#calishite

"At once, my love," the King of Cormyr agreed, using his thumb to turn the ring on his middle finger, his sword still raised and ready in his other hand.

There was a sudden flare of dancing ruby light, and he cursed sharply, shaking his hand in pain.

"Someth -- fell magic!" he snarled. "I can feel a mind reaching for mine, and it's not friendly. Hasn't seen me yet, but it's stopping Vangey's ring from taking us away from here!"

Filfaeril caught hold of her husband's hand, plucked a pendant up out of her bodice, and touched its stone to Azoun's teleport ring.

There was a blinding flash, Azoun cursed again as it smote his eyes -- and a sudden scream echoed in their minds.

Then blue mists were rising around them again, as Filfaeril smiled a catlike little smile.

"What was that?" Azoun hissed, as the chamber vanished, and something more grasslike and uneven came into view beneath their boots.

"One of my little secrets, lord of my heart," the Dragon Queen purred, wisps of smoke rising from the gem in her fingers.

Azoun gave her a sharp look. It was enough to tell him prudence suggested strongly that he now smile, bow and thank his lady.

So he did.

The mists rolled away again, revealing rather surprising new surroundings.

The self-styled Baron of Maerantede leaves peddlers, pilgrims, royal envoys, and small caravans traveling overland alone (as long as they avail themselves of the protection of his camp, and pay their fees to do so), but secretly orders -- and profits from -- attacks on large caravans, including many that avoid Maerantede altogether and seek to pass overland well to the north.

Guests in Maerantede Castle are never mistreated, nor do they ever vanish, but most remember having horrible nightmares (caused by the clumsy attempts of Darkyn's mages to learn their current business and what wealth and secrets they're carrying), and depart uneasy as to the morals and happiness of the Baron's knights. Their misgivings, and some observations by travelers who fled from attacked caravans, are the source of the handful of quiet but dark rumors about the "fair new barony."

The keep is centuries old and was built atop large storage chambers hewn out of the ridge by dwarves in even earlier times; Darkyn's wizards called up elementals to repair its walls and roofs, raising up and fusing together shattered stone. The Castle is spartan, cold, and drafty, but the Baron has had a few guest chambers within it, and living quarters for himself and his knights, paneled and decorated with tapestries, fur rugs, and fine furnishings. The coins he makes "lawfully" and openly, in fees for providing a safe haven, can just serve to feed the folk of the Castle, if they gather much of their own firewood and food.

However, the raids mounted by his people while posing as outlaws allow Azadarr Darkyn to make far more coin than that, and he has already hidden caches of gems, weapons, and even magic items (seized from caravans) in various places around his keep.

Robber baron or not, Darkyn is growing wealthy enough to become of interest to various trading costers, the Zhentarim, and even the Red Wizards of Thay. (Once it has more permanent residents to support and feed the Castle, Maerantede's strategic location would make it an ideal enclave.) 

He could well be swept away by someone seeking to seize his keep, or he could grow in power enough to become a blackguard openly and forge his own alliances with Westgate or interests in Amn or Scornubel, and to gird himself against attacks from those who would see him as a threat growing too powerful not to strike down.

Azadarr Darkyn is a glib-tongued, broad-shouldered, stiffly erect man with almost-white blond hair but arrestingly dark eyebrows over smoldering dark blue (almost black) eyes. 

Though born in Calimshan, the Baron of Maerantede is of Illuskan stock. 

The Baron of Maerantede is a skilled actor ("very slick," one Harper termed him), both persuasive and good at seeming to have wise and benevolent aims and motives, tempered with a stern manner and resolve. He will take no action at all against potential targets who pass within reach if he suspects they're adventurers or otherwise more than they seem. 

He prefers to avoid a potential trap set by such folk since a successful one could severely weaken his forces or reveal his true nature for all Faerûn to see.

Filfaeril didn't have to hurry far.

The Purple Dragon of Cormyr had stopped at a stone door that rose up into the darkness over his head, though its small stone knob was set at about his waist-level. Dwarf-work, clearly, old and solid and impressive, set into a smooth stone wall that seemed all of one massive piece rather than block-work. It, too, stretched up into the darkness beyond where their feeble weapon-glows reached, and continued on either side of the door unbroken into the darkness.

The door itself was about eight Filfaerils wide, and graven deeply with dwarf-runes: bold lines that crisscrossed each other as intricately as any nobles' monogram rather than standing stark and separate, as both Obarskyrs were used to seeing them. Not a one of them was familiar to Filfaeril.

Azoun had stopped peering at the runes long ago. His sword raised like a torch to help him see better, he was staring at something that had been recently painted across the dwarf-carving.

A circle half as tall as a man enclosed the hookbeaked head of an eagle. That head faced endlessly off to the left, side-on, but stared out at the two Obarskyrs: Gaps in the thick pale paint outlined a neat row of three eyes.

Filfaeril felt Azoun stiffen; whatever this sigil meant, he'd recognized it -- and not favorably.

"Where are we?" she murmured, into his ear.

"Maerantide," Azoun hissed, hefting his sword as if awaiting battle.

"Use Vangey's toy," Filfaeril told him calmly. "Now."

For years, Harpers and sages have speculated as to who might next try to found a kingdom between Cormyr and Amn, on the busy caravan route between the Sword Coast and the Sea of Fallen Stars.

Trolls, hungry raiding dragons, and the fierce Tunlanders have shattered previous attempts, but that doesn't stop the greedy from trying -- usually by occupying and rebuilding one of the score or so ancient, crumbling ruined keeps in the region, proclaiming himself lord of this or king of that, and trying to enforce his will by means of hard-riding, lance-wielding knights.

When those knights eventually perish, turn on them, or flee, the would-be rulers usually melt away, not to be heard from again, and caravan merchants smile in both resignation and relief, mutter about marauding monsters or Zhent villainies or "the gods not wanting such a realm to be," and continue to gird their caravans to defend themselves on the long east-west run through what is once more lawless, open country.

The latest power to arise along the trade-route is Azadarr Darkyn, self-styled Baron of Maerantede, a Calishite mercenary of ruthless reputation who led his company of hireswords to occupy long-abandoned Luhklyn Keep in the spring of 1372 DR, and rebuilt it into a simple, frowning stone fortress he's now calling Maerantede ("May-urr-an-TEED").

From his ridge-top castle, the Baron of Maerantede now controls the best natural campground west of the Giant's Run Mountains and east of Iriaebor, a meadow sheltered by Luhklyn Ridge (to the west) and Ahmaer Tor (to the south), that has a small, drinkable lake at the base of the ridge. Three days' ride southwest of Priapurl, on the eastern edge of the Greenfields about halfway between Easting and the Troll Mountains, it's only a little south of the swiftest route between Iriaebor and Priapurl, and ideally situated to dominate all wayfaring from Priapurl through the Snakewood to Eshpurta (and thence, the rest of Amn and points south).

Darkyn commands over a hundred well-armored veteran warriors and a handful of wizards experienced in battlefield castings. He also has the assistance of a few priests of Tempus and Waukeen, and he is spreading word that his "Knights of Maerantede" will protect all merchants who camp nigh his castle or pass through his barony (though just where the boundaries of his barony lie is a matter of some dispute). Further, he'll grant free land and protection to all smiths, horsebreeders, horse-trainers, and sheep ranchers who settle in Maerantede, so that "this peaceful new land can welcome and aid brave and hard-working caravan merchants who so enrich us all by carrying goods overland between the two Great Seas."

All of this would be well and good (assuming Maerantede survives the inevitable covert Zhent and Thayan attempts to dominate it, and troll raids from the nearby mountains) were it not for a nasty truth Harpers and Elminster have just uncovered. Whispered rumors are true: Far from fighting hard against the brigands and outlaws who've mounted a sharp and sudden increase in attacks on overland wayfaring during 1373 DR, the Baron of Maerantede is both collecting high protection fees from those who camp under his protection -- and sponsoring the "brigands" and "outlaws," who are really his own warriors, shorn of their knights' armor but armed with precise knowledge of approaching prey.

Ceidil Khalid

1st Level - Human (Calishite) - Neutral Good

Bard - College of Lore

Sage

Adventure League Faction: Harpers

Personality Trait: I’m willing to listen to every side of an argument before I make my own judgement.

Ideal - Knowledge: The path to power and self-improvement is through knowledge.

Bond: I have an ancient text that holds terrible secrets that must not fall into the wrong hands.

Flaw: I am easily distracted by the promise of information.

Character Backstory

A bard from the city of Derlusk, Ceidil enjoyed performing folk songs and telling stories of lore and history in the taverns and inns throughout the port known as the City of Music. During the days she could be found in dusty libraries and book stores pouring over old history books and tomes searching for new material. That is when she came across the text that started all of the trouble. She knew on reading the first few lines that here was knowledge that must not fall into the wrong hands. That night she bundled up her belongings and took the book out of the city in hopes of finding the key to destroy that which might otherwise bring ruin to all that she holds dear.

Character Sheet

Some of what an urbane Waterdhavian merchant might call "deceptive delivery and deployment methods" are too useful and effective to go unused for long, though every few generations they become so overused that they fall out of effectiveness (and so, favour) for a decade or three, before rising in popularity again.

One such is "the gem in the wall".

TANTAR'S FANG

Recent reports suggest that an old custom has been revived with new malice by Tantar's Fang, an opportunistic cabal of thieves who have no formal base, but seek to enrich themselves through many illicit activities up and down the Sword Coast.

The elder-days habit is the hiding of an enspelled gemstone in a wall with dark intent, but the new wrinkle is that the Fang are coercing innkeepers to help them "hide" gems that are meant to be found.

Consider a room rented by a traveling party of player characters. Somewhere in its walls is an ill-concealed little door. Behind the door (or noticeably unmortared, loose stone, if it's a stone-block wall) is a recess in which rests a small coffer, inside of which is a moonstone or other low-value gem carved so one side of it is a sigil (if used with wax, it can emboss a seal on documents, and the like).

The gem has been placed there for adventurers to find, and it bears a tracer spell enabling Fang wizards to know the gem's location so they also, they hope, know the whereabouts of characters, and can ultimately report the gem stolen to local authorities and use it to frame the characters as thieves.

In the meantime, they can manipulate the characters into conflicts with Fang rivals, or get them blamed for thefts, vandalism, arson, killings, and the like by repeatedly performing such activities in the close vicinity of the characters.

Tantar's Fang is a small group of heavily indebted and unscrupulous rogues, wizards, and merchants who want to get out of debt and lead comfortable lives, and they are willing to do many underhanded things to achieve such personal prosperity.

They prefer secrecy, swindling, and subterfuge to open violence that will easily lead to their being identified and sought by law keepers.

Most of them are cunning and prudent, and they are led by a brilliant and utterly amoral young man: Imharl Tantar, the heir to an Amnian shipping family who lost almost all of its fortune in the troubles that recently beset Amn.

Imharl inherited debts incurred by older relatives, as well as angry pursuit from others desperate to recover their own losses suffered in the collapse of the Tantar fleet and shipping business (ironically known as "Tantar Bright Futures Trading").

He lost everything and was reduced to living on rooftops and in sewers, and stealing food by night and he is now fiercely determined to become someone well-fed and powerful, but unknown to polite society and ruling authorities alike. Tantar has hit upon the strategy of scapegoating adventuring bands and mercenaries for the dark deeds of his fledgling organization (which avoids contact with local thieves' guilds, and uses a wide and ever-changing series of aliases when buying needed supplies, such as lock picks, grappling hooks and long ropes, garrottes and the like, from established shady dealers and fences of stolen goods in largely lawless Scornubel).

Nor are the Fang members the only lurking foes an adventuring band in the Sword Coast area has to worry about.

Using the Fang ploy as cover, other and more sinister lurking menaces (such as several mind flayers hiding in human guise in various Sword Coast ports, operating entirely independently of each other and working through small gangs of rogues and evil adventurers) have taken to reviving darker uses of "the gem in the wall."

OLDER, DARKER USES

As long ago as 1344 DR, Khelben "Blackstaff" Arunsun warned senior Harpers that certain Calishite wizards had taken to hiding enspelled gems behind loose stone blocks in tomb walls.

These gems were the foci for spells that animated daggers (usually poisoned and triple-bladed pinwheels) to fly about tombs and attack intruders when magic mouth spells linked to the gems were triggered (so the triggering conditions for the magic mouths were employed to govern when the blades animated).

The magic mouths usually uttered "Go back!' warnings (for example, "Disturb not the resting place of Auhmund Ororaun, vizier most wise and fondly remembered!").

In elder times (the mid-1200s DR and earlier), gems hidden in walls were the foci for wraiths and other incorporeal guardian undead that were intended to attack all living creatures except for individuals wearing enchanted rings or talismans that conferred specific immunity to these guardians.

Moving such gems brought the undead along with them (and by this means, a traveling party could "set" a ring of undead to guard them or their valuables as they slept).

This custom fell out of favour when it was discovered that shattering such gems by a blow or hurling them into a hot fire freed the undead to rampage at will, rather than harming or destroying the undead.

Since the fall of the great genie empires that once ruled south of the Marching Mountains, humans descended from the slaves of the genie lords have ruled the successive empires of Calimshan.

From the shores of the Shining Sea, Calishites have migrated northwards in large numbers as far as the Fields of the Dead and the Nelanther Isles, and eastward into the Lake of Steam, the Border Kingdoms, Lapaliiya, and the Shaar. Some fled disasters in their homeland or sought new economic opportunities, but most came as conquerors under the banner of the Shoon Empire.

Outside their homeland, Calishites form the primary racial stock of the Border Kingdoms, the Lake of Steam cities, and the Nelanther Isles. Calishites also comprise a large fraction of the population of Amn and Tethyr. Calishite ancestry, language, and culture have influenced all the lands nearby.

Calishites regard themselves as the rightful rulers of all lands south and west of the Sea of Fallen Stars, a birth right passed down to them by the genies who once ruled the lands between the Marching Mountains and the Shining Sea. Calishites point with pride to the unbroken line of Calishite empires dating back thousands of years.

With the notable exception of the Mulan, whom they consider their equals, Calishites consider themselves culturally superior to the hordes of “unwashed barbarians” that dwell beyond their lands.

Although often perceived by other cultures as avaricious, lazy, and corrupt, in truth most Calishites seek nothing more than a lifestyle of comfort and the respect of their peers. Calishites hold the circumstances of an individual’s birth as equal in importance to his or her achievements. The class system is strongly ingrained in most Calishites, as is the ideal of a life of pampered luxury. Money is simply the means by which one achieves idleness.

Calishites place great stock in pride—in one’s own achievements, family, city, and culture. Family and the role as host are likewise held in great esteem. Magic use is ubiquitous, rivalled only by the natives of Halruaa, and genies are both highly respected and feared.

Although all natives of Calimshan are known as Calishites, only those whose ancestry dates back to the slaves brought from other worlds thousands of years ago are considered members of this ethnic group. Calishites are a bit shorter and of slighter build than other humans. Their skin is dusky brown, and their hair and eyes are most commonly of that shade as well.

Calishites make skilled rogues, fighters, and wizards, and the legacy of ancient genie bloodlines ensures that many are powerful sorcerers as well. Religious fervour and monastic devotion are largely absent among most Calishites, except among the clerics of Ilmater who minister to the poor, and the Tyrrans who uphold justice.

Calishites believe their culture is the only bastion of civilization on the Sword Coast and Shining Sea, if not the entire surface of Faerûn. To the descendants of a 7,000-year-old empire, the short-lived “barbarian” cultures of the northern lands are barely worthy of notice. Calishite arrogance is nurtured and codified in the class and gender divisions within their society, with a person’s station at birth playing an important role in how he or she is measured. Although few speak of the class system in Calimshan or the lesser status of women, most Calishites live out their lives according to their station, risking death or enslavement if they do not.

Calishites dwelling in the old Imperial lands view themselves as superior to non-Calishites and often act as if the Shoon Imperium had never fallen. Likewise, Calishites dwelling within the borders of Calimshan view themselves as superior to their provincial cousins.

Calishites are typically drawn to adventuring in hopes of quickly amassing a great fortune that will allow them to retire to a life of idle luxury. Those of lower birth often see the life of an adventurer as a way to escape the strictures of their station in distant lands where the status of their birth is unknown.