Helping Triel

[Carski]

Again, a man in flowing robes of gray, the edge of his hood resting at his brow just above the eyes, enters Triel. Small arcane runes mark the edge of his clothes, and within his hands, he holds a staff where at the end, a stone that floats of its own power.

Slowly, he makes his way across the farmlands and into the town walls, speaking directly to each resident that crosses his path—his words, spoken softly, nearly unheard, are matched by movements of the hands. The gray robed man entreats each resident to speak to him, freely, as if there is a mystery to be solved...and he would learn the source.

[DM Novus]

///OOC INFO

Hello Players,
Triel needs to be resolved, and now that some administration work has passed my virtual desk, I'd like to pick up the storylines that you Players have initiated and carried in my absence of attention. Do update me on any issues your PC would have with Triel, the Elders or the "other things." PM me anything that you don't want public.

[DM Novus]

Many are passing rumors in the grapevine of Triel.

It seems a red haired Elf woman was seen speaking with the most noted of persons that reside in the village in succession, namely the Priestess of Chauntea and the Elderman Trabo. The villagers talk amongst themselves that something must be occurring between those two village factions...and the rumors are debated as to whether the Elf sparks a flame or soothes a situation.

While rumors come and go and fade or evolve into fact, there are actual facts that one can see in Triel, now and from the change of recent events. Parts of the burned out Triel have seen speedier repair, as the villagers made good use of a recent gift of supplies. But what homes and buildings are built show a darker toned architecture: steeper roofs, heavier and fortified doors, smaller windows...an altogether less welcoming look.

The fields in Triel remain empty, for no crops would grow from the scorched earth remaining from the Black Orc occupation. The people of Triel do not talk about worries of hunger, for it seems they've secured purchase of food for the coming winter—the wealth of dragon scales having been an unforeseen boon after so much destruction. Those of Triel seem to be without wanting...and they seem also without tolerance for those that would pity them.

To any that would spend more time than a quick use of Triel to venture further north, one would become aware of a growing dichotomy within Triel: symbols of worship of the Grain Goddess are used amongst the fields to appease the seeds to grow in soil soiled with Orc blood, while at the homes of the villagers themselves, bleached skulls—some of them Orc—can be seen positioned at points of entry, or seated in a high window, or hanging atop a fence pole. Wards for both the hope for life and the honoring of death, rub together as symbols to the odd psychological leaning of the community...

A proud farming community, the villagers led by the willfulness of a Council of Elders seems poised to emerge self-determined after the Black Orc ravaging, then subsequent liberation by an army from the north. They know now their enemy will always be death, ever possible to be brought to them by the Orc, and maybe others with hidden agendas...and the prevailing attitude that is felt amongst the villagers is to take whatever precautions—divine or practical—to prevent any reoccurring of Fate. Even the mention of Orc fuels impromptu monologues of hate and desire for retribution. Yet, somehow, the Elder Council manages to steer the village ever so slowly back to a semblance of before...yet, different.

Left to their own devices, and amidst a shortly arriving autumn, the village of Triel will in the end, become...?

[Kaden Asen]

As dawn breaks over Triel, three men traveling up the southern road stop atop the last of the hills to look down into the village. After a short time of observing the village, and it's changes the three men return to the road and go down into the village.

The men are clearly not the peaceful sort, though none of them show signs of aggression to the people of Triel. Each is dressed in armor, each is heavily armed, and each man openly bears the symbol of Helm, The Watcher. They give no response to goads, or insult as they make their way quietly to the village priestess.

After presenting themselves to the local priestess, they set up a camp north of the village. The men have clearly come with the expectation of a long stay. Having brought the supplies required for time in the wilds. The men quickly sort out a routine, and starting on the day of their arrival they start to quietly make rounds through and around the village. Giving aid where it is asked, and ignoring the likely insults of many of the villagers. The Helmites take up a watchful presence. . .and clearly are prepared to take up arms should the need arise.

[Hitman Hard]

Valiant spoke in a measured, sad-like tone through the darksteel helm, but it was laced with hard resolve: "I see people here are starting to warm up to false gifts, such as the ingenious plan of killing a green dragon and bestowing it's remains to you. I see the Zhentarim bought a few more allies, such as the new elder Mayne, who has condoned and -strengthened- the worship of a evil god, The Lord Of Bones. I have failed you all, for not being here when this happened."

Valiant grew more tense in posture-"The children here are traumatized and the last thing they need is to be manipulated that Myrkul is alright, that Bane is okay, that the Dead three are Good Gods! You will raise your children in darkness?"

[DM Novus]

Some difficult-to-hear village gossip occurs between a woman and man nearest the outdoor patio inside the wooden walls of the main of Triel. She speaks questions with a excited voice, as the man uses his hands and bodily gestures to describe what appears to the eye as a mime of a number of small...people?...walking.

The woman giggles as he pretends to walk around the area in a wobbly manner, his hands bowed along his sides, and his face puffed out.

The woman's face then takes a stern look, as she says something out of ear reach, then points her finger a few times at the shared ground beneath their feet. The woman then clasps her hands together much like to make a prayer, looks at the man pleadingly, then walks away to return to her work near the outdoor patio.

The man just shrugs at the woman, and turns to sweep around his small stall.

[Xanfyrst]

Over the last few days a wooden stage had been erected at the town's centre by a few hooded men. A symbol of two crows adorned their otherwise plain car-coal black leather armour. The people of Triel were all now used to strangers coming and going, so they paid little interest in the construction.

One day the townspeople woke up and began doing their daily routines, they notice the construction had been finished and that it was not just a stage, but an execution stage. The men who made it all stood in front of it, silently and without moving one inch, their heads covered by executioner's hoods and their hands folded in front of them. As the inhabitants began flocking to the centre to see what was happening, another man appeared out of their own ranks and raised his hands to garner their attention.

"Good morning, good people of Triel!" the man's voice was pleasant for the ears, his words well-spoken. "Your ever-faithful neighbour of the North would like to present to you an opportunity. An opportunity to exact justice upon those who are responsible for your plight." the man felt silent again, watching the crowd's reaction from within the dark confines of his hood.
"A band of Black Orcs has been caught outside in the woods..." he let them digest the news for a moment, quietly observing the hatred seeth within each and every villager.
"With them was the notorious orc druid Kaltyra, who had once sworn to protect your lands, but done the exact opposite and riled these orcs into attacking your community."The name was well-known enough in these parts to ignite an almost hostile atmosphere within the town square upon hearing of her betrayal and involvement with the Black Orcs.

He raised his hand, silently asking them to lend him their ears again.
"But as always, the righteous forces of the North has once more prevented disaster to fall upon you yet again. With blood, sweat and ferocious determination, the Black Orc threat as once more been neutralized."

"As a token of friendship and understanding, the prisoners will be presented to you, the townspeople of Triel, for trial. Justice shall prevail."

The man, the Herald of the North, bowed his head respectfully and retreated back from where he came from, disappearing in the crowd.

[Seymor]

Robin does a lap around the town invisible just ahead of the meeting of the faithful where he overhears about the band of orc's in the woods, which catches his interest. He also hears of Kaltrya. The faithful certainly have something to talk about this week.

[Later]
An evening of meeting with Ivan and others around the campfire have led to many ideas on how to stage a rescue. The faithfuls next steps will be planned during the meeting.

[finneas]

*A large male grey orc is seen repeatedly outside the Friendly Arms Inn and Beregost over the past few days asking about a female orc chieftain. His grasp of the common tongue is none too strong but he has approached several druids that he has seen with Kaltyra in the past. As of yet none seem to have any idea where she might be and they have not appeared concerned about her absence. Perhaps this is typical behavior for the female chieftain.

He then stalks off into the Woods of Sharp Teeth, presumably to speak with the orc populations there in a language that he grasps more fully.*

[kleomenes]

A young man dressed in the grey robes of a cleric of Ilmater arrives in Triel, seeking out the Priestess of Chauntea. He begins to speak, addressing her openly.

"My name is Ameris Santraeger. I am a member of the Radiant Heart but I am here in my capacity and first calling as Cleric of Ilmater. Rumours are spreading to the south that the orcess Kaltrya is due to be handed over to the people here, being accused of treacherous association with the black orcs.

This woman is well known on the coast, having won rights of non-molestation from the Dukes and being known as non-hostile and even charitable by many on the coast. Put simply, what she is accused of is out of character for her. However she will have been unable to defend herself from any accusations due to a curse she labours under - this curse, recent, arose from her opposition to the Lich Bazu who rises in the south and who is a threat to the lands north of the Cloudpeaks.

I am compelled as a Cleric of Ilmater to ask that someone be allowed to speak on this orcess' behalf before any judgment is dealt - as mercy is due to this orcess, at least the mercy of allowing the truth to be discovered. Louise De La'Valliere, a priestess of Ilmater, would be happy to address the people and Elders of Triel, and many more can speak as to this orcess' character, showing how unlikely these actions are. At the very least there is doubt over the truth of the allegations, and any creature should be judged for what it is done, and that alone. I know well that what I ask is hard for the people here, but perhaps you may put yourself forward as one who would judge the truth of the matter?

I would ask you, could you relay this message to the Elders and beseech them to consider it in the spirit is meant. Namely that the truth is a thing of value, and Mercy is of benefit to all."

He falls silent.

[Skullion]

A dwarf dressed with a simple travel tunic arrives on Triel, riding on a stout pony loaded with two barrels of dwarven ale.

After donating them to the temple, he identifies himself as an envoy of Kraak Helzak and asks the priestess for the best way to arrange a meeting with the Elders.

[PM sent]

[mangel]

A woman in black robes and hood, wearing a half wooden mask painted into the image of a skull missing it's jaw and all exposed skin covered in grey ash walks through Triel, the holy symbol of Myrkulite hanging from her neck.

She spreads the tale of the plague being a show of Myrkul's disfavor among the citizens of the town and that only faithful devotion to the Lord of Bones will set them free.

Otherwise she aids in disposing of the bodies and aiding with funeral rites aswell as comforting the dying with their inevitable fate, and if they wished take down their wills or last requests.

She if allowed does all she can to keep one person alive, unable to cure the diseases she routinely attempts to treat the symptoms with varieties of restorations, regnerations and healing spells to prevent Elderman Trebo from succumbing to the ravages of the plague.

[Carski]

Adonai the Spellbinder turns slowly to the path leading to the Tradeway. Grey traveler's robes and a staff in hand, he makes a lone trek north, north upon the road toward the township Triel. Where danger threatens him, it is but a few words and the motion of his hand that calms the violent nature imposed upon him. The hiss of sleep can be heard from those creatures that would attempt to stop the acolyte to gatherers of knowledge.

Little time passes upon the travel, as now Adonai the Spellbinder reaches his northern destination Triel—arcane speed rests with this one, when called for. With fortitude, he walks into the plague-realm with purpose, fearless. He engages those villagers that he finds susceptible to listening for words of comfort to their fears, or words of telling that would offer a way out from the pain and the suffering to come— speaking with them one-to-one, hearing there tale, speaking about the suffering. The suffering conditions are memorized, as is his work. Caring to those that accept their eventual fate, he learns of how so many seek respite or salvation from the plague, through their worship...

The Spellbinder does not act the part of cleric, nor promise healing, as it is not his calling to do so. He utilizes his innate strength to engender a greater understanding of the plague, as he is well aware of the conditions of the villagers since their recent plight.

If the opportunity presents itself, and a healthier villager appears, one who has already placed symbolist appeasing artifacts to Myrkul in their home or upon their person, Adonai the Spellbinder puts their name to memory. Where there is grain or a wreath placed to appease Chauntea, he seems to collect that identity as well.

The Spellbinder's time in the village is focused, documenting in his way where the seed of true belief lies for the village.