A message on the door of Elfsong Tavern *IC*

[Tyranus]

Lanius eyes a poster fluttering disgarded down the street, snatching it awkwardly he quickly skims over its message. After a quick pause he laughs hysterically to the confusion of others in the street, the thought! Rhys an evil necromancer! The grin would not leave his face until he was well outside the city.

[BlueHero45]

Rhys walks into the city with a bag full of alchemy supplies, on his way to an alchemy workstation he notices a few stares and the note.
Rhys gives a sigh "Well i suppose there's no such thing as bad publicity"

He can latter be seen carrying off a fresh bag of potions to the church of Illmater.

[dzidek1983]

A young gnome heads to the ceter of Baldurs Gate... on a busy street he stands on a barrel:

Hear me.. Hear me...

Didn't you notice something streange people of Baldurs Gate.. don't you see the evil treachery behind the good deeds...
I saw too those posters... saw how they call Rhys a necromancer...
i usually don't bother with such nonsense.. but listen to me....
think a bit...
you too saw the elf bring alchemy potions to *cure* (makes an ironic gesture) the sick in the Ilmatarianin (gramatic pronounction problems) temple...
they gave his potions to the sick and look what happend...
have you been lately to the graveyard? the dead roam the place... walking dead.. zombies, skeletons, ghosts...
isn't this strange that a man accused of necromancy gives some potions for the sick and then after they die they come back as undead?

thin people.. think... he creates his army right next to us...
your beloved serve his evil deeds....

the gnome jumps of the barrel and heads towards the docks...

[koningtiger]

Unebril follows the gnome to the docks and after watching where he goes, he address to the Flaming Fist Barracks to inform about this troublemaker, perhaps this could be dangerous for the city peace.

[dzidek1983]

rumors about the poison in the elven medicine spread around the docks...

the little gnome jumps into a small sailboat and wanders off towards Candlekeep...

what will the people think about it?

[LeslieMS]

[Sister Merielle Silene, the very Living Saint of Ilmater hears of these rumors, and wonders aloud as she walks through the city why anyone would pay such blatant falsehood any mind. She frowns faintly as now the skills of healers of Ilmater, well trained are brought into question, albeit indirectly.

However, if she were asked of it, her answer would be simple... Her kind smile and patient demeanor would never waver as she would speak with a gentle voice:]

"Long have the Ilmatari cared for the ill of the city, and seldom have they passed into Death's realm. Never have they passed due to poisoned medicine while in my care, much less from any that may have come through Elven hands. To my knowledge we have not even lost any in our care in recent tendays.

I don't know who has started these rumors or why, but I can assure you that no dead have gone from the Ilmatari temple to the grave yard only to rise in unrest. Yes, some of the dead there are unsettled, and I do pray that Mercy see them to proper rest... but it has nothing to do with elven alchemists who have brought tonics to me or any healers that serve Ilmater. They have all be fine tonics. Rest assured that we Ilmatari take precautions against poisoning, intentional or accidental. I would fear idle gossip more than any else.

May Mercy smile on you, and the Triad keep you well."

[She prays it would be enough to put people's minds at ease. She offers another kind smile, and a polite nod before she continues her duties between the temple and the orphanage.]

[dzidek1983]

after some time people notice a red sign written on the wall of the graveyard...

do not go in.. ELVEN POISON....

who wrote it is unclear...

[Hydrocarbonated]

The master gravedigger sets a few lads to scrubbing it off, muttering to himself all the while.

"What do the dead care about elves or poison? We cart 'em in all the same."

[Considerate_]

As a certain minstrel hears the rumour spoken in the Friendly Arm Inn, she simply can't help herself as she bursts into song. A playful tune from her lute fills the room, her voice singing out in a mock serious tone that quickly evolves into a fullfledged teasing tone as it progresses.

~Rumours are afoot, listen to this my little song~
~thus far the elven academy has done no wrong~
~Noble scholars with their long nose in a book, ~
~just take a peak, they hardly look the crook.~

~It’s all a misunderstanding, they called no demon~
~at the most it was an elf hugging a tree in sermon~
~Speaking of poison that raise the dead is bizarre,~
~I know their perfume is bad, but that’s taking it too far!~

~Obvious this gnome has gotten a bit too fond of weed,~
~that or he was drowning himself in a barrel of mead!~
~I’ll tell you what if you ever need a nap, take your pick~
~of the academy's lessons that should do the trick!~

[dzidek1983]

A character in black robes, his face covered from others eyes sneaks through the forest of Sharp Teeth...
On a clearing he starts a fire... black smoke comes out of it after he throws various herbs into it....
The smoke is visible form far away....
After some time he starts a dark ritual... words spoken in foul language forgotten through centuries...

In the meantime the smoke attracts some travelers... it's some sailors found in the docks.. one of them with a dark face covered in strange tatoos....

They witness as the hooded person summons several undead creatures just to leave them roam the place... he then vanishes in to the shadows showing just a pointy ear from under his hood...

The sailors go back aboard their ship to tell the captain what they saw.. shortly after the rumors spread in one of the taverns....

[Hydrocarbonated]

The immediate question on everyone's lips is:
"Wot t' 'ells w're ye doin' bloody days away, pokin' aroun' in th' bloody woods, mate?"

Laughter and beer flows at the latest round of rumours.

"I 'eard it were Elminster, like!" "Nay, Khelben the Blackstaff is really The Warlock King!" A dull thump as two steins connect in mock salute, then the night turns on and on.