Rumors of Amn

[Oarthias]

This was not her first time making herself at home in a camp awaiting a battle to come. She knew how it could wear on the nerves of those who have not yet seen battle, hells, it could weigh heavy on the souls who have seen battle before. Even some of the best trained men could grow nervous or let the wait of advancing to the battlefield could begin to weigh heavy. Many here, herself included, would loose a friend, a comrade, a brother or sister in arms. The loss of life ahead... it was not healthy or beneficial to dwell on and so she sook out others in the camp to boost their morale... and to keep her own up.

The elf often volunteered to take watch in the late hours. The darkness was not quite a hindrance to her eyes as some of those with rounder ears, nor did she require a full nights rest as they did. When not on watch, she participated in the drills and warmups during the day. She also made it a point to share some of her hoard of supplies with a number of the soldiers.

In the off hours, she made effort to get to know the men and women. Played games of lanceboard with a small portable set she had brought with her. She joined in the songs sung in the evening hours and with a bit of tale telling. She puts as much effort as she can to keeping the spirits up in the camp. Towards keeping her own up.

As Aaron, the Grand Knight spoke in the tent, she pounded her fist upon the table and raised her voice in a cheer to his speech. Simply playing the part of a voice and a face in a crowd, once more putting effort into aiding and raising the morale of the men and women who would be fighting. Speeches were not her gift, the weaving of words into something that would almost magically uplift people, no, that was not were she shined. No, she could read a crowd.. observe it close.. and she could feed the energy and help it grow where it was needed most. A well timed smile, an encouraging pound on the table that encourages others to do the same, and cheer this was her task this last night.

A daughter of Corellon, here... amongst those that were not of the people, and yet she still prayed for him to be with her. To guide her blades, to aid her steps in the shadows during the battle to come. She prayed she would bring him honor... to fight well against the evil she would meet on the battlefield.

Hidden: show

[Genuinely Spurious]

As the moon cast a pale glow over the Amnian camp, Declan sat inside his field tent, surrounded by the soft flickering light of oil lamps. The air was heavy with anticipation, and the scent of leather and metal hung in the air. In the corner of the tent, a map of the Icy Temple of Auril was spread out, carefully marked with strategic points and potential hazards.

Declan's longsword gleamed under the lamplight as he meticulously cleaned its blade, each stroke of the cloth a labor of devotion. The sword was more than just a weapon; it was an extension of himself, a symbol of his duty and purpose. He inspected the edge for any imperfections, ensuring it was honed to perfection for the coming battle.

Next to his longsword lay his armor, adorned with the symbols of Torm and the Triad. Piece by piece, he carefully inspected the plates, repairing any damage and tightening the straps. The armor had seen many battles, and each dent and scratch held a story of valor and sacrifice. He polished the sigils on the breastplate, the familiar symbols of his faith reflecting back at him.

His tower shield leaned against a wooden crate, its surface marred with countless scars from previous encounters. With steady hands, he fastened leather straps and adjusted the grip to fit comfortably in his grasp. The shield was not only his defense; it was a bulwark of hope for those he protected, a symbol of unwavering protection and resilience.

Outside the tent, the soft murmurs of fellow soldiers preparing for the march added to the sense of camaraderie and purpose. The looming task ahead, the Icy Temple of Auril, was both daunting and exhilarating. Declan felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders, but he also knew that he was not alone in this endeavor.

Amidst the preparations, a sense of resolve filled Declan's heart. He knew that this battle would be arduous and dangerous, but he was steadfast in his duty to protect the innocent and stand against tyranny. His mind flashed with memories of the people whose lives had been impacted by Auril's icy grasp, spurring him forward.

With his equipment meticulously prepared, Declan donned his armor, securing each piece with practiced efficiency. The clinking of metal echoed in the tent, a symphony of readiness. He sheathed his longsword and hoisted the tower shield onto his arm, feeling the reassuring weight and balance.

Before leaving the tent, Declan paused for a moment of prayer. He knelt before a small makeshift altar, his head bowed in reverence. He sought guidance from Torm, the Triad, and the divine forces that guided his steps. He prayed for strength, courage, and wisdom in the face of darkness.

With his heart fortified and his spirit renewed, Declan emerged from the tent, ready to join his fellow soldiers on their march to the Icy Temple of Auril. The icy winds of destiny awaited, but he was prepared to face them head-on, for he was a knight, a defender of the innocent, and a symbol of hope in a frozen land.

[Kitunenotsume]

While armies clashed upon the mountains and in the days to follow, The Belching Dragon Tavern at the edge of town hosts a wide array of savory soups, hearty roasts, and fragrant pastries as a result of the efforts of a recent foreign visitor. While more noteworthy heroes may have chosen to retreat the battlefield using more exoteric means, those troops returning to the lowlands on foot would find warmth and succor available at reasonable prices and nourishing portions.



The woman in jade-and-gold silks relaxes into a well-practiced routine between tending new dishes at the hearth, communing with patrons, and visiting local farms and businesses to collect ingredients. For worried souls seeking closure on kin after the battles, the foreign-born woman is easily willing to provide an augury of cards to direct their searches in exchange for a recounting of the event.

The transient tavernkeeper has reportedly had cordial dealings with the scion of the Stormdune family, and is proactive in offering cups of steaming kaeth to those guards and laborers on duty outside while the weather has yet to warm.

[selhan]

A Stay at a Tavern



Flames crackle as it bites into the dried wood to help give the area its warmth from the cold outside. The war was over its unnormal winter receding, such an environment was something the hatted man didn't find pleasurable. But when is doing something important pleasurable? With no rum in stock, he had to settle with the darkest ale that came in a wooden cup. The smell of pine still fresh after first entering. He glances around the Belching Dragon, whom he wanted to meet was not here. Off to eat perhaps or still in slumber?



He remained still, subtly watching and waiting. He had the list of names, their description. Will any of them present themselves ? Time was short. But he had to see things through. As he simmered on the bitter taste of the dark ale, thoughts of the Shore came to mind. Things have been somewhat uneventful since jumping out of a window. He smirked at the thought. Such an adventure it had been. And there was still important things in the Shore to do. *Tarina* he thought. What was the purpose of the woman's meeting he wondered. Was it really in regards to what she wanted? A mysterious woman indeed. How does a woman that use to be within the confines of Candlekeep find their future managing Darkhold? She still had friends somewhat of old. He remembered when he was asked to set up a meeting between the Lady of Darkhold and his man of nature. I had first found it odd, but I didn't question it too much. Now I can understand.

Groups of friends and or companions and even lovers, sometimes come across a road that splits in different directions. Not everyone will choose the same road. And even though they do, sometimes, someone looks back wondering, "What if they had taken the other road?"



It wasn't long before a pair of adventures entered the Belching Dragon to gather some warmth and a drink. The man sat in the corner with his boots upon the table first listening to the pairs conversation and after determining they were not what he was looking for he decided to relax. It would be soon later all three held some conversation about rumors and devil sightings. It never seems to fail, stay in a tavern long enough, and new will come walking in the door.



The hatted man soon made his leave taking a walk around Neshkal as if looking for something or someone.

[TheCrescentMoon]

Flamerule 26th, 1359

Beyond the city of Nashkel, up to the snowy peaks of Speartop, one might've seen a gathering of figures in heavy hides underneath the Golden Tree.
What they spoke of is something only they may know.

[Izsu]

The 7th of Eleasis offered peculiar sights to travellers seeking to try their luck with the Frost Giant Keep in the Cloudpeaks. Scenes of heavy combat and utter massacre showcased what might have seemed like an attempt by the giants to muster an army after the war - brutally dismantled by means of fire, blade, fang and seemingly lash. Each of the interior rooms and hallways were littered with many scores of corpses and scattered remains of the defenders, the floors darkened by their combined spilled life essence.

The crossing before the throne room had seen particularly heavy combat, one unfortunate giant's corpse having had it's eyes removed for some untold reason. Whoever the attackers were had left no sign or message beyond that of their means of invoking death upon the keep's inhabitants.

"The keep falls deadly silent. The life within extinguished, much like any plans the Jotunn had hoped to accomplish, in the wake of a war lost." - DM Archon

[TheCrescentMoon]

As a chapter ends in Nashkel and its surrounding's history after the arduous conflicts in the Aurilite war, the snow has given way to a last bit of summer before the fall. Such quick and stark changes in the region's environment has left a wound in the flora and fauna.

However, sightings throughout the past couple of tendays of both a tall druid and a horn-hooded one have spread, and though their work is hard to notice at first, it becomes clear as the days go by that they are doing what they can to heal such wound left by the off-season winter. Though the work of a few druids will hardly repair in full the damage caused, it doesn't stop them from attempting it.

((Approved by DM Mimic))

DM Mimic Edit: Confirming approval!

[calvinus]

After returning from a patrol in the Cloud Peaks with friends of Nashkel, Watcher Wai Li might be seen walking about the town and its environs, attempting to raise the morale of all fellow residents she would come across and trying to reassure them of the struggles ahead...

[FearBeforeTheFlames]

For two days, tattered posters have been seen posted all around Nashkel placed by an unseen hand, some even making it as far as the Friendly Arms Inn. Rumors also speak of them cropping up in unusual places. The Temple of Mystra? Candlekeep?





Whatever the case may be. It was clear that at least someone spread them with intent.

[calvinus]

In the past tenday since the ceremonies commemorating Nashkel's battle with the Aurilites, the Helmites of Nashkel are said to undertake a joint patrol with friends of the town, marching into the Cloud Peaks. In the course of the joint patrol, the band of adventurers rallied to the ruins of the Temple of the Icedawn where Watcher Wai Li is said to utter the following words out of respect to the worshippers of Auril that opposed Nashkel in battle: "I salute their valiant battle and hope that Helm protects those of non evil that fell for their cause in afterlife. Pryat, with that, please consecrate these grounds and let us turn to new chapter, remaining vigilant here against future fanatics that may rise again." The company then headed in vigil to the peak of Speartop and the dragon cult of the white wyrm that resides there, then some continued on to the Frost Giant Keep and others back to Nashkel. A short time later, Watcher Wai Li was seen again going about the town of Nashkel attempting to hear out the concerns of local fellow citizens of Amn and Nashkel and to attempt to reassure morale in the trying year. A bit later, she may be seen delivering a missive to a rider headed south...

[Deragnost]

*It seems protests are growing, or perhaps Echo's words are actually hitting some people's hearts and minds. After a few days, other flyers would be left around Nashkel and the Greenfields. Sometimes they seem to be left randomly even in Baldur's Gate.*




*They all seem to be signed with one name.*


DED.

[renshouj]

Soon, the words against the Amnian oppression spread further as more posters show support to the cause,
These, however, are signed by one that goes by "The Collaborator", a callback to the Wanted posters that Amn spread,
Likely, this is one of the two men that first protested during the Amnian celebration, making his position clear once more.

[Hrothgar]

Natalia Fernanda is said to head north from Athkatla on business for the first time in more than a year, passing through Nashkel she may notice various seditious postings against Amn and would attempt to rip them down and report them to the Nashkel town authorities, insisting that "the new Deputy Mayor hears about this as he obviously cares about enforcing the laws against seditious arcany unlike some others..."

The same day, she later would go about the town and say in disgust to some local Amnian townsfolk that she may know in a rather loud and uncontrolled voice: "These kobold foreigners do not even live in Amn and they complain about treatment of dangerous arcany here! Well, I will have you know that a copper arcanist blew up one of the warehouses of one of my businesses during the Troubles with their out of control wild magic, clearly that they learned in the barbarian lands of the north in some inbred fishing village like Baldur's Door where practicing arcane witchcraft to spawn food is a normal occurrence in those uncivilized lands. Any dead laborers at the warehouse at least I would not have to pay for work already done, though of course I would charge their families for a resurrection at a high fee if they desired. Nonetheless, the loss in profits from the destruction of inventory was totally unacceptable and an affront to the glory of commerce. I swear on Waukeen, wherever she may be, I will make good coin on finding and killing every seditious northern fisherbeing moonlighting as a wannable arcanist that thinks these outrageous magical antics are appropriate!"

Natalia is said to add an obliged "FOR PROFIT! FOR THE GLORY OF AMN!" at the end of her seeming public rant...It is anyone's guess whether those she spoke to had any sympathy for her words or maybe just humored the bad tempered Amnian cleric of The Golden Lady to avoid more of a scene or if any of her enterprising claims had any truth to them whatsoever...

[Valleriani]

In the quiet, eerie hours of the night, Nashkel would bear witness to an unexpected visitor. Shrouded in darkness, a robed tiefling, eyes glazed with the haze of intoxication, would make his way silently up towards the mayor's house.

Moonlight would glisten upon the surface of an obsidian stone as he placed it down. He drew his knife, carving deeply into the stone: "F*** AMN". Beside the stone, he set down a lantern. With a whisper and a gesture, it would burst to life, flames imbued with the infernal hue of hellfire, casting eerie shadows that danced with the night.

Then came the tribute — a fresh and cleanly severed werewolf head. It was placed ceremoniously next to the obsidian stone, its lifeless eyes staring into the abyss. The tiefling then drew out a bottle of hard liquor, its contents shimmering in the moonlight. He poured a shot for himself, knocking it back instantly then the remainder was then poured over the werewolf head. Taking a moment, he muttered, his voice laden with pain and anger, "I can't continue your dreams up here, Rynn. But I'll protect her."

The discarded bottle would crash onto the ground, and with a devilish grin, he set the werewolf head aflame. The hellfire consumed it, the flames licking the night sky. A manic laughter, edged with pain, "F*** Amn! F*** Amn! F*** Amn!"

And as he began to turn away, one last sentiment was thrown over his shoulder, a voice tinged with confusion and fear, "And... F*** whatever that... thing was."

With those final words, glowing momentarily before he vanished as quick as he arrived, leaving behind only the haunting memorial bathed in the glow of hellfire.

//...Posted in the wrong place so had to move here!

[calvinus]

The Everwatch may be seen to attempt to patrol in the Cloud Peaks at least once a tenday, including visiting the ruins of the Icedawn Temple of Auril and making effort to consecrate the area continuously and annihilate any new attempt at shrine in the leftovers of the destroyed Icedawn. The Cloud Peaks are a vast region, however, so the Everwatch may seem to attempt to concentrate their patrol efforts to the Frost Keep, Mount Speartop, key Trade Way mountain passes of the Cloud Peaks, the ruins of the Icedawn, and the northern foothills of the Cloud Peaks near the Trade Way.