made it easier to hit, even in its constant struggle from within the sand pit. Himo, Stix, and Ozmir were occupied with the minor demons at the edge of the pit, but Steady Wind had been captured by a tendril and drawn close to the large demon, being knocked out shortly after. I saw that his body would be pulled beneath the sand if nothing was done, so I headed into the pit myself to try and get the beast's attention. I was able to levitate Steady Wind's body out of the demon's range in hopes that Baftzmyr could help him, and I took up a defensive position to try and dodge the demon's attacks. It didn't do much good though, despite my efforts the thing was able to knock me out in two hits, I couldn't even dodge one attack. The next thing I knew I was healed by Himo and more of the group had been drawn into the depths of the pit. Not long after though, Raazdrog was able to plunge his trident into the demon's head, seemingly killing it, but the lantern in the beast's center began to glow brighter and brighter. Before I could even shout out to the remaining group that was nearby, the device exploded, sending me to unconsciousness once again. I was lucky the group still had healing abilities left though, it was barely enough to get me and Steady Wind back from death's door with Baftzmyr's help.

Verbally saying that I owe my life, even partially, to one from Raegina's inner circle feels a little dangerous in itself though, so I may keep that thought just to myself...
===Session 12: The Doll, The Vulpine, and the Corpse Girl: Koro's Account===
'''DM:''' Mercedes

'''PCs:''' [[Gobbo Greenskin]], [[Demir Malchan]], [[Koro]], [[Diana Belkacem]], [[Steady (Dee) Wind]], [[Razzadrog Eyepoker]]

'''NPCs:''' Cilvdywutc, Jitcwal, [[Stix]], Sandra Sanderson

Cilvdy, Jitcwal, and Stix got kidnapped. We didn't know much at the time, but apparently some lizardfolk and Yuan-ti tricked some of our allies into a trap job that ended with those three getting snatched and ferried away to some unknown place. Tensions were high immediately, and admittedly, I was also driven to a bit of a panic. I don't know why exactly, but the news hit me pretty hard, harder than I would've thought it would. All that I could think about for days after was what could be happening to them, what their captors might be doing to them every second we weren't getting them out of there; it was maddening honestly. I was restless and agitated, I needed to get out of the Arboretum and actually do something that would help us find them. Luckily, Syl had the same idea, and together we decided to head out to the site of the kidnapping to try and track down the culprits.

It took some doing, and for Syl's sake I won't go too much into the details (and maybe my sake a little bit too...don't tell Lenore), but long story short: we found a smuggler's den inhabited by one of the Sandra's gang members who was there at the time of the kidnapping, but had been injured in the process. We interrogated her for information, eventually finding out that Sandra was a powerful bard who led the Shabby Scales, a mercenary group for hire. They were hired by someone else to capture Baftzmyr in order to lure in Raegina, but they ended up getting Cilvdy, Stix, and Jitcwal instead. Apparently, they had made off with the prisoners to a rendezvous point further east of the den, but the lookout wasn't told the exact location. Inside the den was also what looked like a miniature version of the lantern-like object fused into the Baron of Filth's chest, apparently the down payment given to the Shabby Scales by their client for this job. I decided to bring it along since we planned on letting the injured scout live, and as soon as I touched it, I felt searing energy rush up my arm and a soothing voice speaking in my head in a language I couldn't understand. It didn't feel like anything else happened though, so I didn't tell Syl about it as we exited the den. I wasn't aware of it at the time, but the lantern was apparently magically influencing me to keep it close and safe, for reasons I'm honestly lucky I never had to fully find out.

It was dark when we left the den, so we had to head back to the Arboretum. We still didn't have enough to pinpoint where our friends actually were, and it felt like our scouting effort may have been wasted, but upon returning to base, we got the final pieces we needed. Himo, having apparently used some kind of contact he had to gather additional information, found the exact rendezvous location: Triton's Terrace, a watering hole at the base of the eastern mountains. He also learned that the client who hired the Scales was a literal demon, and one that was looking for revenge for the killing of the Baron of Filth. Wasting little time, I took off to prepare and gather a team to head to the location to extract our kidnapped friends.

Everyone was familiar to me on this mission except for one: Diana Belkacem, a human woman who seemingly had a similar skill set to Gobbo and Razz, running with a construct companion that fought by their side. Using horses lent to us by the Scrappers we made a direct path towards Triton's Terrace, and it didn't take long for shit to hit the fan. With the numbers we were bringing, stealth was more of a pipe dream than an actual option, so the guard out front of the cave entrance nestled in the oasis noticed us immediately and a battle commenced. Backup quickly joined him and an all-out brawl unfurled on the oasis shore, construct pieces and blood scattering about. This bruiser-like guard was an absolute tank, Razz threw a Faerie Fire spell on him to make him easier to hit, but he was still soaking up all of our strikes like they tickled. Even worse, he literally ate *TWO OF HIS FELLOW GANG MEMBERS WHOLE* in order to heal himself mid fight; a battle of attrition would be putting it mildly. And as if we hadn't had enough, Sandra herself showed up to the fight too, accompanied by this mysterious old elven woman none of us had seen before. Sandra and I exchanged some blows atop the cave entrance, and Razz came over to make it a two on one fight. She attempted one last dive for the lantern on my belt before she teleported away, along with the mysterious elf. It was around this time that the effects of the lantern began to show themselves, as when I took aim at some of the demons fighting alongside the Shabby Scales, the soothing voice it emitted in my head would build to a scream, disrupting my aim and making it nearly impossible to hit them. Luckily, the team was still able to manage...barely...but when the dust settled, we were the ones still alive.

Once we picked everyone up who had gotten knocked out, I used my sword to cut the belt that was holding the lantern off my body, letting it clatter to the sand. Now that I was fully aware of what it was doing to me, I explained the danger of it to the team. We entertained the idea of destroying it there and then, but it was right next to the entrance of the cave, and we didn't want to trap ourselves when we still had to get out friends out of there. In the end, we left Diana's construct outside the cave to guard it as we went inside. Gobbo and I could hear Cilvdy's voice from inside, and our haste to finally get to her caused us to run into a few traps, but eventually we finally found them, trapped within an anti-magic cage. Touching the cage seemed to give off a powerful shock, one that knocked Gobbo clean out. The other artificers were able to drain the cage's charge and lockpick the door to finally free the three captives. As we exited the cave, Razz and Dee found contracts detailing bounties on the killers of the Baron of Filth, and the location where the Baroness of Filth wished to lure Raegina to with the capture of Baftzmyr. We took the bounty money that was stashed in the cave for ourselves, but after emerging, we found that the lantern had been teleported somewhere else, and I can only imagine it's now in the hands of Sandra again. Honestly, I didn't mind too much though, with Cilvdy and the rest safe and sound (minus and arm and a leg, seriously may never get used to that), I found myself thinking that it was a more than worthy trade.
[[Category:Bedlam in the Badlands]]

Koro

2025-11-05T14:39:46Z

Tsamps: Added onto Character Connections section

{{Infobox_character|affilliation=The Shepherds, Snobbite|name={{PAGENAME}}|image=Koro-Portrait.png|caption="I assume we won't have any problems you and I? What with this being a collaborative effort and all."|relatives=Unknown|languages=|alias=None|marital=Single|birthDate=115 PR|birthPlace=Unknown|deathDate=TBD|deathPlace=TBD|species=Genasi (Air)|gender=Male|height=5'8|weight=130 lbs.|eyes=Dark Gray}}

'''{{PAGENAME}} '''is an Air Genasi raised in the kingdom of Snobbite on the continent of Pteris, but is now employed by a nomadic group of Shepherds to act as a guard during their journey to the Arboretum at the center of the Western Badlands in 136 PR. With a nonchalant attitude seemingly unbefitting of the Kensei arts he wields, he brandishes sword and bow against the forces of the Abyss.

== Physical Appearance ==
Koro is a young man possessed of sky-blue skin dotted with white patches of vitiligo, as if a snapshot of a cloud-filled sky was plucked from the air and made flesh, topped with similarly white hair pulled into a tight bun and secured with a wooden clasp. He wears tan robes cut such that the right half of his upper body is uncovered, while his left side is adorned with a black leather pauldron sporting silver accents with his left arm's robe sleeve being fastened with leather straps. Koro is somewhat shorter than the average humanoid and not all too muscular, and so he attempts to travel light to keep himself ready to execute swift combat maneuvers at a moment's notice.

== Personality ==
Koro outwardly wears a nonchalant and casual attitude in most situations, even coming off as cocky in some instances. He touts the mantle of a man who is free; wandering wherever the whims of the wind happen to take him and being unbound by binding oaths of loyalty or station, taking on jobs for whatever Badland faction he happens to align with in the moment. It is a delicate facade however, able to be cracked and seen through if uncomfortable situations arise, and even at his most confident his eyes are the one thing he has yet to master veiling beneath his veneer. Dark and stormy gray, they betray a similarly rumbling anger within the man that seem to haunt his every motion. When stress begins to mount on the battlefield, when insecurity begins to seep into the mind, when his experience and skill are questioned, that anger can thunder to the surface. Koro's attacks become aggressive, or his words biting, like a crack of lightning these moments are swift and vicious but also vanish just as quickly. Rarely helpful on the battlefield, certainly hindering off of it, one is led to wonder how truly free a man with such a trait is?

== History ==
The way Koro understands it, he was dropped on the doorstep of an old Hobgoblin swordsman's doorstep in Snobbite when he was just a newborn. His parents' identities, why they did such a thing, and where they went after are all mysteries that remain unsolved to this day, and Koro has no intention of solving them any time soon as a consequence of the upbringing he subsequently endured.

The Hobgoblin swordsman seemed a combat veteran, his small home decorated floor to ceiling in Realm War I memorabilia. He raised Koro in strict accordance with Snobbite wartime culture, seemingly more intent on being a boot camp commander to a cadet rather than a father to a boy. Koro did not take to this lifestyle well, especially at a young age he had no interest in grueling training regiments or reading antiquated military tactics handbooks cover to cover, but the swordsman wouldn't have any of it. He would threaten to withhold food from the boy if he didn't participate in the swordsman's plan for him: "The only people worth more than the dirt on my boot in this land are warriors, and everyone knows it. The food in this house only feeds soldiers, and the roof only houses fighters. If you think you got something better to do with your life than fighting for your country, then it ain't worth the gold it takes to feed you. Anyone else in this kingdom will tell you the same boy, so either get back to it or get out."

In Koro's teenage years he actually did test the hobgoblin's conviction and refused to train or work, and indeed the swordsman refused to feed him and threw him outside. For days Koro did not back down, sleeping outside the home exposed to the elements, but the hobgoblin never checked on him, never said another word, seemingly fully expunging Koro's existence from his mind without guilt. It seemed he was stalwart in the fact that if Koro died out there, it was his own fault for not wanting to be a soldier, and thus of no consequence to him. For as much as Koro despised him, it seems he believed the hobgoblin when he said that everyone in Snobbite thought the way he did, and so he returned to the door of the house in tears, body wearing from malnutrition, promising to be a soldier. The hobgoblin pushed him in training twice as hard as he ever did at Koro's healthiest as punishment, not for refusing to train, but for crying in front of him, because in his words: "Only the weak cry, and a soldier must never be weak."

Unbroken training sessions half a day long each day for months, manual labor, ordered readings of tactics textbooks hundreds of pages long before an arbitrary time had passed to avoid punishment, never being allowed to speak to others or leave the premises unless ordered to or accompanied by the swordsman; this was the life the young Koro was forced to comply with if he didn't want to starve. Koro eventually learned how to do the bare minimum amount of effort in his studies and training that would still get him fed and housed, as the harder and longer the swordsman pushed him, the more hatred he could not afford to let loose grew inside of him, towards the hobgoblin specifically and the whole concept of soldiering as a profession. As he continued to come of age, Koro would finally receive some small relief from the overbearing swordsman when he was sent to Dragon Turtle Bay to learn the ways of seafaring, a common Snobbish cultural touchpoint. He cared little for this too, and any possibility of companionship with peers his age easing the pains that came with his upbringing were snuffed out as Koro looked at their faces and saw wide smiles and twinkling eyes: there wasn't anything that could possibly make them happier than this. The roiling anger continued to grow.

Of course, those other young people had the choice of picking another of the career paths valued in Snobbite: calligraphy, textiles, boatwrighting, or smithing; Koro did not. But then something curious began to happen. Though he despised it with all his being and didn't give it his all, Koro's body was forged strong by his training, even beginning to match the ever-aging hobgoblin. As this threshold was crossed, the hobgoblin would increase the harshness of his words to his cadet. He insulted his sluggish movements in comparison to the element he embodied, he mocked the anger Koro openly showed on his face towards him at this point, and he suggested that maybe his disdainful qualities were apparent to his parents at birth, and that that's why they dumped him in Snobbite, he was too inconvenient to raise so they decided to pawn him off on someone else.

The next thing Koro knew, he was exiting the house with a stolen katana and bow in his hands, electricity crackling from his fingers. He made for the Badlands and never looked back. He wasn't hindered, he wasn't burdened, he was free as the wind, and he could do whatever he pleased; that's what he told himself anyway. Seemingly in an attempt to prove this conviction, he drifted from place to place as his whims took him west, taking on all manner of mercenary jobs from whoever was offering food and shelter. Eventually this landed him in the Badlands, where there was no shortage of work to be done for the various factions. He found himself more often than not taking jobs for the Shepherds, as their nomadic lifestyle fit his similarly ever-wandering one.

As he settled into this new life he was intent on making for himself, a thought stuck in his subconscious like an immovable glue, as memories from his past usually do despite his efforts. The one thing the old hobgoblin never taught Koro about the various wars were the timelines of them: when they started, when the ended, the 'when' never seemed important enough to impart to Koro under any circumstance. In Koro's travels after Snobbite, as offhand comments about past wars of the land and jokes regarding the lifespans of various peoples were overheard in seedy taverns or pop-up desert encampments, Koro wondered if it was even possible for that old hobgoblin to have been born in time to serve in any of the wars he venerated so much...

== Languages ==
Koro grew up only learning Common, the old swordsman never bothered to teach him any other. Though strangely, Koro does seem able to understand Primordial almost instinctually.

== Powers and Abilities ==
Koro utilizes Kensei martial tactics in battle, often in an aggressive and unrefined way that is unemblematic of the typical user of such arts. He utilizes katana, bow, and fist in combat engagements, often times taunting his opponents with insults to get them to attack in a predictable way he can exploit. His Genasi ancestry also affords him limited use of elemental power, like generating electricity from his palms and manipulating the wind to lighten his body or briefly lift things into the air.

== Attacks and Weapons ==
Koro is always equipped with his katana and longbow, but also keeps a supply of large metal darts on hand. He can also resort to passable hand-to-hand combat if necessary, but prefers to use his weapons if he's able.

Following the attack on the Arboretum, Koro traded his katana for a straight longsword previously owned by Swordmaster Krispin.

== Character Connections ==
Koro arrived at the Arboretum expecting to be looking over his shoulder constantly; having to interact with individuals who would rather toss him to the fire than risk any harm coming to themselves...that's how he planned to be anyway. But since his arrival, he's been met with almost nothing but the opposite.
[[File:Rhogar Dreel.jpg|thumb|Rhogar Dreel|269x269px]]
Rhogar Dreel, a large dragonborn warrior, seemed a kindred spirit. He too was an unwilling soldier, and he seemed to have no qualms with divulging the abuse he endured and the hands of others to a stranger like Koro. He even told Koro of what to look out for in the Arboretum, things that would hinder and those that would help alike. He was part of the Federation, along with Syl Vipershade, who Koro also happened to speak to a few times. The yuan-ti offered their help to Koro, as they were a dealer in connections. He showed Koro respect, and whether that was for the purpose of gaining him as an ally in the future or a genuine gesture, Koro was surprised at his appreciation for the act all the same.
[[File:Syl.png|left|thumb|Syl Vipershade|273x273px]]
One such connection Syl pointed Koro towards was the cleric Lenore, who had briefly rushed past Koro in the market, startling him in front of many in the area. It took Koro some time to overcome the embarrassment he believed he suffered at her hands, however small it was, so much so that he wasn't able to speak to the kenku until after the humbling battle atop the Arboretum. In front of the ruins of the Conservatory, the two shared a conversation, in which Koro learned that he shared some things in common with the Vela faithful, specifically their shared penchant of sometimes not being able to find the words for certain situations. Lenore even went so far as to gift Koro with a star stone, a gift he had seen her give to many others in the Arboretum. Koro felt his heart soften from the generous act and thanked the cleric as she left.
[[File:Halfling ranger desert tribe.png|thumb|315x315px|Davin Dunefoot]]
Speaking of the Arboretum battle, Koro's companions there are also worth mentioning. Silgr and Pryderi are a couple, both of whom Koro had seen around the Arboretum prior to the operation, but who were pleasant to work with during the course of their shared mission. In fact, if it wasn't for Pyrderi and another member of the party, an elven paladin named Chanterelle, Koro could have possibly met his end that day. Davin Dunefoot was another member of the party Koro found was easy to work with, and he even tried to use his bow while the ranger was unconscious to strike at a far away demon...to little success. Koro also heard tell that the two druids and their lizardfolk ward who saved his party in the waning minutes of the battle were named Pearl Dust, Lincoln, and Larry; Koro still has to get around to thanking them...

Koro didn't think he'd be working much for the Scrappers during his time at the Arboretum; in fact, they were the faction that he generally tried to avoid during his previous freelance work in the Badlands, what with their infernal connections and all. Somehow though, the majority of the jobs Koro's taken since arriving have been for them, whether it be clearing out their scrapyard of giant leeches and demon chickens using questionably designed explosives, or taking out an enormous demon trapped out in the dunes near their base of operations and its pig-like minions. He hasn't yet interacted with the leader of the group, the cambion Raegina, but has had scattered encounters with her three lieutenants: Baftzmyr, Kicyr, and Cilvdy. Baftzmyr and Kicyr are both pretty prickly; capable in their roles surely, but difficult to talk to. Cilvdy however is quite the opposite: bubbly and outgoing, but maybe not as proficient in her craft as the other two. Koro was wary of her too at first, getting roped in to building the previously mentioned bombs of dubious construction, her patented design of course. However, Koro got a strong sense of deja vu the more he interacted with her. Like him in the past, it seemed she was roped into a role she didn't ask for by someone who had use for her, one that couldn't easily be left if she wanted to continue living. Their circumstances still had stark differences outwardly of course; she was someone who was brought back to life by Raegina to fill this role, and apparently, she's died and been reconstituted over and over again to continue her work, but to him, it seemed that just like him back in that swordsman's house in Snobitte, she's been going through all this alone. Kicyr and Baftzmyr don't seem to take too kindly to her, and the crow that always accompanies her seems less like a companion and more like...well, a scavenger. Her kidnapping along with Jitcwal and Stix struck Koro harder than perhaps he would've anticipated, and his fervor in pursuing their captors has caused his judgement to waver, resulting in the haphazard taking of a magical lantern that perhaps should have been left alone...
[[Category:Player Characters]]
[[Category:Bedlam in the Badlands]]
{{Worldbuilders}}

Bedlam in the Badlands/Player Recaps

2025-10-15T14:06:18Z

Tsamps: Added Koro's account to Session 7

{{Worldbuilders}}
Players document their characters' experiences in the Badlands here.

Please remember to link significant people and places to their associated wiki pages when appropriate. (The visual editor tries to do this automatically.)

See [[Bedlam in the Badlands/The Story So Far|The Story So Far]] for the DMs' session overviews.

=== Session 1: Kickoff Megagame - New Place, New Identity, and New Dream with an old scar of redemption ===
'''DM:'''

'''PCs: [[Himo Nilo]],[[Raazdrog]], [[Stix]], [[Delaia]], [[Demir]], [[Caesana]], [[Jynx]], [[Leonard]]'''

'''NPCs:[[Bedlam in the Badlands/NPCs|Raegina]],Baftzmyr, Kicyr, Cilvdywutc'''

'''Significant events:''' [[Himo Nilo]] has just arrived at the junkyard. It has been months of traveling alone with the hope of improving himself. Sweat constantly drips off his forehead as he is not used to this area. He received a letter from his contact arboretum asking for new hires and who goes by the name, "The Chairman." He left for the Arboretum, has been on the road since, and doesn't know anything. After all, he was given only a description of [[Bedlam in the Badlands/NPCs#Raegina|Raegina]], her cohorts, and had no tools. He scraped the money he could and went over to the junkyard putting everything he could on the line just for the security of a little bit of breathing room. He watched Grind,Smash, & Cleave with great intent because he has never seen functioning robots, but sharpened himself when he realized he was fighting them. Attacking the robots, he realized they explode on death. He let instinctual training kick in and just kept throwing his dagger at Grind, Smash then Cleave. Adrenaline still rushing, he learned how to scrap creatures, but not that he was good at it. At least now he could possibly gather parts he needed to jerryrig what he wants. When he got the chance to improve Grind, he attempted two things to make it better. The first is he tried to increase the accuracy of the attacks, but as he worked on it, he got really nervous and fumbled with arm, almost removing it entirely. He barely improved it and attempted to improve the armor but proved impossible since he had no effect means of attaching parts wile casting mending. [[Stix]] meanwhile, made the saw light ablaze whenever it swung to attack, and [[Raazdrog]] managed to add a ranged weapon to it. He did have two really great ideas that both of them liked. The first is he renamed Grind to Sparkburn. The second is he built off of Raazdrog's idea to give a voice. Raazdrog gave it "I am fire. I am death." to repeat while fighting enemies. Himo added to that by having it also repeat "Feel the Spark. Feel the Burn!" When [[Bedlam in the Badlands/NPCs#Raegina|Raegina]] offered a wager for the best bot created, she gave everyone 10 additional GP and Himo bet seven of that ten on Sparkburn, and the other three went to Cleave. Sparkburn ended coming out on top and he made 31 GP out of that and Raazdrog's got 35 GP. Raazdrog's managed to convince Himo to give Stix 10 GP from both of us since they helped improve Sparkburn, to which Himo agreed and almost seemed relieved that Raazdrog's prompted him to do it. When the horn was blasted, Himo immediately got on the war rig and started repairing Sparkburn. When they got to an entrance of the Arboretum the war rig was flipped onto its side by an Oliphaunt. He managed to catch himself landing and immediately tried to help others up but it wasn't enough with his one hand. While fighting, Himo climbed on the war rig while it was on its side to get a clear vantage point, and saw the scale of this invastion for the first time. He focused hard on the Capra hard and got off the war rig when he was told by [[Bedlam in the Badlands/NPCs#Raegina|Raegina]] to get off. After cleaning up the Pustuloids, Capra Demons and Lesser Rage demons, a massive wave of wild magic energy was released. When the fight had ended, all spellcasters were spent including Leonard who saw the Rig get rammed into its side and decided to help out. [[Delaia]] and [[Raazdrog]]'s defender were severly injured, and realization dawned on Himo when he knew that the conservatory was desroyed. A few more demons were picked off while they were trying to flee, and while people were talking about uniting, Himo only thought of one thing. Using the very tool that turned his life into a living nightmare; Explosives'''.'''

===Session 1: Kickoff Megagame - Trading Route Troubles + Aggression From Above: Koro's Account===
'''DM:''' Amanda

'''PCs:''' [[Pryderi]], [[Silgr Þyrikk]], [[Chanterelle Viscaryn]], [[Davin Dunefoot]], [[Rhogar Dreel]], [[Rimsa Pavdad]], [[Koro]], [[Demir Malchan]], [[Lincoln "Toots" Whiterock]], [[Pearl Dust]], [[Larry]]

'''NPCs:''' Lord Pavan, Swordmaster Krispin, Tradesman Kareek, Stanley the monitor lizard

'''Significant events:''' Jeez...this place is insane. I guess the multiple sulfurous explosions originating from Hell Circles should've maybe tipped me off to that, but I figured I could avoid all that craziness if I just did what I've ''been'' doing this whole time! Simple job got served up on a silver platter from Duke Solon: escort duty of some goods and traders heading into Fed territory, easy peasy; been doing that type of thing for a while before coming to the Arboretum and never ran into any trouble that couldn't have been solved by standing around and looking tough. I assumed it would be more of the same this time around, just with more company than usual, and certainly better than getting served up as a punching bag against the Scrappers' war machines. It was a fairly sized convoy: couple camel-drawn carts and some horses to carry the lord Pavan and his bodyguard Krispin, the trade envoys at the head of the small group. There was one cart that seemed more important than the others though. Drawn by a large monitor lizard named Stanley, the mystery cargo remained covered by thick tarps at all times, and the driver, Kareek, was not forthcoming about its contents either, despite Pryderi's inquiry. With the last thing that, at the time I thought, would make the job somewhat interesting firmly drowned in secrecy, I decided to settle in for the long haul...but that's when it all went to hell.

Davin, a bow wielding halfling draped in the garb of one experienced in desert living, extended his senses into the distance searching for threats...and pinpointed a group of shadowy figures ahead of us. He was able to ascertain that the figures were no ordinary desert travelers, nor normal animals native to the dunes, and so we decided on a defensive approach. Unloading the carts of the wooden barrels and boxes, we fashioned a rough defensive perimeter of carts and containers, keeping what traders and animals we could within the circle. They were upon us not long after we finished setting up...these...''things'', they looked like dogs but ones that had been...'''melted'''. They flung themselves at us, tearing apart the animals first, but swiftly moving on to the traders if they had an opening. It seemed like they barely felt the impact of our attacks, I'm not convinced they could even feel pain. I was struggling to even hit them with my sword...probably because it was too...uh, short! Yeah, it wasn't a longer blade like the ones I was used to wielding, just the one I was able to steal from back east...yeah that's probably it, probably should've gotten around to replacing it sooner. I saw Pavan's bodyguard, Krispin, struggling to hit with his sword as well. His blade wasn't curved like the ones I preferred, but the length was right, I wondered if there was a way I could get it from him...but that would have to come after the battle. There was a larger hound leading the pack, cloaked in shadow and radiating heat, and it spewed a great beam of lava across Rhogar's body and many of the containers behind him; seemed like it nearly killed him on the spot. Oh, also forgot to mention that Stanley and the cart he was hitched to took off into the desert as soon as the hounds appeared, some help he was! A couple of the other animals got spooked too, but some members from our little troupe were able to round some of them up in the middle of the battle so we wouldn't be stranded if we survived. It was anything but easy, but eventually we were finally able to take out all the hounds. The traders had taken some casualties despite our efforts, but we didn't even have a second to catch our breaths before a flare shot over the horizon from the direction we had come from: [[the Arboretum]] was under attack. Pavan told us to forget the goods and to immediately hop on a cart and head back to assist. We did as we were told and were swiftly pulled back towards where we came. (Was able to convince Krispin to trade swords though with Pryderi's assistance, score! Not actually sure if the sword I gave him will serve him well, but I'm certainly happy to be rid of it. Only wish the old man could've been here so I could look him in the eye as I discarded it, good riddance).

Arriving at the Arboretum we saw a nightmare: demons flooding every inch of the place, inside and out. Everywhere you looked you could see a battle; metal hitting metal, claws rending flesh, it was chaos all over...except for one place. Above the very top of the massive tree was seemingly a dark cloud that upon closer inspection, was revealed to actually be a swarm of countless flying demons, seemingly targeting the defenses mounted atop the Arboretum. Pavan urged us to be the ones to rush to meet the swarm and keep them from assisting their grounded allies. My mind immediately told me it was impossible, but for some reason my feet followed after the group. Our druid, Rimsa, ran off to join another part of the battle, and a tiefling named Demir joined up with us during our ascent. At the top, we split up to try and cover more ground, and at the start it seemed like it was going to be alright. A large, feathered demon seemed to be leading its brethren up there, but Silgr was able to send it careening down the side of the tree by somehow freezing it in midair with a flash of one of his runes. He and Rhogar were able to get Pavan and Krispin to one of the ballistae while Chanterelle, Pryderi, Demir, Davin, and I were able to start carving a path towards the double shot ballista...but our success didn't last. The smaller demons would come in waves; they could swoop and slash at us and be repositioned in the air before we could get a swing on them. I found myself wishing for a bow in my hands again, but it seemed even our allies with ranged abilities were being torn up. Even worse, the feathered demon had seemingly broken free of Silgr's rune before it hit the ground and was rapidly ascending back up the side of the tree. One by one we began to get knocked unconscious, I myself would've likely fallen from the tree after a particular claw strike hit me hard if it wasn't for Chanterelle and Pryderi...it wasn't looking good. Additionally, a loud boom rang out from below us, and a violent quake shook the tree. Soon after, the cloud of demons above us began to dissipate, seemingly having completed the objective they came for (which I later learned was the destruction of the Arboretum's magical forge), but it seemed like the ones engaging us were still keen on wiping us out. I'll admit, I wasn't sure how we were going to make it out of there, but then, from the southernmost side of the tree, two literal bears that had scaled the entire height of the Arbotetum, one bearing a lizardfolk in wizard robes on its back, crested the top of the battlements and began laying into the demons. After realizing the new arrivals were on our side, our group was also able to rally and wipe out the demons before they could destroy the two remaining ballistae. The feathered demon appeared briefly, but it too followed its departing brethren away from the Arboretum.

The rest of the day was a blur. I remember bits and pieces of a big speech about the three factions banding together to restore the Arboretum and defend its denizens from the demonic forces that had made themselves known, but my body's aches seemed to distract my mind from fully comprehending it. And while this was a victory, I was left to wonder just what on [[Quelmar]] I had gotten myself into...

=== Session 3: WereVultures by Night (As Told by Stix) ===
'''DM: Chris'''

'''PCs: Davin Dewfoot ,[[Raazdrog]], [[Stix]], [[Delaia]], Steady Wind, [[Leonard]]'''

'''NPCs: Suki, Brandran, Hektor'''

I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to write here. I was told to keep a log of the missions we’re sent on, so that’s what this is, I guess. I (Hi, I’m Stix) was summoned along with Delaiah (I really can’t seem to escape her), Davin, Dee, and two other familiar faces, Raazdrog and Leonard. We were taken before Suki, who said she’s the de facto healer for the Arboretum, and also claims she runs the Casino in the Federation? I heard of people ~~and she who mustn’t be named~~ talking about this ‘Casino’ concept and gambling. Suki said she’d teach me, so I guess I’m going to learn how to gamble at some point. She also gave us our mission- to escort an escaped Shend prisoner named Brandran to the Federation HQ and deliver him to Hektor himself. I brought up the fact that it might be unsafe and the whole madness thing might be an act and he might be a double agent. The rest of the party was mostly concerned about getting paid and what to name our horse companions (A and B, Incase whoever is reading this is wondering.) We were told it would be a 7 day trek if we paced ourselves accordingly. And the first 3 days went fine. On night 3, as I kept watch, I noticed some vultures circling our camp. In the morning they were still there, so I pointed them out to the crew. Delaiah actually said something smart, and pointed out that it might signal to other caravans that we were also out in the deserts. Davin managed to shoot them both out of the sky, and we continued on our way. And everything was fine. Until the evening. In the middle of the night, we were attacked by several more vultures, two large kinda vultures, and four foul smelling sand worms. Thanks to Delaiah knowing some weird hell’s language, we were able to figure out that they were after Brandran. I immediately shoved him in my locket to keep him safe, which was both a great and terrible idea. It kept him safe for several rounds of combat, but caused most of the adversaries to target me, and, being just a doll, it didn’t take much to get me out of the fight. From what I was told, the two larger vultures turned out to be were shapeshifter vultures, and Brandran is one of them as well. From what my party members could surmise, they wanted to take him back to the Shend? Maybe? At some point, I was woken up, and we finished off everything that was left. However, the were vultures kept healing themselves no matter what we tried. In the end, we tied all three of them up, and brought them to Hektor for questioning. He thanked us, and arranged for a safe caravan back to the Arboretum.

===Session 5: Bombs (and how not to make them) 101: Koro's Account===
'''DM:''' Mercedes

'''PCs:''' [[Syl]], [[Ollie Ollivine]], [[Glorivesh]], [[Koro]], [[Mizuka]], [[Avel]]

'''NPCs:''' [[Bedlam in the Badlands/NPCs|Raegina]], Baftzmyr, Kicyr, Cilvdywutc

...I really should listen to my gut when it gives me a bad feeling about something. I mean, I guess I was for a while; I knew doing jobs for the Scrappers was a death wish more often than not, but after that fight on top of the Arboretum, after needing to be saved from certain death by others because I couldn't keep up with those demons...somehow all the "training" I suffered through wasn't enough. I thought I needed to be challenged more, I know I have what it takes I-I'm probably just rusty after all this time...yeah, that's probably it. For some reason I thought the best way to shake the rust off was to take a job for the Scrappers. Apparently their home base, the Junkyard, was infested with pests, seemingly some demons that retreated from the battle at the Arboretum. I figured this would be a great way to get my groove back: fighting some lower strength demons who can't just fly away after they get their cheap shots (still need to find a longbow somewhere), sounded like a cakewalk...and that, of course, is where I was mistaken.

Not only did we have to walk hours through the desert on foot just to get to the Junkyard, exhausting half of us before any fighting even began, but after arriving we were "recruited" by a woman named Cilvdy to make some...questionably designed explosives that would apparently draw the demons out of their hiding places within the piles of junk. Oh, I guess I should also mention who else was on this job. Syl was the only one I was previously acquainted with; they were apparently cleared for this mission by their boss, so we didn't have to worry about any demotions...hopefully. There was an elf named Ollie who had a giant frog companion, a scarred and tattooed elf named Avel, a vulpine performer named Mizuka, and a sorcerer named Gloria who's human...I think. Cilvdy set us up in a crude assembly line and we got to work, seemingly not really having a choice. Even though I was exhausted from travel, I was able to pick up the presence of someone watching us from afar; Raegina was here, and she was observing our group's progress. The only other people present for the show that was about to commence were Baftzmyr; a masked figure with an ornate headdress, and Kicyr; a half elf with a boisterous personality, both of whom seemed to be slightly antagonistic towards Cilvdy, though it seemed that she herself was none the wiser to this.

There really isn't any other way to say this: we couldn't stop blowing ourselves up. Or more specifically, we couldn't stop blowing up whoever was unfortunate enough to be at the end of the assembly line. I was at the first step, folding the origami that would act as the casing for the explosive, so I was out of harm's way, and I was perfectly fine to stay there until we were done, as some of our group sustained some substantial damage from these misfires. I was convinced that more harm would be done to us doing this process than during the actual combat with the demon pests, but as is seemingly becoming more and more common these days, I was incorrect.

After equipping us with the bombs that we were able to successfully construct, we were finally allowed to head out into the Junkyard to clear out the demons. As we were fanning out trying to find suitable locations to throw our bombs, I climbed to the top of a junk pile to try and get a better look at the surroundings, and that's when this demon...chicken...''thing'' jumped out at me. It didn't have a head, but instead it's neck just ended in this huge mouth, I'm not even sure it had eyes so I don't even know how it could see me...it was disgusting. I scarcely had a chance to draw my blade to retaliate before the chaos erupted. I heard explosions as the rest of the group began throwing their bombs, drawing out more of these poultry-like creatures, but also these huge writing leeches that accompanied them. I saw one take a chunk out of Syl's hood and just, ''dig'' into them. From my high vantage point, I could see this same thing happening to many other people in the group as well. Even when the leeches were killed the wounds they left would just ''gush'' blood uncontrollably, it was a scene out of a nightmare. Just like at the Arboretum, I had no focus when faced with these monsters; there was no calm threat assessment or confident show of force, panicked instinct took over. I remember rushing to Syl and trying to carve a path through the demons to give them some breathing room. I remember sprinting over towards Avel and Gloria and all I could see was red, just...blood everywhere. I remember slashing away at a group of three leeches that were latched onto Ollie and her frog, as well as Mizuka, our only healer. I think that was when it went quiet, and my senses returned to me. I heard no more otherworldly screeches or growls, only the soft hum of Mizuka's harmonica as she used her healing magic to stop the wounds of those who were still bleeding, it was over.

The happy-go-lucky CIlvdy came to congratulate us and showed us how to harvest materials from the creatures' corpses. I couldn't really focus on that though, my eyes were drawn once again to Raegina, who seemingly hadn't taken her eyes off us the entire time. Kicyr was with her this time though, and the cambion handed her lieutenant a bag of gold, still never taking her eyes off of us. I guess our performance was acceptable to her, but somehow the passing thought of a scenario where she wasn't filled me with more dread than any of the bloody scenes I witnessed today...

==== Gloria's account ====
I took the job with the scrappers for a few reasons: first, it was the first thing that popped up after the attack on the arboretum that I could help out with between putting my own accomodations back together and helping with the conservatory. Second, it gave me a way to get back in touch with Baftzmyr and Kicyr to see if I could figure out if there was room for friendship or anything else there, or if I'd poisoned the well a bit. Third, it gave me a chance to contextualize several of the people I've been meeting around the place, like Gobbo Greenskin. I needed a sense of where they're coming from to really be able to know if there's something I can do to help, or something I can tailor my performances to. And finally, I wanted to get my hands a little dirty and deal with some of the demons that started all this chaos. Good news: mission accomplished on all counts. Bad news: I'm apparently not very good at building bombs, and pretty fragile when it comes to fighting demon leeches. But that's getting ahead of myself.

First off, we had to walk out there. It takes a few hours by foot, and the sun is punishing. Skin feeling cold and clammy to the touch of most people doesn't mean I don't sweat or overheat, but I managed it better than several of the others. Probably might help if someone sold parasols or other desert gear. Worth checking into later, if these sort of excursions become a regular thing. From that point we met with the lady lieutenants of the scrap heap: Baftzymyr, Kicyr, and Cildywutc just "Cilvdy" seems to be her preference. The first two ''definitely'' sort of hate me still for the time being, and the latter was most interested in getting us to build paper bombs filled with black powder.

The goal was to fold the bombs, fill them, and then dip the finished product in hot wax with a fuse that could be easily lit and thrown to flush out the demons that were hiding around the various scrap piles. Cilvdy walked us through the steps and we each took a station. I ''thought'' that with my musician's steady hands, I'd be a good fit for the final step, and because a lot of the others were exhausted, it seemed dangerous to put them there. Turns out, I'm at least as prone to explode as anyone else. After barely managing to avoid maiming my hand by bodily throwing myself into the explosion of one bomb, we switched things up. Syl and Koro insisted on switching places with me, and I had absolutely no objections at that point. And now I have a distinct fear of losing digits when handling explosives, so I'm going to try to never have to do that again if I can help it. Mizuka and Avel were both a really big help during the bomb-making too. It's interesting how their magic differs from my own, and it might be worth looking into studying the approach at some point in the future after I figure things out with V.

After we got the bombs together, we took a bit of time to recuperate. I'm pretty sure I'm the one who needed that the most, but I wasn't the only one to suffer an accidental explosion, so maybe we all needed it. Anyway, we went out to the junkyard and spread out to deal with the pesky demons (demon pests?). As were were just getting set up to start lighting bombs, Koro got attacked by a couple of the beasts that were hiding on the scrap he climbed on top of. Very quickly from there, all the hells (or I guess the Abyss) broke loose. There were maybe two dozen of these monsters: nasty demon leeches that could stick to you and keep you bleeding without magical healing to staunch the wounds, and these hideous... meat chickens. Which, yes, chickens are meat animals already, but believe me, these things were just ''awful'' looking. No feathers, just like fleshy monstrosities. I do not recommend trying to eat one.

Things got a little hectic in the fight. Cilvdy got attacked by a couple, and I helped her out. Syl seemed to be holding their own despite practically being surrounded. Ollie picked a few off with her bow and with the help of her giant frog. (Which, let's be real: has to require some ''crazy'' upkeep out in the badlands! Lots of water!) Koro went wild, taking out at least a half dozen of the creatures himself. (Not sure if I was feeling a little scared of him, or just impressed. He was a little monstrous himself, but nothing that was worrying.) Avel stayed pretty safe, from what I recall, and he held his own, but I lost track of him when I nearly passed out from blood loss. I... had a harder time than I expected. A handful of the creatures got close, and I couldn't manage a clean shot with my spells or to get away from them without getting hit. I'm very fortunate that Mizuki was there. She's a bit of a lifesaver, for real. She used some sound spell to cause an explosion at one point, and it left my ears ringing, but she was even closer. Still, she managed to offer some healing words and keep me from ending up as the incubator for nasty demon eggs. Which, yeah, it would've been ''nice'' to know that these demon chickens apparently lay eggs in people they knock down. Could've been vital information that the resident demon-parts expert Baftzymyr could have ''shared'', but I guess we didn't get to know that. I'm not sure if it's because she was still mad at me that she left us all in the dark or if she just wouldn't have told us either way. But she wanted to harvest the eggs, and maybe they're easier to get out of a person than they are out of the dead monsters. I ''hope'' they're easy to get out of a person, but I'm a little afraid to ask on the chance it's not the answer I want to hear. Note: stay far away from demon chickens if you're close to keeling over.

We wrapped things up with Baftzmyr showing half of the group how to harvest the eggs, and Cilvdy showing the other half, including myself, how to slice up the demon leeches into something that they find useful. We got paid, and we did an okay job of it all, although the eggs were too difficult for anyone but Baftzmyr to get them out completely intact. Still, Cilvdy was happy with how we did, and on top of the payment she gave us a discount coupon for her explosives stand. (One that I'm probably going to try to trade away, because of the above fear of blowing my hands up.) As everyone else started walking back to the arboretum, I was able to talk Cilvdy into giving me a ride on her horse. That let me get in a private conversation to learn a bit more about everything going on there, and get a sense of the feelings minefield. (Not spilling any of their secrets in this public report, no. If you want to try to talk me into revealing them, you can meet me in person, but be warned, I am sworn to secrecy by the unbreakable girl code!)

=== Session 6: The Tower That Wasn't (9/21/25) Himo's worst nightmare ===
'''DM:''' Cat

'''PCs:''' [[Mezzi]] (they/them), [[Diana Belkacem|Diana]] (she/her), [[Davin Dunefoot|Davin]] (he/him), [[Dallas]] (she/her), [[Himo Nilo|Himo]] (he/him), [[Polvo]] (she/her)

'''NPCs:''' [[Bedlam in the Badlands/NPCs#Sir Anthony|Sir Anthony]], [[Bedlam in the Badlands/NPCs#Jerbo|Jerbo]], [[Bedlam in the Badlands/NPCs#Dapple|Dapple]], The Osteomancer

Himo has walked nearby the chapel as the service was ending Himo met an arcanist who goes by the name Jerbo. After some conversation, Himo learned that kobolds had attacked the Arboretum with the help of a demon. Confused, he pushed for more details, but didn't get much out of it but agreed to help if he got a few more people involved. When he got over there, he was surprised to see entirely new faces.There was the usual faces like mezzi, which surprised me, but also a mouse like person he hasn't seen before. After some quick introductions, The group learned they were going to find someone who goes by The Osteomancer who might know something about what happened, and it's a 2 day travel over. Himo and the rest of group went to Dapple's Stable to rent a few horses. He paid the deposit and they set of to the north east to this Osteomancer.

Along the way The group met a lone dog that seemed to have been abandoned what seemed to be a short time. We continued on our journey until we reached a trapped door. opening the trapdoor, a ladder heads down a worked tunnel and Himo voted to go in front. When they entered, they met the Osteomancer, A loxodon living alone in what appears to be a simple home. A deal was struck to help them out if they helped us with the why the kobolds attacked. The Osteomancer, was dealing with something made of absence, that erased identities the longer someone was there. To protect us from this, The Osteomancer led us to a somewhat large humanoid skull engraved with a lot of divination runes on it. There each of us shared our memories, to remember who we were. The group learned of his escape from High Lunas when he first picked an Arcane Lock. Other information we learned was it could only be seen with reflections, and we were given a scroll with an egg to crush it when we started using the scroll.

When we got to the structure, It was like walking into an insane asylum. A pitch black outside, to bright white inside and it made seeing outside really hard. What was up, down, left, right, front,back when everything around is the same? Himo found himself close to a center of complete silence, crushed the egg and began reading the scroll. Suddenly white lights appeared as well as a ghost of some kind but not like your standard ghost. It was trying to make me dissapear while the lights whittled down my teammates. I placed my cannon down to give me a "wall" against the lights which worked out well. Mezzi started making the lights inactive which was good because Davin and Polvo, were both being injured a great deal. I completed the scroll with every creature there incapacitated and we left. The tower collapses and we return to the Osteomancer

In payment, the Osteomancer explained that in dragon-worshipping Swikedom, "the divine Blood Law relegates kobolds to the Thrall caste, below all save Warmbloods like us," but that kobolds who revere Kurtulmak above Tiamat may try to escape their thralldom, denying that the Blood Law is divinely ordained. "One such group," she revealed, "led by Snizz the Fortunate, used the demons as a way out of bondage, but their freedom -- such as it was -- ended when your comrades cut them down."

We learned that kobolds with make deals with anything to get out of the blood law. A group led by Snizz the Fortunate, made a pact with demons, that ended when they were cut down. The Osteomancer Finished off by saying "The Beast of Cinderspire will roam free."

=== Session 7: Tracking Demons 102 (As Told by Stix) ===
'''DM:''' Mercedes

'''PCs:''' Stix, Steady Wind, Himo Nilo,

Koro, Raazdrog, Ozmir Nightshade

'''NPCs:''' Baftzmyr

So. Here we are again, I guess. After my last adventure in the desert with crawling creatures under the sand, I suppose I wanted more? I guess this is what I’ve been told desire is? I don’t think this is desire though. I figured I take less resources than the others who need to y’know….eat and drink. So, I heard about a new mission headed up by Baftzmyr and showed up to the Junkyard. I was slightly surprised to see Himo and Raazdrog there, though I guess I shouldn’t be since both of them, but especially Himo, are obsessed with that boy we enhanced and named Sparkburn. I wasn’t surprised to see Dee there, he seemed to do pretty alright in our last mission out into the sands. There were two new faces as well- Ozmir, who I haven’t seen around the Arboretum at all, and Koro, who I was …happy? Pleased? To finally converse with. We’ve been always just missing each other, but I’ve heard other people talk about him. I was very surprised to not see Delaiah there, but it was a welcome change. She’s nice, but she’s nosy, and talks a lot. So, anyways. The six of us get to the Junkyard, where Baft was waiting for us. She explained that there is a very large demon creature that’s stuck in the sand someplace west of us. Unlike Suki, she did offer to accompany us into the desert, and gave me the old buddy Sparkburn to ride for the journey as well. We were only out for a couple of hours before she spotted some rippling in the sand. Turns out that it was another kind of dretch, which were the sand swimmer creatures we fought with the WereVultures. However, these ones looked different and were mutated in some way. I realised this pretty quickly when Sparkburn punched one, and the fire damage I enhanced him with healed the dretch instead. Koro rushed up and dispatched it pretty easily, and Raazdrog and I noticed the rest of the dretches running away to the east. We followed them to find a rather large crater in the ground. Baft then offered the group a large oragami pig bomb? I volunteered to run to the edge, drop the bomb in, and run away. The plan went off without a hitch, and I dove into my locket for safety as a wall of force and sand hit everyone. In the middle of the crater was a large demonic creature that we later learned was the Baron of Filth. What a dumb name. Anyhow, I was straining to listen through my locket to figure out what’s going on when Raazdrog tapped and called into it, telling me to come out. A group of us then rushed up to peer over the edge of the crater to get a better look when the fighting really began. It used the lantern on his chest to shoot coils of magic and energy at us that ranged in flavor and consequences. I think I got hit with a lightning coil at some point during the fight and I know Koro said he felt pretty heavy. And, to top it all off, the ‘Baron’ summoned more of those mutated Dretch things to just cause more complications to the whole ordeal. And, if that wasn’t enough, anytime the Baron struggled or tried to free himself, the sands shifted, causing a sandslide down the crater to the large monster. Most of the fight was attempting to hurt the Baron while picking off the dretch and avoiding falling in. Some of the group decided to willingly slide down into the pit and face him head on. Unfortunately, this caused Koro and Dee to both get knocked unconscious and Himo to get buried in the sand. We are in Raegina’s debt that Baft accompanied us, if she wasn’t there, I really don’t think we could’ve gotten Koro and Dee back up. Though, Raazdrog did do some pretty decent healing as well. We did manage to hit the Baron enough to down him, however, I guess it caused the lantern contraption in his chest to overload, causing a massive fireball explosion. Once we all recovered, we helped to heal and stabilize each other, and make sure we were all mostly back on our feet. We took some time to scrap the Baron for some components before making our way back to the Junkyard and Arboretum, a job completed and mostly unscathed.

==== Koro's Account: ====
You know, there's an old Snobbish saying about being fooled twice and the shame being on the one who was fooled...or something like that; not sure why that's popping in my head just now. Anyways, I took another job for the Scrappers. A large demon was spotted out in the dunes near the Scrapyard, seemingly being stuck in the sand somehow. After my last job with the Scrappers, I was...concerned about the approach they were going to take with dispatching such a thing, and for some reason I could feel in my gut that this wasn't something I'd feel comfortable sitting out on. So, perhaps against my better judgement, I joined the group bound for the Scrapyard, all unfamiliar faces to me except for Stix, a sentient...doll of some kind? I'd only seen them in passing before in the Arboretum, but this time they were accompanied by a large scrap construct they called 'Sparkburn'. Steady Wind was an armored tabaxi that seemed to possess similar abilities to Rhogar and Silgr, Ozmir was a lightly armored tiefling who created psychic blades, and Himo and Raazdrog seemed like inventor types like Gobbo.

To my surprise we were accompanied on this mission by Baftzmyr, Raegina's masked lieutenant. Apparently this demon was formidable enough to actually warrant personal involvement from Scrapper high command. As would be expected though, they still ordered us to do the tracking; are they testing us or something? First with the bomb making and now with the tracking, it feels like they're trying to "train" us in a weird way...not entirely sure how to feel about that. On our way to the demon's location, we came across a strange pig creature that could dig through the sand with ease. We chased it for a bit before it decided to stand its ground and fight, bursting out from the sand. It was a relatively easy kill, but looking towards the direction it was heading, we could see many more moving mounds of sand heading out to the demon's location as well; were these its minions or something? Cautiously we followed their trails, eventually reaching a large patch of undulating and shifting sand, Baftzmyr indicating that the demon was located just below it. Baftzmyr produced a large bomb housed inside of an origami pig, clearly another Cilvdy original, and Stix put it in place over the buried beast. As we hastily took cover by digging a shallow trench in the sand, the bomb exploded, filling the air with sand as a deep crater was left in its wake. At the bottom was this enormous gray skinned demon; bipedal seemingly, but perhaps not used to traveling the shifting sands with its immense weight, causing it to get stuck. Its mouth was peeled wide, the edges stretched thin and pinned to its huge arms, its bottom lip stretching down past its chest. In the center of this horrific creature was something not biological though: a lantern-like object was snugly tucked in the center, glowing a bright orange.

We didn't have much time to take in this fresh horror though, as more of those pig minions began to swarm us, trying to defend their master. Their stench was unbearable when so many were in one place, and Steady Wind found out the hard way that it seemingly carried a poison in its wake as well. We tried to clear out the pig creatures first, but the large demon began shooting out tendrils at us that could reach our position, so we knew we couldn't ignore it. Raazdrog conjured a field of light that surrounded the creature and made it easier to hit, even in its constant struggle from within the sand pit. Himo, Stix, and Ozmir were occupied with the minor demons at the edge of the pit, but Steady Wind had been captured by a tendril and drawn close to the large demon, being knocked out shortly after. I saw that his body would be pulled beneath the sand if nothing was done, so I headed into the pit myself to try and get the beast's attention. I was able to levitate Steady Wind's body out of the demon's range in hopes that Baftzmyr could help him, and I took up a defensive position to try and dodge the demon's attacks. It didn't do much good though, despite my efforts the thing was able to knock me out in two hits, I couldn't even dodge one attack. The next thing I knew I was healed by Himo and more of the group had been drawn into the depths of the pit. Not long after though, Raazdrog was able to plunge his trident into the demon's head, seemingly killing it, but the lantern in the beast's center began to glow brighter and brighter. Before I could even shout out to the remaining group that was nearby, the device exploded, sending me to unconsciousness once again. I was lucky the group still had healing abilities left though, it was barely enough to get me and Steady Wind back from death's door with Baftzmyr's help.

Verbally saying that I owe my life, even partially, to one from Raegina's inner circle feels a little dangerous in itself though, so I may keep that thought just to myself...
[[Category:Bedlam in the Badlands]]

Bedlam in the Badlands/Player Recaps

2025-10-03T13:57:45Z

Tsamps:

Bedlam in the Badlands/Player Recaps

2025-10-03T13:53:04Z

Tsamps: Added Koro's account of Session 5

The Attempted Courting of Tiamat

2025-09-29T03:30:49Z

Tsamps:

{{Infobox_character|name=|image=Old_journal.jpg|caption=An old water-damaged journal found floating upon a single piece of scorched wood off the coast of Isonhound}}

The following is a story cobbled together from the firsthand accounts of two sailors, who over the course of 70 years discovered two mysterious journals while out at sea, seemingly both written by the same enigmatic author.

== Discovery of the First Journal (899 PR) ==
During the waning years of [[Realm War II]], many residents of [[Isonhound]] sought to flee the continent in an attempt to escape the rampant warfare. [[The World Breaker Plague]] was running rampant claiming hundreds of lives per day, and rumors of a destructive weapon being developed by [[Wold Order|the Wold Order]] being unleashed on friendly soil led many people to desperately seek a way to get far away from the devastated landmass. With the population of spellcasters capable of teleportation reduced significantly by the Plague, many prospective escapees were forced to place their lives in the hands of whatever sailors yet remained on the continent that hadn't had their vessels commandeered for military use and were skilled enough to sail under the radar of the demonic forces of the Dragon Goddess, [[Tiamat]]. One of those sailors was Cloro Kurassi, captain of a small personal vessel named the Wandering Splinter. Kurassi had actually escorted multiple groups of refugees to safety on other continents over the past few years, his small vessel able to more easily avoid the gaze of the forces of the Dragon Queen.
[[File:Cloro comm.png|left|thumb|Captain Cloro Kurassi, posing indignantly for a portrait (Art by pecha_berrie)|326x326px]]
On one fateful night, the last night Captain Kurassi would ever again see the land of Isonhound, his ship had been loaded shoulder-to-shoulder with refugees. The Greenfire Bomb had been unveiled in a destructive showing across the sea, and [[Synàra]] and [[Sneerwell]] were already under siege by envoys of the draconic tyrant; The Second Razing of Isonhound had begun. Captain Kurassi watched as people jumped from the shadowed docks as his ship pulled away, backlit by a fire that seemed to stretch across the entire continent; he had to force himself to avert his gaze, lest the souls on board be damned to the same fate. Guilt seemingly ate away at him during the journey however, as when the vessel came across what appeared to be scattered ship debris floating in the open sea, Kurassi ordered his deckhand to shine a Gem of Brightness into the water to look for survivors, despite knowing there was not enough room on the ship for even one person more. The fact that no survivors were found could be taken as fortunate or unfortunate given the circumstances, but something peculiar did catch the eye of the young deckhand: a leather-bound journal sitting atop a single wooden plank, heavily water damaged, but still mostly held together. Upon learning of the discovery, Captain Kurassi ordered it to be fished out of the water using one of the ship's fishing nets. Even if it wasn't another life that he could shepherd away from the horrible war, perhaps if the owner had family elsewhere, Captain Kurassi could provide them closure and perhaps quell the images in his mind of the people left behind on those dark shores far behind him. He didn't dare open the journal until he reached safe shores, vowing to keep his mind free of distraction and doubt until this group of survivors, the last he would ever escort out of Isonhound, was securely placed back on dry land: greener pastures, or so he hoped.
[[File:Daemis.jpg|thumb|375x375px|Deckhand Daemis Accenshire, depicted as he looked around the time of the first journal's discovery (Art by leafii.clovr)]]
Even after the successful completion of their journey, the young deckhand noticed that it took Captain Kurassi a while to will himself to open the journal. The captain constantly made the excuse of wanting the journal to dry out more, afraid of damaging what entries may remain, but he had been meticulously watching over the notebook for weeks now, the heat of their home continent of [[Pteris]] baking into every creased page and every inch of the brown leathery cover. Whatever pages remain intact, they would have been ready to be read long before now. The deckhand, a young sorcerer named Daemis Accenshire, speculated that Captain Kurassi was afraid of what he'd find within the small book. Thick and obviously well worn, who knows what kinds of tales awaited within? Stories of daring exploits, letters meant for loved ones that are now long overdue, or perhaps it was a simple merchant's ledger and nothing more; all possibilities as long as it remained closed. Daemis thought that perhaps the captain was fearful, afraid of being dragged deeper into guilt by the stories of this mysterious author: another soul snuffed out by the horrible war that he had no hope of saving despite his efforts, though Daemis would never speak such an accusation out loud of course. Eventually though, Kurassi did find the will to probe the contents of the journal, but asked for privacy while he did, and so the young Daemis took his leave from the Wandering Splinter's cabin and began walking down the waterlogged dock of the town of [[Mek]].

However, he had barely made it a stone's throw away from the old ship before a series of expletives viler than any combination he had ever heard in his life exploded from behind him. Daemis turned to see his captain, face scarlet with rage, storming down the dock muttering countless more curses beneath his breath. He spoke not a word to the deckhand and simply made a path straight for his home within the town and slammed the door shut behind him. Daemis, stunned but having the wherewithal to realize the captain's hands were empty, quickly made his way back to the ship and into the captain's quarters where he saw the journal: open, but laying in the splintered remains of the captain's navigator's table, seemingly smashed in half by a single blow. The deckhand, eyes wide, was shocked at the sight, but the burning curiosity in his chest overcame all other emotions and dared him to pick up the notebook and read the words that sent the normally restrained and stoic Cloro Kurassi into a fury. He brushed off the dust and wooden splinters from the crinkled pages and read the first legible writing he could see... <blockquote>xxx xx x (Later dated to 798 PR)

Winged beauty, heads five, In thy flame I feel alive.

I shall earn thine love someday, didst thou see the flowers I left in Dolmvay?

- Dagio Sringhardt </blockquote>A...love poem? Not just that...a love poem...to ''Tiamat??'' Daemis flipped through the pages; ten, twenty, forty, eighty pages and counting, all filled with text margin-to-margin. Many pages were rendered unreadable from the water damage, but the subject of the writings within never changed no matter what page Daemis flipped to: this journal was the life's work of someone who pined after the very creature that had plunged the entire realm into war. Daemis was in such a state of bewilderment that a laugh escaped his mouth against his will; like watching an out-of-control ship crash into a dock he couldn't avert his eyes as he continued to read. Page upon page of short poems likening the queen of dragons to bouquets of flowers and abstract paintings, assertions that he could be the one she comes home to after each of her tiring battles, and promises that he had feelings for all five heads equally. As he continued to read, Daemis noticed that none of the poems ever exceeded twenty-five words, and some were seemingly written under the assumption that the recipient also had knowledge of the prior ones...was this person continually casting the Sending spell to read these professions of love directly to Tiamat? If so...the dates that remained legible showed that whoever this Dagio person was, he had been doing this for nearly a century straight. Daemis's jaw had been hanging agape ever since his eyes met the first stanza of this...''eclectic'' collection of writings, but he suddenly snapped into sharp, inquisitive focus as he remembered where they first found the journal. Daemis remembered the debris being discolored, with strange snaking markings, black in color, upon some of the pieces he could see. Voltage burns. The young sailor could also recall seeing smaller shapes floating around the wooden debris in the area as well. He was about to rule out dead fish as an option for those shapes since he didn't recall seeing blood in the water, but if was electricity that destroyed whatever ship was in the area...then maybe...

Daemis rapidly flipped to the last page of the journal, and the final entry was indeed legible, and seemingly written not long before the Wandering Splinter came upon the journal. <blockquote>xxx xx xxx (Later dated to 899 PR)

Love, fated wife, thank the gods for my elven life.

Yet waiting for thou to see, 500 more years of poems must be the key!

- Dagio Sringhardt </blockquote>Daemis let his arms holding the journal fall to his lap as he leaned back in the wooden chair he sat upon with a sigh, his brow raised high as he shook his head slightly and took in all of what he just read. Part of him couldn't really blame the tyrannical queen for what she wrought upon Dagio; an amused huff escaped his nose as he wondered if the heads argued amongst themselves over which one would get to do the honors. Part of him also held respect for the man in a strange way; he doubted there were many in Quelmar who could annoy the Dragon Queen to the point of warranting personal termination, and he thinks that even old Captain Kurassi could find some enjoyment in that fact once the whole picture was explained to him, but Daemis decided that would be best left as a venture for another day. He tucked the journal into his bag and began his walk home, feeling somewhat more confident in the world's fate with the knowledge that even one as powerful and terrible as Tiamat still has limits she could be pushed to.

== Discovery of the Second Journal (969 PR) ==
Though [[the War of Many Names]] would later be split into many different wars by scholars studying the conflict, most commonfolk who lived during the time wouldn't be able to tell you the difference; it was just constant conflict to them. They could tell you of moments though, moments people could tell that something had shifted. For instance, when what is now known as the Second Holy War began, Tiamat and her allies had pioneered a new kind of warfare to unleash on the realm. Spirits en route to the afterlife were intercepted, tempted by the Queen's countless demons to fight for her in exchange for boons that would never be given, and then returned to the realm as vengeful wraiths intent on destruction. The people of the land obviously noticed that they were now being attacked by ghosts and spirits instead of demons and dragons, but while their attackers changed, their harrowed lives of desperate survival did not.

Daemis Accenshire followed in the footsteps of Captain Kurassi following his passing in 921 PR, and he piloted the Wandering Splinter to many war-torn shores across Quelmar to escort people away from their former homes turned battlefields. Daemis may not have had motives quite as altruistic as his predecessor, being in a profession that allowed him to stay on the move was a good way to keep ''himself'' out of danger as much as the people he was helping, and the desperate nature of his clientele made it more likely for him to receive what little people had in the way of valuable goods during this time period; but the work was still dangerous and he was one of the few willing to do it. Some attribute his success to luck, others to skill, Captain Kurassi would surely attribute it to his rigorous training regiment, but it is recorded that Daemis survived long into the Second Holy War's total duration. Eventually, Daemis decided to stop his ventures to the battle-strewn coasts of Quelmar, he was aged, not as sharp as he used to be, and believed he was more likely to get himself killed on the way by some wayward ghost than ever complete a successful refugee extraction again. He still took the Splinter out every once in a while, off the coast of his hometown of Mek, which had been relatively safe from the horrors of the war thus far. And it was on one of these recreational trips that a fragment of his past would unexpectedly come to pay him a visit...
[[File:Ghostly Journal.jpg|thumb|The ghostly journal found by Daemis Accenshire in 969 PR. Nearly identical in appearance to the one found 70 years prior, except for its slight blue glow and incorporeal nature]]

While allowing the ship to idly float upon the gently rolling waves, Daemis just so happened to look up from a book he was reading on the deck to notice something moving towards the ship. A small surge of adrenaline pumped through the blood of the man and urged his aching bones to get out of his seat to take a closer look. Taking out a finely crafted spyglass, Daemis honed in on the object: it was small, moving slowly, and slightly twisted in midair. It was as if someone had lightly pushed the object in a straight line, and no force had acted upon it since, not even gravity. As it moved closer, Daemis could also see that it was slightly translucent...as it floated closer still it appeared to be...a journal? A perplexed expression appeared upon the old man's face as he retracted the spyglass and moved towards the bow of the ship. That flaming curiosity he hadn't felt for a great many years began to well up within him again, and perhaps against his better judgement, he raised a fishing net to intercept the book as it floated over the deck...only to see it pass straight through. A ghost journal? Now there was truly nothing that would stop him from investigating. Thinking quickly, Daemis conjured a Mage Hand and sent it out towards the journal's path, and the book came to rest in the palm of the magical hand. With a smirk of satisfaction, he pulled the hand back towards him with the journal clasped firmly within. Daemis was somehow simultaneously shocked and unfazed upon seeing that this incorporeal journal looked identical to the one authored by Dagio Sringhardt, the unsuccessful suitor of Tiamat. Using his Mage Hand to interact with the pages of the journal, Daemis saw that every last poem from the original journal was recorded within this one as well, even the ones that were illegible due to the water damage of the original one. Comparing the script from the physical journal to the spectral one revealed calligraphic inconsistencies however that would suggest that all of the poems were rewritten by hand...

As the pieces began to fall into place in Daemis's mind, he knew there was only one place left to check. Flipping through the spectral pages, Daemis found that there was only one new entry beyond the poem that was originally at the end of the journal. This poem did not follow the twenty-five-word limit like to rest, and leaves one to wonder what exactly ended up happening to the ever-incorrigible Dagio Sringhardt... {{Worldbuilders}}<blockquote>xxx x xxx x (Later dated to 901 PR)

My queen, my scaled sweetheart, thou hast truly blessed me beyond all compare!

First ye grace me with thy visage, and sent a shock through my heart I could scarcely bear!

Then one of thy servants bade me return to life to serve thee, and it was then that all was made clear.

Though my life was long ye wished for more, and an eternal spirit can always be near!

I knew ye would finally return my love, and now an eternity of poems awaits thee my dear!

- Dagio Sringhardt</blockquote>

== Additional Notable Poems from the Journals of Dagio Sringhardt ==
<blockquote>xxx xx xx (Later dated to 793 PR)

Red; the color of passion. Blue; calm and wise. Black; piercing gaze. White; of snowy skies.

Green; a verdant beauty. All flawless to my eyes.

- Dagio Sringhardt</blockquote><blockquote>x xx xx x (Later dated to 795 PR)

Vile Kragnux, damn the name, believed his friends could extinguish thy flame,

Bahamut too, brother most foul, at our wedding he will not be allowed.

- Dagio Sringhardt</blockquote><blockquote>xx x x xxx (Later dated to 852 PR)

Despondent kin of platinum hue held no candle to the likes of you,

now truly free, the world will roll over for thee (and me!)

- Dagio Sringhardt</blockquote><blockquote>x x xxx x (Later dated to 853 PR)

Blasphemous mortals attempt to fly, don't they know you rule the sky?

Undoubtedly, they shall balk, and clear the way for our romantic sky walk!

- Dagio Sringhardt</blockquote>

Koro

2025-09-25T03:20:36Z

Tsamps: Added 'Character Connections' section

{{Infobox_character|affilliation=The Shepherds, Snobbite|name={{PAGENAME}}|image=Koro-Portrait.png|caption="I assume we won't have any problems you and I? What with this being a collaborative effort and all."|relatives=Unknown|languages=|alias=None|marital=Single|birthDate=115 PR|birthPlace=Unknown|deathDate=TBD|deathPlace=TBD|species=Genasi (Air)|gender=Male|height=5'8|weight=130 lbs.|eyes=Dark Gray}}

'''{{PAGENAME}} '''is an Air Genasi raised in the kingdom of Snobbite on the continent of Pteris, but is now employed by a nomadic group of Shepherds to act as a guard during their journey to the Arboretum at the center of the Western Badlands in 136 PR. With a nonchalant attitude seemingly unbefitting of the Kensei arts he wields, he brandishes sword and bow against the forces of the Abyss.

== Physical Appearance ==
Koro is a young man possessed of sky-blue skin dotted with white patches of vitiligo, as if a snapshot of a cloud-filled sky was plucked from the air and made flesh, topped with similarly white hair pulled into a tight bun and secured with a wooden clasp. He wears tan robes cut such that the right half of his upper body is uncovered, while his left side is adorned with a black leather pauldron sporting silver accents with his left arm's robe sleeve being fastened with leather straps. Koro is somewhat shorter than the average humanoid and not all too muscular, and so he attempts to travel light to keep himself ready to execute swift combat maneuvers at a moment's notice.

== Personality ==
Koro outwardly wears a nonchalant and casual attitude in most situations, even coming off as cocky in some instances. He touts the mantle of a man who is free; wandering wherever the whims of the wind happen to take him and being unbound by binding oaths of loyalty or station, taking on jobs for whatever Badland faction he happens to align with in the moment. It is a delicate facade however, able to be cracked and seen through if uncomfortable situations arise, and even at his most confident his eyes are the one thing he has yet to master veiling beneath his veneer. Dark and stormy gray, they betray a similarly rumbling anger within the man that seem to haunt his every motion. When stress begins to mount on the battlefield, when insecurity begins to seep into the mind, when his experience and skill are questioned, that anger can thunder to the surface. Koro's attacks become aggressive, or his words biting, like a crack of lightning these moments are swift and vicious but also vanish just as quickly. Rarely helpful on the battlefield, certainly hindering off of it, one is led to wonder how truly free a man with such a trait is?

== History ==
The way Koro understands it, he was dropped on the doorstep of an old Hobgoblin swordsman's doorstep in Snobbite when he was just a newborn. His parents' identities, why they did such a thing, and where they went after are all mysteries that remain unsolved to this day, and Koro has no intention of solving them any time soon as a consequence of the upbringing he subsequently endured.

The Hobgoblin swordsman seemed a combat veteran, his small home decorated floor to ceiling in Realm War I memorabilia. He raised Koro in strict accordance with Snobbite wartime culture, seemingly more intent on being a boot camp commander to a cadet rather than a father to a boy. Koro did not take to this lifestyle well, especially at a young age he had no interest in grueling training regiments or reading antiquated military tactics handbooks cover to cover, but the swordsman wouldn't have any of it. He would threaten to withhold food from the boy if he didn't participate in the swordsman's plan for him: "The only people worth more than the dirt on my boot in this land are warriors, and everyone knows it. The food in this house only feeds soldiers, and the roof only houses fighters. If you think you got something better to do with your life than fighting for your country, then it ain't worth the gold it takes to feed you. Anyone else in this kingdom will tell you the same boy, so either get back to it or get out."

In Koro's teenage years he actually did test the hobgoblin's conviction and refused to train or work, and indeed the swordsman refused to feed him and threw him outside. For days Koro did not back down, sleeping outside the home exposed to the elements, but the hobgoblin never checked on him, never said another word, seemingly fully expunging Koro's existence from his mind without guilt. It seemed he was stalwart in the fact that if Koro died out there, it was his own fault for not wanting to be a soldier, and thus of no consequence to him. For as much as Koro despised him, it seems he believed the hobgoblin when he said that everyone in Snobbite thought the way he did, and so he returned to the door of the house in tears, body wearing from malnutrition, promising to be a soldier. The hobgoblin pushed him in training twice as hard as he ever did at Koro's healthiest as punishment, not for refusing to train, but for crying in front of him, because in his words: "Only the weak cry, and a soldier must never be weak."

Unbroken training sessions half a day long each day for months, manual labor, ordered readings of tactics textbooks hundreds of pages long before an arbitrary time had passed to avoid punishment, never being allowed to speak to others or leave the premises unless ordered to or accompanied by the swordsman; this was the life the young Koro was forced to comply with if he didn't want to starve. Koro eventually learned how to do the bare minimum amount of effort in his studies and training that would still get him fed and housed, as the harder and longer the swordsman pushed him, the more hatred he could not afford to let loose grew inside of him, towards the hobgoblin specifically and the whole concept of soldiering as a profession. As he continued to come of age, Koro would finally receive some small relief from the overbearing swordsman when he was sent to Dragon Turtle Bay to learn the ways of seafaring, a common Snobbish cultural touchpoint. He cared little for this too, and any possibility of companionship with peers his age easing the pains that came with his upbringing were snuffed out as Koro looked at their faces and saw wide smiles and twinkling eyes: there wasn't anything that could possibly make them happier than this. The roiling anger continued to grow.

Of course, those other young people had the choice of picking another of the career paths valued in Snobbite: calligraphy, textiles, boatwrighting, or smithing; Koro did not. But then something curious began to happen. Though he despised it with all his being and didn't give it his all, Koro's body was forged strong by his training, even beginning to match the ever-aging hobgoblin. As this threshold was crossed, the hobgoblin would increase the harshness of his words to his cadet. He insulted his sluggish movements in comparison to the element he embodied, he mocked the anger Koro openly showed on his face towards him at this point, and he suggested that maybe his disdainful qualities were apparent to his parents at birth, and that that's why they dumped him in Snobbite, he was too inconvenient to raise so they decided to pawn him off on someone else.

The next thing Koro knew, he was exiting the house with a stolen katana and bow in his hands, electricity crackling from his fingers. He made for the Badlands and never looked back. He wasn't hindered, he wasn't burdened, he was free as the wind, and he could do whatever he pleased; that's what he told himself anyway. Seemingly in an attempt to prove this conviction, he drifted from place to place as his whims took him west, taking on all manner of mercenary jobs from whoever was offering food and shelter. Eventually this landed him in the Badlands, where there was no shortage of work to be done for the various factions. He found himself more often than not taking jobs for the Shepherds, as their nomadic lifestyle fit his similarly ever-wandering one.

As he settled into this new life he was intent on making for himself, a thought stuck in his subconscious like an immovable glue, as memories from his past usually do despite his efforts. The one thing the old hobgoblin never taught Koro about the various wars were the timelines of them: when they started, when the ended, the 'when' never seemed important enough to impart to Koro under any circumstance. In Koro's travels after Snobbite, as offhand comments about past wars of the land and jokes regarding the lifespans of various peoples were overheard in seedy taverns or pop-up desert encampments, Koro wondered if it was even possible for that old hobgoblin to have been born in time to serve in any of the wars he venerated so much...

== Languages ==
Koro grew up only learning Common, the old swordsman never bothered to teach him any other. Though strangely, Koro does seem able to understand Primordial almost instinctually.

== Powers and Abilities ==
Koro utilizes Kensei martial tactics in battle, often in an aggressive and unrefined way that is unemblematic of the typical user of such arts. He utilizes katana, bow, and fist in combat engagements, often times taunting his opponents with insults to get them to attack in a predictable way he can exploit. His Genasi ancestry also affords him limited use of elemental power, like generating electricity from his palms and manipulating the wind to lighten his body or briefly lift things into the air.

== Attacks and Weapons ==
Koro is always equipped with his katana and longbow, but also keeps a supply of large metal darts on hand. He can also resort to passable hand-to-hand combat if necessary, but prefers to use his weapons if he's able.

Following the attack on the Arboretum, Koro traded his katana for a straight longsword previously owned by Swordmaster Krispin.

== Character Connections ==
Koro arrived at the Arboretum expecting to be looking over his shoulder constantly; having to interact with individuals who would rather toss him to the fire than risk any harm coming to themselves...that's how he planned to be anyway. But since his arrival, he's been met with almost nothing but the opposite.
[[File:Rhogar Dreel.jpg|thumb|Rhogar Dreel]]
Rhogar Dreel, a large dragonborn warrior, seemed a kindred spirit. He too was an unwilling soldier, and he seemed to have no qualms with divulging the abuse he endured and the hands of others to a stranger like Koro. He even told Koro of what to look out for in the Arboretum, things that would hinder and those that would help alike. He was part of the Federation, along with Syl Vipershade, who Koro also happened to speak to a few times. The yuan-ti offered their help to Koro, as they were a dealer in connections. He showed Koro respect, and whether that was for the purpose of gaining him as an ally in the future or a genuine gesture, Koro was surprised at his appreciation for the act all the same.
[[File:Syl.png|left|thumb|Syl Vipershade]]
One such connection Syl pointed Koro towards was the cleric Lenore, who had briefly rushed past Koro in the market, startling him in front of many in the area. It took Koro some time to overcome the embarrassment he believed he suffered at her hands, however small it was, so much so that he wasn't able to speak to the kenku until after the humbling battle atop the Arboretum. In front of the ruins of the Conservatory, the two shared a conversation, in which Koro learned that he shared some things in common with the Vela faithful, specifically their shared penchant of sometimes not being able to find the words for certain situations. Lenore even went so far as to gift Koro with a star stone, a gift he had seen her give to many others in the Arboretum. Koro felt his heart soften from the generous act and thanked the cleric as she left.

Speaking of the Arboretum battle, Koro's companions there are also worth mentioning. Silgr and Pryderi are a couple, both of whom Koro had seen around the Arboretum prior to the operation, but who were pleasant to work with during the course of their shared mission. In fact, if it wasn't for Pyrderi and another member of the party, an elven paladin named Chanterelle, Koro could have possibly met his end that day. Davin Dunefoot was another member of the party Koro found was easy to work with, and he even tried to use his bow while the ranger was unconscious to strike at a far away demon...to little success. Koro also heard tell that the two druids and their lizardfolk ward who saved his party in the waning minutes of the battle were named Pearl Dust, Lincoln, and Larry; Koro still has to get around to thanking them...
[[Category:Player Characters]]
[[Category:Bedlam in the Badlands]]
{{Worldbuilders}}

The Attempted Courting of Tiamat

2025-09-23T01:38:54Z

Tsamps:

{{Infobox_character|name=|image=Old_journal.jpg|caption=An old water-damaged journal found floating upon a single piece of scorched wood off the coast of Isonhound}}

The following is a story cobbled together from the firsthand accounts of two sailors, who over the course of 70 years discovered two mysterious journals while out at sea, seemingly both written by the same enigmatic author.

== Discovery of the First Journal (899 PR) ==
During the waning years of [[Realm War II]], many residents of [[Isonhound]] sought to flee the continent in an attempt to escape the rampant warfare. The Woldbreaker Plague was running rampant claiming hundreds of lives per day, and rumors of a destructive weapon being developed by [[Wold Order|the Wold Order]] being unleashed on friendly soil led many people to desperately seek a way to get far away from the devastated landmass. With the population of spellcasters capable of teleportation reduced significantly by the Plague, many prospective escapees were forced to place their lives in the hands of whatever sailors yet remained on the continent that hadn't had their vessels commandeered for military use and were skilled enough to sail under the radar of the demonic forces of the Dragon Goddess, [[Tiamat]]. One of those sailors was Cloro Kurassi, captain of a small personal vessel named the Wandering Splinter. Kurassi had actually escorted multiple groups of refugees to safety on other continents over the past few years, his small vessel able to more easily avoid the gaze of the forces of the Dragon Queen.
[[File:Cloro comm.png|left|thumb|Captain Cloro Kurassi, posing indignantly for a portrait (Art by pecha_berrie)|326x326px]]
On one fateful night, the last night Captain Kurassi would ever again see the land of Isonhound, his ship had been loaded shoulder-to-shoulder with refugees. The Greenfire Bomb had been unveiled in a destructive showing across the sea, and [[Synàra]] and [[Sneerwell]] were already under siege by envoys of the draconic tyrant; The Second Razing of Isonhound had begun. Captain Kurassi watched as people jumped from the shadowed docks as his ship pulled away, backlit by a fire that seemed to stretch across the entire continent; he had to force himself to avert his gaze, lest the souls on board be damned to the same fate. Guilt seemingly ate away at him during the journey however, as when the vessel came across what appeared to be scattered ship debris floating in the open sea, Kurassi ordered his deckhand to shine a Gem of Brightness into the water to look for survivors, despite knowing there was not enough room on the ship for even one person more. The fact that no survivors were found could be taken as fortunate or unfortunate given the circumstances, but something peculiar did catch the eye of the young deckhand: a leather-bound journal sitting atop a single wooden plank, heavily water damaged, but still mostly held together. Upon learning of the discovery, Captain Kurassi ordered it to be fished out of the water using one of the ship's fishing nets. Even if it wasn't another life that he could shepherd away from the horrible war, perhaps if the owner had family elsewhere, Captain Kurassi could provide them closure and perhaps quell the images in his mind of the people left behind on those dark shores far behind him. He didn't dare open the journal until he reached safe shores, vowing to keep his mind free of distraction and doubt until this group of survivors, the last he would ever escort out of Isonhound, was securely placed back on dry land: greener pastures, or so he hoped.
[[File:Daemis.jpg|thumb|375x375px|Deckhand Daemis Accenshire, depicted as he looked around the time of the first journal's discovery (Art by leafii.clovr)]]
Even after the successful completion of their journey, the young deckhand noticed that it took Captain Kurassi a while to will himself to open the journal. The captain constantly made the excuse of wanting the journal to dry out more, afraid of damaging what entries may remain, but he had been meticulously watching over the notebook for weeks now, the heat of their home continent of [[Pteris]] baking into every creased page and every inch of the brown leathery cover. Whatever pages remain intact, they would have been ready to be read long before now. The deckhand, a young sorcerer named Daemis Accenshire, speculated that Captain Kurassi was afraid of what he'd find within the small book. Thick and obviously well worn, who knows what kinds of tales awaited within? Stories of daring exploits, letters meant for loved ones that are now long overdue, or perhaps it was a simple merchant's ledger and nothing more; all possibilities as long as it remained closed. Daemis thought that perhaps the captain was fearful, afraid of being dragged deeper into guilt by the stories of this mysterious author: another soul snuffed out by the horrible war that he had no hope of saving despite his efforts, though Daemis would never speak such an accusation out loud of course. Eventually though, Kurassi did find the will to probe the contents of the journal, but asked for privacy while he did, and so the young Daemis took his leave from the Wandering Splinter's cabin and began walking down the waterlogged dock of the town of [[Mek]].

However, he had barely made it a stone's throw away from the old ship before a series of expletives viler than any combination he had ever heard in his life exploded from behind him. Daemis turned to see his captain, face scarlet with rage, storming down the dock muttering countless more curses beneath his breath. He spoke not a word to the deckhand and simply made a path straight for his home within the town and slammed the door shut behind him. Daemis, stunned but having the wherewithal to realize the captain's hands were empty, quickly made his way back to the ship and into the captain's quarters where he saw the journal: open, but laying in the splintered remains of the captain's navigator's table, seemingly smashed in half by a single blow. The deckhand, eyes wide, was shocked at the sight, but the burning curiosity in his chest overcame all other emotions and dared him to pick up the notebook and read the words that sent the normally restrained and stoic Cloro Kurassi into a fury. He brushed off the dust and wooden splinters from the crinkled pages and read the first legible writing he could see... <blockquote>xxx xx x (Later dated to 798 PR)

Winged beauty, heads five, In thy flame I feel alive.

I shall earn thine love someday, didst thou get the flowers I left in Dolmvay?

- Dagio Sringhardt </blockquote>A...love poem? Not just that...a love poem...to ''Tiamat??'' Daemis flipped through the pages; ten, twenty, forty, eighty pages and counting, all filled with text margin-to-margin. Many pages were rendered unreadable from the water damage, but the subject of the writings within never changed no matter what page Daemis flipped to: this journal was the life's work of someone who pined after the very creature that had plunged the entire realm into war. Daemis was in such a state of bewilderment that a laugh escaped his mouth against his will; like watching an out-of-control ship crash into a dock he couldn't avert his eyes as he continued to read. Page upon page of short poems likening the queen of dragons to bouquets of flowers and abstract paintings, assertions that he could be the one she comes home to after each of her tiring battles, and promises that he had feelings for all five heads equally. As he continued to read, Daemis noticed that none of the poems ever exceeded twenty-five words, and some were seemingly written under the assumption that the recipient also had knowledge of the prior ones...was this person continually casting the Sending spell to read these professions of love directly to Tiamat? If so...the dates that remained legible showed that whoever this Dagio person was, he had been doing this for nearly a century straight. Daemis's jaw had been hanging agape ever since his eyes met the first stanza of this...''eclectic'' collection of writings, but he suddenly snapped into sharp, inquisitive focus as he remembered where they first found the journal. Daemis remembered the debris being discolored, with strange snaking markings, black in color, upon some of the pieces he could see. Voltage burns. The young sailor could also recall seeing smaller shapes floating around the wooden debris in the area as well. He was about to rule out dead fish as an option for those shapes since he didn't recall seeing blood in the water, but if was electricity that destroyed whatever ship was in the area...then maybe...

Daemis rapidly flipped to the last page of the journal, and the final entry was indeed legible, and seemingly written not long before the Wandering Splinter came upon the journal. <blockquote>xxx xx xxx (Later dated to 899 PR)

Love, fated wife, thank the gods for my elven life.

Yet waiting for thou to see, 500 more years of poems must be the key!

- Dagio Sringhardt </blockquote>Daemis let his arms holding the journal fall to his lap as he leaned back in the wooden chair he sat upon with a sigh, his brow raised high as he shook his head slightly and took in all of what he just read. Part of him couldn't really blame the tyrannical queen for what she wrought upon Dagio; an amused huff escaped his nose as he wondered if the heads argued amongst themselves over which one would get to do the honors. Part of him also held respect for the man in a strange way; he doubted there were many in Quelmar who could annoy the Dragon Queen to the point of warranting personal termination, and he thinks that even old Captain Kurassi could find some enjoyment in that fact once the whole picture was explained to him, but Daemis decided that would be best left as a venture for another day. He tucked the journal into his bag and began his walk home, feeling somewhat more confident in the world's fate with the knowledge that even one as powerful and terrible as Tiamat still has limits she could be pushed to.

== Discovery of the Second Journal (969 PR) ==
Though [[the War of Many Names]] would later be split into many different wars by scholars studying the conflict, most commonfolk who lived during the time wouldn't be able to tell you the difference; it was just constant conflict to them. They could tell you of moments though, moments people could tell that something had shifted. For instance, when what is now known as the Second Holy War began, Tiamat and her allies had pioneered a new kind of warfare to unleash on the realm. Spirits en route to the afterlife were intercepted, tempted by the Queen's countless demons to fight for her in exchange for boons that would never be given, and then returned to the realm as vengeful wraiths intent on destruction. The people of the land obviously noticed that they were now being attacked by ghosts and spirits instead of demons and dragons, but while their attackers changed, their harrowed lives of desperate survival did not.

Daemis Accenshire followed in the footsteps of Captain Kurassi following his passing in 921 PR, and he piloted the Wandering Splinter to many war-torn shores across Quelmar to escort people away from their former homes turned battlefields. Daemis may not have had motives quite as altruistic as his predecessor, being in a profession that allowed him to stay on the move was a good way to keep ''himself'' out of danger as much as the people he was helping, and the desperate nature of his clientele made it more likely for him to receive what little people had in the way of valuable goods during this time period; but the work was still dangerous and he was one of the few willing to do it. Some attribute his success to luck, others to skill, Captain Kurassi would surely attribute it to his rigorous training regiment, but it is recorded that Daemis survived long into the Second Holy War's total duration. Eventually, Daemis decided to stop his ventures to the battle-strewn coasts of Quelmar, he was aged, not as sharp as he used to be, and believed he was more likely to get himself killed on the way by some wayward ghost than ever complete a successful refugee extraction again. He still took the Splinter out every once in a while, off the coast of his hometown of Mek, which had been relatively safe from the horrors of the war thus far. And it was on one of these recreational trips that a fragment of his past would unexpectedly come to pay him a visit...
[[File:Ghostly Journal.jpg|thumb|The ghostly journal found by Daemis Accenshire in 969 PR. Nearly identical in appearance to the one found 70 years prior, except for its slight blue glow and incorporeal nature]]

While allowing the ship to idly float upon the gently rolling waves, Daemis just so happened to look up from a book he was reading on the deck to notice something moving towards the ship. A small surge of adrenaline pumped through the blood of the man and urged his aching bones to get out of his seat to take a closer look. Taking out a finely crafted spyglass, Daemis honed in on the object: it was small, moving slowly, and slightly twisted in midair. It was as if someone had lightly pushed the object in a straight line, and no force had acted upon it since, not even gravity. As it moved closer, Daemis could also see that it was slightly translucent...as it floated closer still it appeared to be...a journal? A perplexed expression appeared upon the old man's face as he retracted the spyglass and moved towards the bow of the ship. That flaming curiosity he hadn't felt for a great many years began to well up within him again, and perhaps against his better judgement, he raised a fishing net to intercept the book as it floated over the deck...only to see it pass straight through. A ghost journal? Now there was truly nothing that would stop him from investigating. Thinking quickly, Daemis conjured a Mage Hand and sent it out towards the journal's path, and the book came to rest in the palm of the magical hand. With a smirk of satisfaction, he pulled the hand back towards him with the journal clasped firmly within. Daemis was somehow simultaneously shocked and unfazed upon seeing that this incorporeal journal looked identical to the one authored by Dagio Sringhardt, the unsuccessful suitor of Tiamat. Using his Mage Hand to interact with the pages of the journal, Daemis saw that every last poem from the original journal was recorded within this one as well, even the ones that were illegible due to the water damage of the original one. Comparing the script from the physical journal to the spectral one revealed calligraphic inconsistencies however that would suggest that all of the poems were rewritten by hand...

As the pieces began to fall into place in Daemis's mind, he knew there was only one place left to check. Flipping through the spectral pages, Daemis found that there was only one new entry beyond the poem that was originally at the end of the journal. This poem did not follow the twenty-five-word limit like to rest, and leaves one to wonder what exactly ended up happening to the ever-incorrigible Dagio Sringheardt... {{Worldbuilders}}<blockquote>xxx x xxx x (Later dated to 901 PR)

My queen, my scaled sweetheart, thou hast truly blessed me beyond all compare!

First ye grace me with thy visage, and sent a shock through my heart I could scarcely bear!

Then one of thy servants bade me return to life to serve thee, and it was then that all was made clear.

Though my life was long ye wished for more, and an eternal spirit can always be near!

I knew ye would finally return my love, and now an eternity of poems awaits thee my dear!

- Dagio Sringheardt</blockquote>

== Additional Notable Poems from the Journals of Dagio Sringheardt ==
<blockquote>xxx xx xx (Later dated to 793 PR)

Red; the color of passion. Blue; calm and wise. Black; piercing gaze. White; of snowy skies.

Green; a verdant beauty. All flawless to my eyes.

- Dagio Sringheardt</blockquote><blockquote>x xx xx x (Later dated to 795 PR)

Vile Kragnux, damn the name, believed his friends could extinguish thy brilliant flame,

Bahamut too, brother most foul, at our wedding he won't be allowed.

- Dagio Sringheardt</blockquote><blockquote>xx x x xxx (Later dated to 852 PR)

Despondent kin of platinum hue held no candle to the likes of you,

now truly free, the world will roll over for thee (and me!)

- Dagio Sringheardt</blockquote><blockquote>x x xxx x (Later dated to 853 PR)

Blasphemous mortals attempt to fly, don't they know you rule the sky?

Undoubtedly they shall balk, and clear the way for our romantic sky walk!

- Dagio Sringheardt</blockquote>

The Attempted Courting of Tiamat

2025-09-23T01:07:40Z

Tsamps:

{{Infobox_character|name=|image=Old_journal.jpg|caption=An old water-damaged journal found floating upon a single piece of scorched wood off the coast of Isonhound}}

The following is a story cobbled together from the firsthand accounts of two sailors, who over the course of 70 years discovered two mysterious journals while out at sea, seemingly both written by the same enigmatic author.

== Discovery of the First Journal (899 PR) ==
During the waning years of [[Realm War II]], many residents of [[Isonhound]] sought to flee the continent in an attempt to escape the rampant warfare. The Woldbreaker Plague was running rampant claiming hundreds of lives per day, and rumors of a destructive weapon being developed by [[Wold Order|the Wold Order]] being unleashed on friendly soil led many people to desperately seek a way to get far away from the devastated landmass. With the population of spellcasters capable of teleportation reduced significantly by the Plague, many prospective escapees were forced to place their lives in the hands of whatever sailors yet remained on the continent that hadn't had their vessels commandeered for military use and were skilled enough to sail under the radar of the demonic forces of the Dragon Goddess, [[Tiamat]]. One of those sailors was Cloro Kurassi, captain of a small personal vessel named the Wandering Splinter. Kurassi had actually escorted multiple groups of refugees to safety on other continents over the past few years, his small vessel able to more easily avoid the gaze of the forces of the Dragon Queen.
[[File:Cloro comm.png|left|thumb|Captain Cloro Kurassi, posing indignantly for a portrait (Art by pecha_berrie)|326x326px]]
On one fateful night, the last night Captain Kurassi would ever again see the land of Isonhound, his ship had been loaded shoulder-to-shoulder with refugees. The Greenfire Bomb had been unveiled in a destructive showing across the sea, and [[Synàra]] and [[Sneerwell]] were already under siege by envoys of the draconic tyrant; The Second Razing of Isonhound had begun. Captain Kurassi watched as people jumped from the shadowed docks as his ship pulled away, backlit by a fire that seemed to stretch across the entire continent; he had to force himself to avert his gaze, lest the souls on board be damned to the same fate. Guilt seemingly ate away at him during the journey however, as when the vessel came across what appeared to be scattered ship debris floating in the open sea, Kurassi ordered his deckhand to shine a Gem of Brightness into the water to look for survivors, despite knowing there was not enough room on the ship for even one person more. The fact that no survivors were found could be taken as fortunate or unfortunate given the circumstances, but something peculiar did catch the eye of the young deckhand: a leather-bound journal sitting atop a single wooden plank, heavily water damaged, but still mostly held together. Upon learning of the discovery, Captain Kurassi ordered it to be fished out of the water using one of the ship's fishing nets. Even if it wasn't another life that he could shepherd away from the horrible war, perhaps if the owner had family elsewhere, Captain Kurassi could provide them closure and perhaps quell the images in his mind of the people left behind on those dark shores far behind him. He didn't dare open the journal until he reached safe shores, vowing to keep his mind free of distraction and doubt until this group of survivors, the last he would ever escort out of Isonhound, was securely placed back on dry land: greener pastures, or so he hoped.
[[File:Daemis.jpg|thumb|375x375px|Deckhand Daemis Accenshire, depicted as he looked around the time of the first journal's discovery (Art by leafii.clovr)]]
Even after the successful completion of their journey, the young deckhand noticed that it took Captain Kurassi a while to will himself to open the journal. The captain constantly made the excuse of wanting the journal to dry out more, afraid of damaging what entries may remain, but he had been meticulously watching over the notebook for weeks now, the heat of their home continent of [[Pteris]] baking into every creased page and every inch of the brown leathery cover. Whatever pages remain intact, they would have been ready to be read long before now. The deckhand, a young sorcerer named Daemis Accenshire, speculated that Captain Kurassi was afraid of what he'd find within the small book. Thick and obviously well worn, who knows what kinds of tales awaited within? Stories of daring exploits, letters meant for loved ones that are now long overdue, or perhaps it was a simple merchant's ledger and nothing more; all possibilities as long as it remained closed. Daemis thought that perhaps the captain was fearful, afraid of being dragged deeper into guilt by the stories of this mysterious author: another soul snuffed out by the horrible war that he had no hope of saving despite his efforts, though Daemis would never speak such an accusation out loud of course. Eventually though, Kurassi did find the will to probe the contents of the journal, but asked for privacy while he did, and so the young Daemis took his leave from the Wandering Splinter's cabin and began walking down the waterlogged dock of the town of [[Mek]].

However, he had barely made it a stone's throw away from the old ship before a series of expletives viler than any combination he had ever heard in his life exploded from behind him. Daemis turned to see his captain, face scarlet with rage, storming down the dock muttering countless more curses beneath his breath. He spoke not a word to the deckhand and simply made a path straight for his home within the town and slammed the door shut behind him. Daemis, stunned but having the wherewithal to realize the captain's hands were empty, quickly made his way back to the ship and into the captain's quarters where he saw the journal: open, but laying in the splintered remains of the captain's navigator's table, seemingly smashed in half by a single blow. The deckhand, eyes wide, was shocked at the sight, but the burning curiosity in his chest overcame all other emotions and dared him to pick up the notebook and read the words that sent the normally restrained and stoic Cloro Kurassi into a fury. He brushed off the dust and wooden splinters from the crinkled pages and read the first legible writing he could see... <blockquote>xxx xx x (Later dated to 798 PR)

Winged beauty, heads five, In thy flame I feel alive.

I shall earn thine love someday, didst thou get the flowers I left in Dolmvay?

- Dagio Sringhardt </blockquote>A...love poem? Not just that...a love poem...to ''Tiamat??'' Daemis flipped through the pages; ten, twenty, forty, eighty pages and counting, all filled with text margin-to-margin. Many pages were rendered unreadable from the water damage, but the subject of the writings within never changed no matter what page Daemis flipped to: this journal was the life's work of someone who pined after the very creature that had plunged the entire realm into war. Daemis was in such a state of bewilderment that a laugh escaped his mouth against his will; like watching an out-of-control ship crash into a dock he couldn't avert his eyes as he continued to read. Page upon page of short poems likening the queen of dragons to bouquets of flowers and abstract paintings, assertions that he could be the one she comes home to after each of her tiring battles, and promises that he had feelings for all five heads equally. As he continued to read, Daemis noticed that none of the poems ever exceeded twenty-five words, and some were seemingly written under the assumption that the recipient also had knowledge of the prior ones...was this person continually casting the Sending spell to read these professions of love directly to Tiamat? If so...the dates that remained legible showed that whoever this Dagio person was, he had been doing this for nearly a century straight. Daemis's jaw had been hanging agape ever since his eyes met the first stanza of this...''eclectic'' collection of writings, but he suddenly snapped into sharp, inquisitive focus as he remembered where they first found the journal. Daemis remembered the debris being discolored, with strange snaking markings, black in color, upon some of the pieces he could see. Voltage burns. The young sailor could also recall seeing smaller shapes floating around the wooden debris in the area as well. He was about to rule out dead fish as an option for those shapes since he didn't recall seeing blood in the water, but if was electricity that destroyed whatever ship was in the area...then maybe...

Daemis rapidly flipped to the last page of the journal, and the final entry was indeed legible, and seemingly written not long before the Wandering Splinter came upon the journal. <blockquote>xxx xx xxx (Later dated to 899 PR)

Love, fated wife, thank the gods for my elven life.

Yet waiting for thou to see, 500 more years of poems must be the key!

- Dagio Sringhardt </blockquote>Daemis let his arms holding the journal fall to his lap as he leaned back in the wooden chair he sat upon with a sigh, his brow raised high as he shook his head slightly and took in all of what he just read. Part of him couldn't really blame the tyrannical queen for what she wrought upon Dagio; an amused huff escaped his nose as he wondered if the heads argued amongst themselves over which one would get to do the honors. Part of him also held respect for the man in a strange way; he doubted there were many in Quelmar who could annoy the Dragon Queen to the point of warranting personal termination, and he thinks that even old Captain Kurassi could find some enjoyment in that fact once the whole picture was explained to him, but Daemis decided that would be best left as a venture for another day. He tucked the journal into his bag and began his walk home, feeling somewhat more confident in the world's fate with the knowledge that even one as powerful and terrible as Tiamat still has limits she could be pushed to.

== Discovery of the Second Journal (969 PR) ==
Though [[the War of Many Names]] would later be split into many different wars by scholars studying the conflict, most commonfolk who lived during the time wouldn't be able to tell you the difference; it was just constant conflict to them. They could tell you of moments though, moments people could tell that something had shifted. For instance, when what is now known as the Second Holy War began, Tiamat and her allies had pioneered a new kind of warfare to unleash on the realm. Spirits en route to the afterlife were intercepted, tempted by the Queen's countless demons to fight for her in exchange for boons that would never be given, and then returned to the realm as vengeful wraiths intent on destruction. The people of the land obviously noticed that they were now being attacked by ghosts and spirits instead of demons and dragons, but while their attackers changed, their harrowed lives of desperate survival did not.

Daemis Accenshire followed in the footsteps of Captain Kurassi following his passing in 921 PR, and he piloted the Wandering Splinter to many war-torn shores across Quelmar to escort people away from their former homes turned battlefields. Daemis may not have had motives quite as altruistic as his predecessor, being in a profession that allowed him to stay on the move was a good way to keep ''himself'' out of danger as much as the people he was helping, and the desperate nature of his clientele made it more likely for him to receive what little people had in the way of valuable goods during this time period; but the work was still dangerous and he was one of the few willing to do it. Some attribute his success to luck, others to skill, Captain Kurassi would surely attribute it to his rigorous training regiment, but it is recorded that Daemis survived long into the Second Holy War's total duration. Eventually, Daemis decided to stop his ventures to the battle-strewn coasts of Quelmar, he was aged, not as sharp as he used to be, and believed he was more likely to get himself killed on the way by some wayward ghost than ever complete a successful refugee extraction again. He still took the Splinter out every once in a while, off the coast of his hometown of Mek, which had been relatively safe from the horrors of the war thus far. And it was on one of these recreational trips that a fragment of his past would unexpectedly come to pay him a visit...
[[File:Ghostly Journal.jpg|thumb|The ghostly journal found by Daemis Accenshire in 969 PR. Nearly identical in appearance to the one found 70 years prior, except for its slight blue glow and incorporeal nature]]

While allowing the ship to idly float upon the gently rolling waves, Daemis just so happened to look up from a book he was reading on the deck to notice something moving towards the ship. A small surge of adrenaline pumped through the blood of the man and urged his aching bones to get out of his seat to take a closer look. Taking out a finely crafted spyglass, Daemis honed in on the object: it was small, moving slowly, and slightly twisted in midair. It was as if someone had lightly pushed the object in a straight line, and no force had acted upon it since, not even gravity. As it moved closer, Daemis could also see that it was slightly translucent...as it floated closer still it appeared to be...a journal? A perplexed expression appeared upon the old man's face as he retracted the spyglass and moved towards the bow of the ship. That flaming curiosity he hadn't felt for a great many years began to well up within him again, and perhaps against his better judgement, he raised a fishing net to intercept the book as it floated over the deck...only to see it pass straight through. A ghost journal? Now there was truly nothing that would stop him from investigating. Thinking quickly, Daemis conjured a Mage Hand and sent it out towards the journal's path, and the book came to rest in the palm of the magical hand. With a smirk of satisfaction, he pulled the hand back towards him with the journal clasped firmly within. Daemis was somehow simultaneously shocked and unfazed that this incorporeal journal looked identical to the one authored by Dagio Sringhardt, the unsuccessful suitor of Tiamat. Using his Mage Hand to interact with the pages of the journal, Daemis saw that every last poem from the original journal was recorded within this one as well, even the ones that were illegible due to the water damage of the original one. Comparing the script from the physical journal to the spectral revealed calligraphic inconsistencies however that would suggest that all of the poems were rewritten by hand...

As the pieces began to fall into place in Daemis's mind, he knew there was only one place left to check. Flipping through the spectral pages, Daemis found that there was only one new entry beyond the poem that was originally at the end of the journal. This poem did not follow the twenty-five-word limit like to rest, and leaves one to wonder what exactly ended up happening to the ever-incorrigible Dagio Sringheardt... {{Worldbuilders}}<blockquote>xxx x xxx x (Later dated to 901 PR)

My queen, my scaled sweetheart, thou hast truly blessed me beyond all compare!

First ye grace me with thy visage, and sent a shock through my heart I could scarcely bear!

Then one of thy servants bade me return to life to serve thee, and it was then that all was made clear.

Though my life was long ye wished for more, and an eternal spirit can always be near!

I knew ye would finally return my love, and now an eternity of poems awaits thee my dear!

- Dagio Sringheardt</blockquote>

== Additional Notable Poems from the Journals of Dagio Sringheardt ==
<blockquote>xxx xx xx (Later dated to 793 PR)

Red; the color of passion. Blue; calm and wise. Black; piercing gaze. White; of snowy skies.

Green; a verdant beauty. All flawless to my eyes.

- Dagio Sringheardt</blockquote><blockquote>x xx xx x (Later dated to 795 PR)

Vile Kragnux, damn the name, believed his friends could extinguish thy brilliant flame,

Bahamut too, brother most foul, at our wedding he won't be allowed.

- Dagio Sringheardt</blockquote><blockquote>xx x x xxx (Later dated to 852 PR)

Despondent kin of platinum hue held no candle to the likes of you,

now truly free, the world will roll over for thee (and me!)

- Dagio Sringheardt</blockquote><blockquote>x x xxx x (Later dated to 853 PR)

Blasphemous mortals attempt to fly, don't they know you rule the sky?

Undoubtedly they shall balk, and clear the way for our romantic sky walk!

- Dagio Sringheardt</blockquote>

The Attempted Courting of Tiamat

2025-09-23T00:58:43Z

Tsamps: Added additional poems

{{Infobox_character|name=|image=Old_journal.jpg|caption=An old water-damaged journal found floating upon a single piece of scorched wood off the coast of Isonhound}}

The following is a story cobbled together from the firsthand accounts of two sailors, who over the course of 70 years discovered two mysterious journals while out at sea, seemingly both written by the same enigmatic author.

== Discovery of the First Journal (899 PR) ==
During the waning years of [[Realm War II]], many residents of [[Isonhound]] sought to flee the continent in an attempt to escape the rampant warfare. The Woldbreaker Plague was running rampant claiming hundreds of lives per day, and rumors of a destructive weapon being developed by [[Wold Order|the Wold Order]] being unleashed on friendly soil led many people to desperately seek a way to get far away from the devastated landmass. With the population of spellcasters capable of teleportation reduced significantly by the Plague, many prospective escapees were forced to place their lives in the hands of whatever sailors yet remained on the continent that hadn't had their vessels commandeered for military use and were skilled enough to sail under the radar of the demonic forces of the Dragon Goddess, [[Tiamat]]. One of those sailors was Cloro Kurassi, captain of a small personal vessel named the Wandering Splinter. Kurassi had actually escorted multiple groups of refugees to safety on other continents over the past few years, his small vessel able to more easily avoid the gaze of the forces of the Dragon Queen.
[[File:Cloro comm.png|left|thumb|Captain Cloro Kurassi, posing indignantly for a portrait (Art by pecha_berrie)|326x326px]]
On one fateful night, the last night Captain Kurassi would ever again see the land of Isonhound, his ship had been loaded shoulder-to-shoulder with refugees. The Greenfire Bomb had been unveiled in a destructive showing across the sea, and [[Synàra]] and [[Sneerwell]] were already under siege by envoys of the draconic tyrant; The Second Razing of Isonhound had begun. Captain Kurassi watched as people jumped from the shadowed docks as his ship pulled away, backlit by a fire that seemed to stretch across the entire continent; he had to force himself to avert his gaze, lest the souls on board be damned to the same fate. Guilt seemingly ate away at him during the journey however, as when the vessel came across what appeared to be scattered ship debris floating in the open sea, Kurassi ordered his deckhand to shine a Gem of Brightness into the water to look for survivors, despite knowing there was not enough room on the ship for even one person more. The fact that no survivors were found could be taken as fortunate or unfortunate given the circumstances, but something peculiar did catch the eye of the young deckhand: a leather-bound journal sitting atop a single wooden plank, heavily water damaged, but still mostly held together. Upon learning of the discovery, Captain Kurassi ordered it to be fished out of the water using one of the ship's fishing nets. Even if it wasn't another life that he could shepherd away from the horrible war, perhaps if the owner had family elsewhere, Captain Kurassi could provide them closure and perhaps quell the images in his mind of the people left behind on those dark shores far behind him. He didn't dare open the journal until he reached safe shores, vowing to keep his mind free of distraction and doubt until this group of survivors, the last he would ever escort out of Isonhound, was securely placed back on dry land: greener pastures, or so he hoped.
[[File:Daemis.jpg|thumb|375x375px|Deckhand Daemis Accenshire, depicted as he looked around the time of the first journal's discovery (Art by leafii.clovr)]]
Even after the successful completion of their journey, the young deckhand noticed that it took Captain Kurassi a while to will himself to open the journal. The captain constantly made the excuse of wanting the journal to dry out more, afraid of damaging what entries may remain, but he had been meticulously watching over the notebook for weeks now, the heat of their home continent of [[Pteris]] baking into every creased page and every inch of the brown leathery cover. Whatever pages remain intact, they would have been ready to be read long before now. The deckhand, a young sorcerer named Daemis Accenshire, speculated that Captain Kurassi was afraid of what he'd find within the small book. Thick and obviously well worn, who knows what kinds of tales awaited within? Stories of daring exploits, letters meant for loved ones that are now long overdue, or perhaps it was a simple merchant's ledger and nothing more; all possibilities as long as it remained closed. Daemis thought that perhaps the captain was fearful, afraid of being dragged deeper into guilt by the stories of this mysterious author: another soul snuffed out by the horrible war that he had no hope of saving despite his efforts, though Daemis would never speak such an accusation out loud of course. Eventually though, Kurassi did find the will to probe the contents of the journal, but asked for privacy while he did, and so the young Daemis took his leave from the Wandering Splinter's cabin and began walking down the waterlogged dock of the town of [[Mek]].

However, he had barely made it a stone's throw away from the old ship before a series of expletives viler than any combination he had ever heard in his life exploded from behind him. Daemis turned to see his captain, face scarlet with rage, storming down the dock muttering countless more curses beneath his breath. He spoke not a word to the deckhand and simply made a path straight for his home within the town and slammed the door shut behind him. Daemis, stunned but having the wherewithal to realize the captain's hands were empty, quickly made his way back to the ship and into the captain's quarters where he saw the journal: open, but laying in the splintered remains of the captain's navigator's table, seemingly smashed in half by a single blow. The deckhand, eyes wide, was shocked at the sight, but the burning curiosity in his chest overcame all other emotions and dared him to pick up the notebook and read the words that sent the normally restrained and stoic Cloro Kurassi into a fury. He brushed off the dust and wooden splinters from the crinkled pages and read the first legible writing he could see... <blockquote>xxx xx x (Later dated to 798 PR)

Winged beauty, heads five, In thy flame I feel alive.

I shall earn thine love someday, didst thou get the flowers I left in Dolmvay?

- Dagio Sringhardt </blockquote>A...love poem? Not just that...a love poem...to ''Tiamat??'' Daemis flipped through the pages; ten, twenty, forty, eighty pages and counting, all filled with text margin-to-margin. Many pages were rendered unreadable from the water damage, but the subject of the writings within never changed no matter what page Daemis flipped to: this journal was the life's work of someone who pined after the very creature that had plunged the entire realm into war. Daemis was in such a state of bewilderment that a laugh escaped his mouth against his will; like watching an out-of-control ship crash into a dock he couldn't avert his eyes as he continued to read. Page upon page of short poems likening the queen of dragons to bouquets of flowers and abstract paintings, assertions that he could be the one she comes home to after each of her tiring battles, and promises that he had feelings for all five heads equally. As he continued to read, Daemis noticed that none of the poems ever exceeded twenty-five words, and some were seemingly written under the assumption that the recipient also had knowledge of the prior ones...was this person continually casting the Sending spell to read these professions of love directly to Tiamat? If so...the dates that remained legible showed that whoever this Dagio person was, he had been doing this for nearly a century straight. Daemis's jaw had been hanging agape ever since his eyes met the first stanza of this...''eclectic'' collection of writings, but he suddenly snapped into sharp, inquisitive focus as he remembered where they first found the journal. Daemis remembered the debris being discolored, with strange snaking markings, black in color, upon some of the pieces he could see. Voltage burns. The young sailor could also recall seeing smaller shapes floating around the wooden debris in the area as well. He was about to rule out dead fish as an option for those shapes since he didn't recall seeing blood in the water, but if was electricity that destroyed whatever ship was in the area...then maybe...

Daemis rapidly flipped to the last page of the journal, and the final entry was indeed legible, and seemingly written not long before the Wandering Splinter came upon the journal. <blockquote>xxx xx xxx (Later dated to 899 PR)

Love, fated wife, thank the gods for my elven life.

Yet waiting for thou to see, 500 more years of poems must be the key!

- Dagio Sringhardt </blockquote>Daemis let his arms holding the journal fall to his lap as he leaned back in the wooden chair he sat upon with a sigh, his brow raised high as he shook his head slightly and took in all of what he just read. Part of him couldn't really blame the tyrannical queen for what she wrought upon Dagio; an amused huff escaped his nose as he wondered if the heads argued amongst themselves over which one would get to do the honors. Part of him also held respect for the man in a strange way; he doubted there were many in Quelmar who could annoy the Dragon Queen to the point of warranting personal termination, and he thinks that even old Captain Kurassi could find some enjoyment in that fact once the whole picture was explained to him, but Daemis decided that would be best left as a venture for another day. He tucked the journal into his bag and began his walk home, feeling somewhat more confident in the world's fate with the knowledge that even one as powerful and terrible as Tiamat still has limits she could be pushed to.

== Discovery of the Second Journal (969 PR) ==
Though [[the War of Many Names]] would later be split into many different wars by scholars studying the conflict, most commonfolk who lived during the time wouldn't be able to tell you the difference; it was just constant conflict to them. They could tell you of moments though, moments people could tell that something had shifted. For instance, when what is now known as the Second Holy War began, Tiamat and her allies had pioneered a new kind of warfare to unleash on the realm. Spirits en route to the afterlife were intercepted, tempted by the Queen's countless demons to fight for her in exchange for boons that would never be given, and then returned to the realm as vengeful wraiths intent on destruction. The people of the land obviously noticed that they were now being attacked by ghosts and spirits instead of demons and dragons, but while their attackers changed, their harrowed lives of desperate survival did not.

Daemis Accenshire followed in the footsteps of Captain Kurassi following his passing in 921 PR, and he piloted the Wandering Splinter to many war-torn shores across Quelmar to escort people away from their former homes turned battlefields. Daemis may not have had motives quite as altruistic as his predecessor, being in a profession that allowed him to stay on the move was a good way to keep ''himself'' out of danger as much as the people he was helping, and the desperate nature of his clientele made it more likely for him to receive what little people had in the way of valuable goods during this time period; but the work was still dangerous and he was one of the few willing to do it. Some attribute his success to luck, others to skill, Captain Kurassi would surely attribute it to his rigorous training regiment, but it is recorded that Daemis survived long into the Second Holy War's total duration. Eventually, Daemis decided to stop his ventures to the battle-strewn coasts of Quelmar, he was aged, not as sharp as he used to be, and believed he was more likely to get himself killed on the way by some wayward ghost than ever complete a successful refugee extraction again. He still took the Splinter out every once in a while, off the coast of his hometown of Mek, which had been relatively safe from the horrors of the war thus far. And it was on one of these recreational trips that a fragment of his past would unexpectedly come to pay him a visit...
[[File:Ghostly Journal.jpg|thumb|The ghostly journal found by Daemis Accenshire in 969 PR. Nearly identical in appearance to the one found 70 years prior, except for its slight blue glow and incorporeal nature]]

While allowing the ship to idly float upon the gently rolling waves, Daemis just so happened to look up from a book he was reading on the deck to notice something moving towards the ship. A small surge of adrenaline pumped through the blood of the man and urged his aching bones to get out of his seat to take a closer look. Taking out a finely crafted spyglass, Daemis honed in on the object: it was small, moving slowly, and slightly twisted in midair. It was as if someone had lightly pushed the object in a straight line, and no force had acted upon it since, not even gravity. As it moved closer, Daemis could also see that it was slightly translucent...as it floated closer still it appeared to be...a journal? A perplexed expression appeared upon the old man's face as he retracted the spyglass and moved towards the bow of the ship. That flaming curiosity he hadn't felt for a great many years began to well up within him again, and perhaps against his better judgement, he raised a fishing net to intercept the book as it floated over the deck...only to see it pass straight through. A ghost journal? Now there was truly nothing that would stop him from investigating. Thinking quickly, Daemis conjured a Mage Hand and sent it out towards the journal's path, and the book came to rest in the palm of the magical hand. With a smirk of satisfaction, he pulled the hand back towards him with the journal clasped firmly within. Daemis was somehow simultaneously shocked and unfazed that this incorporeal journal looked identical to the one authored by Dagio Sringhardt, the unsuccessful suitor of Tiamat. Using his Mage Hand to interact with the pages of the journal, Daemis saw that every last poem from the original journal was recorded within this one as well, even the ones that were illegible due to the water damage of the original one. Comparing the script from the physical journal to the spectral revealed calligraphic inconsistencies however that would suggest that all of the poems were rewritten by hand...

As the pieces began to fall into place in Daemis's mind, he knew there was only one place left to check. Flipping through the spectral pages, Daemis found that there was only one new entry beyond the poem that was originally at the end of the journal. This poem did not follow the twenty-five-word limit like to rest, and leaves one to wonder what exactly ended up happening to the ever-incorrigible Dagio Sringheardt... {{Worldbuilders}}<blockquote>xxx x xxx x (Later dated to 901 PR)

My queen, my scaled sweetheart, thou hast truly blessed me beyond all compare!

First ye grace me with thy visage, and sent a shock through my heart I could scarcely bear!

Then one of thy servants bade me return to life to serve thee, and it was then that all was made clear.

Though my life was long ye wished for more, and an eternal spirit can always be near!

I knew ye would finally return my love, and now an eternity of poems awaits thee my dear!

- Dagio Sringheardt</blockquote>

== Additional Notable Poems from the Journals of Dagio Sringheardt ==
<blockquote>xxx xx xx (Later dated to 793 PR)

Red; the color of passion. Blue; calm and wise. Black; piercing gaze. White; of snowy skies.

Green; a verdant beauty. All flawless to my eyes.

- Dagio Sringheardt</blockquote><blockquote>x xx xx x (Later dated to 795 PR)

Vile Kragnux, damn the name, believed his friends could extinguish thy brilliant flame,

Bahamut too, brother most foul, at our wedding he won't be allowed.

- Dagio Sringheardt</blockquote><blockquote>xx x x xxx (Later dated to 852 PR)

Despondent kin of platinum hue held no candle to the likes of you,

now truly free, the world will roll over for you (and me!)

- Dagio Sringheardt</blockquote><blockquote>x x xxx x (Later dated to 853 PR)

Blasphemous mortals attempt to fly, don't they know you rule the sky?

Undoubtedly they shall balk, and clear the way for our romantic sky walk!

- Dagio Sringheardt</blockquote>

The Attempted Courting of Tiamat

2025-09-16T20:12:01Z

Tsamps:

{{Infobox_character|name=|image=Old_journal.jpg|caption=An old water-damaged journal found floating upon a single piece of scorched wood off the coast of Isonhound}}

The following is a story cobbled together from the firsthand accounts of two sailors, who over the course of 70 years discovered two mysterious journals while out at sea, seemingly both written by the same enigmatic author.

== Discovery of the First Journal (899 PR) ==
During the waning years of [[Realm War II]], many residents of [[Isonhound]] sought to flee the continent in an attempt to escape the rampant warfare. The Woldbreaker Plague was running rampant claiming hundreds of lives per day, and rumors of a destructive weapon being developed by [[Wold Order|the Wold Order]] being unleashed on friendly soil led many people to desperately seek a way to get far away from the devastated landmass. With the population of spellcasters capable of teleportation reduced significantly by the Plague, many prospective escapees were forced to place their lives in the hands of whatever sailors yet remained on the continent that hadn't had their vessels commandeered for military use and were skilled enough to sail under the radar of the demonic forces of the Dragon Goddess, [[Tiamat]]. One of those sailors was Cloro Kurassi, captain of a small personal vessel named the Wandering Splinter. Kurassi had actually escorted multiple groups of refugees to safety on other continents over the past few years, his small vessel able to more easily avoid the gaze of the forces of the Dragon Queen.
[[File:Cloro comm.png|left|thumb|Captain Cloro Kurassi, posing indignantly for a portrait (Art by pecha_berrie)|326x326px]]
On one fateful night, the last night Captain Kurassi would ever again see the land of Isonhound, his ship had been loaded shoulder-to-shoulder with refugees. The Greenfire Bomb had been unveiled in a destructive showing across the sea, and [[Synàra]] and [[Sneerwell]] were already under siege by envoys of the draconic tyrant; The Second Razing of Isonhound had begun. Captain Kurassi watched as people jumped from the shadowed docks as his ship pulled away, backlit by a fire that seemed to stretch across the entire continent; he had to force himself to avert his gaze, lest the souls on board be damned to the same fate. Guilt seemingly ate away at him during the journey however, as when the vessel came across what appeared to be scattered ship debris floating in the open sea, Kurassi ordered his deckhand to shine a Gem of Brightness into the water to look for survivors, despite knowing there was not enough room on the ship for even one person more. The fact that no survivors were found could be taken as fortunate or unfortunate given the circumstances, but something peculiar did catch the eye of the young deckhand: a leather-bound journal sitting atop a single wooden plank, heavily water damaged, but still mostly held together. Upon learning of the discovery, Captain Kurassi ordered it to be fished out of the water using one of the ship's fishing nets. Even if it wasn't another life that he could shepherd away from the horrible war, perhaps if the owner had family elsewhere, Captain Kurassi could provide them closure and perhaps quell the images in his mind of the people left behind on those dark shores far behind him. He didn't dare open the journal until he reached safe shores, vowing to keep his mind free of distraction and doubt until this group of survivors, the last he would ever escort out of Isonhound, was securely placed back on dry land: greener pastures, or so he hoped.
[[File:Daemis.jpg|thumb|375x375px|Deckhand Daemis Accenshire, depicted as he looked around the time of the first journal's discovery (Art by leafii.clovr)]]
Even after the successful completion of their journey, the young deckhand noticed that it took Captain Kurassi a while to will himself to open the journal. The captain constantly made the excuse of wanting the journal to dry out more, afraid of damaging what entries may remain, but he had been meticulously watching over the notebook for weeks now, the heat of their home continent of [[Pteris]] baking into every creased page and every inch of the brown leathery cover. Whatever pages remain intact, they would have been ready to be read long before now. The deckhand, a young sorcerer named Daemis Accenshire, speculated that Captain Kurassi was afraid of what he'd find within the small book. Thick and obviously well worn, who knows what kinds of tales awaited within? Stories of daring exploits, letters meant for loved ones that are now long overdue, or perhaps it was a simple merchant's ledger and nothing more; all possibilities as long as it remained closed. Daemis thought that perhaps the captain was fearful, afraid of being dragged deeper into guilt by the stories of this mysterious author: another soul snuffed out by the horrible war that he had no hope of saving despite his efforts, though Daemis would never speak such an accusation out loud of course. Eventually though, Kurassi did find the will to probe the contents of the journal, but asked for privacy while he did, and so the young Daemis took his leave from the Wandering Splinter's cabin and began walking down the waterlogged dock of the town of [[Mek]].

However, he had barely made it a stone's throw away from the old ship before a series of expletives viler than any combination he had ever heard in his life exploded from behind him. Daemis turned to see his captain, face scarlet with rage, storming down the dock muttering countless more curses beneath his breath. He spoke not a word to the deckhand and simply made a path straight for his home within the town and slammed the door shut behind him. Daemis, stunned but having the wherewithal to realize the captain's hands were empty, quickly made his way back to the ship and into the captain's quarters where he saw the journal: open, but laying in the splintered remains of the captain's navigator's table, seemingly smashed in half by a single blow. The deckhand, eyes wide, was shocked at the sight, but the burning curiosity in his chest overcame all other emotions and dared him to pick up the notebook and read the words that sent the normally restrained and stoic Cloro Kurassi into a fury. He brushed off the dust and wooden splinters from the crinkled pages and read the first legible writing he could see... <blockquote>xxx xx x (Later dated to 798 PR)

Winged beauty, heads five, In thy flame I feel alive.

I shall earn thine love someday, didst thou get the flowers I left in Dolmvay?

- Dagio Sringhardt </blockquote>A...love poem? Not just that...a love poem...to ''Tiamat??'' Daemis flipped through the pages; ten, twenty, forty, eighty pages and counting, all filled with text margin-to-margin. Many pages were rendered unreadable from the water damage, but the subject of the writings within never changed no matter what page Daemis flipped to: this journal was the life's work of someone who pined after the very creature that had plunged the entire realm into war. Daemis was in such a state of bewilderment that a laugh escaped his mouth against his will; like watching an out-of-control ship crash into a dock he couldn't avert his eyes as he continued to read. Page upon page of short poems likening the queen of dragons to bouquets of flowers and abstract paintings, assertions that he could be the one she comes home to after each of her tiring battles, and promises that he had feelings for all five heads equally. As he continued to read, Daemis noticed that none of the poems ever exceeded twenty-five words, and some were seemingly written under the assumption that the recipient also had knowledge of the prior ones...was this person continually casting the Sending spell to read these professions of love directly to Tiamat? If so...the dates that remained legible showed that whoever this Dagio person was, he had been doing this for nearly a century straight. Daemis's jaw had been hanging agape ever since his eyes met the first stanza of this...''eclectic'' collection of writings, but he suddenly snapped into sharp, inquisitive focus as he remembered where they first found the journal. Daemis remembered the debris being discolored, with strange snaking markings, black in color, upon some of the pieces he could see. Voltage burns. The young sailor could also recall seeing smaller shapes floating around the wooden debris in the area as well. He was about to rule out dead fish as an option for those shapes since he didn't recall seeing blood in the water, but if was electricity that destroyed whatever ship was in the area...then maybe...

Daemis rapidly flipped to the last page of the journal, and the final entry was indeed legible, and seemingly written not long before the Wandering Splinter came upon the journal. <blockquote>xxx xx xxx (Later dated to 899 PR)

Love, fated wife, thank the gods for my elven life.

Yet waiting for thou to see, 500 more years of poems must be the key!

- Dagio Sringhardt </blockquote>Daemis let his arms holding the journal fall to his lap as he leaned back in the wooden chair he sat upon with a sigh, his brow raised high as he shook his head slightly and took in all of what he just read. Part of him couldn't really blame the tyrannical queen for what she wrought upon Dagio; an amused huff escaped his nose as he wondered if the heads argued amongst themselves over which one would get to do the honors. Part of him also held respect for the man in a strange way; he doubted there were many in Quelmar who could annoy the Dragon Queen to the point of warranting personal termination, and he thinks that even old Captain Kurassi could find some enjoyment in that fact once the whole picture was explained to him, but Daemis decided that would be best left as a venture for another day. He tucked the journal into his bag and began his walk home, feeling somewhat more confident in the world's fate with the knowledge that even one as powerful and terrible as Tiamat still has limits she could be pushed to.

== Discovery of the Second Journal (969 PR) ==
Though [[the War of Many Names]] would later be split into many different wars by scholars studying the conflict, most commonfolk who lived during the time wouldn't be able to tell you the difference; it was just constant conflict to them. They could tell you of moments though, moments people could tell that something had shifted. For instance, when what is now known as the Second Holy War began, Tiamat and her allies had pioneered a new kind of warfare to unleash on the realm. Spirits en route to the afterlife were intercepted, tempted by the Queen's countless demons to fight for her in exchange for boons that would never be given, and then returned to the realm as vengeful wraiths intent on destruction. The people of the land obviously noticed that they were now being attacked by ghosts and spirits instead of demons and dragons, but while their attackers changed, their harrowed lives of desperate survival did not.

Daemis Accenshire followed in the footsteps of Captain Kurassi following his passing in 921 PR, and he piloted the Wandering Splinter to many war-torn shores across Quelmar to escort people away from their former homes turned battlefields. Daemis may not have had motives quite as altruistic as his predecessor, being in a profession that allowed him to stay on the move was a good way to keep ''himself'' out of danger as much as the people he was helping, and the desperate nature of his clientele made it more likely for him to receive what little people had in the way of valuable goods during this time period; but the work was still dangerous and he was one of the few willing to do it. Some attribute his success to luck, others to skill, Captain Kurassi would surely attribute it to his rigorous training regiment, but it is recorded that Daemis survived long into the Second Holy War's total duration. Eventually, Daemis decided to stop his ventures to the battle-strewn coasts of Quelmar, he was aged, not as sharp as he used to be, and believed he was more likely to get himself killed on the way by some wayward ghost than ever complete a successful refugee extraction again. He still took the Splinter out every once in a while, off the coast of his hometown of Mek, which had been relatively safe from the horrors of the war thus far. And it was on one of these recreational trips that a fragment of his past would unexpectedly come to pay him a visit...
[[File:Ghostly Journal.jpg|thumb|The ghostly journal found by Daemis Accenshire in 969 PR. Nearly identical in appearance to the one found 70 years prior, except for its slight blue glow and incorporeal nature]]

While allowing the ship to idly float upon the gently rolling waves, Daemis just so happened to look up from a book he was reading on the deck to notice something moving towards the ship. A small surge of adrenaline pumped through the blood of the man and urged his aching bones to get out of his seat to take a closer look. Taking out a finely crafted spyglass, Daemis honed in on the object: it was small, moving slowly, and slightly twisted in midair. It was as if someone had lightly pushed the object in a straight line, and no force had acted upon it since, not even gravity. As it moved closer, Daemis could also see that it was slightly translucent...as it floated closer still it appeared to be...a journal? A perplexed expression appeared upon the old man's face as he retracted the spyglass and moved towards the bow of the ship. That flaming curiosity he hadn't felt for a great many years began to well up within him again, and perhaps against his better judgement, he raised a fishing net to intercept the book as it floated over the deck...only to see it pass straight through. A ghost journal? Now there was truly nothing that would stop him from investigating. Thinking quickly, Daemis conjured a Mage Hand and sent it out towards the journal's path, and the book came to rest in the palm of the magical hand. With a smirk of satisfaction, he pulled the hand back towards him with the journal clasped firmly within. Daemis was somehow simultaneously shocked and unfazed that this incorporeal journal looked identical to the one authored by Dagio Sringhardt, the unsuccessful suitor of Tiamat. Using his Mage Hand to interact with the pages of the journal, Daemis saw that every last poem from the original journal was recorded within this one as well, even the ones that were illegible due to the water damage of the original one. Comparing the script from the physical journal to the spectral revealed calligraphic inconsistencies however that would suggest that all of the poems were rewritten by hand...

As the pieces began to fall into place in Daemis's mind, he knew there was only one place left to check. Flipping through the spectral pages, Daemis found that there was only one new entry beyond the poem that was originally at the end of the journal. This poem did not follow the twenty-five-word limit like to rest, and leaves one to wonder what exactly ended up happening to the ever-incorrigible Dagio Sringheardt... {{Worldbuilders}}<blockquote>xxx x xxx x (Later dated to 901 PR)

My queen, my scaled sweetheart, thou hast truly blessed me beyond all compare!

First ye grace me with thy visage, and sent a shock through my heart I could scarcely bear!

Then one of thy servants bade me return to life to serve thee, and it was then that all was made clear.

Though my life was long ye wished for more, and an eternal spirit can always be near!

I knew ye would finally return my love, and now an eternity of poems awaits thee my dear!

- Dagio Sringheardt</blockquote>

The Attempted Courting of Tiamat

2025-09-16T18:45:38Z

Tsamps: Added art credits

{{Infobox_character|name=|image=Old_journal.jpg|caption=An old water-damaged journal found floating upon a single piece of scorched wood off the coast of Isonhound}}

The following is a report cobbled together from the firsthand accounts of two sailors, who over the course of 70 years discovered two mysterious journals while out at sea, seemingly both written by the same mysterious author.

== Discovery of the First Journal (899 PR) ==
During the waning years of [[Realm War II]], many residents of [[Isonhound]] sought to flee the continent in an attempt to escape the rampant warfare. The Woldbreaker Plague was running rampant claiming hundreds of lives per day, and rumors of a destructive weapon being developed by [[Wold Order|the Wold Order]] being unleashed on friendly soil led many people to desperately seek a way to get far away from the devastated landmass. With the population of spellcasters capable of teleportation reduced significantly by the Plague, many prospective escapees were forced to place their lives in the hands of whatever sailors yet remained on the continent that hadn't had their vessels commandeered for military use and were skilled enough to sail under the radar of the demonic forces of the Dragon Goddess, [[Tiamat]]. One of those sailors was Cloro Kurassi, captain of a small personal vessel named the Wandering Splinter. Kurassi had actually escorted multiple groups of refugees to safety on other continents over the past few years, his small vessel able to more easily avoid the gaze of the forces of the Dragon Queen.
[[File:Cloro comm.png|left|thumb|Captain Cloro Kurassi, posing indignantly for a portrait (Art by pecha_berrie)|326x326px]]
On one fateful night, the last night Captain Kurassi would ever again see the land of Isonhound, his ship had been loaded shoulder-to-shoulder with refugees. The Greenfire Bomb had been unveiled in a destructive showing across the sea, and [[Synàra]] and [[Sneerwell]] were already under siege by envoys of the draconic tyrant; The Second Razing of Isonhound had begun. Captain Kurassi watched as people jumped from the shadowed docks as his ship pulled away, backlit by a fire that seemed to stretch across the entire continent; he had to force himself to avert his gaze, lest the souls on board be damned to the same fate. Guilt seemingly ate away at him during the journey however, as when the vessel came across what appeared to be scattered ship debris floating in the open sea, Kurassi ordered his deckhand to shine a Gem of Brightness into the water to look for survivors, despite knowing there was not enough room on the ship for even one person more. The fact that no survivors were found could be taken as fortunate or unfortunate given the circumstances, but something peculiar did catch the eye of the young deckhand: a leather-bound journal sitting atop a single wooden plank, heavily water damaged, but still mostly held together. Upon learning of the discovery, Captain Kurassi ordered it to be fished out of the water using one of the ship's fishing nets. Even if it wasn't another life that he could shepherd away from the horrible war, perhaps if the owner had family elsewhere, Captain Kurassi could provide them closure and perhaps quell the images in his mind of the people left behind on those dark shores far behind him. He didn't dare open the journal until he reached safe shores, vowing to keep his mind free of distraction and doubt until this group of survivors, the last he would ever escort out of Isonhound, was securely placed back on dry land: greener pastures, or so he hoped.
[[File:Daemis.jpg|thumb|375x375px|Deckhand Daemis Accenshire, depicted as he looked around the time of the first journal's discovery (Art by leafii.clovr)]]
Even after the successful completion of their journey, the young deckhand noticed that it took Captain Kurassi a while to will himself to open the journal. The captain constantly made the excuse of wanting the journal to dry out more, afraid of damaging what entries may remain, but he had been meticulously watching over the notebook for weeks now, the heat of their home continent of [[Pteris]] baking into every creased page and every inch of the brown leathery cover. Whatever pages remain intact, they would have been ready to be read long before now. The deckhand, a young sorcerer named Daemis Accenshire, speculated that Captain Kurassi was afraid of what he'd find within the small book. Thick and obviously well worn, who knows what kinds of tales awaited within? Stories of daring exploits, letters meant for loved ones that are now long overdue, or perhaps it was a simple merchant's ledger and nothing more; all possibilities as long as it remained closed. Daemis thought that perhaps the captain was fearful, afraid of being dragged deeper into guilt by the stories of this mysterious author: another soul snuffed out by the horrible war that he had no hope of saving despite his efforts, though Daemis would never speak such an accusation out loud of course. Eventually though, Kurassi did find the will to probe the contents of the journal, but asked for privacy while he did, and so the young Daemis took his leave from the Wandering Splinter's cabin and began walking down the waterlogged dock of the town of [[Mek]].

However, he had barely made it a stone's throw away from the old ship before a series of expletives viler than any combination he had ever heard in his life exploded from behind him. Daemis turned to see his captain, face scarlet with rage, storming down the dock muttering countless more curses beneath his breath. He spoke not a word to the deckhand and simply made a path straight for his home within the town and slammed the door shut behind him. Daemis, stunned but having the wherewithal to realize the captain's hands were empty, quickly made his way back to the ship and into the captain's quarters where he saw the journal: open, but laying in the splintered remains of the captain's navigator's table, seemingly smashed in half by a single blow. The deckhand, eyes wide, was shocked at the sight, but the burning curiosity in his chest overcame all other emotions and dared him to pick up the notebook and read the words that sent the normally restrained and stoic Cloro Kurassi into a fury. He brushed off the dust and wooden splinters from the crinkled pages and read the first legible writing he could see... <blockquote>xxx xx x (Later dated to 798 PR)

Winged beauty, heads five, In thy flame I feel alive.

I shall earn thine love someday, didst thou get the flowers I left in Dolmvay?

- Dagio Sringhardt </blockquote>A...love poem? Not just that...a love poem...to ''Tiamat??'' Daemis flipped through the pages; ten, twenty, forty, eighty pages and counting, all filled with text margin-to-margin. Many pages were rendered unreadable from the water damage, but the subject of the writings within never changed no matter what page Daemis flipped to: this journal was the life's work of someone who pined after the very creature that had plunged the entire realm into war. Daemis was in such a state of bewilderment that a laugh escaped his mouth against his will; like watching an out-of-control ship crash into a dock he couldn't avert his eyes as he continued to read. Page upon page of short poems likening the queen of dragons to bouquets of flowers and abstract paintings, assertions that he could be the one she comes home to after each of her tiring battles, and promises that he had feelings for all five heads equally. As he continued to read, Daemis noticed that none of the poems ever exceeded twenty-five words, and some were seemingly written under the assumption that the recipient also had knowledge of the prior ones...was this person continually casting the Sending spell to read these professions of love directly to Tiamat? If so...the dates that remained legible showed that whoever this Dagio person was, he had been doing this for nearly a century straight. Daemis's jaw had been hanging agape ever since his eyes met the first stanza of this...''eclectic'' collection of writings, but he suddenly snapped into sharp, inquisitive focus as he remembered where they first found the journal. Daemis remembered the debris being discolored, with strange snaking markings, black in color, upon some of the pieces he could see. Voltage burns. The young sailor could also recall seeing smaller shapes floating around the wooden debris in the area as well. He was about to rule out dead fish as an option for those shapes since he didn't recall seeing blood in the water, but if was electricity that destroyed whatever ship was in the area...then maybe...

Daemis rapidly flipped to the last page of the journal, and the final entry was indeed legible, and seemingly written not long before the Wandering Splinter came upon the journal. <blockquote>xxx xx xxx (Later dated to 899 PR)

Love, fated wife, thank the gods for my elven life.

Yet waiting for thou to see, 500 more years of poems must be the key!

- Dagio Sringhardt </blockquote>Daemis let his arms holding the journal fall to his lap as he leaned back in the wooden chair he sat upon with a sigh, his brow raised high as he shook his head slightly and took in all of what he just read. Part of him couldn't really blame the tyrannical queen for what she wrought upon Dagio; an amused huff escaped his nose as he wondered if the heads argued amongst themselves over which one would get to do the honors. Part of him also held respect for the man in a strange way; he doubted there were many in Quelmar who could annoy the Dragon Queen to the point of warranting personal termination, and he thinks that even old Captain Kurassi could find some enjoyment in that fact once the whole picture was explained to him, but Daemis decided that would be best left as a venture for another day. He tucked the journal into his bag and began his walk home, feeling somewhat more confident in the world's fate with the knowledge that even one as powerful and terrible as Tiamat still has limits she could be pushed to.

== Discovery of the Second Journal (969 PR) ==
Though [[the War of Many Names]] would later be split into many different wars by scholars studying the conflict, most commonfolk who lived during the time wouldn't be able to tell you the difference; it was just constant conflict to them. They could tell you of moments though, moments people could tell that something had shifted. For instance, when what is now known as the Second Holy War began, Tiamat and her allies had pioneered a new kind of warfare to unleash on the realm. Spirits en route to the afterlife were intercepted, tempted by the Queen's countless demons to fight for her in exchange for boons that would never be given, and then returned to the realm as vengeful wraiths intent on destruction. The people of the land obviously noticed that they were now being attacked by ghosts and spirits instead of demons and dragons, but while their attackers changed, their harrowed lives of desperate survival did not.

Daemis Accenshire followed in the footsteps of Captain Kurassi following his passing in 921 PR, and he piloted the Wandering Splinter to many war-torn shores across Quelmar to escort people away from their former homes turned battlefields. Daemis may not have had motives quite as altruistic as his predecessor, being in a profession that allowed him to stay on the move was a good way to keep ''himself'' out of danger as much as the people he was helping, and the desperate nature of his clientele made it more likely for him to receive what little people had in the way of valuable goods during this time period; but the work was still dangerous and he was one of the few willing to do it. Some attribute his success to luck, others to skill, Captain Kurassi would surely attribute it to his rigorous training regiment, but it is recorded that Daemis survived long into the Second Holy War's total duration. Eventually, Daemis decided to stop his ventures to the battle-strewn coasts of Quelmar, he was aged, not as sharp as he used to be, and believed he was more likely to get himself killed on the way by some wayward ghost than ever complete a successful refugee extraction again. He still took the Splinter out every once in a while, off the coast of his hometown of Mek, which had been relatively safe from the horrors of the war thus far. And it was on one of these recreational trips that a fragment of his past would unexpectedly come to pay him a visit...
[[File:Ghostly Journal.jpg|thumb|The ghostly journal found by Daemis Accenshire in 969 PR. Nearly identical in appearance to the one found 70 years prior, except for its slight blue glow and incorporeal nature]]

While allowing the ship to idly float upon the gently rolling waves, Daemis just so happened to look up from a book he was reading on the deck to notice something moving towards the ship. A small surge of adrenaline pumped through the blood of the man and urged his aching bones to get out of his seat to take a closer look. Taking out a finely crafted spyglass, Daemis honed in on the object: it was small, moving slowly, and slightly twisted in midair. It was as if someone had lightly pushed the object in a straight line, and no force had acted upon it since, not even gravity. As it moved closer, Daemis could also see that it was slightly translucent...as it floated closer still it appeared to be...a journal? A perplexed expression appeared upon the old man's face as he retracted the spyglass and moved towards the bow of the ship. That flaming curiosity he hadn't felt for a great many years began to well up within him again, and perhaps against his better judgement, he raised a fishing net to intercept the book as it floated over the deck...only to see it pass straight through. A ghost journal? Now there was truly nothing that would stop him from investigating. Thinking quickly, Daemis conjured a Mage Hand and sent it out towards the journal's path, and the book came to rest in the palm of the magical hand. With a smirk of satisfaction, he pulled the hand back towards him with the journal clasped firmly within. Daemis was somehow simultaneously shocked and unfazed that this incorporeal journal looked identical to the one authored by Dagio Sringhardt, the unsuccessful suitor of Tiamat. Using his Mage Hand to interact with the pages of the journal, Daemis saw that every last poem from the original journal was recorded within this one as well, even the ones that were illegible due to the water damage of the original one. Comparing the script from the physical journal to the spectral revealed calligraphic inconsistencies however that would suggest that all of the poems were rewritten by hand...

As the pieces began to fall into place in Daemis's mind, he knew there was only one place left to check. Flipping through the spectral pages, Daemis found that there was only one new entry beyond the poem that was originally at the end of the journal. This poem did not follow the twenty-five-word limit like to rest, and leaves one to wonder what exactly ended up happening to the ever-incorrigible Dagio Sringheardt... {{Worldbuilders}}<blockquote>xxx x xxx x (Later dated to 901 PR)

My queen, my scaled sweetheart, thou hast truly blessed me beyond all compare!

First ye grace me with thy visage, and sent a shock through my heart I could scarcely bear!

Then one of thy servants bade me return to life to serve thee, and it was then that all was made clear.

Though my life was long ye wished for more, and an eternal spirit can always be near!

I knew ye would finally return my love, and now an eternity of poems awaits thee my dear!

- Dagio Sringheardt</blockquote>

The Attempted Courting of Tiamat

2025-09-16T18:30:04Z

Tsamps:

{{Infobox_character|name=|image=Old_journal.jpg|caption=An old water-damaged journal found floating upon a single piece of scorched wood off the coast of Isonhound}}

The following is a report cobbled together from the firsthand accounts of two sailors, who over the course of 70 years discovered two mysterious journals while out at sea, seemingly both written by the same mysterious author.

== Discovery of the First Journal (899 PR) ==
During the waning years of [[Realm War II]], many residents of [[Isonhound]] sought to flee the continent in an attempt to escape the rampant warfare. The Woldbreaker Plague was running rampant claiming hundreds of lives per day, and rumors of a destructive weapon being developed by [[Wold Order|the Wold Order]] being unleashed on friendly soil led many people to desperately seek a way to get far away from the devastated landmass. With the population of spellcasters capable of teleportation reduced significantly by the Plague, many prospective escapees were forced to place their lives in the hands of whatever sailors yet remained on the continent that hadn't had their vessels commandeered for military use and were skilled enough to sail under the radar of the demonic forces of the Dragon Goddess, [[Tiamat]]. One of those sailors was Cloro Kurassi, captain of a small personal vessel named the Wandering Splinter. Kurassi had actually escorted multiple groups of refugees to safety on other continents over the past few years, his small vessel able to more easily avoid the gaze of the forces of the Dragon Queen.
[[File:Cloro comm.png|left|thumb|Captain Cloro Kurassi, posing indignantly for a portrait|326x326px]]
On one fateful night, the last night Captain Kurassi would ever again see the land of Isonhound, his ship had been loaded shoulder-to-shoulder with refugees. The Greenfire Bomb had been unveiled in a destructive showing across the sea, and [[Synàra]] and [[Sneerwell]] were already under siege by envoys of the draconic tyrant; The Second Razing of Isonhound had begun. Captain Kurassi watched as people jumped from the shadowed docks as his ship pulled away, backlit by a fire that seemed to stretch across the entire continent; he had to force himself to avert his gaze, lest the souls on board be damned to the same fate. Guilt seemingly ate away at him during the journey however, as when the vessel came across what appeared to be scattered ship debris floating in the open sea, Kurassi ordered his deckhand to shine a Gem of Brightness into the water to look for survivors, despite knowing there was not enough room on the ship for even one person more. The fact that no survivors were found could be taken as fortunate or unfortunate given the circumstances, but something peculiar did catch the eye of the young deckhand: a leather-bound journal sitting atop a single wooden plank, heavily water damaged, but still mostly held together. Upon learning of the discovery, Captain Kurassi ordered it to be fished out of the water using one of the ship's fishing nets. Even if it wasn't another life that he could shepherd away from the horrible war, perhaps if the owner had family elsewhere, Captain Kurassi could provide them closure and perhaps quell the images in his mind of the people left behind on those dark shores far behind him. He didn't dare open the journal until he reached safe shores, vowing to keep his mind free of distraction and doubt until this group of survivors, the last he would ever escort out of Isonhound, was securely placed back on dry land: greener pastures, or so he hoped.
[[File:Daemis.jpg|thumb|375x375px|Deckhand Daemis Accenshire, depicted as he looked around the time of the first journal's discovery]]
Even after the successful completion of their journey, the young deckhand noticed that it took Captain Kurassi a while to will himself to open the journal. The captain constantly made the excuse of wanting the journal to dry out more, afraid of damaging what entries may remain, but he had been meticulously watching over the notebook for weeks now, the heat of their home continent of [[Pteris]] baking into every creased page and every inch of the brown leathery cover. Whatever pages remain intact, they would have been ready to be read long before now. The deckhand, a young sorcerer named Daemis Accenshire, speculated that Captain Kurassi was afraid of what he'd find within the small book. Thick and obviously well worn, who knows what kinds of tales awaited within? Stories of daring exploits, letters meant for loved ones that are now long overdue, or perhaps it was a simple merchant's ledger and nothing more; all possibilities as long as it remained closed. Daemis thought that perhaps the captain was fearful, afraid of being dragged deeper into guilt by the stories of this mysterious author: another soul snuffed out by the horrible war that he had no hope of saving despite his efforts, though Daemis would never speak such an accusation out loud of course. Eventually though, Kurassi did find the will to probe the contents of the journal, but asked for privacy while he did, and so the young Daemis took his leave from the Wandering Splinter's cabin and began walking down the waterlogged dock of the town of [[Mek]].

However, he had barely made it a stone's throw away from the old ship before a series of expletives viler than any combination he had ever heard in his life exploded from behind him. Daemis turned to see his captain, face scarlet with rage, storming down the dock muttering countless more curses beneath his breath. He spoke not a word to the deckhand and simply made a path straight for his home within the town and slammed the door shut behind him. Daemis, stunned but having the wherewithal to realize the captain's hands were empty, quickly made his way back to the ship and into the captain's quarters where he saw the journal: open, but laying in the splintered remains of the captain's navigator's table, seemingly smashed in half by a single blow. The deckhand, eyes wide, was shocked at the sight, but the burning curiosity in his chest overcame all other emotions and dared him to pick up the notebook and read the words that sent the normally restrained and stoic Cloro Kurassi into a fury. He brushed off the dust and wooden splinters from the crinkled pages and read the first legible writing he could see... <blockquote>xxx xx x (Later dated to 798 PR)

Winged beauty, heads five, In thy flame I feel alive.

I shall earn thine love someday, didst thou get the flowers I left in Dolmvay?

- Dagio Sringhardt </blockquote>A...love poem? Not just that...a love poem...to ''Tiamat??'' Daemis flipped through the pages; ten, twenty, forty, eighty pages and counting, all filled with text margin-to-margin. Many pages were rendered unreadable from the water damage, but the subject of the writings within never changed no matter what page Daemis flipped to: this journal was the life's work of someone who pined after the very creature that had plunged the entire realm into war. Daemis was in such a state of bewilderment that a laugh escaped his mouth against his will; like watching an out-of-control ship crash into a dock he couldn't avert his eyes as he continued to read. Page upon page of short poems likening the queen of dragons to bouquets of flowers and abstract paintings, assertions that he could be the one she comes home to after each of her tiring battles, and promises that he had feelings for all five heads equally. As he continued to read, Daemis noticed that none of the poems ever exceeded twenty-five words, and some were seemingly written under the assumption that the recipient also had knowledge of the prior ones...was this person continually casting the Sending spell to read these professions of love directly to Tiamat? If so...the dates that remained legible showed that whoever this Dagio person was, he had been doing this for nearly a century straight. Daemis's jaw had been hanging agape ever since his eyes met the first stanza of this...''eclectic'' collection of writings, but he suddenly snapped into sharp, inquisitive focus as he remembered where they first found the journal. Daemis remembered the debris being discolored, with strange snaking markings, black in color, upon some of the pieces he could see. Voltage burns. The young sailor could also recall seeing smaller shapes floating around the wooden debris in the area as well. He was about to rule out dead fish as an option for those shapes since he didn't recall seeing blood in the water, but if was electricity that destroyed whatever ship was in the area...then maybe...

Daemis rapidly flipped to the last page of the journal, and the final entry was indeed legible, and seemingly written not long before the Wandering Splinter came upon the journal. <blockquote>xxx xx xxx (Later dated to 899 PR)

Love, fated wife, thank the gods for my elven life.

Yet waiting for thou to see, 500 more years of poems must be the key!

- Dagio Sringhardt </blockquote>Daemis let his arms holding the journal fall to his lap as he leaned back in the wooden chair he sat upon with a sigh, his brow raised high as he shook his head slightly and took in all of what he just read. Part of him couldn't really blame the tyrannical queen for what she wrought upon Dagio; an amused huff escaped his nose as he wondered if the heads argued amongst themselves over who would get to do the honors. Part of him also held respect for the man in a strange way; he doubted there were many in Quelmar who could annoy the Dragon Queen to the point of warranting personal termination, and he thinks that even old Captain Kurassi could find some enjoyment in that fact once the whole picture was explained to him, but Daemis decided that would be best left as a venture for another day. He tucked the journal into his bag and began his walk home, feeling somewhat more confident in the world's fate with the knowledge that even one as powerful and terrible as Tiamat still has limits she could be pushed to.

== Discovery of the Second Journal (969 PR) ==
Though [[the War of Many Names]] would later be split into many different wars by scholars studying the conflict, most commonfolk who lived during the time wouldn't be able to tell you the difference; it was just constant conflict to them. They could tell you of moments though, moments people could tell that something had shifted. For instance, when what is now known as the Second Holy War began, Tiamat and her allies had pioneered a new kind of warfare to unleash on the realm. Spirits en route to the afterlife were intercepted, tempted by the Queen's countless demons to fight for her in exchange for boons that would never be given, and then returned to the realm as vengeful wraiths intent on destruction. The people of the land obviously noticed that they were now being attacked by ghosts and spirits instead of demons and dragons, but while their attackers changed, their harrowed lives of desperate survival did not.

Daemis Accenshire followed in the footsteps of Captain Kurassi following his passing in 921 PR, and he piloted the Wandering Splinter to many war-torn shores across Quelmar to escort people away from their former homes turned battlefields. Daemis may not have had motives quite as altruistic as his predecessor, being in a profession that allowed him to stay on the move was a good way to keep ''himself'' out of danger as much as the people he was helping, and the desperate nature of his clientele made it more likely for him to receive what little people had in the way of valuable goods during this time period; but the work was still dangerous and he was one of the few willing to do it. Some attribute his success to luck, others to skill, Captain Kurassi would surely attribute it to his rigorous training regiment, but it is recorded that Daemis survived long into the Second Holy War's total duration. Eventually, Daemis decided to stop his ventures to the battle-strewn coasts of Quelmar, he was aged, not as sharp as he used to be, and believed he was more likely to get himself killed on the way by some wayward ghost than ever complete a successful refugee extraction again. He still took the Splinter out every once in a while, off the coast of his hometown of Mek, which had been relatively safe from the horrors of the war thus far. And it was on one of these recreational trips that a fragment of his past would unexpectedly come to pay him a visit...
[[File:Ghostly Journal.jpg|thumb|The ghostly journal found by Daemis Accenshire in 969 PR. Nearly identical in appearance to the one found 70 years prior, except for its slight blue glow and incorporeal nature]]

While allowing the ship to idly float upon the gently rolling waves, Daemis just so happened to look up from a book he was reading on the deck to notice something moving towards the ship. A small surge of adrenaline pumped through the blood of the man and urged his aching bones to get out of his seat to take a closer look. Taking out a finely crafted spyglass, Daemis honed in on the object: it was small, moving slowly, and slightly twisted in midair. It was as if someone had lightly pushed the object in a straight line, and no force had acted upon it since, not even gravity. As it moved closer, Daemis could also see that it was slightly translucent...as it floated closer still it appeared to be...a journal? A perplexed expression appeared upon the old man's face as he retracted the spyglass and moved towards the bow of the ship. That flaming curiosity he hadn't felt for a great many years began to well up within him again, and perhaps against his better judgement, he raised a fishing net to intercept the book as it floated over the deck...only to see it pass straight through. A ghost journal? Now there was truly nothing that would stop him from investigating. Thinking quickly, Daemis conjured a Mage Hand and sent it out towards the journal's path, and the book came to rest in the palm of the magical hand. With a smirk of satisfaction, he pulled the hand back towards him with the journal clasped firmly within. Daemis was somehow simultaneously shocked and unfazed that this incorporeal journal looked identical to the one authored by Dagio Sringhardt, the unsuccessful suitor of Tiamat. Using his Mage Hand to interact with the pages of the journal, Daemis saw that every last poem from the original journal was recorded within this one as well, even the ones that were illegible due to the water damage of the original one. Comparing the script from the physical journal to the spectral revealed calligraphic inconsistencies however that would suggest that all of the poems were rewritten by hand...

As the pieces began to fall into place in Daemis's mind, he knew there was only one place left to check. Flipping through the spectral pages, Daemis found that there was only one new entry beyond the poem that was originally at the end of the journal. This poem did not follow the twenty-five-word limit like to rest, and leaves one to wonder what exactly ended up happening to the ever-incorrigible Dagio Sringheardt... {{Worldbuilders}}<blockquote>xxx x xxx x (Later dated to 901 PR)

My queen, my scaled sweetheart, thou hast truly blessed me beyond all compare!

First ye grace me with thy visage, and sent a shock through my heart I could scarcely bear!

Then one of thy servants bade me return to life to serve thee, and it was then that all was made clear.

Though my life was long ye wished for more, and an eternal spirit can always be near!

I knew ye would finally return my love, and now an eternity of poems awaits thee my dear!

- Dagio Sringheardt</blockquote>

The Attempted Courting of Tiamat

2025-09-16T18:15:44Z

Tsamps: Added relevant links

{{Infobox_character|name=|image=Old_journal.jpg|caption=An old water-damaged journal found floating upon a single piece of scorched wood off the coast of Isonhound}}

The following is a report cobbled together from the firsthand accounts of two sailors, who over the course of 70 years discovered two mysterious journals while out at sea, seemingly both written by the same mysterious author.

== Discovery of the First Journal (899 PR) ==
During the waning years of [[Realm War II]], many residents of [[Isonhound]] sought to flee the continent in an attempt to escape the rampant warfare. The Woldbreaker Plague was running rampant claiming hundreds of lives per day, and rumors of a destructive weapon being developed by [[Wold Order|the Wold Order]] being unleashed on friendly soil led many people to desperately seek a way to get far away from the devastated landmass. With the population of spellcasters capable of teleportation reduced significantly by the Plague, many prospective escapees were forced to place their lives in the hands of whatever sailors yet remained on the continent that hadn't had their vessels commandeered for military use and were skilled enough to sail under the radar of the demonic forces of the Dragon Goddess, [[Tiamat]]. One of those sailors was Cloro Kurassi, captain of a small personal vessel named the Wandering Splinter. Kurassi had actually escorted multiple groups of refugees to safety on other continents over the past few years, his small vessel able to more easily avoid the gaze of the forces of the Dragon Queen.
[[File:Cloro comm.png|left|thumb|Captain Cloro Kurassi, posing indignantly for a portrait|326x326px]]
On one fateful night, the last night Captain Kurassi would ever again see the land of Isonhound, his ship had been loaded shoulder-to-shoulder with refugees. The Greenfire Bomb had been unveiled in a destructive showing across the sea, and [[Synàra]] and [[Sneerwell]] were already under siege by envoys of the draconic tyrant; The Second Razing of Isonhound had begun. Captain Kurassi watched as people jumped from the shadowed docks as his ship pulled away, backlit by a fire that seemed to stretch across the entire continent; he had to force himself to avert his gaze, lest the souls on board be damned to the same fate. Guilt seemingly ate away at him during the journey however, as when the vessel came across what appeared to be scattered ship debris floating in the open sea, Kurassi ordered his deckhand to shine a Gem of Brightness into the water to look for survivors, despite knowing there was not enough room on the ship for even one person more. The fact that no survivors were found could be taken as fortunate or unfortunate given the circumstances, but something peculiar did catch the eye of the young deckhand: a leather-bound journal sitting atop a single wooden plank, heavily water damaged, but still mostly held together. Upon learning of the discovery, Captain Kurassi ordered it to be fished out of the water using one of the ship's fishing nets. Even if it wasn't another life that he could shepherd away from the horrible war, perhaps if the owner had family elsewhere, Captain Kurassi could provide them closure and perhaps quell the images in his mind of the people left behind on those dark shores far behind him. He didn't dare open the journal until he reached safe shores, vowing to keep his mind free of distraction and doubt until this group of survivors, the last he would ever escort out of Isonhound, was securely placed back on dry land: greener pastures, or so he hoped.
[[File:Daemis.jpg|thumb|375x375px|Deckhand Daemis Accenshire, depicted as he looked around the time of the first journal's discovery]]
Even after the successful completion of their journey, the young deckhand noticed that it took Captain Kurassi a while to will himself to open the journal. The captain constantly made the excuse of wanting the journal to dry out more, afraid of damaging what entries may remain, but he had been meticulously watching over the notebook for weeks now, the heat of their home continent of [[Pteris]] baking into every creased page and every inch of the brown leathery cover. Whatever pages remain intact, they would have been ready to be read long before now. The deckhand, a young sorcerer named Daemis Accenshire, speculated that Captain Kurassi was afraid of what he'd find within the small book. Thick and obviously well worn, who knows what kinds of tales awaited within? Stories of daring exploits, letters meant for loved ones that are now long overdue, or perhaps it was a simple merchant's ledger and nothing more; all possibilities as long as it remained closed. Daemis thought that perhaps the captain was fearful, afraid of being dragged deeper into guilt by the stories of this mysterious author: another soul snuffed out by the horrible war that he had no hope of saving despite his efforts, though Daemis would never speak such an accusation out loud of course. Eventually though, Kurassi did find the will to probe the contents of the journal, but asked for privacy while he did, and so the young Daemis took his leave from the Wandering Splinter's cabin and began walking down the waterlogged dock of the town of [[Mek]].

However, he had barely made it a stone's throw away from the old ship before a series of expletives viler than any combination he had ever heard in his life exploded from behind him. Daemis turned to see his captain, face scarlet with rage, storming down the dock muttering countless more curses beneath his breath. He spoke not a word to the deckhand and simply made a path straight for his home within the town and slammed the door shut behind him. Daemis, stunned but having the wherewithal to realize the captain's hands were empty, quickly made his way back to the ship and into the captain's quarters where he saw the journal: open, but laying in the splintered remains of the captain's navigator's table, seemingly smashed in half by a single blow. The deckhand, eyes wide, was shocked at the sight, but the burning curiosity in his chest overcame all other emotions and dared him to pick up the notebook and read the words that sent the normally restrained and stoic Cloro Kurassi into a fury. He brushed off the dust and wooden splinters from the crinkled pages and read the first legible writing he could see... <blockquote>xxx xx x (Later dated to 798 PR)

Winged beauty, heads five, In thy flame I feel alive.

I shall earn thine love someday, didst thou get the flowers I left in Dolmvay?

- Dagio Sringhardt </blockquote>A...love poem? Not just that...a love poem...to ''Tiamat??'' Daemis flipped through the pages; ten, twenty, forty, eighty pages and counting, all filled with text margin-to-margin. Many pages were rendered unreadable from the water damage, but the subject of the writings within never changed no matter what page Daemis flipped to: this journal was the life's work of someone who pined after the very creature that had plunged the entire realm into war. Daemis was in such a state of bewilderment that a laugh escaped his mouth against his will; like watching an out-of-control ship crash into a dock he couldn't avert his eyes as he continued to read. Page upon page of short poems likening the queen of dragons to bouquets of flowers and abstract paintings, assertions that he could be the one she comes home to after each of her tiring battles, and promises that he had feelings for all five heads equally. As he continued to read, Daemis noticed that none of the poems ever exceeded twenty-five words, and some were seemingly written under the assumption that the recipient also had knowledge of the prior ones...was this person continually casting the Sending spell to read these professions of love directly to Tiamat? If so...the dates that remained legible showed that whoever this Dagio person was, he had been doing this for nearly a century straight. Daemis's jaw had been hanging agape ever since his eyes met the first stanza of this...''eclectic'' collection of writings, but he suddenly snapped into sharp, inquisitive focus as he remembered where they first found the journal. Daemis remembered the debris being discolored, with strange snaking markings, black in color, upon some of the pieces he could see. Voltage burns. The young sailor could also recall seeing smaller shapes floating around the wooden debris in the area as well. He was about to rule out dead fish as an option for those shapes since he didn't recall seeing blood in the water, but if was electricity that destroyed whatever ship was in the area...then maybe...

Daemis rapidly flipped to the last page of the journal, and the final entry was indeed legible, and seemingly written not long before the Wandering Splinter came upon the journal. <blockquote>xxx xx xxx (Later dated to 899 PR)

Love, fated wife, thank the gods for my elven life.

Yet waiting for thou to see, 500 more years of poems must be the key!

- Dagio Sringhardt </blockquote>Daemis let his arms holding the journal fall to his lap as he leaned back in the wooden chair he sat upon with a sigh, his brow raised high as he shook his head slightly and took in all of what he just read. Part of him couldn't really blame the tyrannical queen for what she wrought upon Dagio; an amused huff escaped his nose as he wondered if the heads argued amongst themselves over who would get to do the honors. Part of him also held respect for the man in a strange way; he doubted there were many in Quelmar who could annoy the Dragon Queen to the point of warranting personal termination, and he thinks that even old Captain Kurassi could find some enjoyment in that fact once the whole picture was explained to him, but Daemis decided that would be best left as a venture for another day. He tucked the journal into his bag and began his walk home, feeling somewhat more confident in the world's fate with the knowledge that even one as powerful and terrible as Tiamat still has limits she could be pushed to.

== Discovery of the Second Journal (969 PR) ==
Though [[the War of Many Names]] would later be split into many different wars by scholars studying the conflict, most commonfolk who lived during the time wouldn't be able to tell you the difference; it was just constant conflict to them. They could tell you of moments though, moments people could tell that something had shifted. For instance, when what is now known as the Second Holy War began, Tiamat and her allies had pioneered a new kind of warfare to unleash on the realm. Spirits en route to the afterlife were intercepted, tempted by the Queen's countless demons to fight for her in exchange for boons that would never be given, and then returned to the realm as vengeful wraiths intent on destruction. The people of the land obviously noticed that they were now being attacked by ghosts and spirits instead of demons and dragons, but while their attackers changed, their harrowed lives of desperate survival did not.

Daemis Accenshire followed in the footsteps of Captain Kurassi following his passing in 921 PR, and he piloted the Wandering Splinter to many war-torn shores across Quelmar to escort people away from their former homes turned battlefields. Daemis may not have had motives quite as altruistic as his predecessor, being in a profession that allowed him to stay on the move was a good way to keep ''himself'' out of danger as much as the people he was helping, and the desperate nature of his clientele made it more likely for him to receive what little people had in the way of valuable goods during this time period; but the work was still dangerous and he was one of the few willing to do it. Some attribute his success to luck, others to skill, Captain Kurassi would surely attribute it to his rigorous training regiment, but it is recorded that Daemis survived long into the Second Holy War's total duration. Eventually, Daemis decided to stop his ventures to the battle-strewn coasts of Quelmar, he was aged, not as sharp as he used to be, and believed he was more likely to get himself killed on the way by some wayward ghost than ever complete a successful refugee extraction again. He still took the Splinter out every once in a while, off the coast of his hometown of Mek, which had been relatively safe from the horrors of the war thus far. And it was on one of these recreational trips that a fragment of his past would unexpectedly come to pay him a visit...
[[File:Ghostly Journal.jpg|thumb|The ghostly journal found by Daemis Accenshire in 969 PR. Nearly identical in appearance to the one found 70 years prior, except for its slight blue glow and incorporeal nature]]

While allowing the ship to idly float upon the gently rolling waves, Daemis just so happened to look up from a book he was reading on the deck to notice something moving towards the ship. A small surge of adrenaline pumped through the blood of the man and urged his aching bones to get out of his seat to take a closer look. Taking out a finely crafted spyglass, Daemis honed in on the object: it was small, moving slowly, and slightly twisted in midair. It was as if someone had lightly pushed the object in a straight line, and no force had acted upon it since, not even gravity. As it moved closer, Daemis could also see that it was slightly translucent...as it floated closer still it appeared to be...a journal? A perplexed expression appeared upon the old man's face as he retracted the spyglass and moved towards the bow of the ship. That flaming curiosity he hadn't felt for a great many years began to well up within him again, and perhaps against his better judgement, he raised a fishing net to intercept the book as it floated over the deck...only to see it pass straight through. A ghost journal? Now there was truly nothing that would stop him from investigating. Thinking quickly, Daemis conjured a Mage Hand and sent it out towards the journal's path, and the book came to rest in the palm of the magical hand. With a smirk of satisfaction, he pulled the hand back towards him with the journal clasped firmly within. Daemis was somehow simultaneously shocked and unfazed that this incorporeal journal looked identical to the one authored by Dagio Sringhardt, the unsuccessful suitor of Tiamat. Using his Mage Hand to interact with the pages of the journal, Daemis saw that every last poem from the original journal was recorded within this one as well, even the ones that were illegible due to the water damage of the original one. Comparing the script from the physical journal to the spectral revealed calligraphic inconsistencies however that would suggest that all of the poems were rewritten by hand...

As the pieces began to fall into place in Daemis's mind, he knew there was only one place left to check. Flipping through the spectral pages, Daemis found that there was only one new entry beyond the poem that was originally at the end of the journal. This poem did not follow the twenty-five-word limit like to rest, and left little doubt as to what had happened to the ever-incorrigible Dagio Sringheardt... {{Worldbuilders}}<blockquote>xxx x xxx x (Later dated to 901 PR)

My queen, my scaled sweetheart, thou hast truly blessed me beyond all compare!

First ye grace me with thy visage, and sent a shock through my heart I could scarcely bear!

Then one of thy servants bade me return to life to serve thee, and it was then that all was made clear.

Though my life was long ye wished for more, and an eternal spirit can always be near!

I knew ye would finally return my love, and now an eternity of poems awaits thee my dear!

- Dagio Sringheardt</blockquote>

Help:Wiki Worldbuilding Contest 2025

2025-09-16T18:09:04Z

Tsamps: Adding "The Attempted Courting of Tiamat" to the entry list

{{DISPLAYTITLE:Wiki Worldbuilding Contest 2025}}
__NOTOC__

<center>
== '''Ready your Keyboards.''' ==
== '''She has awoken''' ==
[[File:TiamatWikiContest.png|center|frameless|584x584px]]^Gale for Scale.
</center>

'''The Quelmar Wiki''' is proud to announce the [[Help:Wiki Worldbuilding Contest 2019|return of its Worldbuilding Contest]] for 2025!

== Prizes ==

# '''The Grand Prize winner''' will win the pictured Tiamat Miniature above.
## In addition, if the winner is a member of an existing major Quelmar community (ie MN, PA, or MD), James will fly the miniature out to you himself and run a battle against Tiamat set during [[the War of Many Names]] (and including your prize-winning lore, if your article opted to include new or existing WoMN lore).
## Some exceptions may be made for winners outside of a major Quelmar community depending on travel factors.
# '''The Second Prize Winner''' will also win a cash prize of $50, as an homage to the original cash contest of 2019.
# '''The Third Prize winner''' will have their article featured as the Wiki's front page "Featured Article" for no less than 4 months.

== Rules for Entry ==

<big>Entering the Wiki Worldbuilding Contest is as simple as updating an old page or creating something new!

Unlike last time, you will need to manually submit your pages to the contest [[#Pages Submitted (Submissions close at midnight on September 30th)|at the bottom of this page]].</big>

* Rule 1: Pages must contain original material, and can not contain plagiarism from other Books, Wikis, or pre-existing sources outside of the Quelmar Realm.
* Rule 2: Pages do not need to relate to already existing campaigns or games. The Contest welcomes completely new characters, locations, events, creatures, and anything else can be created and put on the wiki.
* Rule 3: Entrants can submit as pages as they want, including already existing pages, provided they made some sort of substantial update to the page in September 2025.
* Rule 4: Submissions close at '''Midnight on September 30th'''

== Judging ==
Judges will be given a rubric to score each submission that includes the following 5 categories (each being ranked on a scale of 1 to 10).

=== 1. Depth ===
Does this wiki article adequately cover the topic being discussed? Is it too short and leaves unanswered questions that the reader is looking for? Does it skim or poorly explain its topic at too shallow a level? We want articles that paint a full 3-Dimensional look at what is being discussed, whether that's a culture of people, a magical item and its history, or just a detailed report of an incredible battle that occurred in time. Make the Judges believe this thing really could exist!

=== 2. Readability ===
Is the wiki article engaging and easy to follow? Does it avoid overwhelming readers with too much jargon or lore-heavy shorthand? The best pages teach about Quelmar effortlessly, letting the reader absorb lore without even realizing how much they’re learning.

=== 3. Visuals ===
Does this wiki article have one more pictures, maps, documents, attachments, or other things to keep the reader excited?
Note: While AI art is allowed as part of page-creation (properly labeled as usual), we can't promise the judges won't have their own opinions about AI art that could possibly sway their judgement one way or another.

=== 4. Originality, Creativity, and Humor ===
The wiki is founded on the idea that anything can become canon in Quelmar, and over the years lots of fun little quirky elements have made their way into the tabletop adventures, such as Sparklemas or the Octopus that hates pants (IYKYK). Pages that are particularly unique, creative, or just outright hilarious are a touchstone of the community, and we want to encourage them to continue to be submitted.

=== 5. Integration with [[The War of Many Names]] ===
In honor of the grand prize, submissions that enrich the lore surrounding Tiamat’s return and the ensuing war will be judged with special attention.

== Where to Start ==

* [[Help:NewPageMaker|If you want to Create a New Page, you can start here!]]
* [[Campaign|If you want to update or edit pages related to a campaign or session you played, you can find Campaign info here]]
* [[List of All Player Characters|If you want to update or edit pages related to a character you played, you can find all characters here]]
* [[Special:AllPages|You can also find ALL existing pages here]]

== Pages Submitted (Submissions close at midnight on September 30th) ==
# [[Realm War II]]
# [[Tiamat's Favorite Food]]
# [[The Court of Scales]]
# [[Ottermancer]]
# [[Vezoth]]
# [[Mesanth]]
# [[Dragon Costumes for Dogs]]
# [[Swikedom Kingdom]]
# [[Duumal]]
# [[Pact of the Gourmand Warlock]]
# [[Sir Cornelius]]
# [[The Attempted Courting of Tiamat]]
# Entry 13
# Entry 14
# Entry 15
# Entry 16
# Entry 17
# More entries

The Attempted Courting of Tiamat

2025-09-16T18:05:26Z

Tsamps:

{{Infobox_character|name=|image=Old_journal.jpg|caption=An old water-damaged journal found floating upon a single piece of scorched wood off the coast of Isonhound}}

The following is a report cobbled together from the firsthand accounts of two sailors, who over the course of 70 years discovered two mysterious journals while out at sea, seemingly both written by the same mysterious author.

== Discovery of the First Journal (899 PR) ==
During the waning years of Realm War II, many residents of Isonhound sought to flee the continent in an attempt to escape the rampant warfare. The Woldbreaker Plague was running rampant claiming hundreds of lives per day, and rumors of a destructive weapon being developed by the Wold Order being unleashed on friendly soil led many people to desperately seek a way to get far away from the devastated landmass. With the population of spellcasters capable of teleportation reduced significantly by the Plague, many prospective escapees were forced to place their lives in the hands of whatever sailors yet remained on the continent that hadn't had their vessels commandeered for military use and were skilled enough to sail under the radar of the demonic forces of the Dragon Goddess. One of those sailors was Cloro Kurassi, captain of a small personal vessel named the Wandering Splinter. Kurassi had actually escorted multiple groups of refugees to safety on other continents over the past few years, his small vessel able to more easily avoid the gaze of the forces of the Dragon Queen.
[[File:Cloro comm.png|left|thumb|Captain Cloro Kurassi, posing indignantly for a portrait|326x326px]]
On one fateful night, the last night Captain Kurassi would ever again see the land of Isonhound, his ship had been loaded shoulder-to-shoulder with refugees. The Greenfire Bomb had been unveiled in a destructive showing across the sea, and Synàra and Sneerwell were already under siege by envoys of the draconic tyrant; The Second Razing of Isonhound had begun. Captain Kurassi watched as people jumped from the shadowed docks as his ship pulled away, backlit by a fire that seemed to stretch across the entire continent; he had to force himself to avert his gaze, lest the souls on board be damned to the same fate. Guilt seemingly ate away at him during the journey however, as when the vessel came across what appeared to be scattered ship debris floating in the open sea, Kurassi ordered his deckhand to shine a Gem of Brightness into the water to look for survivors, despite knowing there was not enough room on the ship for even one person more. The fact that no survivors were found could be taken as fortunate or unfortunate given the circumstances, but something peculiar did catch the eye of the young deckhand: a leather-bound journal sitting atop a single wooden plank, heavily water damaged, but still mostly held together. Upon learning of the discovery, Captain Kurassi ordered it to be fished out of the water using one of the ship's fishing nets. Even if it wasn't another life that he could shepherd away from the horrible war, perhaps if the owner had family elsewhere, Captain Kurassi could provide them closure and perhaps quell the images in his mind of the people left behind on those dark shores far behind him. He didn't dare open the journal until he reached safe shores, vowing to keep his mind free of distraction and doubt until this group of survivors, the last he would ever escort out of Isonhound, was securely placed back on dry land: greener pastures, or so he hoped.
[[File:Daemis.jpg|thumb|375x375px|Deckhand Daemis Accenshire, depicted as he looked around the time of the first journal's discovery]]
Even after the successful completion of their journey, the young deckhand noticed that it took Captain Kurassi a while to will himself to open the journal. The captain constantly made the excuse of wanting the journal to dry out more, afraid of damaging what entries may remain, but he had been meticulously watching over the notebook for weeks now, the heat of their home continent of Pteris baking into every creased page and every inch of the brown leathery cover. Whatever pages remain intact, they would have been ready to be read long before now. The deckhand, a young sorcerer named Daemis Accenshire, speculated that Captain Kurassi was afraid of what he'd find within the small book. Thick and obviously well worn, who knows what kinds of tales awaited within? Stories of daring exploits, letters meant for loved ones that are now long overdue, or perhaps it was a simple merchant's ledger and nothing more; all possibilities as long as it remained closed. Daemis thought that perhaps the captain was fearful, afraid of being dragged deeper into guilt by the stories of this mysterious author: another soul snuffed out by the horrible war that he had no hope of saving despite his efforts, though Daemis would never speak such an accusation out loud of course. Eventually though, Kurassi did find the will to probe the contents of the journal, but asked for privacy while he did, and so the young Daemis took his leave from the Wandering Splinter's cabin and began walking down the waterlogged dock of the town of Mek.

However, he had barely made it a stone's throw away from the old ship before a series of expletives viler than any combination he had ever heard in his life exploded from behind him. Daemis turned to see his captain, face scarlet with rage, storming down the dock muttering countless more curses beneath his breath. He spoke not a word to the deckhand and simply made a path straight for his home within the town and slammed the door shut behind him. Daemis, stunned but having the wherewithal to realize the captain's hands were empty, quickly made his way back to the ship and into the captain's quarters where he saw the journal: open, but laying in the splintered remains of the captain's navigator's table, seemingly smashed in half by a single blow. The deckhand, eyes wide, was shocked at the sight, but the burning curiosity in his chest overcame all other emotions and dared him to pick up the notebook and read the words that sent the normally restrained and stoic Cloro Kurassi into a fury. He brushed off the dust and wooden splinters from the crinkled pages and read the first legible writing he could see... <blockquote>xxx xx x (Later dated to 798 PR)

Winged beauty, heads five, In thy flame I feel alive.

I shall earn thine love someday, didst thou get the flowers I left in Dolmvay?

- Dagio Sringhardt </blockquote>A...love poem? Not just that...a love poem...to ''Tiamat??'' Daemis flipped through the pages; ten, twenty, forty, eighty pages and counting, all filled with text margin-to-margin. Many pages were rendered unreadable from the water damage, but the subject of the writings within never changed no matter what page Daemis flipped to: this journal was the life's work of someone who pined after the very creature that had plunged the entire realm into war. Daemis was in such a state of bewilderment that a laugh escaped his mouth against his will; like watching an out-of-control ship crash into a dock he couldn't avert his eyes as he continued to read. Page upon page of short poems likening the queen of dragons to bouquets of flowers and abstract paintings, assertions that he could be the one she comes home to after each of her tiring battles, and promises that he had feelings for all five heads equally. As he continued to read, Daemis noticed that none of the poems ever exceeded twenty-five words, and some were seemingly written under the assumption that the recipient also had knowledge of the prior ones...was this person continually casting the Sending spell to read these professions of love directly to Tiamat? If so...the dates that remained legible showed that whoever this Dagio person was, he had been doing this for nearly a century straight. Daemis's jaw had been hanging agape ever since his eyes met the first stanza of this...''eclectic'' collection of writings, but he suddenly snapped into sharp, inquisitive focus as he remembered where they first found the journal. Daemis remembered the debris being discolored, with strange snaking markings, black in color, upon some of the pieces he could see. Voltage burns. The young sailor could also recall seeing smaller shapes floating around the wooden debris in the area as well. He was about to rule out dead fish as an option for those shapes since he didn't recall seeing blood in the water, but if was electricity that destroyed whatever ship was in the area...then maybe...

Daemis rapidly flipped to the last page of the journal, and the final entry was indeed legible, and seemingly written not long before the Wandering Splinter came upon the journal. <blockquote>xxx xx xxx (Later dated to 899 PR)

Love, fated wife, thank the gods for my elven life.

Yet waiting for thou to see, 500 more years of poems must be the key!

- Dagio Sringhardt </blockquote>Daemis let his arms holding the journal fall to his lap as he leaned back in the wooden chair he sat upon with a sigh, his brow raised high as he shook his head slightly and took in all of what he just read. Part of him couldn't really blame the tyrannical queen for what she wrought upon Dagio; an amused huff escaped his nose as he wondered if the heads argued amongst themselves over who would get to do the honors. Part of him also held respect for the man in a strange way; he doubted there were many in Quelmar who could annoy the Dragon Queen to the point of warranting personal termination, and he thinks that even old Captain Kurassi could find some enjoyment in that fact once the whole picture was explained to him, but Daemis decided that would be best left as a venture for another day. He tucked the journal into his bag and began his walk home, feeling somewhat more confident in the world's fate with the knowledge that even one as powerful and terrible as Tiamat still has limits she could be pushed to.

== Discovery of the Second Journal (969 PR) ==
Though the War of Many Names would later be split into many different wars by scholars studying the conflict, most commonfolk who lived during the time wouldn't be able to tell you the difference; it was just constant conflict to them. They could tell you of moments though, moments people could tell that something had shifted. For instance, when what is now known as the Second Holy War began, Tiamat and her allies had pioneered a new kind of warfare to unleash on the realm. Spirits en route to the afterlife were intercepted, tempted by the Queen's countless demons to fight for her in exchange for boons that would never be given, and then returned to the realm as vengeful wraiths intent on destruction. The people of the land obviously noticed that they were now being attacked by ghosts and spirits instead of demons and dragons, but while their attackers changed, their harrowed lives of desperate survival did not.

Daemis Accenshire followed in the footsteps of Captain Kurassi following his passing in 921 PR, and he piloted the Wandering Splinter to many war-torn shores across Quelmar to escort people away from their former homes turned battlefields. Daemis may not have had motives quite as altruistic as his predecessor, being in a profession that allowed him to stay on the move was a good way to keep ''himself'' out of danger as much as the people he was helping, and the desperate nature of his clientele made it more likely for him to receive what little people had in the way of valuable goods during this time period; but the work was still dangerous and he was one of the few willing to do it. Some attribute his success to luck, others to skill, Captain Kurassi would surely attribute it to his rigorous training regiment, but it is recorded that Daemis survived long into the Second Holy War's total duration. Eventually, Daemis decided to stop his ventures to the battle-strewn coasts of Quelmar, he was aged, not as sharp as he used to be, and believed he was more likely to get himself killed on the way by some wayward ghost than ever complete a successful refugee extraction again. He still took the Splinter out every once in a while, off the coast of his hometown of Mek, which had been relatively safe from the horrors of the war thus far. And it was on one of these recreational trips that a fragment of his past would unexpectedly come to pay him a visit...
[[File:Ghostly Journal.jpg|thumb|The ghostly journal found by Daemis Accenshire in 969 PR. Nearly identical in appearance to the one found 70 years prior, except for its slight blue glow and incorporeal nature]]

While allowing the ship to idly float upon the gently rolling waves, Daemis just so happened to look up from a book he was reading on the deck to notice something moving towards the ship. A small surge of adrenaline pumped through the blood of the man and urged his aching bones to get out of his seat to take a closer look. Taking out a finely crafted spyglass, Daemis honed in on the object: it was small, moving slowly, and slightly twisted in midair. It was as if someone had lightly pushed the object in a straight line, and no force had acted upon it since, not even gravity. As it moved closer, Daemis could also see that it was slightly translucent...as it floated closer still it appeared to be...a journal? A perplexed expression appeared upon the old man's face as he retracted the spyglass and moved towards the bow of the ship. That flaming curiosity he hadn't felt for a great many years began to well up within him again, and perhaps against his better judgement, he raised a fishing net to intercept the book as it floated over the deck...only to see it pass straight through. A ghost journal? Now there was truly nothing that would stop him from investigating. Thinking quickly, Daemis conjured a Mage Hand and sent it out towards the journal's path, and the book came to rest in the palm of the magical hand. With a smirk of satisfaction, he pulled the hand back towards him with the journal clasped firmly within. Daemis was somehow simultaneously shocked and unfazed that this incorporeal journal looked identical to the one authored by Dagio Sringhardt, the unsuccessful suitor of Tiamat. Using his Mage Hand to interact with the pages of the journal, Daemis saw that every last poem from the original journal was recorded within this one as well, even the ones that were illegible due to the water damage of the original one. Comparing the script from the physical journal to the spectral revealed calligraphic inconsistencies however that would suggest that all of the poems were rewritten by hand...

As the pieces began to fall into place in Daemis's mind, he knew there was only one place left to check. Flipping through the spectral pages, Daemis found that there was only one new entry beyond the poem that was originally at the end of the journal. This poem did not follow the twenty-five-word limit like to rest, and left little doubt as to what had happened to the ever-incorrigible Dagio Sringheardt... {{Worldbuilders}}<blockquote>xxx x xxx x (Later dated to 901 PR)

My queen, my scaled sweetheart, thou hast truly blessed me beyond all compare!

First ye grace me with thy visage, and sent a shock through my heart I could scarcely bear!

Then one of thy servants bade me return to life to serve thee, and it was then that all was made clear.

Though my life was long ye wished for more, and an eternal spirit can always be near!

I knew ye would finally return my love, and now an eternity of poems awaits thee my dear!

- Dagio Sringheardt</blockquote>

The Attempted Courting of Tiamat

2025-09-16T18:02:23Z

Tsamps: Finished part 2

{{Infobox_character|name=|image=Old_journal.jpg|caption=An old water-damaged journal found floating upon a single piece of scorched wood off the coast of Isonhound}}

The following is a report cobbled together from the firsthand accounts of two sailors, who over the course of 70 years discovered two mysterious journals while out at sea, seemingly both written by the same mysterious author.

== Discovery of the First Journal (899 PR) ==
During the waning years of Realm War II, many residents of Isonhound sought to flee the continent in an attempt to escape the rampant warfare. The Woldbreaker Plague was running rampant claiming hundreds of lives per day, and rumors of a destructive weapon being developed by the Wold Order being unleashed on friendly soil led many people to desperately seek a way to get far away from the devastated landmass. With the population of spellcasters capable of teleportation reduced significantly by the Plague, many prospective escapees were forced to place their lives in the hands of whatever sailors yet remained on the continent that hadn't had their vessels commandeered for military use and were skilled enough to sail under the radar of the demonic forces of the Dragon Goddess. One of those sailors was Cloro Kurassi, captain of a small personal vessel named the Wandering Splinter. Kurassi had actually escorted multiple groups of refugees to safety on other continents over the past few years, his small vessel able to more easily avoid the gaze of the forces of the Dragon Queen.
[[File:Cloro comm.png|left|thumb|Captain Cloro Kurassi, posing indignantly for a portrait|326x326px]]
On one fateful night, the last night Captain Kurassi would ever again see the land of Isonhound, his ship had been loaded shoulder-to-shoulder with refugees. The Greenfire Bomb had been unveiled in a destructive showing across the sea, and Synàra and Sneerwell were already under siege by envoys of the draconic tyrant; The Second Razing of Isonhound had begun. Captain Kurassi watched as people jumped from the shadowed docks as his ship pulled away, backlit by a fire that seemed to stretch across the entire continent; he had to force himself to avert his gaze, lest the souls on board be damned to the same fate. Guilt seemingly ate away at him during the journey however, as when the vessel came across what appeared to be scattered ship debris floating in the open sea, Kurassi ordered his deckhand to shine a Gem of Brightness into the water to look for survivors, despite knowing there was not enough room on the ship for even one person more. The fact that no survivors were found could be taken as fortunate or unfortunate given the circumstances, but something peculiar did catch the eye of the young deckhand: a leather-bound journal sitting atop a single wooden plank, heavily water damaged, but still mostly held together. Upon learning of the discovery, Captain Kurassi ordered it to be fished out of the water using one of the ship's fishing nets. Even if it wasn't another life that he could shepherd away from the horrible war, perhaps if the owner had family elsewhere, Captain Kurassi could provide them closure and perhaps quell the images in his mind of the people left behind on those dark shores far behind him. He didn't dare open the journal until he reached safe shores, vowing to keep his mind free of distraction and doubt until this group of survivors, the last he would ever escort out of Isonhound, was securely placed back on dry land: greener pastures, or so he hoped.
[[File:Daemis.jpg|thumb|375x375px|Deckhand Daemis Accenshire, depicted as he looked around the time of the first journal's discovery]]
Even after the successful completion of their journey, the young deckhand noticed that it took Captain Kurassi a while to will himself to open the journal. The captain constantly made the excuse of wanting the journal to dry out more, afraid of damaging what entries may remain, but he had been meticulously watching over the notebook for weeks now, the heat of their home continent of Pteris baking into every creased page and every inch of the brown leathery cover. Whatever pages remain intact, they would have been ready to be read long before now. The deckhand, a young sorcerer named Daemis Accenshire, speculated that Captain Kurassi was afraid of what he'd find within the small book. Thick and obviously well worn, who knows what kinds of tales awaited within? Stories of daring exploits, letters meant for loved ones that are now long overdue, or perhaps it was a simple merchant's ledger and nothing more; all possibilities as long as it remained closed. Daemis thought that perhaps the captain was fearful, afraid of being dragged deeper into guilt by the stories of this mysterious author: another soul snuffed out by the horrible war that he had no hope of saving despite his efforts, though Daemis would never speak such an accusation out loud of course. Eventually though, Kurassi did find the will to probe the contents of the journal, but asked for privacy while he did, and so the young Daemis took his leave from the Wandering Splinter's cabin and began walking down the waterlogged dock of the town of Mek.

However, he had barely made it a stone's throw away from the old ship before a series of expletives viler than any combination he had ever heard in his life exploded from behind him. Daemis turned to see his captain, face scarlet with rage, storming down the dock muttering countless more curses beneath his breath. He spoke not a word to the deckhand and simply made a path straight for his home within the town and slammed the door shut behind him. Daemis, stunned but having the wherewithal to realize the captain's hands were empty, quickly made his way back to the ship and into the captain's quarters where he saw the journal: open, but laying in the splintered remains of the captain's navigator's table, seemingly smashed in half by a single blow. The deckhand, eyes wide, was shocked at the sight, but the burning curiosity in his chest overcame all other emotions and dared him to pick up the notebook and read the words that sent the normally restrained and stoic Cloro Kurassi into a fury. He brushed off the dust and wooden splinters from the crinkled pages and read the first legible writing he could see... <blockquote>xxx xx x (Later dated to 798 PR)

Winged beauty, heads five, In thy flame I feel alive.

I shall earn thine love someday, didst thou get the flowers I left in Dolmvay?

- Dagio Sringhardt </blockquote>A...love poem? Not just that...a love poem...to ''Tiamat??'' Daemis flipped through the pages; ten, twenty, forty, eighty pages and counting, all filled with text margin-to-margin. Many pages were rendered unreadable from the water damage, but the subject of the writings within never changed no matter what page Daemis flipped to: this journal was the life's work of someone who pined after the very creature that had plunged the entire realm into war. Daemis was in such a state of bewilderment that a laugh escaped his mouth against his will; like watching an out-of-control ship crash into a dock he couldn't avert his eyes as he continued to read. Page upon page of short poems likening the queen of dragons to bouquets of flowers and abstract paintings, assertions that he could be the one she comes home to after each of her tiring battles, and promises that he had feelings for all five heads equally. As he continued to read, Daemis noticed that none of the poems ever exceeded twenty-five words, and some were seemingly written under the assumption that the recipient also had knowledge of the prior ones...was this person continually casting the Sending spell to read these professions of love directly to Tiamat? If so...the dates that remained legible showed that whoever this Dagio person was, he had been doing this for nearly a century straight. Daemis's jaw had been hanging agape ever since his eyes met the first stanza of this...''eclectic'' collection of writings, but he suddenly snapped into sharp, inquisitive focus as he remembered where they first found the journal. Daemis remembered the debris being discolored, with strange snaking markings, black in color, upon some of the pieces he could see. Voltage burns. The young sailor could also recall seeing smaller shapes floating around the wooden debris in the area as well. He was about to rule out dead fish as an option for those shapes since he didn't recall seeing blood in the water, but if was electricity that destroyed whatever ship was in the area...then maybe...

Daemis rapidly flipped to the last page of the journal, and the final entry was indeed legible, and seemingly written not long before the Wandering Splinter came upon the journal. <blockquote>xxx xx xxx (Later dated to 899 PR)

Love, fated wife, thank the gods for my elven life.

Yet waiting for thou to see, 500 more years of poems must be the key!

- Dagio Sringhardt </blockquote>Daemis let his arms holding the journal fall to his lap as he leaned back in the wooden chair he sat upon with a sigh, his brow raised high as he shook his head slightly and took in all of what he just read. Part of him couldn't really blame the tyrannical queen for what she wrought upon Dagio; an amused huff escaped his nose as he wondered if the heads argued amongst themselves over who would get to do the honors. Part of him also held respect for the man in a strange way; he doubted there were many in Quelmar who could annoy the Dragon Queen to the point of warranting personal termination, and he thinks that even old Captain Kurassi could find some enjoyment in that fact once the whole picture was explained to him, but Daemis decided that would be best left as a venture for another day. He tucked the journal into his bag and began his walk home, feeling somewhat more confident in the world's fate with the knowledge that even one as powerful and terrible as Tiamat still has limits she could be pushed to.

== Discovery of the Second Journal (969 PR) ==
Though the War of Many Names would later be split into many different wars by scholars studying the conflict, most commonfolk who lived during the time wouldn't be able to tell you the difference; it was just constant conflict to them. They could tell you of moments though, moments people could tell that something had shifted. For instance, when what is now known as the Second Holy War began, Tiamat and her allies had pioneered a new kind of warfare to unleash on the realm. Spirits en route to the afterlife were intercepted, tempted by the Queen's countless demons to fight for her in exchange for boons that would never be given, and then returned to the realm as vengeful wraiths intent on destruction. The people of the land obviously noticed that they were now being attacked by ghosts and spirits instead of demons and dragons, but while their attackers changed, their harrowed lives of desperate survival did not.

Daemis Accenshire followed in the footsteps of Captain Kurassi following his passing in 921 PR, and he piloted the Wandering Splinter to many war-torn shores across Quelmar to escort people away from their former homes turned battlefields. Daemis may not have had motives quite as altruistic as his predecessor, being in a profession that allowed him to stay on the move was a good way to keep ''himself'' out of danger as much as the people he was helping, and the desperate nature of his clientele made it more likely for him to receive what little people had in the way of valuable goods during this time period; but the work was still dangerous and he was one of the few willing to do it. Some attribute his success to luck, others to skill, Captain Kurassi would surely attribute it to his rigorous training regiment, but it is recorded that Daemis survived long into the Second Holy War's total duration. Eventually, Daemis decided to stop his ventures to the battle-strewn coasts of Quelmar, he was aged, not as sharp as he used to be, and believed he was more likely to get himself killed on the way by some wayward ghost than ever complete a successful refugee extraction again. He still took the Splinter out every once in a while, off the coast of his hometown of Mek, which had been relatively safe from the horrors of the war thus far. And it was on one of these recreational trips that a fragment of his past would unexpectedly come to pay him a visit...
[[File:Ghostly Journal.jpg|thumb|The ghostly journal found by Daemis Accenshire in 969 PR. Nearly identical in appearance to the one found 70 years prior, except for its slight blue glow and incorporeal nature]]

While allowing the ship to idly float upon the gently rolling waves, Daemis just so happened to look up from a book he was reading on the deck to notice something moving towards the ship. A small surge of adrenaline pumped through the blood of the man and urged his aching bones to get out of his seat to take a closer look. Taking out a finely crafted spyglass, Daemis honed in on the object: it was small, moving slowly, and slightly twisted in midair. It was as if someone had lightly pushed the object in a straight line, and no force had acted upon it since, not even gravity. As it moved closer, Daemis could also see that it was slightly translucent...as it floated closer still it appeared to be...a journal? A perplexed expression appeared upon the old man's face as he retracted the spyglass and moved towards the bow of the ship. That flaming curiosity he hadn't felt for a great many years began to well up within him again, and perhaps against his better judgement, he raised a fishing net to intercept the book as it floated over the deck...only to see it pass straight through. A ghost journal? Now there was truly nothing that would stop him from investigating. Thinking quickly, Daemis conjured a Mage Hand and sent it out towards the journal's path, and the book came to rest in the palm of the magical hand. With a smirk of satisfaction, he pulled the hand back towards him with the journal clasped firmly within. Daemis was somehow simultaneously shocked and unfazed that this incorporeal journal looked identical to the one authored by Dagio Sringhardt, the unsuccessful suitor of Tiamat. Using his Mage Hand to interact with the pages of the journal, Daemis saw that every last poem from the original journal was recorded within this one as well, even the ones that were illegible due to the water damage of the original one. Comparing the script from the physical journal to the spectral revealed calligraphic inconsistencies however that would suggest that all of the poems were rewritten by hand...

As the pieces began to fall into place in Daemis's mind, he knew there was only one place left to check. Flipping through the spectral pages, Daemis found that there was only one new entry beyond the poem that was originally at the end of the journal. This poem did not follow the twenty-five-word limit like to rest, and left little doubt as to what had happened to the ever-incorrigible Dagio Sringheardt. {{Worldbuilders}}<blockquote>xxx x xxx x (Later dated to 901 PR)

My queen, my scaled sweetheart, thou hast truly blessed me beyond all compare!

First ye grace me with thy visage, and sent a shock through my heart I could scarcely bear!

Then one of thy servants bade me return to life to serve thee, and it was then that all was made clear.

Though my life was long ye wished for more, and an eternal spirit can always be near!

I knew ye would finally return my love, and now an eternity of poems awaits you my dear!

- Dagio Sri</blockquote>

File:Ghostly Journal.jpg

2025-09-16T17:24:22Z

Tsamps:

A journal surrounded by a ghostly aura

The Attempted Courting of Tiamat

2025-09-16T17:02:13Z

Tsamps:

{{Infobox_character|name=|image=Old_journal.jpg|caption=An old water-damaged journal found floating upon a single piece of scorched wood off the coast of Isonhound}}

The following is a report cobbled together from the firsthand accounts of two sailors, who over the course of 70 years discovered two mysterious journals while out at sea, seemingly both written by the same mysterious author.

== Discovery of the First Journal (899 PR) ==
During the waning years of Realm War II, many residents of Isonhound sought to flee the continent in an attempt to escape the rampant warfare. The Woldbreaker Plague was running rampant claiming hundreds of lives per day, and rumors of a destructive weapon being developed by the Wold Order being unleashed on friendly soil led many people to desperately seek a way to get far away from the devastated landmass. With the population of spellcasters capable of teleportation reduced significantly by the Plague, many prospective escapees were forced to place their lives in the hands of whatever sailors yet remained on the continent that hadn't had their vessels commandeered for military use and were skilled enough to sail under the radar of the demonic forces of the Dragon Goddess. One of those sailors was Cloro Kurassi, captain of a small personal vessel named the Wandering Splinter. Kurassi had actually escorted multiple groups of refugees to safety on other continents over the past few years, his small vessel able to more easily avoid the gaze of the forces of the Dragon Queen.
[[File:Cloro comm.png|left|thumb|Captain Cloro Kurassi, posing indignantly for a portrait|326x326px]]
On one fateful night, the last night Captain Kurassi would ever again see the land of Isonhound, his ship had been loaded shoulder-to-shoulder with refugees. The Greenfire Bomb had been unveiled in a destructive showing across the sea, and Synàra and Sneerwell were already under siege by envoys of the draconic tyrant; The Second Razing of Isonhound had begun. Captain Kurassi watched as people jumped from the shadowed docks as his ship pulled away, backlit by a fire that seemed to stretch across the entire continent; he had to force himself to avert his gaze, lest the souls on board be damned to the same fate. Guilt seemingly ate away at him during the journey however, as when the vessel came across what appeared to be scattered ship debris floating in the open sea, Kurassi ordered his deckhand to shine a Gem of Brightness into the water to look for survivors, despite knowing there was not enough room on the ship for even one person more. The fact that no survivors were found could be taken as fortunate or unfortunate given the circumstances, but something peculiar did catch the eye of the young deckhand: a leather-bound journal sitting atop a single wooden plank, heavily water damaged, but still mostly held together. Upon learning of the discovery, Captain Kurassi ordered it to be fished out of the water using one of the ship's fishing nets. Even if it wasn't another life that he could shepherd away from the horrible war, perhaps if the owner had family elsewhere, Captain Kurassi could provide them closure and perhaps quell the images in his mind of the people left behind on those dark shores far behind him. He didn't dare open the journal until he reached safe shores, vowing to keep his mind free of distraction and doubt until this group of survivors, the last he would ever escort out of Isonhound, was securely placed back on dry land: greener pastures, or so he hoped.
[[File:Daemis.jpg|thumb|375x375px|Deckhand Daemis Accenshire, depicted as he looked around the time of the first journal's discovery]]
Even after the successful completion of their journey, the young deckhand noticed that it took Captain Kurassi a while to will himself to open the journal. The captain constantly made the excuse of wanting the journal to dry out more, afraid of damaging what entries may remain, but he had been meticulously watching over the notebook for weeks now, the heat of their home continent of Pteris baking into every creased page and every inch of the brown leathery cover. Whatever pages remain intact, they would have been ready to be read long before now. The deckhand, a young sorcerer named Daemis Accenshire, speculated that Captain Kurassi was afraid of what he'd find within the small book. Thick and obviously well worn, who knows what kinds of tales awaited within? Stories of daring exploits, letters meant for loved ones that are now long overdue, or perhaps it was a simple merchant's ledger and nothing more; all possibilities as long as it remained closed. Daemis thought that perhaps the captain was fearful, afraid of being dragged deeper into guilt by the stories of this mysterious author: another soul snuffed out by the horrible war that he had no hope of saving despite his efforts, though Daemis would never speak such an accusation out loud of course. Eventually though, Kurassi did find the will to probe the contents of the journal, but asked for privacy while he did, and so the young Daemis took his leave from the Wandering Splinter's cabin and began walking down the waterlogged dock of the town of Mek.

However, he had barely made it a stone's throw away from the old ship before a series of expletives viler than any combination he had ever heard in his life exploded from behind him. Daemis turned to see his captain, face scarlet with rage, storming down the dock muttering countless more curses beneath his breath. He spoke not a word to the deckhand and simply made a path straight for his home within the town and slammed the door shut behind him. Daemis, stunned but having the wherewithal to realize the captain's hands were empty, quickly made his way back to the ship and into the captain's quarters where he saw the journal: open, but laying in the splintered remains of the captain's navigator's table, seemingly smashed in half by a single blow. The deckhand, eyes wide, was shocked at the sight, but the burning curiosity in his chest overcame all other emotions and dared him to pick up the notebook and read the words that sent the normally restrained and stoic Cloro Kurassi into a fury. He brushed off the dust and wooden splinters from the crinkled pages and read the first legible writing he could see... <blockquote>xxx xx x (Later dated to 798 PR)

Winged beauty, heads five, In thy flame I feel alive.

I shall earn thine love someday, didst thou get the flowers I left in Dolmvay?

- Dagio Sringhardt </blockquote>A...love poem? Not just that...a love poem...to ''Tiamat??'' Daemis flipped through the pages; ten, twenty, forty, eighty pages and counting, all filled with text margin-to-margin. Many pages were rendered unreadable from the water damage, but the subject of the writings within never changed no matter what page Daemis flipped to: this journal was the life's work of someone who pined after the very creature that had plunged the entire realm into war. Daemis was in such a state of bewilderment that a laugh escaped his mouth against his will; like watching an out-of-control ship crash into a dock he couldn't avert his eyes as he continued to read. Page upon page of short poems likening the queen of dragons to bouquets of flowers and abstract paintings, assertions that he could be the one she comes home to after each of her tiring battles, and promises that he had feelings for all five heads equally. As he continued to read, Daemis noticed that none of the poems ever exceeded twenty-five words, and some were seemingly written under the assumption that the recipient also had knowledge of the prior ones...was this person continually casting the Sending spell to read these professions of love directly to Tiamat? If so...the dates that remained legible showed that whoever this Dagio person was, he had been doing this for nearly a century straight. Daemis's jaw had been hanging agape ever since his eyes met the first stanza of this...''eclectic'' collection of writings, but he suddenly snapped into sharp, inquisitive focus as he remembered where they first found the journal. Daemis remembered the debris being discolored, with strange snaking markings, black in color, upon some of the pieces he could see. Voltage burns. The young sailor could also recall seeing smaller shapes floating around the wooden debris in the area as well. He was about to rule out dead fish as an option for those shapes since he didn't recall seeing blood in the water, but if was electricity that destroyed whatever ship was in the area...then maybe...

Daemis rapidly flipped to the last page of the journal, and the final entry was indeed legible, and seemingly written not long before the Wandering Splinter came upon the journal. <blockquote>xxx xx xxx (Later dated to 899 PR)

Love, fated wife, thank the gods for my elven life.

Yet waiting for thou to see, 500 more years of poems must be the key!

- Dagio Sringhardt </blockquote>Daemis let his arms holding the journal fall to his lap as he leaned back in the wooden chair he sat upon with a sigh, his brow raised high as he shook his head slightly and took in all of what he just read. Part of him couldn't really blame the tyrannical queen for what she wrought upon Dagio; an amused huff escaped his nose as he wondered if the heads argued amongst themselves over who would get to do the honors. Part of him also held respect for the man in a strange way; he doubted there were many in Quelmar who could annoy the Dragon Queen to the point of warranting personal termination, and he thinks that even old Captain Kurassi could find some enjoyment in that fact once the whole picture was explained to him, but Daemis decided that would be best left as a venture for another day. He tucked the journal into his bag and began his walk home, feeling somewhat more confident in the world's fate with the knowledge that even one as powerful and terrible as Tiamat still has limits she could be pushed to.

== Discovery of the Second Journal (969 PR) ==
Though the War of Many Names would later be split into many different wars by scholars studying the conflict, most commonfolk who lived during the time wouldn't be able to tell you the difference; it was just constant conflict to them. They could tell you of moments though, moments people could tell that something had shifted. For instance, when what is now known as the Second Holy War began, Tiamat and her allies had pioneered a new kind of warfare to unleash on the realm. Spirits en route to the afterlife were intercepted, tempted by the Queen's countless demons to fight for her in exchange for boons that would never be given, and then returned to the realm as vengeful wraiths intent on destruction. The people of the land obviously noticed that they were now being attacked by ghosts and spirits instead of demons and dragons, but while their attackers changed, their harrowed lives of desperate survival did not.

Daemis Accenshire followed in the footsteps of Captain Kurassi following his passing in 921 PR, and he piloted the Wandering Splinter to many war-torn shores across Quelmar to escort people away from their former homes turned battlefields. Daemis may not have had motives quite as altruistic as his predecessor, being in a profession that allowed you to stay on the move was a good way to keep ''himself'' out of danger as much as the people he was helping, and the desperate nature of his clientele made it more likely for him to receive what little people had in the way of valuable goods during this time period; but the work was still dangerous and he was one of the few willing to do it. Some attribute his success to luck, others to skill, Captain Kurassi would surely attribute it to his rigorous training regiment, but it is recorded that Daemis survived long into the Second Holy War's total duration. Eventually, Daemis decided to stop his ventures to the battle-strewn coasts of Quelmar, he was aged, not as sharp as he used to be, and believed he was more likely to get himself killed on the way by some wayward ghost than ever complete a successful refugee extraction again. He still took the Splinter out every once in a while, off the coast of his hometown of Mek, which had been relatively safe from the horrors of the war thus far. And it was on one of these recreational trips that a fragment of his past would unexpectedly come to pay him a visit. {{Worldbuilders}}

The Attempted Courting of Tiamat

2025-09-16T14:53:55Z

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The Attempted Courting of Tiamat

2025-09-16T13:33:17Z

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File:Daemis.jpg

2025-09-16T13:25:42Z

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Commissioned portrait of a Shifter PC

The Attempted Courting of Tiamat

2025-09-16T13:20:47Z

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The Attempted Courting of Tiamat

2025-09-16T13:19:36Z

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The Attempted Courting of Tiamat

2025-09-16T01:39:19Z

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The Attempted Courting of Tiamat

2025-09-16T01:24:15Z

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File:Old journal.jpg

2025-09-16T00:28:26Z

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The Attempted Courting of Tiamat

2025-09-16T00:26:45Z

Tsamps: Created The Attempted Courting of Tiamat

{{Infobox_character|name=|image=Cloro_comm.png|caption=Captain Cloro Kurassi, posing indignantly for a portrait}}

The following is a report cobbled together from the firsthand accounts of two sailors, who over the course of 70 years discovered two mysterious journals while out at sea, seemingly both written by the same mysterious author.

== Discovery of the First Journal (899 PR) ==
During the waning years of Realm War II, many residents of Isonhound sought to flee the continent in an attempt to escape the rampant warfare. The Woldbreaker Plague was running rampant claiming hundreds of lives per day, and rumors of a destructive weapon being developed by the Wold Order being unleashed on friendly soil led many people to desperately seek a way to get far away from the devastated landmass. With the population of spellcasters capable of teleportation reduced significantly by the Plague,

== Discovery of the Second Journal (969 PR) ==
Is your character social? A drunk? Laid back?

[[Category:Player Characters]]
{{Worldbuilders}}

File:Cloro comm.png

2025-09-16T00:03:45Z

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Bedlam in the Badlands/Player Recaps

2025-09-14T00:35:03Z

Tsamps: Added Koro to PC list in his recap of the megagame

Bedlam in the Badlands/Player Recaps

2025-09-14T00:17:20Z

Tsamps: Linked relevant pages in Koro's megagame recap

Bedlam in the Badlands/Player Recaps

2025-09-14T00:11:07Z

Tsamps: Added recap of Amanda's table's session from the Megagame from Koro's perspective

Koro

2025-08-02T23:01:16Z

Tsamps: Added in-universe date of birth and campaign start date for context

Koro

2025-07-30T22:40:13Z

Tsamps: Created Koro's info page using the new character template

File:Koro-Portrait.png

2025-07-30T18:34:04Z

Tsamps: Image of Koro, Bedlam in the Badlands PC

== Summary ==
Image of Koro, Bedlam in the Badlands PC
== Licensing ==
{{self-lic}}