The Broken Goblet

[selhan]

Sunflower



“Never look directly at the sun. Instead, look at the sunflower.”



Some say a sunflower means loyalty or adoration, and a sunflower field is like a sky with a thousand suns. It's indeed a fact that sunflowers end up facing the sun, but they go through a lot of dirt to find their way there. But never have I been giving such a flower for the purpose to do away with my stress. If the meaning of a sunflower is true, I can only pray it was a show of loyalty.

A rose can never be a sunflower, and a sunflower can never be a rose. All flowers are beautiful in their own way, and that's like women too. Each with their own qualities, their own traits that separates them from the rest.



But let not my thoughts of such things cloud my judgment and reasons. For I truly understand why I was given such at thing. I looked at it carefully, look at its shape, it's vibrant yellows and oranges, a sunflower can brighten your day...it's as if it is smiling like a happy face painted on the sun...so if you do only one thing all day, let it be to smile, so you can brighten the day of others around you, just like the sunflower.

However like any flower that was nipped at the stem, its beauty, its meaning, what it represents is only temporary. Without its roots , it will soon wilt and die. Such as my smile. In the past several tendays, blood has been spilled to include mine. Yet still more is to be spilled, and there doesn't seem to be an end to it any time soon.



All I can do, is hope I don't get uprooted. If someone ever seen the sunflower in my possession and asked me why I have it? I would offer them a goblet and say ..

“Come, come and sit beside me and watch the Sun and Sunflowers toast each other,
and perceive that peace is just a drink away from the eternity.”

[selhan]

The Gorge



Know thy self, know thy enemy. A thousand battles, a thousand victories,
But battles are won by slaughter and maneuver.



Skull Gorge... It was a long gorge that ran along the northernmost stretch of the River Reaching in the Western Heartlands. Rumors told of hidden treasure in the caverns of Skull Gorge, hastily concealed by the orcish and goblinoid forces as they prepared to defend themselves. Although some few caches of treasure were found, most adventurers who sought these hidden riches never returned, falling prey to the dangerous creatures who made the gorge their home.



What makes the hearts of men and woman face dangers perilous to them? Is it fame? glory? To test ones self? I guess everyone has their own reasons for cause. I'm a man that cares nothing for fame or glory. Far as testing myself, well I've lived on the Coast for fourteen years. I've done that quite over more times than I can bloody count. But what will compel me enough to track down a group of adventurers, and some friends that journey off into dangerous lands? Hmm..tis a good question now that I think about it. But the first thing that did come to mind was treasures.



Or is it?...I have more coins than I can spend, I've already spent millions. Equipment magical artifacts? Trinkets? Hmm I seem to already have all that I care to have or even need to my knowledge. Then why is it that I truly go? Venturing off in some bloody place I would consider tiresome or troublesome?...*The man leans on his elbows from the crows nest of his ship and overlooks the sea and stares into the moons reflection upon the surface of the ocean* ...I do find it fascinating watching mages unleash spells and raining death and destruction upon their enemies in their wake.



The precision shots of arrows from a dexterous grace. Elves are quite mystical with a bow in their hand. So quick how they draw an arrow or even arrows! from their quivers and let loose the shafts that would cause agonizing pain or a sure death.



Those Orc's in the Skull Gorge have their own archers too. Black crude arrows and likely barbed along the arrow tips. They cause a tremendous amount of pain. And oddly, these orc archers were quite trained well.



And not just trained in notching an arrow. Their tactful. Sending in worgs and other lesser goblinnoids to keep up a melee distraction while they rain those filthy arrows upon our heads.



Some within the group were bold and brave and made of much sterner stuff. Able warriors and fighters..strong with fortitude. Shields rose up soaking up the many orc arrows aimed for them.



While others...closed the distance...



And unleashed their reckoning upon each and every orc that held a bow...



By the time the night had ended...the very ground of Skulls Gorge was saturated by the blood of Orcs and goblinoids and those annoying wolves.

[selhan]

Unpredicted



“Life is no different than the weather. Not only is it unpredictable,
but it shows us a new perspective of the world every day.”



"I worry for their safety...they are like ..."

"If your seriously asking me of that..."

"I understand this is an near impossible task but I would be most grateful if you could use whatever persuasion you can muster to convince them otherwise. I may even reward you with a ...."

"Your a very clever woman, very smart. I will see to your request ....but ...I aint settling with a...I rather have one worthy to remember."

"There will be no ..... beyond that just so you know.."

"I wouldn't go beyond that,....I respect you more than that..."

"... and thank you for undertaking this request of mine..."

"Somethings are worth more than gold....stubbornness prevents me from making you a promise. But I can promise my best efforts in trying."

"And thank you for granting me an audience this eve"

"You offer a very great reward .....its what I consider it. Clever girl. Very clever..not sure why that mess is that important to you..but stay safe hmm. By any means"

"I hear their .......is limited too, but I'm not sure what to make of it, Why do you ask? You seek to offer them assistance?"

"I care about people I fancy ..they.... are not them"

"Sel. Thank you once again"

Armies of small-minded and low-graded people, drifting on the waves of their unawareness or misfortune, suffocating in their caves of bewilderment and fading into oblivion, Imminent counteractions might unchain an avalanche of social fallouts if they feel ignored or disregarded. A persons rage is unpredictable and rampant. We must never fail to remember the lessons of our history. I've seen both sides, one appears weak when yet they are strong, and the others appear strong yet they are weak. Either sides would take heed in the knowledge that, the true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him. They better be ready because winter is coming.




"...dont get involved. For me, and fer yer safety, Can you please do that for me.?"

'...Why?"

"As you understand sometimes we just cant say...I speak truth however and Im as real as a heart attack."

"And now, you come here discussing about that - telling me to stay out of it."

"..somethings is better left unknown..less painful that way. Aint nothing wrong with turnin a blind eye sometime. And it aint just folks caring fer ya"

"It's gonna get bloody messy very messy. For both sides...and the way things lookin just might be......, wont just be your life you risk, your name, your fame, everything you accomplished up to this point."

"So I'm not going there."

"Good, because my lips on the line.."

"What does this has to do with your lips?!"

"Trust me when I say walking around lookin over me shoulders aint fun"



If patrons asked the bartender of the Broken Goblet, what he thought about conflicts and wars, he would tell them..

“If you win, you need not have to explain...If you lose,
you should not be there to explain!
Everything in Neshkal is great and adorable,
apart from the weather which is so unbearable.”

[selhan]

Rumble Rumble



"What you get when you have a group of,
two dwarves, a sorceress, a whip, a bard, a frying pan and a bartender?
I'll tell ye, a chaotic force"



Aye and I do not jest there was a frying pan...



The Greypeaks was short on Giants this day, as well as its King and its Balor and Beholders. I mean what would one expect when you have a pair of charging dwarves..




A sorceress with a tricorn and high thighs..



A bard with a feathered hat..



Whos swinging around a frying pan...



And a bartender that lives in a pirate village...




Surely the sound of laughter and rumbling echoed down the peaks. As with the roaring cries of felled Giants, Beholders and Balors...

And this wasn't the first or the last venture of the day...just the rumbling strangest..

[selhan]

Troubled Thoughts



“Don't give up when dark times come. The more storms you face in life,
the stronger you'll be. Hold on. Your greater is coming.”

I wonder if others out there ever feel the tugging of darkness. Lately it has felt more stronger than ever. Enticing even. My mind feels confused when it happens, and I feel as if my legs will soon sway in the wrong direction. Temptation has always been one of the greatest sins known to us humans. That strong urge to reach out and grasp to which we desire. Not the needing, but the wanting.



Man is so easily tempted others considered our resolve a mere joke. Yet I can't seem to disagree. Most that know me, consider me a simple womanizer, a over zealous flirt. Some question it, others suspect it all an act or a ruse. But the truth is, the more I do it, the more I get lured into making a mistake that I know I will regret.



I can clearly see it, the vision in my head, the calling, the luring. Tugging away at my heart with promises. But I see the darkness for what it is. It masks it's ugliness with appealing images and thoughts to hide its true form. Attempting to make me fall into trickery coated with desires until it is too late for me, and they could then reveal themselves.



My will is weak, my resolve grows brittle, I fear that soon I will be clouded in a shroud of darkness filled with temptation far too much for me to even comprehend what is happening.



I try to remain in the Shore and indulge with what it has to offer, but like any one that feels they've lived in a box for too long, will soon build the urgency to leave the box, and venture out even if it causes exposer to themselves. One can only hide for so long, it is only a matter of when, that someone will soon find you.



When I find myself alone, I close my eyes and focus on what I do have within my grasp. The vison helps, it bats away the dark cloud disrupting its attempt to engulf me. But as finding myself alone, that knowledge too begins to disrupt my focus. And what I held firmly feels as if my grip is loosening slowly. And I know that when I finally let go and toss away my focus and send it scattering into the wind. My mind will surely fail me, and I will surely fail my mind. I can even foresee what will happen..

I finally gave in today. Admitting that I haven't been able to do it alone, that's defeat right? Why I'm here? Will my spirit be altered? Do my passions change? Will I lose hope either way? My madness is what makes me. It’s my most unique quality.

[selhan]

The Broken Goblet 11 Flamerule 1359 DR



“Any fool can know...
The point is to understand.”

THE BROKEN GOBLET:

When pirates and lawless folk come to brawl and carouse, their first thought is to roll into the Goblet swords drawn, and swagger as they promenade along the raised entry dais and down toward the bar. It's the place to be seen and the place to be killed in, if the body count of the last few years is any indication. Don't go here unless you're very good with a blade, alert, have a lot of well-armed friends with you, and are protected against poisons.

A spell such as ironguard is an ideal protection here, but beware, this place is strongly warded, and the defenses permit only existing defensive spells to continue. Newly cast spells are twisted and lost, without effect. The defenses also whisk all missiles (hurled glasses, daggers, darts, bolts, and arrows alike) up into gentle contact with the ceiling. This prevents broken glasses for drink is served here in ornately carved and blown glasses, some of which are exquisitely beautiful, and rather more of which are simply rude.

THE PLACE:

The Goblet consists of a dark taproom with stone floors, massive wooden support pillars and furnishings (trestle tables, wall benches, and high-backed wooden chairs), and candle lamps. The latter can be raised and lowered on chains via ceiling pulleys and from hooks located behind the bar, and consist of wagon wheels that each support a circle of seven to nine fat candles, each set in a buckler to catch the melted wax. A favorite trick during a brawl is to leap behind the bar and undo the hooks, sending the heavy lamps plummeting down atop the tables. The danger of fire makes this tactic grounds for ejection dead or alive.

The staff here go armed with daggers, boot knives, and steel knuckle spikes. Overly amorous patrons are warned that the large men with many scars are large men with many scars, but the buxom wenches with the long lashes and ready smiles are doppelgangers. They often respond to overly familiar touches with a dagger strike and a shift in the form of one hand into a loose curtain of flesh that can be slapped over a patron's face to smother or blind him! The street door is guarded by two house guards with orders to keep it clear so that access is denied to none. Brawls are thus prevented from erupting on the way in and out the door and harming trade. This has the effect of allowing each patron to make a grand entrance on the raised entry dais, which overlooks the taproom from behind a safety rail. A trophy of a long-ago brawl decorates this smoothed oak tree-trunk railing: A black-bladed battle axe split the rail in two and crashed down to bury itself haft-deep in the edge of the floor beneath. Its owner did not live long enough to get it free so the proprietors of the tavern left it there as a warning.

From the taproom, shadowy stairs lead down to jakes (a dangerous place known for stabbings and impromptu body disposals, with
direct connections to the tidal sewers) and up to private drinking rooms, some of which have sliding panels offering egress to side alleys. Lighting is
always scanty in the Goblet, and ghostpipes spell provides gentle background music to cover most conversations from casual eavesdropping.

THE PROSPECT:

There are constant rumors that the staff and ownership of the Goblet are not human and consist of beings far more deadly than the doppleganger wenches. Most folk believe that some fell power runs the tavern. Its wardings are certainly strong, and spells have been deflected from them that hurled back or slew large mercenary attacking forces sent to cleanse or raid Roaringshore. (Those bearing a ward token can cast spells within the tavern.) The truth, according to one Harper, is that illithids rule this tavern and use their powers to gather information about the illicit doings of the Sword Coast from the guests who come here.

The only knowledge or rumor about who owns the Broken Goblet is an human elderly looking woman name Miss "Jackie". And she prefers goat milk instead of alcohol, and she's most angry when any of her precious goblets or furniture is broken. The Bartender can quote her very words in regards ..

"Look here boy, I can care less if someone's neck gets broken so long as my furniture doesn't!"

The Goblet sells no food, but patrons can bring in all they like. One free glass per patron per evening is included in drink prices.

TRAVELER'S LORE:

The anonymous owners of the Goblet keep many treasure maps, wills, and written deals hidden in vaults for pirates, who pay 100 gp per page for long storage. The items are stored from when they are left until they are retrieved by the surrender of a symbolic key (usually a brass token). Rumor has it that the tokens look like brass sea shells, but no one has ever been able to definitively prove this.


DM NOTE's:

Anyone is welcome and allowed to the Goblet but such as a paladin might find themselves uncomfortable. But once you step outside your on your own. However in regards to elves see below.

After the biggest event known this part of the coast as the Time of Troubles, there was a great offering to Umberlee. A ship with around seventy plus elves was captured by pirates and brought to Roaringshore. Nine were given as offering to the Bitch Queen, one was rundown and kilted trying to save her kin, one was sold to an Orc who had eaten the heart of the elf. The rest were sold to Calimshite slaver's. As of current, pirates sees elves as profitable gains if captured and sold to slavers. Thus knowledge has made elf's reluctant to step foot upon Roaringshore, and other good aligned sees the place distasteful.

Anyone that comes to the Broken Goblet would see pinned notice's on both sides of the door. It would read:

"Recently there has been fights inside Broken Goblet, and while I'm not going to be spoiling everyone's fun, my employers wish to limit the damage this has to the business and so I have spoken with the High Admiral and the High Captains about this. We've agreed to this:

- Absolutely no threats to the staff will be accepted.

- If you talk trash about any of the pirate crews and they want to shank you, our guards are not going to stop them.

- If pirates from the crews come looking for fights, the bouncers will throw them out and their respective captains informed of their disrespect of the tavern.

- If the a captain himself disrespects the tavern, the High Admiral and High Captains will be informed, and it is likely the captain's ship and crew will find staying in Roaringshore challenging."

- Miss Jackie Owner of the Broken Goblet-

A BARTENDER'S WORD:

A lot of times some people come to the seek one of the bartenders of the Broken Goblet to hear the latest of rumors or acquire knowledge of something in particular. Some people dare not to come to the village of Roaringshore to seek such things, and alas it has been said knowledge is power. For any patron that asks this particular bartender what he thought about daring people that come to the Shore and seek out knowledge. He would tell them...

“The greatest enemy of knowledge is not ignorance, it is the illusion of knowledge.”

((OOC Notes: Just a repost for new readers slash players to get some knowledge on the lore and FAQ's. Also if any player wishes to have an rp session with me in the Goblet simply send me a tell and we can make a schedule for it if I am not at that moment able to make myself available.))

[selhan]

A Darkened Grasp



“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness.
It took me years to understand that this too, was but a gift.”

Once long ago, there was a place called Keep of the Far Hills, now known as Darkhold. I've been told it was a stronghold built by giants.
The revelation was not false.



I had to first get through the biting cold near the Sunset Mountains, just east of the Reaching Woods. The travel was perilous the arrival was freezing. When one stands in front of the large drawbridge, my mind can't help but wonder what will be met with. Large spears? Black knights mounting upon dark horses? Even the wagon driver and his own horse seems uneased by the biting cold or was it even the cold at all?



Upon ringing the bell, the drawbridge lowered allowing me to proceed. I was met by heavily armed guards, the look upon their faces told they were seasoned vets. The courtyard was layered with snow, the wind was howling and soldiers went about their tasks as well as carpenters and other stone masons. Upon the large steps that lead to the front inner gate, there was a large statue of one of the most renowned Dreadlord in recent years. But I never met him. I've never had a reason to come this far east, nor did I ever want to. I've no history with Darkhold that once flew the banners of Bane the Tyrant God. But many years ago, I did know a man whom I once called a brother. And he was a banite.



Upon the Inner lobby I was met with a large statue of a dragon. Its craftmanship admirable. The tall walls of Darkhold surely proved the evidence that giant's once were the residence. The guard by the inner doors likely a man of high rank didn't greet me. He only set his eyes upon the figure of means. As I followed his gaze, it was then that I saw the woman I called the Bonelady. But I would never address her as such. By standards, the figure was something royal. I slowly approached and she greeted me. I tried hard to hold my resolve and state my business, but the feat was difficult. After all, there I stood within Darkhold! My eyes couldn't stop gazing around and just below that dragon statue was a spiral stairway that lead deep below. A curious mind wondered, what was beneath..a secret chamber? A dungeon? Maybe even a dragon! The Lady of the dark castle allowed me in further and offered a seat at a long table that was more likely used heavily planning out its most previous war against the Lords Alliance. I could even envision men and woman and even drows at its seats discussing war efforts. For even that much had reached my own ears in the height of that war.



The Dread Lord known by name only as Tarina sat there on the biggest chair of comfort. A small figure she seemed in body, but the way she sat upon it, was like a dark queen upon a throne. Her glowing crimson orbs for eye's peered through her mask that was always worn. Likely intrigued by my visit, or annoyed.



Servants upon her command arrived to bring forth two goblets of wine, goblets...I realize even if I am not at the tavern in Roaringshore, goblets will always be filled no matter where I travel. I pushed by my cowl showing respect at her table, but then she did something I surely wasn't ready for. She removed her mask!



I once lived within a world of always hiding my face. I for one know, when you reveal your face, you are doing two things. One, you've nothing to hide, and two you offer a level of trust. But sometimes there was a third reason, that would be, you've no fear with what's before you. As talks went on, it seemed as if each other was appraising each other. Would the person before our eyes be useful, what reason should there even be some sort of relation, was the words that flowed forth have hidden meanings. I know not what she thought of me. But she knew well I wasn't just a bartender, and I've heard of her past, yet she even revealed a bit more of that. How does a woman whom once was a resident of Baldur's Gate that had ties and affiliation with many factions or organization's of honorable and goodly means followed a path that soon made her command a Zhentarim force? I've always said knowledge was power and worth more than coins. The figure before me even with busy hands, seem to have insight in the world beyond her large doors.



What was spoken between the Dreadlord Tarina and the bartender of the Broken Goblet wouldn't be known to anyone. Maybe someone might have seen the bartender simply come and go from the large dark stronghold. And if they did, they would had taken note of his grumbling curses of the biting cold.

I can at least prove some rumors false. I didn't get skinned alive, nor burned nor suffered from some wrenched means. And I think I did well keeping my eyes to myself. Or did I? After all I'm a savvy bartender..

[selhan]

Debt Owed



"People think because I'm a nice person I'm a weak person.
But I don't think being nice means you don't know how to take tough decisions.
I'm up for challenges. I'm up for being outside the box,
making tough decisions and challenges..."



The average person is often pit against morale's and unwanted choices that they have to make. But a person who holds themselves to the lawful order of things, one who keeps a promise, honors a word, pays their debts, follows instructions without questions, choices are made without hesitation. They can separate themselves to get the job done. After all, I've always considered hesitation as a weakness.

"People and their faiths..I dont think I will ever understand."
"If you are so worried, then...I'll collect a favor."





"Speak"
"....make sure I get out of it."





"How do you mean "make sure you get out of it?"
"Find my body among the corpses and take it to a cleric"





"Your asking me to play bodyguard in the middle of that?.."
"There are many ways really if ones gets very creative."




"So be it..."


Everyone has their own way's of doing things or seeing things through, as I.
Just my ways may not be so good aligned.

[selhan]

Crossing Lines



“You can't escape an assassin," *He leaned forward, shadows swallowing his eyes.*
"Hangings, bumbling bureaucrats, dishonest crewman, jail -
those you can talk your way out of, if you try hard enough.
But this kind of death, is the only one of its kind of death.”

"From the boys at the Broken Goblet oh how sweet of them!"

*The bottle was looked over, a gift given, a gift inspected for poison there was no poison. Nor was it a sweet gift.*

"Lets have a drink together!"

"Nae not now, need my head about me and I need to head outside , I'm expecting Callo to arrive to the Shore soon."

"Oh alright. See you later then."

"Stay out of trouble hmm?"

It's a known fact, our world is dangerous. There's no telling what will one find nor encounter on the roads. Ambush of some kind by creatures, monsters and even bandits. When one trespasses in a dungeon or cave or even forest, there's always a likely chance things that dwell in them wouldn't like your presence or any other presence. But when you get attacked in your very own home, that's down right rude and crossing a dangerous line.

"Hi Callo, been awhile."

"Starting your shift?"

"Nae but I do need to check on Pike, don't want that old man grumpy...."

*Explosion!*

"What the fok is that?! That's Roses house come on!"



*Some locals in Roaringshore would gossip about how there was an explosion that sounded like it came from the Run o Rig shop. And that the owner who lost a hat and her eyebrows was very pissed off. And later three individuals went around the market with cold glares demanding for the identity of the would be culprit who came by the said shop bearing a gift then leaving wearing a red coat and a bandana on his head.*



When you have enemies in the Shore, the problem is, almost everybody looked alike. There was no telling just who had it out for you. But one thing that can be certain, its the Shore, you face your problems head on.

[selhan]

((OOC Disclaimer))
((Please do not Metagame this Post. I share this event/rp for entertainment and enjoyment))

Ancient Darkness Comes

“Never open the door to a lesser evil,
for other and greater ones invariably slink in after it.”

The conversation was disturbed, darkness all around grew like shadows animated into a thick fog. "What was this?! Assassins? Thieves? Shadows?!" Those panic thoughts rose swiftly in his mind like a raging ocean from a violent storm. He forced himself to hold his composer but in truth, anxiety swelled within him. Unwarded against three, he knew he wouldn't stand a chance. He cursed himself for allowing his guard down. The strange woman with a wolf likely a druid began casting to ward and enhance herself. But the three materializing spawns regarded her as if she was a mere child.



Passerby's had seen them, even approached to observe. Yet the three dark knighted like figures didn't even flinch. They each held their level of confidence. And they even spoke..

"Apologies for the startle, mortal."
Mortal?

"Dont think I be knowin ya..nae sure I can help you either.." *The man slowly backed up, measuring, appraising, even looking for a way to escape*
There was none.

"If you treasure your life, you will remain calm." *Another dark voice, rather more menacing.*
The first threat.

"So ..dont think yer quite lookin fer me right? Heh..some mistake maybe?"
Stall them.

"We come to speak with you of the Fang of Threnaxus." *A third voice speaks.* "We know you carry it."
Dammit Miss Jackie

"Do you mean.." *He felt for one of his swords*

"If you would rather speak of it elsewhere, we can seek to make such accommodation."
Confidently resourceful, their too dangerous to fight.

"Well that rather depends..would I even be able to return" *He grinned* "Given how things may ...Look at the moment."
Dammit, the crowd is moving into defensive positions, I need to go with them to hear this out without a bloody mess here.

"You name the location and we will meet you there."
He's willing to trust me?

"But be warned, if we do not find you there, we will find you elsewhere."
Second threat, that one surely isn't friendly.

*He lifts his hands in a surrendering gesture* "I'm quite sure we can go where you desire"
This attention is not good, got to leave quickly.

"Cease your spellcasting, druid. We are not here for violence, and it would be the end of you if we were."
Dangerously confident, they must be powerful.

*He turned a palm towards the onlookers* "Please..we dont need no ..hostility .." *He smiled* "They just seem to want a walk in all."

"Name your location, Fang-carrier."

The strange tiefling that didnt speak common growled as if ready to attack one of the three beings. A halfing insisted for her to stand down, another familiar figured arrived one known to the bartender. Too much had arrived, the bartender knew he had to get them to leave and he had to follow.

"Are you legitimate bounty hunters?"
If they were they got to get in line, I still got a pirate problem.

"We are not bounty hunters, and there is no bounty on the Fang-carrier."
That title means something eh? Alright then, guess I can trust them that much.

"Up to you, Fang-carrier. We know your haunts. We only wish to speak with you on the matter of the Fang. We can do so here, but the tensions that are rising may distract from that conversation."
They been watching me.

"Firewine Bridge then"

"Firewine? Curious place to choose. We shall meet you there."
I like to see things coming, ain't being lured into a room again.

"It is only fair for you to know to whom you speak.
I am Tharistimenes.
This is Metocratus, and behind me,
guarding the bridge is Dezarium."
Coordinated, their seasoned.

"We are in the service of Uthoraxter, the Death Lord, who serves the one your people know as the Shadow King, Larloch."
This really cant be good

*He respectfully nods to each three* "The name is Sel but something tells you yer already be knowing that." *He lifts a brow* "Death Lord..I take it..hes wanting something of his..?"*A hand reached down touching the scabbard of a sword upon his hip.*

"No. The Fangs of Threnaxus were never meant to stay in the hands of death knights."
Now I wonder why that is..

"Our task is to see that it is wielded by someone with the right direction."
Oh this really cant be good.

"Tis a very fine blade...Never seen anything like it. And what sort of directions are you meanin?"

"Directions not opposite to Lord Larloch."
And there it is, my life wont be the same, ever again..

Larloch whom some called the Shadow King, was a Netherese male human and a lich. He was the former Sorcerer-King of the enclave of Jiksidur in ancient Netheril and later the master of the Warlock's Crypt and Shadow King of its undead inhabitants. He was one of the oldest non-draconic beings in Faerûn and one of the most powerful mages. As a lich of such extreme age, Larloch's body was greatly decayed, with his flesh entirely gone, leaving only his white-boned skeleton. In his empty eye sockets were two orbs of red light in place of eyes. On occasion, streaks of emerald energy moved about his body and were a side-effect of his defensive curses.

He wore fine clothes that hung off and partially covered his skeleton. At least two dozen ioun stones floated around his skull.

Larloch possessed incredible power and was a super intelligent genius. Over two thousand years, he'd composed perfect plans to deal with nearly every possible situation, and even for things he was not prepared for, he could come up with an almost-perfect response in moments. He was a talented and cunning inventor of new spells, magic items, and magical techniques and strategies. Larloch was considered to be nearly 2000 years old circa 1372 DR, suggesting that he was born some time in or after the late 7th century before Dalereckoning.

And these where his men...

"This sword.....did it come to me by choice?"

"In a manner of speaking." ..."The woman who gave it to you did not know of its meaning."

"But we have questions for you, Fang-carrier Sel." *He adds, then*. "What motivates you - what drives you to action?"

The following words would have the man expressing a calm demeanor. But in truth panic stricken him down to his bones. This was beyond him, he was a mere human with Calmishite origins. A scoundrel at best with other ties and old affiliations. But this..this was way beyond him. Could he really meet the standards explained by the three? Or will he end up like the predecessors they had just explained?. The thought hammered into his mind...800 years ago...it was a very long bloody time. And yet here and now...he is the new carrier, the bearer of Fangs.

"Do you view loyalty as a value to be celebrated?"

"Celebrated? No, I look at it far more seriously than that. Tis a rare thing."

*He glances down at the sword while the history and lore was sinking into his mind, wonders of deeds it was used to preform. He suddenly looks up to Metocratus* "Have I disturbed Larloch or any of his agents?"

"Not thus far."

"And you are not under such a geas as the original wielder. But be wary of where ambition might lead you."

"But also be aware that if your goals should align with those of Larloch, you may find more powerful aid than anyone else in Faerûn can receive."
Oh really now?...

"For the most part., Larloch is only concerned with the development of magic..However, if his developments require something found within the world of mortals, there may be overlap and clashes. Are you prepared to answer his call, should he require your services?"

"For now, we have but one request of you."

I once said, there comes a time every man must make a decision with choices he may not like. I am one to believe in balance. There cant be no darkness without light and no light without darkness. If someone ever question the bartender of the Broken Goblet about some of the bad choices, hes ever made , he would ask them with a question of his own.

"What would your good do if evil didn't exist, and what would the earth look like if all the shadows
disappeared? After all, shadows are cast by things and people. Here is the
shadow of my sword. But shadows also come from trees and living beings.
Do you want to strip the earth of all trees and living things just because
of your fantasy of enjoying naked light? You're stupid."

DM Ghost

[selhan]

Invited



"Pull my mind from reality,
and bring me to a world of bliss,
Thy will consider themselves in Heaven"



"Tell yall what..yall seem like yall could have a fine meal and a nice drink, how about I invite yall over to me ship?"

"Wasn't what I was expecting from a ship."

"Damn nice though"

"Opportunities , determination, stay the course and have the wind support ya, and you be surprise what yer can create"

"Rat never been to one of these...." *her eyes open up* "apple... pie...."

"Aye eat til yer heart content."



What's the use of having a proper home if yer not plannin ta invite folks over for dinner? Tis a day I invited some folks from Soubar. A commander of the Crimson Watch be one ol them. I believer in offering people a different scenery, a different view. Everyone is off doing something and sometimes that something is quite repetitive. We all need a break, stretchin legs I call it. Sometime, a moment of a good drink in a pretty goblet and a fine meal can be just enough to refresh someone's perceptive, and thought process.



Soubar was always known to be a small village with several factions and sects. I've always called it a rundown shitehole meself. But I begin to understand why. Even when such factions can clasp arms to form some sort of alliance, idealism is never seen with like minds. Different groups, with different beliefs and ideals or goals is what prevents them from successfully seeing the place thrive and prosper. This man known as the Commander of the Crimson Watch is likely to have many eyes on him . Will he be able to stir the Soubar into a better and prosper direction? Will he be able to bring forth a dream set out by a man I can consider a friend?



It would be interesting enough if he could bring change to Soubar. There were always rumors about the Barons of Soulbar, Leaders from different factions in the North that had concerns for the village. Many years had past since such rumors, and the village still remains the same.



Only time will tell as well as what allies the man gathers, what support he finds. After all, rebuilding a whole village is never by the efforts of one man.



At least I found me a new messenger. My old one ran off with my bloody bruiser . Damn Half orc. Moonlightin to bloody long, his arse needs to return soon and get to work. If patrons ever asked the bartender if he invites anyone to his home, he would tell them...

"No better conversation can be had than one over a fine meal and a lovely goblet"

[selhan]

Escorting Memories



"Take care of all your memories. For you cannot relive them.
Wherever you go, your memories from the place you grew up in always remain special."

Strange how I can still remember walking this Chionthar Bridge fourteen years ago as I did this very night. A woman seeking safe passage to the Friendly Arms Inn. A half breed who was seeking work from me, just so happen to be in my company. I had agreed, yet I had teleport scrolls in my persons. I could have simply port the woman , I did have a marker place there. But why? Why did I take the road by foot?



What was it that compelled me to go along? I knew not. But what I do know, was that walking with these two down the path and ensuring their safety, brought back years of memory when I had first arrived to Baldur's Gate. Providing safe escort was a means for coins and experience down the Trade Way. There were always some form of hostiles along the journey. Wolves, gnolls, bandits, ogres, goblins. I as well as some close companions use to always be willing to provide escorts to those that sought to deliver supplies for Malt'z.



Malt'z paid the best coins, second was the smithy when he wanted minator horns. It was an all day affair providing safe escorts. It was something to boast about. Not everyone saw a person safe to Beregost. Some times, the escorts would fail, shaming their services. To let a person become a victim to the creatures that dwelled down the Trade Way, ruined your reputation, resulting in the lack of profits.



I was a much younger man then. No not even a man. I was a mere boy. Aye as Mother would often call me after we first met. I was ambitious then, so full of spirit thirsting for opportunity to prove myself. To become important, to become a part of something. In truth yes once upon a time back the, I to was like every other adventurer. Thriving to be some renown hero, and become respected. And when that first time came that first opportunity, the moment at hand, I as well as others whom I didn't even know, put our lives a risk to end a dangerous threat to the city of Baldur's. I remember one man gave up a quarter of memories of experience to help seal the threat keeping it forever locked away deep within the graveyard.



Hero's? We saved the day, we saved the city, but there was no celebrations, not even a single farmer knew what he had done. No one would praise our efforts. No one would acknowledge the man that gave a quarter of his memories to ensure everyone else sleep good in their beds. No one but use, knew of the danger we had to face. I had looked around the many graves , names I did not know of. Hero's..go figure..I had asked the many graves what they had thought about being a hero. The silence was their answer to me. I knew then, a hero meant nothing. It was only a mere title to fool ones self to show that they were important, to show that their very presence mattered. If patrons ever asked the bartender of the Broken Goblet as to why he no longer likes providing escorts, he would tell them...

"Because I'm no hero."

[selhan]

Challenges





What you have when you have an Half Orc and farmer and put it together?





Don't know? Well let a bartender tell you. You have a ..



Gombo.


A towering half blood, but unlike other half bloods, this one can make the bartender pull his hair out. He was farmer, seeking to make coinage to his his grandparents. A man in a menacing body with the mind of a child looking for work. And work the bartender offered. He wasn't quick to take up on the offer, perhaps the bartender seemed suspicious. But for what ever reason, the half blood returned to seek the man out and tell him he was willing to work.



And work the bartender gave him. The half blood found himself working below the deck of a ship. Hauling out trash and carcasses and rotting fish. And even rotting bodies. Bodies of pirates that had once entrapped and killed the bartender. It was not what the farmer half orc was expecting.

Hmm. . . Troubles. . .

"What trouble?

Nothing to see here, yurp

"Gombo..what yer do?"

Errr. . . I err Open a fish while choppin. . .

"And wots wrong with opening a fish?

*The bartender and the hired hand looked down into the waste pit. Guts and human organs everywhere inside below along with fingers and toes were clearly visible.*

Gombo can fix this yurp

"I payin yer to get it all out and throw it in the ocean..Understand? Dont pay attention to it, dont play with it.. just get rid ol it"

Gombo will use bucket and no shovel this time.

"Just...dont fer get to wash up when yer finish hmm"

later that early morning, the waste pit was cleaned except remnants of blood from both swine and humans. More visitors had arrived later, and every living soul was soon eating a feast and sharing drinks. Laughter and jokes filled the cabin of the ship.



But little did Gombo know, later in the night on that very same day, he was going to be paid to clean the waste pit once again and this time, the body would be quite fresh. If ever patrons asked the bartender of the Broken Goblet of what he thought about Gombo, he would tell them...



"That big ol boy surely a'nt be knowin wot he gettin himself into. But I got plans fer the lad, yup I know a guy that gon'na shape him up really nice and proper, I see the vision already. He sure a'nt no Volstagg, but I gon'na make a real Gombo out of that boy."

[Deragnost]

Dreams and Changes

The sound of flesh pounding on flesh, the sound of bones breaking bones, sounded in the tiny room. She could witness it, but she didn't even dare to stop it. She was just staring at the one who bombed her house, and in all fairness? She didn't care. It wasn't even because he burned her hat. It wasn't because her eyebrows were burnt, even if she enjoyed to tell otherwise mostly for a chuckle. No, he did attempt on her life, right at her house. She did suspect poison, not an explosive. That was more than what she bargained for. And while she did strike a deal with him, and while she did say she would have kept her word... she didn't. She just couldn't let it go. And for each punch she witnessed, she felt sliding somewhere that isn't her place. Somewhere dark, somewhere far away from her true calling. And to be honest? She liked it. She enjoyed to watch the man's blood to drip on the floor of the tiny room. He begged for forgiveness, he asked to stop - but she didn't give the order, not until she found his face sufficiently swollen.

"P-please... Stop...I... beg you!"
Then the minstrel rose a hand, and the punching indeed stopped. She stepped closer to the man that should have just minded his business and not take that contract. She knelt before him and grabbed his face by his chin, raising his face to meet his gaze. The eyes filled with anger stared into his, speechless, as she examined his conditions. She nodded: yes, that was plenty. She then let the chin go as she rose back up, fetching her knife. With a gesture of the hand, she dismissed the dwarves. It was just him and the man. Going behind his back, she reached for his hair and yanked his head backward. The shiny knife was at his throat, and even if she could have ended it right there and now, she didn't. She looked in his eyes, as he kept begging, as he kept asking for mercy, as he clinged to life and hope. And then...

...she slit his throat, as a spray of blood filled the room. He was gasping for air, air that would never come to his lungs. And while death approached... Yes, the minstrel woke up.

---

She found herself in her bed once more. Comfortably safe, and away from that bad dream. She frowned, still sweating because of the nightmare. She looked at her side, and smiled seeing the lover sleeping - she certainly needed that after what they've been through. She couldn't sleep anymore though. After she stood up, she grabbed her lute and left a note on Mathilde's night table before she left, after having a breakfast. Yes, she went once more to the Broken Goblet. The place that brought her both fame and dangers. She found a nice little corner with her classical glass of water, and there she started to play a new song. Something different, because she wasn't blind anymore: even if that was the place that she believed Milil Himself showed appreciation, she knows that it definetely changed her. She remembered still how she was in Waterdeep. She wasn't just as carefree as she was, she was treading in a dark place. The dreams she had - she knew she wouldn't actually do those atrocities. The mere thought made her frown. However, she couldn't hide the truth from herself any longer. She became perhaps more ruthless.

Was she following a path that would have brought her on a darker path? She couldn't know, for she's no fortune teller. However, she knew of one thing for certain: after this song, and the next goblet, she would have felt better.

[selhan]

Winter's Last Act of Defiance!



"What will you do now that it is all over?"
"I will attempt to console the families of the lost and
those who live that are haunted by them and this war."



Somewhere within the chilling Temple of Auril a ritual was taken place. But somewhere outside defenders where awaiting, and a large army was approaching towards them. The conflict between Aurilites and Amn had escalated to this very moment.... A moment of war.
Diplomacy that found no reason, nor resolution. The lack of, lead to this moment. Both sides fill with pride, one side sought gain, the other to stop a threat.



And the tale was told with a Broken Goblet bartender.



"Did the Aurils have a great massive army?"
"It depends what you mean by massive."
"Like ..alot of soldiers"
"Their frost giants and undead frost dragon certainly were massive."
"Undead dragon?!"

Indeed it was said the Aurils had with them an Undead Dragon that was swiftly reducing the army that marched to destroy the Aurils and all that they stood for. The cracking growls of such a foul beast had probably echoed into the chilling winds upon the battlefield imposing great fear against non season warriors.


"The power of their goddness even more massive in the form of avalanches and blizzards of huge strength."

The Aurils lacked a quantity of an army. But they had their magics, their giants, and their storms and surprisingly undead minions.. And they unleashed it all!





"That explains the heavy loss you have suffered"
"I barely escaped that attack. Their arcane and divine spells massive in power. One of their arcanists nearly ended our attack by turning us all into fowl.They also hosted a large number of undead "creatures" and local fauna. But no, numerically, they maybe numbered somewhere between one hundred and two hundred individual combatants. "



"Fowl?"

"We had three hundred seventeen soldiers that went into the field not including volunteers. That engaged in pitched battle. When all was done, only one hundred sixty five made it out alive. Many buried in the final avalanches of Auril's wrath as their temple was razed."

"What caused this war?"

"What caused it? Aurilites refusing to keep a peace that had lasted decades. They had coexisted with the town here for many many years. Not trying to force it to do anything politically. Just asking for tribute to common folk or travellers in the peaks to ward of Auril's wrath. But earlier this year, for some unknown reason, they instead decided to create winter in summer. In effort to extort the town and Amn for a shrine here to Auril. Literally, they could have just asked the Mayor, he probably would not even need to be bribed."

"And for that..hundreds losts their lives, their temple now in ruins?...all for a shrine?"

"That would have opened the gates to any petty cause in Amn or the Western Heartlands to throwing a power tantrum and asking for a demand. It had to be refused. So no, it was not over a shrine. It was not even over Auril. It was about the politics how how decisions should made in Amn and elsewhere. Whether by extortion that leads to chaos or by more reasonable means."

"What will you do now that it is all over?"

"I will attempt to console the families of the lost and those who live that are haunted by them and this war. I will attempt to see to it that as summer returns that this town sees its food supply in place after the disaster of the Aurilites extortion destroying it earlier this year. We had another roughly one hundred soldiers in reserve on the way from Crimmor as well, but they did not see battle....Just the aftermath."



War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend. That war was nothing nice. The cold biting winds, the horrid storms. Giants crushing soldiers, But how do you really fight a giant? Well I only know of one way from my own experience. You leap at it.



The bravery of men has caused changed in the world from history long pass to the modern day. And when you have an army of brave paladins and trained soldiers..well you got a battlefield of bravery aplenty.



But even bravery gets tested. Like when an marching army faces a narrow path at risk of being bottleneck. Its an old tactic and one of the most dangerous ones ever created by tacticians.




Only seasoned soldiers every to had experience numerous wars and battles would know how to approach such a situation. And by accounts, it seems like the army of Helmite's, Amn, the Radiant Hearts, did just that. But not without great lost. Because that is where their enemy can focus much of their attacks. And the Auril's did well to take advantage of that.



Tired, hurt, exhausted, near the brink of death I could only imagine, but that wont stop knights bound by duty, bound to vows, bound to honor. They given their sacrifices for the greater good the moment they bent the knee. Unless your magic is powerful, fighting a knight upon a battlefield is fighting a knight on his or own condition.



I for one wouldn't ever fight one on the battlefield. Nae never. I'd be an idiot. Some patrons maybe visit me behind a bar and may even ask of me if I knew how that war ended. I would first pour whatever delectable throat soother they preferred into a goblet made of glass, then simply tell them..

"If yer wishin to know, listen to the rumours."



Safa's blades slide into the Lady Cold Circle, Alva Sigurdsottir's gut.
She gasps with pain, shuddering as her life's blood flows freely from her.
As she collapses to the ground, however, her expression is one of satisfaction.

As the Temple of Auril is bombarded by both boulders and divine magic,
a sudden burst of light emits from the cracks in the building's structure!

As the Temple is rocked to its very foundation,
it soon becomes clear that Auril will not allow this assault upon her holy site to go unanswered!

While Safa was able to slay the Aurilite Priestess,
she was not able to stop the ritual that was already enacted -
and soon, all the Amnians see that avalanches from peaks above them are rushing downward to meet them!

Helm answers his faithful. But deep in the heart of Auril's home,
even his uncontestable might is not without its limits!

Golden light shields Wai Li and the heroes who stood with her!
But snow and frost and tumbling rock sweep away soldiers and mercenaries alike!
Lord Lyonaler's quick thinking saves a nearby battalion from a grisly fate through Etherealness!



It seems nearly hours before the mountain finally comes to a stop.

And somewhere down in Neskhal, there's a knight with a heavy heart and it will continue to be heavy for the lost of her friends, her people and their families.




DM Mimic