Rumors of the Northern Sword Coast

[TheZhentarim]

Once more word begins to spread of Zhentarim movement.

This time a large contingent of Zhentilar soldiers recently begin arriving to join and reinforce others stationed near the Boareskyr bridge.
Over the course of several days the grim faced but determined soldiers appear in the area by smaller squads, evidently choosing to not march all at once nor by main trails.

With them they bring what appears to be building materials for use in fortification, these they swiftly hand over to the forces of Blackrose and seemingly deferring to their expertise in such structural work.

Rumor talks of an agreement between various factions to bolster against the remnants of northern threats, which could explain the Zhentilar presence.

[LivT]

Once more word begins to spread of Zhentarim movement.

This time a large contingent of Zhentilar soldiers recently begin arriving to join and reinforce others stationed near the Boareskyr bridge.
Over the course of several days the grim faced but determined soldiers appear in the area by smaller squads, evidently choosing to not march all at once nor by main trails.

With them they bring what appears to be building materials for use in fortification, these they swiftly hand over to the forces of Blackrose and seemingly deferring to their expertise in such structural work.

Rumor talks of an agreement between various factions to bolster against the remnants of northern threats, which could explain the Zhentilar presence.

It's an innocuous presence to most:

One raven loiters nearby in the tree boughs. Not always seen - ravens need to fly off an feed, after all - but if seen and shooed, would not go any further than the next tree boughs. Either this is its territory, or it has a reason for being here, watching.

[The Whistler]

Once more word begins to spread of Zhentarim movement.

This time a large contingent of Zhentilar soldiers recently begin arriving to join and reinforce others stationed near the Boareskyr bridge.
Over the course of several days the grim faced but determined soldiers appear in the area by smaller squads, evidently choosing to not march all at once nor by main trails.

With them they bring what appears to be building materials for use in fortification, these they swiftly hand over to the forces of Blackrose and seemingly deferring to their expertise in such structural work.

Rumor talks of an agreement between various factions to bolster against the remnants of northern threats, which could explain the Zhentilar presence.

Vandren the one eyed marksman becomes something of a permanent fixture in the Zhentilar camp in the ensuing days, supping and exchanging stories with the men when he is not participating in the daily drills or performing various chores around the site. He somehow becomes more gregarious and outgoing than his usual self while surrounded by the grim faced soldiery, quicker to laugh. At times even glancing at the curious corvid as though considering shooting it to showcase his archery to the other men.

[yyj]

In the reaching woods, during a rainy and foggy night, two hunters encountered each other, one of them stalking the other from the shadows until one with the upper hand engaged the other in conversation.

Not too long after, they engaged in a battle, one of them firing arrows while the other attempted to attack with dual weapons, in the end, it was the archer who won the battle, a dagger, taken as a trophy.

The wounded hunted hunter barely managed to reach the village of Greenest, still wearing the arrows from the battle in her body, she was healed by the Luckbringer of Greenest Solomon.

[Shamble]

Arrows were whistling at the Boareskyr Bridge tonight.

A gang of elven rangers was battling a lone orcish hunter. Several rangers were wounded in the skirmish, including the orc, but nobody has fallen in the end.

Seeing that odds weren't in his favor, the greenskin found no shame in swift escape. It's rumored that his trace was lost somewhere in the High Moors, meaning that the bipedal prey hunter is still on the loose...

[Nyssis]

One raven loiters nearby in the tree boughs.
...It has a reason for being here, watching.

Several rangers were wounded in the skirmish, including the orc, but nobody has fallen in the end.
It's rumored that his trace was lost somewhere in the High Moors, meaning that the bipedal prey hunter is still on the loose...

---

A passing hunter spends notable time combing the site of the attack, distinguishing blood from the loam by smell or congealment; discerning the maker's mark on the undersoles of crossing, chaotic, careless footfall; and spying the trajectory of arrows until she finds their misbegotten stakes still-lodged in the terrain.

And lo, plucked from the scene is a solitary wildflower --- an ugly, dirty thing shorn of most its petals. A thing barely claimed a 'flower' any longer, trampled underfoot by haphazard or misintent and better thought discarded. It finds itself tucked behind her elm-leaf ear, and weakly turns its face to accuse the marsh with its dying breath.

Her strides listen and acquiesce, and she whistles something call-like to the Bridgefort's raven along the way to ask it to partner her. Other birds are questioned similarly with voices none-too-dissimilar their own wherever furtive, black shapes are spied ornamenting the trees. And if trusted 'nough to be answered, she doesn't withhold any praise or reward; she needs the extra eyes.

No footprints hound her 'yond footprints already strewn, therein towards the elf's great forest. No snapped branch or shifting grassblade cries out from the abuse suffered under supporting her weight. No evidence is left behind of her being there at all, the ghost, except an insignificant, filched stalk: a witness that continues to witness postmortem.

[yyj]

One raven loiters nearby in the tree boughs.
...It has a reason for being here, watching.

Several rangers were wounded in the skirmish, including the orc, but nobody has fallen in the end.
It's rumored that his trace was lost somewhere in the High Moors, meaning that the bipedal prey hunter is still on the loose...

---

A passing hunter spends notable time combing the site of the attack, distinguishing blood from the loam by smell or congealment; discerning the maker's mark on the undersoles of crossing, chaotic, careless footfall; and spying the trajectory of arrows until she finds their misbegotten stakes still-lodged in the terrain.

And lo, plucked from the scene is a solitary wildflower --- an ugly, dirty thing shorn of most its petals. A thing barely claimed a 'flower' any longer, trampled underfoot by haphazard or misintent and better thought discarded. It finds itself tucked behind her elm-leaf ear, and weakly turns its face to accuse the marsh with its dying breath.

Her strides listen and acquiesce, and she whistles something call-like to the Bridgefort's raven along the way to ask it to partner her. Other birds are questioned similarly with voices none-too-dissimilar their own wherever furtive, black shapes are spied ornamenting the trees. And if trusted 'nough to be answered, she doesn't withhold any praise or reward; she needs the extra eyes.

No footprints hound her 'yond footprints already strewn, therein towards the elf's great forest. No snapped branch or shifting grassblade cries out from the abuse suffered under supporting her weight. No evidence is left behind of her being there at all, the ghost, except an insignificant, filched stalk: a witness that continues to witness postmortem.

Near the entrance to the Misty forest from the Moors, a lonely wood elf would be leaning against one of the trees, not hidden, she would be besides a small campfire where some meat is being cooked, she would welcome any travellers passing by offering either word or food.

[PaulImposteur]

Over the last week a strange Water-Genasi with dark blue skin, red eyes, and a set of shark like teeth has been wandering around Baldur's Gate. He has been asking various people for information regarding 'Dark Waters'. Irritating some of the locals with his strange appearance and behavior. He has a symbol of Umberlee on the back of his shield.

Rumor spread that he looks even stranger amongst the local population when he walked into the City, searching for potions, preaching of a Prince of the Far Realms. Now its said his eyes are as black as the abyss, and tendril-like tattoos run up his face. His emblems of Umberlee tarnished and ruined.

[Rhifox]

A witch moves through the forests and wilderness east of Soubar, tracking some sort of prey. She returns some time later, a bloodied trophy in hand.

[Roofshadow]

A ginger-haired half-elf traveled up the road with a decidedly full pack of belongings. Given a few lingering glances over her shoulder, it would seem this particular trip was likely to be one-way. But as heavy as the steps had started, they grew noticeably lighter the farther she walked.

[yyj]

A few patrols of elves move across the northern moors and woodlands with speed and silence, tracking the roads for threats and taking note of the road, apparently in preparations for something.

[Shamble]

Big hunt.

Many came to the Reaching Woods glades tonight, looking to put an end to the infamous orcish hunter.
However, he was expecting it...

The elven ranger, having survived the assassination attempt, brought an experienced and incredibly skilled half-elven markswoman to slay the beast. The crossfire lasted for hours, the forest became a place to decide who is the hunter and who is the prey.

By the end of this tense skirmish, only one sharpshooter remained on the scene. More came to claim his head, more haven't succeeded. They had numbers and incredible personal power, but they weren't at home in the dense midnight woods...
All four combatants were tied together, carried through the grass like trophies.








The wild card of this carnage came into play when least expected. The orc's big catch attracted the masked doctor's interest. It's rumored that the doctor tricked the notorious hunter, claiming all captives for himself...

...But for what goals?

[Nyssis]

The elven ranger, having survived the assassination attempt, brought an experienced and incredibly skilled half-elven markswoman to slay the beast. The crossfire lasted for hours, the forest became a place to decide who is the hunter and who is the prey.

By the end of this tense skirmish, only one sharpshooter remained on the scene...

---

Something darts from wooded places deep on that eventide, bloodied only barely --- stepping only surely, in a blur --- and yet armed and armored, and wreed with knowledge scarcely known save to those in close amity with the Pale Rider.

Chasing a route west-northwest, a dark figure flies screaming 'cross the weald, imbued with the mortalized power of storm's death knell! And distant, booming things aftershock her passage like the herald of thunder: winds crossfire through foliage to rip leaves free, flowers are beheaded or uprooted entirely, and treebark shatters on the tail end of inhuman speed.

These markers or wounds etch themselves far into the land, but no further than near the fringes of the Trielta Hills. Prey's assumed imagery disappears there once the magic powering her is ceased, and intent thus offers a trail for any would-be predator thought too prudent to follow.

[yyj]

One of the newly arrived people on the Coast is seen questioning a pair at the Waters of Eldath in the Reaching Woods.

There's some tension as the conversation goes but shortly after exchanging a few words, the horned woman left the fountain.

[yyj]

A small camp is set near the Forest of Wyrms.

A shadowy figure heads into the forest, hidden and silent, searching for giant spider nests. Under the cover of the night and the many trees that keep light away she patiently remains watching and taking note of every movement, every prey that might fall in the spider web.
She was after the hunt, not the bounty, but she only limited herself to observing and nothing more...After some hours of scouting and surveillance, she returned to a closeby village, Soubar, looking for other hunters that were going to hunt the same prey.