In the past tenday a new song began to stir in the taverns and inns. Slowly at first, in isolated events or on parchment left behind on a table. The song is called "Look to Elturel". Those that find the parchment with the song would discover detailed on the back a picture of a thin, pale, white haired elf bent down on his knees before a man sitting on a throne. There is a caption that reads: "See how the Dreadlord bows to Grand Duke Entar."
Today at early light when folks were awakening and getting food around various establishments, the plain faced minstrel in blue and yellow returned, lute in hand. He again sings the jolly tune Dirty Zhents but also a new song, this one with warlike tone.
Look to Elturel
Dark tendrils reach the Gate,
Look to Elturel.
They preach brutality and hate,
Look to Elturel.
The Watcher is alert,
Look to Elturel.
The war is not covert,
Look to Elturel.
They fight dirty Zhents,
Look to Elturel.
They do not relent,
Look to Elturel
Hellriders go to war,
Look to Elturel,
Their courage evermore,
Look to Elturel.
In one particular establishment, as if almost by request, there is a transition in the lutists sound and two verses are sung before the minstrel moved on.
The wizards of Nay
In pink dresses they sway
Enter the enclave
you'll met your last day!
Your body then found
Arrow filled up and down.
Shrugging pink shoulders,
Their dresses turn brown!
mumble wrote:
In one particular establishment, as if almost by request, there is a transition in the lutists sound and two verses are sung before the minstrel moved on.
The wizards of Nay
In pink dresses they sway
Enter the enclave
you'll met your last day!
Your body then found
Arrow filled up and down.
Shrugging pink shoulders,
Their dresses turn brown!
The Witch Hunter applauded
"Bravo! Bravo! good sport indeed!"
Wulfrik, Hunter Ever, Hunter After
Alaan Skriesong, Anarchist, Assassin, Wild Person- Retired with his She-wolf Elfling in a homely cave -Retired
mumble wrote:In one particular establishment, as if almost by request, there is a transition in the lutists sound and two verses are sung before the minstrel moved on.
The wizards of Nay
In pink dresses they sway
Enter the enclave
you'll met your last day!
Your body then found
Arrow filled up and down.
Shrugging pink shoulders,
Their dresses turn brown!
Blood red flags of Thay draped the walls either side of the darkly stained zalantyr wood throne upon which Boris Vyacheslav, Knight-Commander of the sacred order of the Crimson Guard, reclined. One taloned gauntlet rapped its bladed fingertips lightly on the orb of the arm-rest - the soft click of steel on wood. The twin fist clutched the hilt of his standing sword. His savage iron-grip on the drawn weapon betrayed a permanent visceral rage - sore wroth become so intrinsic to the behemoth of Bane.
One blackened steel saboton was lift to rest a cruel heel on the bare back of a kneeling servant - a human ottoman. He had not waited long. The Thayan Agent he had summoned, a young Mulanese man, entered the office presently with the confidence of formality. The Agent seemed undaunted by the magical Symbol of Pain and Symbol of Fear marking the herculean Commander's cheeks. Nor was he disturbed the likeness of a Balor's visage tattooed over Boris' slickly shaven skull. He simply stood to attention. With the snap of his heels and the brisk salute of a fist beating his breast he awaited the imperative.
Boris' jaded, kohl-lined eyes gradually moved to the entrant - barely broken from his grim reverie. He seemed to stare through the man whom he addressed in icy baritone;
"The bard. Bring him to me."
~~~
At the next re-appearance of the outspoken musician it seemed one among the crowd had discretely offered up an envelope among the coins the bard received at the end of his performance. It was a simple letter inviting the entertainer to come - and come alone - to the Thayan Enclave, where he might deliver his lauded performance before the Knight-Commander in person.
A dark cloaked figure is seen entering temples in Baldur's Gate: those of Helm, Torm, Tyr and Ilmater. Talas, he gives his name as to the possibly suspicious clergy, given his scarred aspect and gruff manners. No doubt the cutlass at his side and the blackness of his armour do not speak of some shining bastion of light.
He shows them a letter that he has written to various paladins around the Sword Coast. He asks to be able to leave a copy with the clergy, to invite passing paladins to the meeting too.
I wrote before to some of you asking for paladins to step forward if they could.
I can't think of a better time and place to meet than at the Temple of Helm in the coming days. A good place to talk and see if there's common ground, so we can all row in the same direction. Thats the way a galley moves.
So I'll be there to meet with the Watchknight, and hopefully some of you others will be as well.
calvinus wrote:*Wai Li posts that she will be available for meeting with the public and drop ins on the 4th of the month at the Temple of the Guardian in Nashkel.*
((Drop by if you want to RP at 16:00 GMT on Saturday, February 4.))
Don't be angry, Patroclus, if you learn -
even though you're in Hades - I gave Hector back
to his father for a worthy ransom
But I shall give a proper share to you.
Rumors spread like wildfire that the ghoulish armored figure of a Myrkulite cleric wreathed in funereal shroud made a grave proclamation before several farmhands and adventurers gathered outside the city gates. All the intrepid adventurers, save two, paid the raving lunatic no mind; already engrossed in small talk between them. No one can tell what the collective reaction of the naturally more superstitious farmhands was, as the cleric was escorted away by the jeers and threats of a horned woman and a Morninglord of Lathander before the fist had a chance to arrive at the scene.
The priest was then seen heading north, towards the Fields of the Dead.
Schrödinger's Cyricism: NPCs simultaneously know everything and nothing about Cyric until observed by the Cyricist. Then they default to the state that disadvantages the Cyricist the most.
Shekels asks the Town Crier to assist with a quest of going to the Upperdark, to find couriers; which are lost.
The Town crier yells.
Here Ye Here ye, Shekels is hiring for work to go to the Upperdark, it is for lost traders trying to find their ways back to their wives and children. The pay high as well!
///Items will stay in game, in the upperdark while server is up.
The Items are in chest named "Lost Trader"
Any who bring them to me will get gold in return.
Pm DM Spartacus for more details.
Type in /d some Dms are hiding
Last edited by Kagger911 on Tue Feb 07, 2017 4:33 pm, edited 1 time in total.
A red hooded, white cloaked man with a well worn look about his clothing, enters the Tymoran Temple in the Palace District. Such a fine, bright, red hood and shining, flowing, white cloak...may have turned garnered some attention.
Some time later, he is seen leaving the Temple, his being, surrounded by small crystals of light, dancing about him...some may be familiar with this sort of blessing, gained...by those that give upon the altar within this particular Temple.
Additionally, the man is walking away from the temple, with three cards in his hand, tarot cards to be exact...which one could assume he must have acquired from the Temple as well.
What may gain the most attention, is that as the man walks from the Temple forth to the Wide, he openly talks about his very own luck, shown to him by the Grace of a Smile, and to whomever he can make eye contact with, he gladly shows the three cards, and verbally delivers their meaning...as it was told to him by the Reader.
A tenday ago, Lieutenant met at the Helm and Cloak Inn with her cousin Traveois Harrington. The two spoke about their respective family and Harrington's business endeavors. El was accompanied by a recruit-in-training and Xavier Aylomen, who demanded to witness first hand the personal guard training provided to recruits given the recent contract signed between Herald of Darkhold and Ebon Blade. The family reunion was cut short when Harrington's associate, Marcus Debonaire, arrived.
The meeting was witnessed by three, well-dressed and well-known patrons who gracefully sipped their wine exchanging smiles.
Nobody has heard from El or seen her since.
(((OOC Disclaimer: All the information here can be considered IC-obtainable.
Maeve - The Water Witch ------ Journal --- Main. Temporarily back. El - The Sum of Ex-selves ------ Journal ✵ Bio --- Semi-retired Alt. MIA again.
Rumours say of a well dressed man speaking with Merchants at the Carnival. He seems to be buying a large amount of weapons and armors all to be delivered tomorrow somewhere.
During the last days, a man with charming eyes sits upon a pedestal in the East District plaza. He appears to any passersby that he is contemplating something...like a mystery....
In late afternoon or early evening the sight of a man wearing browns and copper with two bastard swords strapped to his back carrying a woman with auburn hair, grey chain, and a bow down the street of the East Gate district could be seen. They had emerged from a small stall in an ally nearby.
The two were apparently conversing about something quietly as the woman was carried, but some folk say she was asleep when he carried her into the Blade and Stars, where he got a room and carried her upstairs.
The man in copper and brown was seen leaving about ten to twenty minutes later alone.
A few hours later the young woman left the Blade and Stars alone, under her own power, apparently non the worse for wear.
Derik "Crimson Bulwark" Ranloss: Thugging for GREAT JUSTICE!!! (yes, I know he doesn't wear red) Headmaster:Bladestone Foundation.
Owner:The Last Anchor Braithreachas Leomhainn "My purpose is to shed blood for those who can't, and to bleed for those who shouldn't."
Rumours begin to spread of a paid training exercise gone wrong at The Twlight Rose. Different tellings paint different versions of the story, varying between it being an actual assault on the ship, a bunch of actors pulling off a prank, to a successfully had training session. Most tellings of the events agree that six people entered the ship, and six left again after, some possibly injured, or very handsomly paid for services rendered.
Vala Reyer - "...a tempest of steel and lightning." Captain of the Relentless Storm The Reyer Clinic
Relentless Gaurd
A song from the taverns reaches it's way to the other bards, and song masters alike. A rallying song for any that find the atmosphere convenient and one sang without pressure. No credits taken.
Beware the Zhent's
Beware the Zhent's! They walk the streets,
Ripping babes from our mothers teats.
Beware the Zhent's they corrupt our youth,
Telling tall tales and avoiding the truth!
High! He sits upon his throne;
One not made of metal or bone.
His crushing weight will be felt by you,
The people of the gate; the silenced few.
Beware the Zhent's! They walk the streets,
Ripping babes from our mothers teats.
Beware the Zhent's they corrupt our youth,
Telling tall tales and avoiding the truth!
The fallen and controlled are on the scene,
Maximillian a fraud, touting the theme. Commanders and warlords striking the weak,
Putting rags over our mouths; so we can't speak!
Beware the Zhent's! They walk the streets,
Ripping babes from our mothers teats.
Beware the Zhent's they corrupt our youth,
Telling tall tales and avoiding the truth!
The underling named Xavier - of the Dread leader,
Mostly described as a subjugated bottom feeder.
His envious eyes lay upon Wren;
A soft souled woman... broken by men.
Beware the Zhent's! They walk the streets,
Ripping babes from our mothers teats.
Beware the Zhent's they corrupt our youth,
Telling tall tales and avoiding the truth!
The celebrations; the wine and the fame,
The oppression that comes with following Bane.
Their foothold in our City is just the start,
The Blackened rule, pulling our city apart.
The Dark One points his bone fingered hand! "TYRANNY!"
he calls, "ACROSS THE LAND!"
But let us put it down to you....
It's in your hands! The time of will! The time of power... This will not be our final hour!
We will rise! We will soar; We will not let them win! The Zhentarim's downfall is about to begin!
Standing tall, and voicing your word,
We are all the choir! Let's be heard!
Qilintha Dev'lin Ilharess "All great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds." Rose Valexe Songstress "Aspire to inspire before we expire."
