Senmet and the Risen Scepter

The ancient order of the Risen Scepter are acolytes of Osiris, he of the White Crown and Judge of the Dead. The Risen Scepter welcomes all professions including necromancers, paladins and individual seekers of vengeance. But only a few initiates come as skilled Arcanists; nevertheless they are all trained extensively with all the styles of the flail and basic magic—whereby they become a specialized group trained to root out and eradicate the Fangs of Set: the Brother of Dragons and Defiler of the Dead, whom the Risen Scepter believes to be actively infiltrating the Mulhorand aristocracy. Tainting the realm with Set’s poison.


While those who complete the trails and studies go on to represent and administer Osiris’ will, only those touched by him rise after death to continue his god’s work. Investing a measure of their will into a phylactery, a small token resembling a grinning skull; a vow is taken, blood is sacrificed, and a period of fasting begins. They fast for two reasons: as a gesture that more food goes to the hungry; and to become emaciated and gaunt — as to seem nearly dead in appearance.


After an indeterminate amount of time the fasting ends when their grinning skull phylactery turns black, a sign that Osiris accepts the tribute and vow: blessed so that if they were to fall in service to Osiris against the minions of Set—they would rise in undeath to continue their holy work.

Senmet stood on legs that looked ready to give out should he not take care. He was the seventh generation removed from Osiris himself, the god of death who stepped from the barge Ma-tet all those years ago. As he recited his vow, his ancestry proved to be his failure and his denial into the Risen Scepter. Instead of being accepted into order, his bloodline was revealed and he was therefore venerated and to be protected as per the tenants of their vow. It stood like wall against him and his crusade against Set.


Turning his back on his training, his homeland, and his teachings he embraced his divine bloodline and fashioned it into a talent: neco-sorcerery—which allowed him to escape and employ his affinity with the dead against the order’s—no, HIS sworn foe.

Tales from Yartar

The ka-tet arrived in Yartar to find it quite different from times past. After inquiring with the right people, the companions learned that on the night the heavens rained down divinity and moon tears were shed upon the realm, Yartar was host to the largest gathering of frontiersmen and range-riders in Shieldmeet history. Come to find out also that night, a Harper by the name of Nyral Sunsdottir exposed an evil network governed by ‘Waterbaron’ Alahar Hkaumfros. To everone’s credit, as the Time of Troubles began no one panicked or went mad as each person venerated one or another deity. Alahar was removed from office allowing religious advisers to move in and become political selectmen.

It was not long after this when the frost giants and ice-trolls from the Evermoors began their siege of Yartar anew. Tales of the accuracy of the troll’s icicle-like javelins they seem to be able to create at will as well as dirges about the sudden blizzards brought on by the giants; fill many taverns to this day.

As the siege commenced, a four-aspect avatar of Torm would rise to give aid and succor to the besieged Yartarians and begin a campaign against the giants that would last until High Harvest Tide. Torm spoke to the masses with their rivers and livelihood painted in the background; he inspired one-hundred fifty swordsmen to mount up in purpose. Torm named them ‘The Shields of Yartar’. Together they broke through the vanguard and slowly, over the course of weeks, drove the giants back north securing once again the Evermore Way.

While this was happening, in Yartar the religious selectmen were at odds with how to govern Yartar while another Waterbaron was elected. Life-long residents of Yartar were nominated as well as selectees from organizations such as the Lords Alliance, the church of Waukeen and Tymora. This too lasted for several weeks as party lines were drawn while faith in the gods waxed and waned during the troubled times.

Hannah Laurana of Waukeen, called ‘the Unstoppable’ in recent days, was gifted with an avarice-like appetite for power, and a desire for aspects that she believed to be within Waukeen’s bailiwick. Unfortunately for Hannah, the church of Tymora was quick to use her congregation to acquire the key aspect to keep the Lady Luck alive in the hearts of the people. The faithful of Tymora took up arms, led by Nyral Sunsdottir and the High Priests from the ‘Halls’ and began a spirited march upon the districts of the city announcing treachery of Hannah the Unstoppable. In the end, it was Hannah’s new vision of Waukeen that prevailed over the old precepts of Tymora. The 'Halls' were unceremoniously sacked and the treasures within lost, Tymora as Yartar knew her was dead.

Kym Tarm held out her brother’s message to Morgrun Maerklos who, after reading it passed it along to the others. Since their arrival the two lovers have gathered three other sympathizers who remain loyal to Tymora and do not wish her to fade into nothingness. Nyral, the Harper-rogue: hero and failure; Tibold Hillmover a dwarven cleric known his healing skills; and Nobilius, an ultra-good Paladin from a wealthy river barge family.

“Should we tell your brother about our plans?” Morgrun asked as he handed the message back to Kym. "He may have some insight."

“No. I do not trust magic these days.” She replied speaking about the dragon messenger while trying not to reveal her true meaning. She discarded the message into the fire. “I find this disturbing.”

“Why? Because we see a trend?” Nobilius asked rhetorically. He did not believe in coincidence, indeed the Paladin saw evil in every coincidence. “We know the divine aspects needed to restore Lady Luck are protected by agents of Set—a serpent god and at the very least sympathizers with the Cult of the Dragon. I believe that warrants a reply to your brother if nothing else.”

Kym conceded and began to code a message to her brother. In the background she could hear her lover review their plans for the Feast of the Moon.

Followers

Most of Taurens followers will be organized in a military style, this being a time of strife and toil. There are three orders within the defenses of the Horseman.

 Fighters sworn to his cause find their home in the Horsegaurd of the Gypsy Lord. They are led by Captain Arina, and have the job of patrolling and defending  The Tower of the Horselord and the Tower of Luck. These fighters are all skilled on horseback, and having a mount is required to join ranks.

Cavaliers swear their fealty to the Order of the Charging Knight. They also serve guard duty under the command of Captain Arina, but are also called upon for travelling guard duties and special assignments. Most of these cavaliers are of noble birth or connection, and all of them offered a horse to the stables of the Horseman as tribute to his holy calling. This was in addition to the mounts they rode as their own.

Heralds of the Horselord are clerics and bards that join the fighting forces of Samular Tauren. Not all of the clerics and bards join this order, but those who do not tend to be specialists or have different responsibilities. Just like all other followers, they must be skilled on mounts to join the order. Clerics who join this order gain the martial weapon proficiency bastard sword feat ( this is just the rule that clerics are proficient in the favored weapon of their god). They join in the guard under the command of captain Arina, but they answer more directly to Teldicia, Taurens High Priest.

These guards are typically first level characters gathered into groups of seven called tets. Each tet has a leader, a corporal by rank. A squadron is comprised of two tets, and is led by a second level character, a sargent by rank.The tets in a squadron train and are quartered together, so while there is some competition they are very cooperative. Two squadrons make up a platoon, under the charge of a third level character, a lieutenant by rank. There is again competition between the two squadrons, but with an air of fraternity. Captains are of higher level, and usually have specific jobs or responsibilities. Arina and Fallon are currently the only captains in my service. Second Platoon will be accompanying us to Amphail. 2nd Plat. is comprised of one squadron of cavaliers and one squadron of clerics. Their Lieutenant is Vattaan Harpell.

A Prince, the King, and a Matron

The Verdant Prince regarded his vile-sprites with mild impatience and a natural distain that was instinctual. Sinister smiles painted on bent lithe bodies held aloft by black gossamer wings. Possessing a corrupt leadership ability, whereby the very regions and feywild the Verdant Prince visits; often succumb to his malevolent will. The mischievous Prince Dalamar was born under the demon-moon and possessed a crewel nature that only grew in evil as he matured in age. Ignoring the call of Evermeet the sly and egotistical Prince Dalamar cast his vile-sprites beyond the confines of the West Wood: To bring him the means to achieve his rise to power over divine chaos and the feywild.

On the first night of the dragon siege of Waterdeep, the vile-sprites brought before the Verdant Prince- the Moon Elf King Lorac Caladon.

"Under my rule, the Moon Elves flourished." He had said. "until the cowards on the council ordered a retreat from the lands of men." This was his bleeding wound, the Prince knew. He would salt this cut into the King's pride until Caladon was an instrument of his purpose. "I will become the very moon and restore my nobility." A king's vow was his blood.

On the night of the second attack in the dragon siege of Waterdeep, Dalamar's thralls escorted an endowed woman of dark beauty and lustful need. Another displaced highborn fey: Matron Grazia Drodeen, a drow from Ched Nasad. She immediately showed Prince Dalamar her interests in sowing trickery and misdirection: "to see the evil of the Verdant Prince spread in these Troubled Times." She had said.

They palavered, sending vile-sprites far and beyond the West Woods time and time again to return with information on the state of the surrounding region. It soon came that in the east, in the human town of Amphail abides the power the evil Prince, Matron and King each desired.

Time was against them. Prince Dalamar knew they needed to act before the Feast of the Moon- when the 'Moon-Sister' is at her most powerful.

Gond Be Praised

Tresh Lanngolyn

Tresh Lanngolyn loved to paint, it was his life work. Early in his career, Tresh’s art brought great sums of wealth from other noble Lantaneese families who appreciated such paintings. His representations of epic ships at war with the ocean storms; undersea mermen hunting sunken treasure using dire sharks to scent-out the quarry; and mighty dragons fighting great sea-monsters in vicious deadly battle, life-like representations of creatures and places too dangerous for many high-born to visit; his is paintings gave them a reprieve from their mundane lives giving them a glimpse into adventure.

His wife-consort, a natural fashion diva and importer of fine southern textiles: she alone operated the family's lucrative shipping trade. Their daughter Tryssia, a Gond prodigy, used the family’s wealth to purchase ships and retrofit them with Gond upgrades and battlements—then sell them for a profit. Despite this, they were the smallest noble family in Waterdeep—thankfully this concealed the truth behind the size of the Lanngolyn coffers.

Tresh returned his brush to the canvas after retrieving more color. The light was bright this time of the day; hence he did his best inspired work in the early hours. His strokes were measured and perfect in its curve and lines. He closed his eyes to glimpse again at the image in his minds eye. A knock at his parlor door did not break his concentration; he finished his brush stroke and carefully set his colorful palate down.

Tryssia Lanngolyn

It was Ormaes, his  wife-consort—beautiful and exotic, like all Lantaneese women she possessed a curvaceous figure and seductive eyes that were framed by black satin hair. “A messenger my love… came in the morning,” Ormaes looked forlorn and hesitated to continue. Tresh noticed she in fact carried no message. “It was a gunslinger from Castle Waterdeep for Tryssia. She as been chosen to sit on the High Palaver.” Her dour expression became one of elation as the ruse was revealed. Tresh thrust his fists into the air and took his wife into his arms. Gond be praised.

When Cortland Andrus, the church’s patriarch, returned to Waterdeep and the following formation of the Firelance Gunslingers—Tresh Lanngolyn pledged a fleet of war ships and his daughter as apprentice gunslinger to aid in the war. The word and skills of Gond are on the lips of many Waterhavians in these troubled times; a fact that has aided the Lanngolyns in its elevation in the City of Splendors and in the church of Gond.

Message from the Tet in Amphail

After we arrived in Amphail a few weeks ago, Arsten wasted no time organizing and implementing a new chain of command becoming Lord Alougarr's chief military commander. Having already made a name for himself, Arsten was Alougarr's logical choice.

Arsten, in his first act as commander, lead the Brave Companions in a campaign against the local kobold menace, meeting with warm success: chasing them off rather than killing them all.

Over the days and weeks, Shaman-women from various tribes have began to make pilgrimages to Briar's Moonwell. Tribes who normally battle upon sight, lay down their weapons in respect to Briar. This however, complicates local matters because desperate barbarians have been making attacks on the town's food stores. Food set aside for the winter. This makes it hard to discern peaceful visitors from murderous pretenders.

Briar also warns us of a new powerful fey-creature who is rumored to have settled in the region. Ranchers and hostlers call it 'the Scarecrow', but Briar believes it to be some type of manifestation of Erythnul, the Red-Cap lord of the Slaughter.

I have reached out to the Ready-5-Blades, using them as unwilling accomplices in my endeavors to move smuggled weapon and armor crystals from Waterdeep to points across the North.

Lastly and most notably is the mystery surrounding the celestial and sometimes devilish angels who are rooted within the Siamorphe aristocracy.

As you recall Siamorphe was an early target for us three- being that the faith boasted Nobility among other likewise desirable Aspects. In a covert move against the three Siamorphe Aristocrats over night uncovered the truth of their origin: they are actually agents of Lilith, the avatar of Shar.

We are anxious to see our Ka-tet together again! Amphail already makes preparations for the Feast of the Moon celebrations.

Kalina Kormallis
(Briar, Arsten)

A Message for the Harpers

Esteemed member

In this time of troubles, we must be focused in our efforts to diminish the enemies of Waterdeep. An old enemy of our alliance, the Cult of the Dragon, has resurfaced, in numbers that are signifigant and growing every week. They are key to the information the dragons use to make their attacks most effective. Cult members must be identified and apprehended. They are currently the greatest threat to Waterdeep from within. Be aware when you hear the name 'Frostburn'. He is some sort of dragonking, or probably something greater, in the north. We need information, and arrests when possible. Let us all focus on the enemies on our streets, hidden among us.

                                                                                    The Horseman

 This written message will be sent to each Harper and Horseman that is in my registry. The scrolls will be delivered via my gold dragon messenger, and will sent out as soon as possible. 

A Meeting at EndCliff Tower

To an untrained eye this second floor room in Endcliff Tower would appear to be empty, perhaps haunted, if the whispered conversation between the two conspirators was overheard by anyone.


“Aspects are being drawn to this city. Some believe the doorway to ascension is above Waterdeep and they are correct. Our order faces some difficulty beyond simple wild magic. We have always before been able to assume the necessary form and through our magic, mimic their capabilities. We cannot mimic an aspect, we cannot fool the heavens. I have confirmed that one group of aspect hoarders sees through magic and also carry the cursed gun.” Persisted the whispered voice, “While this group is very dangerous I don’t think they are the greater threat, they are easily distracted.”

Vicarzo DeMarcain stayed hidden while listening to the magically carried whispers of his fellow a Zhent agent. Vicarzo wondered if this stranger was interested in maintaining the old ways or forging a new way, even a new order. The spell that carried his compatriot’s whisper also allowed Vicarzo a lengthy response, yet Vicarzo merely replied, “Bane, Myrkul, and Bhaal are dead.”

The speaker stepped forward into view, perfectly camouflaged before revealing himself. It was a man, middle aged and middle height, balding, walking on spindly legs and with a pot belly. “I’m glad you put it so succinctly, I am Agglemax, and I am ready to lead The Strangers.”

Dreamcatcher

The nightmares and dreamscapes were getting progressively worse; furthermore the loss of sleep and her altered cycle was affecting her sensibilities. It was like the dreams were building up momentum, like a wind before a storm. She had begun to keep a journal because it was becoming ever more demanding to discern what was real and what was nightmare. When she was awake or dreaming. Some days she dared not step from her bed for fear of the Slithering Tracker who laird under her lavish bedding or perhaps refrain from wearing yellow that day because that is what the attracted insect swarms. Whatever the case she rarely exited her parlor, the fear was too great.

The nude woman looked up from her bed at her surroundings and noted that the Running Stallions painting over the head of the bed now featured a disgusting troll mage dressed as King Azoun IV. It snarled and taunted her, making abhorrent gestures with his fist and his mock crown.

The troll-king jumped from the painting, landing with a disgusting lustful grunt. He threw off is regal trappings exposing his royal genitalia; sniveling and growling: “IT’S GOOD TO BE THE KING.” Over and over.

The woman grasped for her weapon Avildar, her only defense, but its familiar grip could not be found—the sword was gone. She could feel the troll's cold hands pinning her down, he was huge and strong. The woman pressed her eyes shut, screaming to be freed of the nightmare. "NO!"

And when she opened her eyes again, the king troll mage was gone, her scream still echoed in the room. Sitting up she saw the Running Stallions had returned, horses briskly galloping in front of  great snow-capped mountains. She took up her sword, the cold pommel reminded her of the trolls cold touch and composed herself; it seemed the nightmare was over but, she believed, that if she should die in her dreams—she could never be aroused from that slumber.

The dreamcatcher reached for her journal and saw that an astral red gem-stone sat upon its covers. The irregular gem pulsed with its own inner light, like the tempo in a fey song or an ominous and feral beating heart; but the gem was not there before she was sure—was that in a dream too or was this still a dream?

Danrly's Death Face

" and when you saw that face, that face that he made, you knew it was your ass "

Fallon didn't spend much time thinking about Danrly until Samular Bordane took him as his trusted man. But on the flight back to Waterdeep, he thought upon Danrly's loyalty as opposed to his hatefull nature. You see, it was pretty evident in just about all of Danrly personal interactions that he knew he was better man of the bunch, the smug bastard. He was the smartest, strongest, most cunning, most devious, most deadly man at the table. He was above you. Until he met Bordane.

The Grim Lord had a plan, a plan that involved every thing knowing it's place, and acting accordingly. A plan that was based in the reality of the hatred that survival sows. A plan that recognized not only nobility, but also that the strongest of nobility was meant to rule, and must. The Grim Lord made holy edict of Danrly's ferocious and well-earned moralities. Bordane Agundar was a better man then Danrly - he was a god.

Danrly's resolve has forged stronger, Fallon thought to himself as he watched Danrly hunch into the griffon saddle. But his face showed his visit to the grave. Fallon's eyes saw a grey edge cast around the dark eyes of the bladesman, and a darkness across his face. But Fallon also knew from those eyes that Danrly would kill or die for his Lord and His Plan. Again.