The Flaming Fist Role-Play Thread

[Rocshanks]

Since the Duke is currently traveling back from Candlekeep after the assassination attempt by Eric Lightbringer, Captain Rocshanks had all patrols halted and returned to the city until the Dukes return. So it was extreamly surprising for him to find a squad of dead soliders being delivered to the door step of the castle. Upon further inspection it appears these dead men where thieving thugs with stolen uniforms. The Captain grins, as now this is one issue he no longer has to deal with.

[Maecius]

The word is that Commander Justin Crownsilver is alive, and recovering in Waterdeep.

With the whole fortress still in disarray over the quote-unquote "Lightbringer Affair" -- and the Duke still absent -- this bit of good news is happily repeated.

[Rocshanks]

On hearing the rumours in the Elfsong, Rocshanks had to go see this for himself. He was sure that he had Eric put in the grond in an unmarked grave but sure enough someone had marked the grave with a memorial stone. He fumed to think that traitors to the Gate would be remembered in such a favoured way. In response to this the captain has the the body exhumed, quartered and sent to the four corners of the Sword Coast. The head of Lightbringer still remains upon the gate as it was never buried with the remains to begin with.

As for the memorial stone? Well it would have been such a waste to destroy it, instead now it marks the freshly dug grave for the stone remains of Captain Ardias Guthrun. Who only this morning had lost his life in the line of duty.

[rokranon]

The following note is delivered via a Flaming Fist courier to Sergeant Tonan Ashaller, First Company. It is sealed with the phoenix crest of House Rokranon.

[Guilo]

*A report handed to Kert Dalley, by request, to give to his superiors.*

Outside the abandoned mines, north of Beregost that are overrun by goblins, a male tiefling summoned a Baatezu. He had dark skin and hair, red eyes, and a red headband. Shortly after this, the man ran off, leaving the demon outside the caves. A few times, some adventurers came out of the cave, but retreated at the sight of such a foe. I dispatched of the demon, but the summoner is still at large.

-Jake

[Rocshanks]

A hooded figure creeps in the shadows of the darkened and hushed cloakwood room of the Helm and Cloak approaching the stumpy dwarf knelt before his palm sized Abbathor idol in prayer. "Whiskers' he utters in a low tone and begins his hushed conversation. The flickering of the candle light make the shadows appear to dance across the room. The dwarf merely nods once, not moving from his solitary position like a stone cast statue. The room falls in silence once again, an eternity seems to pass before the dwarf breaks the tension and reaches out with a velvet purse of coin. The hooded figure takes the purse greedily and swiftly moves to the door.

Upon opening it, two dominating men dressed in the white Flaming Fist talbards stand blocking the door. Realising he has been double crossed the hooded man attempts to make a run for it, but all too soon the two battered clubs of the Flaming Fist come swinging down. The dwarf raises a hand mommentarily to stop the beating of the unconscious bloody heap on the floor. Taking his time, Rocshanks takes back his purse of coin and waves off the the two troops who drag away the body to be dumped off the nearest pier. Rocshanks closes the door and returns to 'hiding'.

[Aron Times]

A written statement from Aron Times regarding a group of necromancers and their companions:

To the Flaming Fist,

I was traveling down the road to Beregost, near the abandoned Temple of Bhaal, when I happened upon a group of three being attacked by gnolls. I helped them drive off the creatures, and told them that this area was dangerous for travelers not in large groups. The three were a mage dressed in black robes and his hood pulled over his head, a powerfully-built spellcaster in armor with his helmet completely obscuring his face, and their tame goblin who fought alongside them.

The mage explained that they were hunting for a gnoll pack that had killed his family. I offered to assist them in their quest, and we wandered the area around the road hunting for gnolls. Some time later, an invisible mage that the mage in black could see joined our group. The two then talked out loud about how they were fellow necromancers. I told them that necromancy was forbidden in Baldur's Gate, and that I wanted nothing to do with those who wanted to reanimate the dead. The invisible mage threatened to kill and reanimate me, but they must have realized that I was more powerful than the three of them combined as they did not attack.

I made my way back to Baldur's Gate when a large gnoll came from behind and ambushed me, his brute force shattering my magical wards, apparently killing me. When I came to, I was in the Temple of Oghma in Candlekeep. Apparently, a kind stranger named Jake took the trouble of carrying my body all the way there to have me brought back.

I have only recently arrived in the city, and I am currently writing this statement in front of a member of the Flaming Fist.

Aron Times of Halruaa

[BlueHero45]

"Dear Rokshanks of the Flaming Fist, I request that your guards for the auctioneer refrain from shopping while on duty, It seems to distract them from there duty

A Humble monk of the old order, Shini"

[Rocshanks]

On returning to duty after a short hiatus, a heap of paper work lays stacked on his desk. After handling the hounds reports he turns to the corrospondence that have been left for him. The first is a letter from a "Jake" individual that had been signed off from Armsman Dalley. Rocshanks files the letter with the other reports concerning this case, unfortunately, without a return contact he is unable to return his gratitude to 'Jake". He makes a written note to speak with Dalley about thanking this "Jake" fellow for the information.

He lifts the second sheet of partchment from his dwindling pile and skims through it. Muttering to himself "W'at type a inbreed slackjaw moron is t'is Aron bellend anyway? A tame Goblin! Nay suc' t'ing. 'E deserved all t'at was coming to 'im." The Captain then files the letter away with Corporal Eburays reports concerning this growing problem.

Lastly Daaf lifts a scrap of paper from the monk. With no way to identify the sender or a means to contact them he scrumples it up and tosses it over his sholder.

[Kronk991]

The mutilated and headless corpse of a Flaming Fist soldier was found in the cloakwood mines. There was evidence that the soldier did not go down easily. The symbol of a spider drawn with the guardsman's own blood upon the cave wall.

The corpse was later determined to be Ivan Wenthel....

[Eral'ai]

*A letter is handed off to a Flaming Fist Guardsman*

I headed out a few days agp looking for a friend who might have been in danger, name being Lanaya. I had assisted her friend Tyressen in finding her on the coast near the Ironfaar mine, where she was with Councilman of Doron Amar, Siomir and Rith'alaria. I requested he leave her be, as he had killed her before in previous months. I was then threatened by Rith'alaria that if I did not leave them, she would make me leave. I felt at that point that my life was in danger, so I reminded them that I was with the Magna Vault and that if I were to be killed, it might lead to an investigation. They seemed to not care and I was chased down into Candlekeep where I donned a disguise in hopes of evading them. I ran outside, trying to get to the gate, but they caught me, but my silver tounge got me off with a broken hand and not the loss of my life. I have reported this to my superiors in the Magna Vault first, for I wanted them to advise me on the situation properly, I apologize for the late report and hope something can be resolved. I am aware that Tyressen and Lanaya may not be the friendliest of folk but that is for the Fist to take care of, not Siomir himself.

Signed, Seril Da'nas

[Katzenjammer]

A disreputable looking fellow in a tricorn hat is tossed unceremoniously in the dirt outside the gates of the bridge in the Farmlands, near the merchant camp by two Fist troopers. One pulls out a formally sealed parchment, and reads the contents.

"Be it hereby known that his man, Gareut Wolf-Friend, is banished and outlawed from the lands of the Dukes of Baldur's Gate for the crime of attacking a Fist trooper. The City and it's environs are forbidden him on pain of death. He has been branded this day, and marked to that affect. Let none give him aid or comfort."

"Let it also be known that the woman... " at this the guard halts a moment, muttering to his companion before continuing, "the woman Randallona Armstrong is also banished and outlawed for the same crime, among others commited some time ago. She also has been branded and marked to this affect, and the City is forbidden to her as well. Let none give her aid or comfort."

"This by order of Duke Eltan, Commander of the Flaming Fist."

The trooper nails the proclamation carefully to the post nearby, the Ducal Seal promiment near the bottom.

/// Haven't had one of these formally for a while. A note for all players. This does not allow greifing of these two PC's in PvP. As always, RP reasons apply.

[devildog30]

Justin Crownsilver rubbed at his tired bloodshot eyes before pouring himself another brandy. Another successful campaign into the Western Heartlands has proven once more, the life of a section commander of one of the largest mercenary companies in all of Faerun is not without its ups and downs.

Nothing reminded Justin of this more than the decrees, reports, and dispensations that were waiting for the Fist commander in rather large stacks on his desk inside the Flaming Fist Compound. “Gods Above, the Hounds hath been busy,” he muttered before finishing his brandy in one gulp.
With nothing more to drink Justin sighed wearily and glanced back down to the paperwork on his desk. Tempted to call upon the divine might of Helm to set ablaze this endless pile of bureaucracy, Justin thought against such brash thinking. He was not nearly as drunk and had grown rather fond of the Duskwood desk. It would be a real shame to lose such sturdy craftsmanship over something as trivial as dreaded paperwork.
Unable to escape his fate any longer the Fist commander resigned to continue reading the most recent reports with a heavy sigh.

The First report was nothing more than a dispute between some elves; he’d send his loyal friend Myhun to investigate the matter. He couldn’t very well send Captain Rochsanks, for the stubborn dwarf neither had the tact nor disposition in dealing with the ‘fair folk’ of the region. Satisfied he turned to the next report from a; Charraj Cain, Weavemaster and Commandant of the MVTC Adepts. A stlaring guildmage and a greedy merchant with fancy titles no less, this shall be good he thought. The Fist commander hadn’t read more than a few short words before a name caught his eye, ‘Kierran’. Can it be, Justin thought his eyes widening at the mere possibility. As his mind started to wander, he continued to read on and by the time he had finished his deep blue eyes were smoldering. “It can’t be.” He hissed before shouting in his next breath, “Rocshanks! Get the tluin in here!”

[Rocshanks]

It had been days since he had laid his eyes upon Armsman Wenthal, days earlier he had gone looking for him on his post only to find Armsman Dalley in his stead. It was assumed he had gone AWOL, abandoned his post to escape his flogging yet reports written by the armsman kept on appearing on his desk. The recent being of captured drow. Rocshanks flung the flaming fist manual of arms against the wall wondering why he ever wrote the blasted thing in the first place since his men never read it. The Wyndsouls nobles would be down the commanders throat if they ever got wind that an armsman had started capturing the black skinned elven bastards. He didn't need another bollocking from the commander

In a fury the Captain stood, grasping his helm from his battered desk and stormed from the dank office. He would find this disobedient prick that carried the honourable name of his hounds and he would flog him there and then in the street for all to see. Hours pass and no sight of the Armsman on any of the posts that his hounds should be watching. Rocshanks grinds his teeth in rage at this upstart, thoughts of the assassin Lightbringer and the traitor Cross flickered in his mind as he compared their deeds to Ivans. He spats a blacken foul glob of tobacco tar at the ground next to the merchant guard point, a warning to his men that he had been there. Giving up he returned to the castle, though all too soon.

Not long after he began his short walk back to the Castle the mate of Grah'Thok came running to him in a fluster. She spoke of the Armsmans capture by four underdark night crawlers. Behind his helm Daaf screwed up his face and spoke bitterly "An Acceptable Lose". Why this orc had told him left him confused, not tenday ago the Grah'Thok tribe wanted him dead. If these Drow had taken the armsman as an exchange for the captured drow wentch rotting in the cells then they would be sadly at a lose. The Hounds will not mount a rescue for a single man who disobeyed direct orders.

On returning to his desk, more paperwork had built up, it always did. He dreamed of what it was to be an armsman again and not a blasted library clerk which he had now become. He lifts the first paper in the pile and skims through it. Though before he had time to read it indepth a holler rang out down the corridor. The Commander had returned....

[Kronk991]

Armsman Wenthal stumbles into the Flaming Fist Barracks tired and weak. He gives his superiors a quick greeting to let them know he has returned and promises to file a complete report once he gets some rest. Within a few minutes he falls into a deep recouperative slumber. His loud snores echo throughout the barracks. His battered arms and armor lay strewn about his bed. His bruised and battered body slowly begins to mend.