The Spades

[Rakosi]

Various scrolls can be seen hung about the Docks district of Baldur's Gate, of late.

[Azure]

As the sun begins it's slow crawl over the docks in the early hours of the following morning, and the commoners stretch and begin their careening through the district, one of the more easily viewed of the newfound scrolls can clearly be seen to have a reply written neatly on it in flowing script.

[Rakosi]

A short note is left tacked under the one above, those witnessing the addendum would have seen a Halfling to be the author.

"Your method and intention is well know. If necessary I will call upon the aid of the Knightly Orders to help rid these city streets of the ills that beset the common folk. Thugs and thieves have no place here. You have heard my warning, and that you replied at all hints that you well understand the weight.

There is no parlay here; the common folk deserve the sweat of their brow and none shall seek otherwise while I draw breath."

[Azure]

Later in the eve as the sun begins to set, and the moon begins her lethargic arc skyward, no reply would be found under the most recent one. However, rumors seem to suggest that a sizeable donation of gold and food was made to the locals and wayward children of the docks, anonymously of course.

[stevebarracuda]

The sometimes charmer, Artim, finds himself facing a newly inked parchment. Words flowing off its skin with a certain…heavy demeanor.

"Who they be calling' common?" he says aloud, as he carries on in his reading. "I'd say rightly so that the men and women of the Gate are quite the uncommon type, aye!" Artim flips the bottom of the parchment with a thin-gloved finger, letting it further flap in the light breeze coming off the bay.

This man of the Gate turns on his heels, his back to the parchment, and simply looks down the streets, at those hustling and bustling. Smiling, he raises his arms upwards, hands open, in a pose that looks as if he would hug the city itself.

"Are you treated so poorly, my brethren? Do you want still, and for what? Do my coppers given to the performer there, the barmaid here, the little boy who steals but knows not better, the drunken sailor that needs another ale to send him off away from his loving family…do not we take good care of each other?!?"

His words are stated aloud, rhetorically, and with earnest.

"We are all family, are we not?" Still smiling, thinking his performance to have gone over well and pleased to have said it, the man known by some as Artim carries onward, away from the parchment and never looking back at it. A few long minutes, a bit of a turn here and there in the streets and a few hellos passed on to the street peddlers and shop owners that he knows well, Artim finds his lucky stool, at the edge of the Elfsong Tavern patio, and does what he does best: order a fine ale, and begin with gusto, complimenting the lasses on their latest attempts to catch his eye.

[Phantom]

The day after, a short note can be read right below the Halfling's reply, probably added during the darkest hours of the night, while the city sleeps:

Reliance upon others
Is weakness for the strong
And strength for the weak.
Wisdom and balance lie in knowing your own nature over time.

Do not make the mistake to assume you know others, when your message clearly shows you do not even know your own self. It is invariably a costly one.

[Snarfy]

A black cloaked and hooded male of slim stature wearing dark pants and a light yellow vest, presumably an elf by all appearances, eases his way through the Gate some time after all the scrolls appear around the docks.

Making his way through the East gate district and into the docks, the elf gazes around with a rather bemused expression at the posters. After a long moment, and much scratching of his hooded head at reading the nearest scroll, the elf pauses to regard the wordy man as he delivers his speech, eyeing the surrounding streets a bit warily as he does.

At the speech giving fellows final proclamation, the hooded elf scoffs rather lightly in disbelief before wandering back towards the East gate, and he could easily be heard muttering softly to himsellf...

"I wonder if the commoners are not treated so poorly after all. Maybe not enough for me to depart with any coin on this night at least... I suppose I'll just have to spend this on a new vest."

With that the slim elf turns on his heel and begins to flip a single coin in the air with one hand as he wanders nonchalantly off in the direction of the Aello's, his other hand squeezed tightly around his coin purse.

[paw]

Herran sees one of the posters and chuckles as he reads it. "Is this fellow talking about thieves? ... or mayhaps the Dukes taxes ... either way I pray he knows what he is getting into for either way he goes .... will mean blood on the streets."

[Deathgrowl]

In the middle of the night, the shadows in Selûne's light coalesce near the poster for a brief moment. When they settle back to normal, no additional note is attached, but a small poem is written by an artistic hand on the bottom of the original poster.

"Is it your intention to misguide?
That the only who care are the knights?
Many are the evils that do not hide.
And even in the shadows there are lights."

[DM Nilbog]

*James Norton walks by and looks over the Scroll and laughs for several minutes before turning to a fellow Fist*

Who in the nine do they think they are? This is priceless going to save it for use in the privy.

[finneas]

*A orange-haired man known by friend and foe alike solely as the Copper Fox peruses one of the posters on his weekly trip to "The Gate." He strokes his moustache absently with thumb and forefinger as he reads, nodding slowly to himself. He studies the poster for a few moments more as if contemplating something. Finally he pulls out a small candle and a nub of wax. He softens the wax and rubs a blob onto the poster, pressing his ring into it. Anyone caring to look at the sealing wax can plainly see the image of a fox chasing a pair of ravens to flight. He then turns and makes his way to, oddly enough, the sewer entrance.*

[mireigi]

The Morninglord Tolan, on his way to the Docks District to catch a boat down the Coast, stops by the poster and carefully reads through it. After a moment of consideration, he pulls out a quill and a piece of paper. When he leaves not long after, a note is left hanging under the original poster.

• "Inciting the population of any city to rebel against the established order, however poor or good that order may be, is not the best way to affect change, even if intentions are pure and just.
  
  Strive to show your fellow man, woman and child a better way of life, by leading by example and without violence. Have faith that those you try to protect will see the need for change if you show them another way.
  
  With the light of dawn comes opportunity. Do not seek to hasten the light of dawn by igniting torches. Be patient and have faith."

[Garnet]

In the darkest hours of the night, 3 shadowy silhouettes stand for the briefest of moments in front of one of the fliers. Between the two malicious escorts stands a prominent individual with her arms folded comforably across her body. As she reads the document, an icy cold smirk slowly grows over her face. With the glimmer of moonlight sparkle in her eyes, she quietly kisses her palm and blows it toward the flier causing a small cloud of mist to rise out from her lips.

Even though no words were said, it was clearly understood that the Duchess of Shadows herself has clearly accepted the challenge.

[JoblessBarrel]

A small Hin woman with bright orange hair can be seen pinching the bridge of her nose as she reads the note. "Jack, you don't understand that The Thieves Guild is doing something similar to us..." She mutters to herself.

The little woman scribbles a few, poorly written lines on a scrap of parchment and applies it to the missive on the board.

"Jack. Take the fellows up on learning about the organization before we all end up flaying each other for pointless disagreements. Think of the horrible marketing that would be for the brewery.
-River"

The spoon wielding woman walks away grumbling.