Rumors & Events of Soubar

[selhan]

Three figures sat around a small fire in the place called Soubar. Conversations of the war was a topic but short lasting as these seemed to be the most bored uneventful people in all of Soubar that very day while many others were off at war.

Some moments it was soo quiet only the crackling of flames and crickets was heard

[selhan]

From the Outer Farmlands of Baldur's Gate to the dark corners of Soubar and beyond the Reachingwoods, there's been strange reports of aggressive rats attacking the respected local residents or even traveler's. It was examined that the rats had a very foul stink to them, and that the flesh upon their bodies had already decayed as if they been dead quite sometime.

Along the Tradeway North East of Soubar however, three individuals had fended off a mass amount of the same manner of rat. One man claim to have seen off in the distances a human figure in ragged green clothing running off with a large cage in hand. Upon further searching. The three individuals came upon a camp site with crates filled with dead rotting rats and a smell intensely foul.

DM Blight

[Rumors]

"A Sight Unseen"


In the dead of night, a Dark Figure moves with a soundless grace towards an unsuspecting merchant caravan, shrouded in a magical darkness that conceals their presence from prying eyes. As they approach, the air becomes heavy with an ominous energy, a foreboding sign of the dark magic about to be unleashed.

Tapping into potent necromantic magic, the dark figure casts a devastating spell: invoking a horrifying, piercing scream that transcends the boundaries of the living. The wail is a manifestation of pure anguish and suffering, and its mere sound has the power to shatter the souls of those who hear it.



As the wail echoes through the night, the effect is catastrophic. Those sleeping within the caravan awaken in terror, their faces twisted in agony as the sound pierces their minds and bodies. The sheer force of the banshee's cry causes the life force of those unfortunate enough to hear it to be violently torn asunder. Their souls are rent from their bodies, leaving behind a scene of death and devastation.

The merchant caravan, now lies in eerie silence, the only testament to the horrors that unfolded being the twisted expressions frozen on the faces of the deceased. The magical darkness that had enshrouded the dark figure begins to dissipate, revealing a tall, translucent figure, standing amidst the aftermath of their ruthless attack.

With a cold and malevolent gaze, the Dark Figure surveys the aftermath of their devastating attack on the merchant caravan. The lifeless bodies lie scattered around, their souls torn asunder by the horrifying wail of the banshee. With a wicked smile and a violet glow from his eyes, he approaches the fallen victims.

Whispering an incantation, the dark figure channels their power into the corpses, tapping into the very essence of life that once flowed within them. Blood, the conduit of vitality, becomes a focus for their magic. The air becomes charged with an eerie energy as the blood within the lifeless vessels begins to stir, drawn by the malevolent forces at his command.

As if guided by invisible hands, the blood starts to seep from the wounds of the fallen, coalescing into a dark, swirling mist that hovers in the air around the dark mage. With each passing moment, the mist thickens, its presence growing in strength. The mage's eyes gleam with a cruel satisfaction as they siphon off the life force contained within the blood, feeding on the essence of those they have slain.

The scene is surreal, the macabre dance of blood and shadows a testament to the sinister power that he wields. As the last vestiges of life force are drained from the blood, the mist begins to recede, leaving behind lifeless husks devoid of not only their souls but also their very life essence.

The Dark Figure leaves as quickly as he arrived.

Image Credits: Disco Elysium

[TheBorderPrince]

For some tendays now, a dark-clad man sporting markings of Cyricist clergy sets up a shrine to the Prince of Lies on the town's central marketplace. He preaches no sermons nor initiates any other form of open proselytization, but makes bloody offerings to his god, often accompanied with weird rituals, main component of which are omnious, dark chants in the profane tongue of the Abyss. One in particular repeats itself often - for those who understand the speech of the Tanar'ri it goes as following:

The stones of a house
Come to life
And kill those inside

Statues of bronze
Begin to breathe
Black Sun, rise!

New world is born
The old one dies
Black Sun, rise!

Decaying flesh
Gives birth to flies
Black Sun, rise!

Demons and wraiths
Before our eyes
Black Sun, rise!

Black Sun gleaming
Black Sun dreaming
Black Sun, rise!

Columns tumble
Old faiths crumble
Black Sun, rise!

Black Sun raises
Black Sun blazes
Black Sun, arise, arise, arise!

Adapted from: Boyd Rice & Death in June - Black Sun Rising

[professiondude]

A woman in tattered robes would be seen in Soubar setting up camp.
After setting up her campsite she would display a sign that reads "Disease Treatment"

[TheBorderPrince]

Soubar's bulletin board contains a new anouncement:

Mercenaries needed!

Looking for a handful of able swords-for-hire for a short gig, happening in two tendays from now. The job consists of two separate taksks, both of which should be relatively easy for a seasoned sellsword. Pay will be good, in range of few dozen bags, but strongly dependent on personal capability of each hired individual. Fighters of the least possible dependence on any kind of magic are preferred. Ones applying should be free of moral or ethical qualms - the operations will be carried out in the wilderlands though, beyond jurisdiction of any major polity, so formal legality should not be an issue.

Illyon, Herald of the Black Dawn.

[Valleriani]

26 Eleasis, 1359 DR:

On a quiet night in Soubar, a thief attempted to steal a shrine from the merchant square - one under Illyon of the Crimson Watch's care. During the attempt, the thief was swiftly apprehended by Zerros Ozmir, one of Crimson Watch's triumvirate.

The thief, after giving up the attempt to steal the shrine, fled towards the west side of the Tradeway. Curses were thrown her way, but the Crimson Watch made no moves to pursue the petty thief after she had been driven out.

[professiondude]

On another chaotic night in Soubar:
Insults could be heard between two individuals away from the Market.
Within a minute of the last insult the locals would see a member of the Black Abbey fleeing toward the market, spells seeking him and disabling his rapid escape.
A robed woman could be seen wrestling away from the stupefied slanderists ally as she rushed to deal a finishing blow to the Black Abbey member.
Just as the man fell lifeless, the robed woman would be hit and knocked on her back by the second member.
In a rage, the robed woman would regain her footing and slay the last member for interfering.
Two of the Black Abbey members would lay dead on the ground, with the woman standing between them.
Profaning their disrespectful ways.

Moments later:
-A local healer would attempt to heal the dead corpses in a panic, the spell failing as they are beyond reach of restoration spells.
-Another pair of locals rushing to question the reasoning for the violence.
-While a local Cyric follower would approach and plunge their blade into the skull of the still body. Ensuring their death.
Afterwards, the victor would take respite at the Inn, informing the witnesses that any questions of the ordeal will be allowed within the Inn.
Her face showing a dissipating rage, and extreme fatigue.

[professiondude]

"Away plagues! Away!"
A dark and stained robed woman would be exclaiming as she roams the roads of soubar. Killing every rat she could see.

"This town suffers enough of your carried filth!"
She would throw the bodies of rats into the fires in an attempt to slow the spread of disease and plague in the camps of Soubar.

Near the end of her rounds she would preach to no one in particular about the best ways to steer clear from plagues and diseases.

[Valleriani]

In the dim twilight, chaos reigned as a hobgoblin named Nzkparik Redpaw attempted to escape with the riches from the Malar Tournament. Watching from the streets were three figures, two females and one male.

The first of them wasted no time confronting the fleeing hobgoblin, "Drop the gold, all of it." Nzkparik hesitated for a moment, trying to feign innocence, but it was clear he had no intention of surrendering his loot. He called out, "Release the beasts!" as cages within his wagon sprang open, unleashing dangerous hounds.

With dark magic crackling around him, the adventurer engaged the ferocious pack of hounds. One by one, they dispatched them, leaving no survivors. The second member of the group, a skilled healer, channelled her restorative magic to mend their wounds and keep them standing as they fought. In the wake of the destructive blasts, Nzkparik Redpaw lay charred and lifeless amidst the remnants of his ill-fated escape. The wagon owner suffered a similar fate as the eldritch magic found its way inside the wagon, his body now little more than a smouldering silhouette.

They searched the contents of the wagon, recovering only a portion of the tournament gold and some general trinkets, nothing of real value. The tournament seemed to only be a means for him to take gold from anyone who took the challenge. The remaining adventurer decided to add her fiery touch to the situation by blasting the wagon with searing flames. As they stood in the smoky aftermath, one of the adventurers was overwhelmed by a sense of anger and unleashed a final blast that detonated the wagon into oblivion.

The three adventurers engaged in a whispered conversation about the possibility of hosting their own tournament — A grand event that would capture the attention of adventurers from far and wide.

[DM Blight]

Whispers echo through the streets of Soubar, tales of dread and mystery. It's said that those struck by illness and misfortune have been vanishing into the shadows, their fates entwined with a mysterious figure cloaked in black armor. They say his eyes gleam with an eerie, otherworldly light as he approaches, offering hope to the desperate and afflicted. But once they follow him into the night, they are never seen again. Fear grips the hearts of the townsfolk as they wonder if this enigmatic figure is a savior or something far more sinister.

[Louvaine]

Here and there, on the outskirts of town and by its marshy waters, a rather curious sight occasionally takes place. Sometimes witnessed by a drunkard, other time spied by a ratfolk. Or whoever else. Who can say where gossip starts, anyway?

In this instance, as gossiped about (by whichever lollygaggers of Soubar tend to take heeded of such unimportant events), the odd happenings might have been described as a humanling taking time to hear problems of rats and magpies, or perhaps what can only be put to words as a twig-blonde haired lunatic attempting (and apparently failing) to conduct a relationship council between two rabbits or a rabbit and a hare. Sources aren't clear on that detail. More notably, it could be reported that a pink-eyed man (sources aren't clear whether it was someone with literal pink-coloured eyes or with an ouchie) had successfully assisted a beetle in turning upside down from its back, back to its legs. To those who think this was (impressively) done with use of force, it might be a massive surprise to learn that the pinky had only used his words to cheer the heroic beetle. Juicy gossip, all around, indeed.

This and much more, as well as much less, could be heard on streets of Soubar*. What it could mean or why (in general, why?) is anyone's guess.

*When I say streets of Soubar, I mean that main/only patch of dirt that stretches between northern and southern gate.

[Gazer]

Rumors began to circulate among the denizens of Soubar. Whispers of skeletal figures commanded by two shadowy figures were seen unloading cargo into the Black Abbey. Various crates,barrels,lumber, stones, and the occasional bag of dirt and a few large, foul-smelling crates were taken into the Abbey in the dead of night.

After the skeletal figures had unloaded their cargo into the Abbey, in the stillness of the night, the sounds of construction began to emanate from within the Abbey's walls. The unmistakable clang of hammers striking stone, the rhythmic thud of masonry being laid, and the creaking of wooden scaffolding pierced the night and lasted until the wee hours of the morning.

[Grimwald]

Long, toiling nights with paranoid, migraine fueled days.
Having been given exhaustive privilege's, the investigation of the Abbey's vast literary works has begun in earnest.

It begins with the public access section in the main lobby to establish any fundamentals.

The work is tedious. Long proclamations of subservience briefly interposed with tomes of death or agony.
Bhaalist tomes were infrequent and rarely coherent, giving long and descriptive passages about the stalking and gutting of victims.

Nevertheless the man pressed on, taking notes and occasionally kicking one of the plethora of empty rum bottles over at his feet in frustration.

The inner library was bound to be more productive, but he was unwilling to leave anything up to chance.

[DM Blight]

Word spreads around soubar the leader of the crimson watch has gone missing after a small group he was leading went out to try and find the missing towns members. Rumors have it that only a man with his face covered and the known wand maker Nalissa Colds came back both of which were beat down and near death. As the town panics a bit one could only wonder what was able to take down zerros.