Two figures approach a wooden signpost with three arrows. One points back the way they’ve come to Waterdeep and another points on to Daggerford. The third is labeled “Nightstone” and points up a path that leads northeast. The human figure turns onto the path and the elf follows. The trail winds its way closer and then farther from a sparkling river that rushes along, perhaps strengthened by recent snowmelt further upstream. The afternoon sun is warm, but a cool breeze occasionally nips at our traveler’s ears and noses, reminding them that winter has not yet given way to spring entirely. Some trees and bushes grow along the path and the river’s edge, offering a little shelter. Beyond them open fields rise in gentle hills.
(What do we see and hear when the camera zooms in on our two travelers?)
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DM: Into the Feywild Marva Stormaventendrian - Level 1 Dragonborn Cleric of the Tempest - Looking for a campaign
Helena trudges along, pulling her cloak tighter around herself as she tries to ward off those bursts of chill in the air. Her chestnut hair is shoulder length, with some natural curls in it. She has a pack, with a crossbow dangling from one side and a curled up rope on the other side . A wand is in a sheath at her hip.
She walks quietly, glancing to the elf every once in a while, more to make sure they are still there than anything else. Spotting a larger stone on the path, she kicks it, sending it flying into the stream nearby. After the plunk of it hitting, and the small splash, she sighs and continues along. The town cannot be that far off of the main road. She shifts her weight, making her pack slide a bit, and feeling the weight of the thick tome she is transporting inside.
Ryndar pads after his charge, never falling further than a few paces behind the wizard. The longbow across his back and rapier at his hip rattle slightly against his leather armor as they turn towards Nightstone.
Scanning the crossroads for possible threats, his attention is suddenly drawn to a splash coming from the stream. He focuses on the stream for several seconds before continuing a more relaxed gait. He rolls his eyes slightly at the human as he falls back in step.
He inhales slightly, pausing for a long moment before attempting to break the awkward silence. "Have you... been this way before?" The question sounds almost timid. "My patrols haven't taken me this way..."
As Ryndar speaks, a third figure crouches behind a tree that grows on a slight rise to the west of the path, about 100 feet behind them. As they continue on unaware, the drow follows, using some tangled brambles for cover.
(If this person could be seen, what would we see, Daerthe?)
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DM: Into the Feywild Marva Stormaventendrian - Level 1 Dragonborn Cleric of the Tempest - Looking for a campaign
Helena falters in her walk along the road, glancing to Ryndar. Was he actually speaking to her, she had thought him mute this entire time, well not exactly mute, just that he did not like her very much.
"Yes, I have been this way before." She says at last. "It is a good place to stop over on the trip from Waterdeep to Candlekeep, and I have stayed in the town's inn several times before." She brushes some of her chestnut hair behind an ear as her eyes turn back to the road ahead. A chill breeze flaps her cloak as they continue down the path, and she pulls it in even tighter. "It shouldn't be much further." She comments.
After a few more moments of walking she glances back again. "Why did you take this job?" She asks Ryndar. "I mean, you don't seem to like watching over me, or is it just me you don't like?"
"I..." his voice catches in his throat giving the impression he may regret having broken the uncomfortable silence. "Let me assure you it is nothing personal, Miss Grey..." he paused awkwardly. A strange mix of frustration and confusion flashed across his face, as he scoured his memory for the wizard's name. "...cloak." He continued, unassuredly. "My commander assigned me to guard you on this journey. The other initiates are clearing out goblin camps and dealing with kobold infestations in the sewers, and here I am walking a well-worn path, guarding you. Forgive my bluntness, but it just feels a little... dull."
He lets the silence wash over them for awhile before speaking again. "It's good that we are close, better to find shelter in town than to have to bed down on the road. Let us make haste."
"Dull is good." Helena says with a grin over her shoulder. "Dull is fantastic." She turns back to the path ahead as she continues talking. She wonders how true those words are though, as the thoughts of goblins and casting spells in the heat of the moment has her blood running hot all of a sudden. "I've spent my life, well several years of it anyway, sitting at a desk, scribing." She says slowly as realization slowly dawns on her. When she glances back it is with a bit more of a solem look to her eyes. "I've never even seen a living goblin, nor had to use my magic to defend or attack. Never had the chance to test my skills, just doing the same thing over and over again, never really growing in the arts, just getting by." She turns back to the front, her voice soft and intraspective now. "To be able to use my magic, for something more than translating ancient tomes... That would be good..." She trails off as they continue walking.
Ryndar cracks something between a smile and a smirk. "Do you really feel that dull is fantastic? It sounds as if you might be trying to convince yourself." He continues to pace along, ignoring the biting chill. "A little adversity tends to reveal much of one's character. At least that is my experience." He takes a deep breath of the crisp air. "Besides, you never know what may happen along the road. You may yet have an opportunity to test yourself."
Behind the wizard and guard and the mysterious person in the shadows, another group has turned up the path to Nightstone. They are far enough back that neither group is aware of the other. The almost-spring sunshine falls on three folk who appear to be humans from a distance, three wanderers who met the previous day and shared a meal of surprisingly filling berries.
(What do we see and hear as we focus on this new group?)
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DM: Into the Feywild Marva Stormaventendrian - Level 1 Dragonborn Cleric of the Tempest - Looking for a campaign
Pulling up the rear of the three new wanderers is a simple looking man. His weather faded green cloak shows signs of being threadbare in several places and as chill gusts cause it to flutter open, one can see rumpled traveling clothes that appear to have been slept in for quite some time. On this traveler’s left arm is a smallish rickety wooden shield and in the right arm is a respectable quarterstaff pulling double duty as a walking stick.
The man’s head turns from side to side, taking in the sights of spring regaining the countryside. His face is leathery bronzed and sun aged, it is hard to ascertain his true age. The hair of his goatee and what can be seen under his hood is white, perhaps prematurely. As he comes into closer view one can tell his lips are pursed and he appears to be whistling softly to himself. He is practicing and mimicking bird calls quietly, trying not to irritate his traveling partners.
In the brambles hides a drow female who clearly looks as though they have been living as a hermit or perhaps a beggar. Her clothing such as it is appears to be a mish mash of different styles. While most of it looks to be the same type a simple farmer would wear some is made of a dark black material that has worn web like designs, the fabric torn and looking as if it had been burned away. Over this is armor that had been hastily made to fit her frame, a rapier fitted to a belt on her hip.
As for her physical features she stands tall for an elf, nearly 6ft. She has the normal staples of her kind, dark ebony skin and long show white hair that ends at the middle of her back. Only one of her eyes is visible, this shifting from a dark green to a red depending on what spectrum of sight. Over the other she is a ragged black cloth that looks to be covering up a very new scar.
She will move closer to the two that she sees, staying in the brush. As she moves she slowly calls upon her inate magic, several small globes of darkness forming around her as she uses Dancing Lights. She then slowly forces the globes to make a vaguely humanoid shape. Until she sees a time to use them, the lights are kept close.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Rekuberk Onc Level 8 | Half Orc | Barbarian (The Tales of the Fellowship of the White Cloaks)
Wandering along the path with two others, a tall young woman is studying everything she can see as she travels. Her pupil-less white eyes take in anything and everything. This is all so new from the forest she's lived in for so long. Her long white hair is braided back into a crown around her head, though after some amount of travel, a few curls have started coming loose because of the wind.
Her fingers play with the edge of her holy symbol, her fingers tracing along the engraving of balanced scales in the center of the amulet. It's a nervous tic of hers, though she's trying to hide it from her new traveling companions under the edge of her dark cloak. There's a shy sort of smile that creeps across her lips as she listens to one of the others make bird calls. The calls are oddly soothing.
"You're pretty good with that," she says, glancing back over her shoulder. "Have you come across many types of birds in your travels?"
Helena glances back to the elf again. "Before this moment I would have laughed at such a thought, but I can't help but admit that I would like to test myself." She sighs, eyes scanning the burgeoning darkness. "I'd say it is not my lot in life though." She says after a bit. "I am a scribe and translator, that is my place in life it seems." She turns her eyes back to the elf. "All this trip is for is to deliver a book to Candelkeep. Not much adventurous about that..."
"Bird calls! Phah! I can roar like the mountain lion! Growl like the bear! Stomp like the thunder-lizard! Bird calls." The youth chuckles to himself. He is a young human, painted in white and red. Tall, almost 7 foot, he is lean and muscled. His hair is also white, though whether that is by design or if it just that color is unclear. He is carrying a massive maul in one hand, and wears clothing made from skins and furs.
"Stigandr of the Sky Pony laughs at bird calls. Still, you are good traveling companions. Makes journeying less lonely."
Wandering along the path with two others, a tall young woman is studying everything she can see as she travels. Her pupil-less white eyes take in anything and everything. This is all so new from the forest she's lived in for so long. Her long white hair is braided back into a crown around her head, though after some amount of travel, a few curls have started coming loose because of the wind.
Her fingers play with the edge of her holy symbol, her fingers tracing along the engraving of balanced scales in the center of the amulet. It's a nervous tic of hers, though she's trying to hide it from her new traveling companions under the edge of her dark cloak. There's a shy sort of smile that creeps across her lips as she listens to one of the others make bird calls. The calls are oddly soothing.
"You're pretty good with that," she says, glancing back over her shoulder. "Have you come across many types of birds in your travels?"
Bramble stops mid-chirp at the question. It takes a second or two for him to translate his thoughts back into Common. He licks his lips and swallows hard before responding,
"A few. I suppose. I'm pretty happy with about 40 or 50 of my calls but I struggle most with the warblers. They hardly ever talk back to me." His voice fades a bit towards the end, perhaps with a hint of melancholy.
He gathers himself and begins in an elevated timbre, "Have either of you ever been to Nightstone before? I'm excited to see it."
"Bird calls! Phah! I can roar like the mountain lion. Growl like the bear! Stomp like the thunder-lizards! Bird calls." The youth chuckles to himself. He is a young human, painted in white and red. Tall, almost 7 foot, he is lean and muscled. His hair is also white, though whether that is by design or if it just that color is unclear. He is carrying a massive maul in one hand, and wears clothing made from skins and furs.
"Stigandr of the Sky Pony laughs at bird calls. Still, you are good traveling companions. Makes journeying less lonely."
Bramble smiles at the back of Stigandr and nods to no one in particular. Yes, less lonely. Less lonely.
The drow skulking in the brambles is so intent on her quarry that she doesn’t pay close enough attention to her immediate surroundings. The vines and roots around her suddenly expand with unnatural speed and malevolence until they surround Daerthe in a 15 foot radius. They begin to wrap around her feet and legs, attempting to restrain her.
(Daerthe, please roll a Strength saving throw and roll for Initiative.)
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DM: Into the Feywild Marva Stormaventendrian - Level 1 Dragonborn Cleric of the Tempest - Looking for a campaign
Daerthe is restrained by the grasping vines. An almost humanoid shape made of twisting branches and creepers rises out of the mass and begins to reach out for her. What does Daerthe do? Attack at disadvantage? Try to wrestle free? Call out for help?
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DM: Into the Feywild Marva Stormaventendrian - Level 1 Dragonborn Cleric of the Tempest - Looking for a campaign
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Daerthe curses in her native language before she wrestles her rapier out of the sheathe and attempts to jab at the creature that is reaching towards her.
Rapier: Attack: 12 Damage: 10
"Help would be greatly welcome!" She calls out in a heavily accented voice, growling at the fact she was being forced to ask for help.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Rekuberk Onc Level 8 | Half Orc | Barbarian (The Tales of the Fellowship of the White Cloaks)
Two figures approach a wooden signpost with three arrows. One points back the way they’ve come to Waterdeep and another points on to Daggerford. The third is labeled “Nightstone” and points up a path that leads northeast. The human figure turns onto the path and the elf follows. The trail winds its way closer and then farther from a sparkling river that rushes along, perhaps strengthened by recent snowmelt further upstream. The afternoon sun is warm, but a cool breeze occasionally nips at our traveler’s ears and noses, reminding them that winter has not yet given way to spring entirely. Some trees and bushes grow along the path and the river’s edge, offering a little shelter. Beyond them open fields rise in gentle hills.
(What do we see and hear when the camera zooms in on our two travelers?)
DM: Into the Feywild
Marva Stormaventendrian - Level 1 Dragonborn Cleric of the Tempest - Looking for a campaign
Helena trudges along, pulling her cloak tighter around herself as she tries to ward off those bursts of chill in the air. Her chestnut hair is shoulder length, with some natural curls in it. She has a pack, with a crossbow dangling from one side and a curled up rope on the other side . A wand is in a sheath at her hip.
She walks quietly, glancing to the elf every once in a while, more to make sure they are still there than anything else. Spotting a larger stone on the path, she kicks it, sending it flying into the stream nearby. After the plunk of it hitting, and the small splash, she sighs and continues along. The town cannot be that far off of the main road. She shifts her weight, making her pack slide a bit, and feeling the weight of the thick tome she is transporting inside.
Ryndar pads after his charge, never falling further than a few paces behind the wizard. The longbow across his back and rapier at his hip rattle slightly against his leather armor as they turn towards Nightstone.
Scanning the crossroads for possible threats, his attention is suddenly drawn to a splash coming from the stream. He focuses on the stream for several seconds before continuing a more relaxed gait. He rolls his eyes slightly at the human as he falls back in step.
He inhales slightly, pausing for a long moment before attempting to break the awkward silence. "Have you... been this way before?" The question sounds almost timid. "My patrols haven't taken me this way..."
Ryndar Shadowsbane - Lvl 3 Eldarin Fighter | Kassar - Lvl 2 Lizardfolk Druid (Circle of Stars) | Finnegan (Finn) Taggert - Lvl 1 Human Cleric (Peace Domain) |
Verdan Schmidt - Lvl 2 Half-Elf Bard | Grithik - Lvl 5 Deep Gnome Warlock (Celestial)
As Ryndar speaks, a third figure crouches behind a tree that grows on a slight rise to the west of the path, about 100 feet behind them. As they continue on unaware, the drow follows, using some tangled brambles for cover.
(If this person could be seen, what would we see, Daerthe?)
DM: Into the Feywild
Marva Stormaventendrian - Level 1 Dragonborn Cleric of the Tempest - Looking for a campaign
Helena falters in her walk along the road, glancing to Ryndar. Was he actually speaking to her, she had thought him mute this entire time, well not exactly mute, just that he did not like her very much.
"Yes, I have been this way before." She says at last. "It is a good place to stop over on the trip from Waterdeep to Candlekeep, and I have stayed in the town's inn several times before." She brushes some of her chestnut hair behind an ear as her eyes turn back to the road ahead. A chill breeze flaps her cloak as they continue down the path, and she pulls it in even tighter. "It shouldn't be much further." She comments.
After a few more moments of walking she glances back again. "Why did you take this job?" She asks Ryndar. "I mean, you don't seem to like watching over me, or is it just me you don't like?"
"I..." his voice catches in his throat giving the impression he may regret having broken the uncomfortable silence. "Let me assure you it is nothing personal, Miss Grey..." he paused awkwardly. A strange mix of frustration and confusion flashed across his face, as he scoured his memory for the wizard's name. "...cloak." He continued, unassuredly. "My commander assigned me to guard you on this journey. The other initiates are clearing out goblin camps and dealing with kobold infestations in the sewers, and here I am walking a well-worn path, guarding you. Forgive my bluntness, but it just feels a little... dull."
He lets the silence wash over them for awhile before speaking again. "It's good that we are close, better to find shelter in town than to have to bed down on the road. Let us make haste."
Ryndar Shadowsbane - Lvl 3 Eldarin Fighter | Kassar - Lvl 2 Lizardfolk Druid (Circle of Stars) | Finnegan (Finn) Taggert - Lvl 1 Human Cleric (Peace Domain) |
Verdan Schmidt - Lvl 2 Half-Elf Bard | Grithik - Lvl 5 Deep Gnome Warlock (Celestial)
"Dull is good." Helena says with a grin over her shoulder. "Dull is fantastic." She turns back to the path ahead as she continues talking. She wonders how true those words are though, as the thoughts of goblins and casting spells in the heat of the moment has her blood running hot all of a sudden. "I've spent my life, well several years of it anyway, sitting at a desk, scribing." She says slowly as realization slowly dawns on her. When she glances back it is with a bit more of a solem look to her eyes. "I've never even seen a living goblin, nor had to use my magic to defend or attack. Never had the chance to test my skills, just doing the same thing over and over again, never really growing in the arts, just getting by." She turns back to the front, her voice soft and intraspective now. "To be able to use my magic, for something more than translating ancient tomes... That would be good..." She trails off as they continue walking.
Ryndar cracks something between a smile and a smirk. "Do you really feel that dull is fantastic? It sounds as if you might be trying to convince yourself." He continues to pace along, ignoring the biting chill. "A little adversity tends to reveal much of one's character. At least that is my experience." He takes a deep breath of the crisp air. "Besides, you never know what may happen along the road. You may yet have an opportunity to test yourself."
Ryndar Shadowsbane - Lvl 3 Eldarin Fighter | Kassar - Lvl 2 Lizardfolk Druid (Circle of Stars) | Finnegan (Finn) Taggert - Lvl 1 Human Cleric (Peace Domain) |
Verdan Schmidt - Lvl 2 Half-Elf Bard | Grithik - Lvl 5 Deep Gnome Warlock (Celestial)
Behind the wizard and guard and the mysterious person in the shadows, another group has turned up the path to Nightstone. They are far enough back that neither group is aware of the other. The almost-spring sunshine falls on three folk who appear to be humans from a distance, three wanderers who met the previous day and shared a meal of surprisingly filling berries.
(What do we see and hear as we focus on this new group?)
DM: Into the Feywild
Marva Stormaventendrian - Level 1 Dragonborn Cleric of the Tempest - Looking for a campaign
Pulling up the rear of the three new wanderers is a simple looking man. His weather faded green cloak shows signs of being threadbare in several places and as chill gusts cause it to flutter open, one can see rumpled traveling clothes that appear to have been slept in for quite some time. On this traveler’s left arm is a smallish rickety wooden shield and in the right arm is a respectable quarterstaff pulling double duty as a walking stick.
The man’s head turns from side to side, taking in the sights of spring regaining the countryside. His face is leathery bronzed and sun aged, it is hard to ascertain his true age. The hair of his goatee and what can be seen under his hood is white, perhaps prematurely. As he comes into closer view one can tell his lips are pursed and he appears to be whistling softly to himself. He is practicing and mimicking bird calls quietly, trying not to irritate his traveling partners.
Wilhorn Dustwater | Halfling, Lightfoot | Sorcerer, Divine Soul 2 / Warlock, Celestial 2 | Warriors, LMoP (NathanAscher -DM)
”I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by.” - Douglas Adams
In the brambles hides a drow female who clearly looks as though they have been living as a hermit or perhaps a beggar. Her clothing such as it is appears to be a mish mash of different styles. While most of it looks to be the same type a simple farmer would wear some is made of a dark black material that has worn web like designs, the fabric torn and looking as if it had been burned away. Over this is armor that had been hastily made to fit her frame, a rapier fitted to a belt on her hip.
As for her physical features she stands tall for an elf, nearly 6ft. She has the normal staples of her kind, dark ebony skin and long show white hair that ends at the middle of her back. Only one of her eyes is visible, this shifting from a dark green to a red depending on what spectrum of sight. Over the other she is a ragged black cloth that looks to be covering up a very new scar.
She will move closer to the two that she sees, staying in the brush. As she moves she slowly calls upon her inate magic, several small globes of darkness forming around her as she uses Dancing Lights. She then slowly forces the globes to make a vaguely humanoid shape. Until she sees a time to use them, the lights are kept close.
Rekuberk Onc Level 8 | Half Orc | Barbarian (The Tales of the Fellowship of the White Cloaks)
Kayassa Level 3 | Satyr | Warlock (Cleath13's LMoP)
Bertolt Silentlash Level 3 | Variant Human | Bard (Our Little Lives Kept in Equipoise: Death House)
Daerthe Narcion Level 4 | Drow | Rogue (Karmoli's Great Upheaval)
Wandering along the path with two others, a tall young woman is studying everything she can see as she travels. Her pupil-less white eyes take in anything and everything. This is all so new from the forest she's lived in for so long. Her long white hair is braided back into a crown around her head, though after some amount of travel, a few curls have started coming loose because of the wind.
Her fingers play with the edge of her holy symbol, her fingers tracing along the engraving of balanced scales in the center of the amulet. It's a nervous tic of hers, though she's trying to hide it from her new traveling companions under the edge of her dark cloak. There's a shy sort of smile that creeps across her lips as she listens to one of the others make bird calls. The calls are oddly soothing.
"You're pretty good with that," she says, glancing back over her shoulder. "Have you come across many types of birds in your travels?"
Helena glances back to the elf again. "Before this moment I would have laughed at such a thought, but I can't help but admit that I would like to test myself." She sighs, eyes scanning the burgeoning darkness. "I'd say it is not my lot in life though." She says after a bit. "I am a scribe and translator, that is my place in life it seems." She turns her eyes back to the elf. "All this trip is for is to deliver a book to Candelkeep. Not much adventurous about that..."
"Bird calls! Phah! I can roar like the mountain lion! Growl like the bear! Stomp like the thunder-lizard! Bird calls." The youth chuckles to himself. He is a young human, painted in white and red. Tall, almost 7 foot, he is lean and muscled. His hair is also white, though whether that is by design or if it just that color is unclear. He is carrying a massive maul in one hand, and wears clothing made from skins and furs.
"Stigandr of the Sky Pony laughs at bird calls. Still, you are good traveling companions. Makes journeying less lonely."
Enzo Ballantine - Shadow Sorcerer
Bramble stops mid-chirp at the question. It takes a second or two for him to translate his thoughts back into Common. He licks his lips and swallows hard before responding,
"A few. I suppose. I'm pretty happy with about 40 or 50 of my calls but I struggle most with the warblers. They hardly ever talk back to me." His voice fades a bit towards the end, perhaps with a hint of melancholy.
He gathers himself and begins in an elevated timbre, "Have either of you ever been to Nightstone before? I'm excited to see it."
Wilhorn Dustwater | Halfling, Lightfoot | Sorcerer, Divine Soul 2 / Warlock, Celestial 2 | Warriors, LMoP (NathanAscher -DM)
”I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by.” - Douglas Adams
Bramble smiles at the back of Stigandr and nods to no one in particular. Yes, less lonely. Less lonely.
Wilhorn Dustwater | Halfling, Lightfoot | Sorcerer, Divine Soul 2 / Warlock, Celestial 2 | Warriors, LMoP (NathanAscher -DM)
”I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by.” - Douglas Adams
The drow skulking in the brambles is so intent on her quarry that she doesn’t pay close enough attention to her immediate surroundings. The vines and roots around her suddenly expand with unnatural speed and malevolence until they surround Daerthe in a 15 foot radius. They begin to wrap around her feet and legs, attempting to restrain her.
(Daerthe, please roll a Strength saving throw and roll for Initiative.)
DM: Into the Feywild
Marva Stormaventendrian - Level 1 Dragonborn Cleric of the Tempest - Looking for a campaign
Strength: 9
Inititiative: 20
Rekuberk Onc Level 8 | Half Orc | Barbarian (The Tales of the Fellowship of the White Cloaks)
Kayassa Level 3 | Satyr | Warlock (Cleath13's LMoP)
Bertolt Silentlash Level 3 | Variant Human | Bard (Our Little Lives Kept in Equipoise: Death House)
Daerthe Narcion Level 4 | Drow | Rogue (Karmoli's Great Upheaval)
Daerthe is restrained by the grasping vines. An almost humanoid shape made of twisting branches and creepers rises out of the mass and begins to reach out for her. What does Daerthe do? Attack at disadvantage? Try to wrestle free? Call out for help?
DM: Into the Feywild
Marva Stormaventendrian - Level 1 Dragonborn Cleric of the Tempest - Looking for a campaign
Daerthe curses in her native language before she wrestles her rapier out of the sheathe and attempts to jab at the creature that is reaching towards her.
Rapier: Attack: 12 Damage: 10
"Help would be greatly welcome!" She calls out in a heavily accented voice, growling at the fact she was being forced to ask for help.
Rekuberk Onc Level 8 | Half Orc | Barbarian (The Tales of the Fellowship of the White Cloaks)
Kayassa Level 3 | Satyr | Warlock (Cleath13's LMoP)
Bertolt Silentlash Level 3 | Variant Human | Bard (Our Little Lives Kept in Equipoise: Death House)
Daerthe Narcion Level 4 | Drow | Rogue (Karmoli's Great Upheaval)