Rumors of the Southern Sword Coast

[predrag]

*Sane Fensen would be seen entering the Cloakwood on 2nd of Mirtul , only to be chased out of it by Sirenes , the old man would be grumbling*
"What's this world come too!" *for days*

[selhan]

*A new rumor would begin to spread *

"Careful up the Tradeway, aint knowin wots gon on up there, but couple of folks were standin around a whole lotta blood. Even that dark tiefer was holding up someones robes and it was all bloody I tell ya. Aint seen no body me'self. But they might had sent whomever or whatever to the nine hells fer all I know. A bloody mess I tell ye. Maybe they was doing some ritual? Or maybe saving some lady in distress? Or maybe they kilt somebody? Or wait, maybe they banished some big nasty or sumthin!? What ever it was, I aint want no part in it. All that blood? Nope! Something nasty comin I tellin ya, I smell it in the air."

[selhan]

A man some would know as a bartender was near the Friendly Arms Inn, heading up the Tradeway and likely heading to his home in Roaringshore. He was met with a strange tiefling looking woman that seemed to have been in the middle of eating a birds organ. No sooner than that the ground around him started to turn black as several dark clouds engulfed his surrounds. Some had seen when the darkness disappeared and three heavily armed figures stood in place to speak with the bartender. Words like " mortal", and even threats like " If you treasure your life, you will remain calm " and often referring to the man as " Fang-carrier".



As a gathering crowd started to develop, the man insisted on calming the crowd and subjecting himself to go with the unknown figures.

DM Ghost

[JustAnotherGuy]

It had been nearly a moon of territorial disputes amongst the pack leaders, following a migration of the prey due to increased adventurer infiltration into the forest. But finally, the night had come. The large white wolf led a pack of hunters to roam a bit farther than usual in order to avoid the hunting grounds of a neighboring pack.

Excitement was in the air, as there were three wolves with the hunting pack tonight that hadn't been seen before. They appeared younger than the rest of the wolves; less confident, a bit louder. Still, their ears and noses were trained to their surroundings.

The first hint of what was nearby was carried to their noses upon the breeze. Soon, the sound of nervous hooves upon fallen leaves could be heard. As a single unit, the white wolf guided the hunters into formation, trapping the prey between them, keeping themselves downwind of the intended meal. Springing into action, the pack soon made quick work of their prey; a quick, clean kill.

As the pack eventually returned home near sunrise with full bellies, there was still an excitement in the air. To those in the know, and those who could hear, the whisper was that this night, the yearlings of the White Wolf's pack had lost their cub-right, and were now hunters.

[artemitavik]

A man and a woman wearing the livery of the Bladestone Foundation and a woman in black could be observed escorting a caravan of silver ore from the Costal Planes/No Man's Land village of South Pine to another village called Vikaar.

The trio, easily identified to anyone who looked into it as Derik Ranloss, the elf Lylan'synor, and the tiefling Sera Kelm, did a bit of cave-delving adventuring while the merchants haggled, then helped the miners return home, ensuring the area got a bit of an economic boost for the upcoming winter.

Pleased with a job completed, the trio returned to the Foundation and Friendly Arm Inn area without incident. However, it should be mentioned that Derik was seen asking a few questions about a group called Blakes Brothers' Gang about some "protection" incidents... he didn't seem particularly pleased about them.

OOC:
Thanks Spartacus for the great adventure!

[Samy]

From Nashkel to BG, a human woman visits the caravan stables and asks about planned and current trading caravans with horses and wagons: Are there any caravans currently missing or overdue? Did dealers suddenly show up and ask for replacement horses?

Have caravans registered in the next tendays who want to exchange their draft horses on site? And if any of these questions are true, who hosted these caravans or requests?


The woman also asked for information about hiring caravan guards recently or as replacements? Surely notices should also be posted at the stables and wagon makers?

Finally, the woman left a name "Sheren" in which you could leave messages in the FAI about these questions... with a reward, of course.

[artemitavik]

---

THE ADAMANTINE GRIP OF AMN

---

Credit: Bryan Sola

And so, like the predictable yet sudden approach of evening tide, the Amnian Inquisition makes its presence felt throughout Nashkel seemingly overnight. In apparent response to recent trespasses against Inquisition authority, Mage Hunters arrive at the northern Amnian city in droves. Led by High Inquisitor Giovann Vakkar and supported by Secretary Headmistress Dhaerys Lockhart, the Mage Hunters are quickly stationed throughout the town and begin patrolling its streets along with Nashkel's own guards. Their motives are clear: to root out and purge Nashkel of any unregistered arcane element and the seditionists who would dare collaborate with the violators.

Mayor Ghastkill receives the Inquisition with reluctant courtesy, watching on with dismay as more and more of his administrative powers are stripped away and delegated to his "Deputy." Anyone with eyes and half a brain can tell Deputy Mayor Salvor is poised to supplant the current mayor at the slightest misstep.

As the Inquisition tightens its adamantine grip on Nashkel's populace, refugees pour out from the town. Some run for their lives, terrified that they might leave any indication that magic could be traced to their doorstep; others flee for less oppressive regimes and less restrictive opportunity. No matter their reasons, the Trade Way sees an increase in refugee traffic heading northward toward Beregost and beyond. It is said that many who flee the Mage Hunters do not feel safe until they are well north of the Friendly Arm Inn, knowing - whether true or not - that Amn's eyes are everywhere.

Credit: Unknown

Upon hearing reports of the incident and from the guards from the Bladestone that patrol the south areas along the Coastal Plains about the sudden increase of refugees, Headmaster Ranloss of the Bladestone Foundation re-instates the patrol policy from the Time of Troubles that had been slowly tapering off as refugees had slowed.

The guards will do as they are able to escort any groups of refugees to the Warrior's Rest as safely as possible. There, once immediate needs such as nutrition and medical are seen to, the Foundation will aid them in moving on via the caravans and barges that regularly stop at the Warrior's Rest and Hope's Landing, either to the Gate if that is their destination, or to help them assimilate into the towns and villages of the No-Man's Land of the Coastal Plains, or find a way to get them headed on the destination of their choice.

No refugees will be turned over to Amnian Authorities stopping at the Foundation's assets at this time, even if they have a formal Writ of Arrest. If the crimes are particularly heinous, then the Bladestone Council will be notified by the guards for a decision.

[RoseMiriel]

*Rose can be seen in the forest by those whom watch prancing about singing to the plants to inspire growth to the forest plants hitting notes that particularly amplify the growing.*

[selhan]

"Rumors South of Baldur's"




A diverse group of adventurers had been gathered for one odd reason or another. But what ever those reasons was, it was abruptly disrupted when a drunken was staggering through the crowd. Many faces in wonder and left in shock for the man was only in his hat, boots and underwear not to mention his coin purse and a open bottle of rum in his hand. With grumbling words that was made out, it was likely upset about a miss casted teleport spell. Glaring at guards and trying to avoid bumping into little halflings, he staggered until he ran the bell that summoned the ferry man that would see him across and transport him to Roaringshore.

After he arrived in Roaringshore, he recalled several of the words spoken by the group, some humorous, others concerning. But in his drunken state, he would have to wait until later to go over the details in his head.

*Eyes widen* ummm,, hello?

"Just...why..." *He turns away*

Great, naked drink tallies..

"you feather hangen out"

"..he pleasure slave...You Julak Leader?"

"out'ta me way ..buggerin teleports..never work when yer need it too.."

[JustAnotherGuy]

It was a long day and night. First, Emmanuel had followed some people into the forest in order to aid them. Then, he had been taken by a worg after being jumped upon by several giant wolves. He gained the mark of Malar, marking him for the High Hunt, and then was released.

Emmanuel made an elaborate plan, only to have it fall apart as he realized he would be receiving no aid for the hunt. He followed the gnoll into the forest, and then met with the huntmaster. He was taken deep into the forest, where the hunt began. He tried to fight at first, killing dozens of Malarites, but there were too many. He began to run; to lead them on a chase that he hoped would last all night.

However, his new plan was cut short as he became trapped. Once again he was forced to fight. Werewolves, gnolls, and giant wolves all fell to Emmanuel; but soon he was out of healing and offensive spells both. He tried to run once again,, but his injuries prevented him from making it far before he was tackled and covered in Malarites.

The next thing he knew, he was waking up by the Friendly Arms Inn. The worg had dragged him there to gloat, but had been chased off. Emmanuel's lifeless corpse was brought back to life with a resurrection spell.

Later, Emmanuel headed back into the forest; into his home, with Ashling by his side. He may not have survived the hunt, but he was not about to let them ruin his home.

[JustAnotherGirl]

A single sending was all it took for Ashling to fear her life would never be the same. "Emmanuel taken by Malar's worgs in Cloakwood." She didn't stop to explain a thing to the group she'd just approached. She just ran quickly straight into the red mist and into the forest. Her forest. Her home. She was worried, sick, and angry all at the same time. The adrenaline carried her quickly to the sender of the message and the group she was in. She joined them in the search for her mate. Once found, she ran yet again, dropping to her knees, checking his vitals, lifting a vial to his lips. Someone would pay for this.

Later that evening, after learning her love was marked for the High Hunt, she left his side only to inform those staying at their home of the danger and to alert the pack that they were needed by Emmanuel's side. She grabbed a few jars of honey as she prepared herself for war. Paint streaked her cheeks and she chose the straightest and sharpest of her arrows before sharpening her kukris and daggers. Before leaving her little slice of peace in the Cloakwoods, she went to the shrine she had so lovingly built with Emmanuel. Tears streaked through the paint as she knelt in front of the statue of Mielikki. She laid a single arrow on the altar and prayed, begging her goddess to be with them in the coming night.

"Queen of the Forest, please hear me. Help me. One of those who oppose you is after one who has dedicated his life to the care of this forest. They hunt him tonight as prey. Please, guide my feet and hands. Help my arrows fly true and find their mark. Give me the strength to be and do what I can't on my own. You've brought Emmanuel back to me once before. Please keep him with me this night."

Ashling stood, and didn't bother to wipe the tears from her face. They were part of her struggle and she didn't care who saw them. She squared her shoulders and turned. She gave a nod to the pair standing in the small clearing and then stalked into the forest. On her way to meet Emmanuel and the others, she stopped at a few of her caches and made sure they were in order and stocked with anything they might need.

Later that night as she attempted to go with Emmanuel into the forest, she was stopped by a gnoll. Not allowed to enter. Not allowed to follow. Not allowed even a moment to speak with Emmanuel. She walked quietly back to the fire outside the inn. The others looked to her. She had only a few words to say as a silent tear made yet another track down her face.

"The High Hunt has begun."

All she could do was wait. Wait, and pray. And listen to the howls of those hunting her mate. It was the longest night of her life.

When she saw the worg at the edge of the forest with Emmanuel's head in it's mouth, she didn't think, didn't hesitate. She pulled her blade and ran forward, thrusting it through the worg's eye. She then fell to her knees and cradled Emmanuel's head in her hands as she cried and begged Mielikki to bring him back. In the end, a priestess Ashling didn't even know was able to bring him back to her. A while later Ashling was seen thanking the priestess before stepping into a tree with Emmanuel.

[Wyatt]

The northern druid known as Ol' Ran'll traveled south for the first time in many months just prior to the vernal equinox. Having arrived later than expected he joined the lingering few at the celebration on the Chionthar. Hoping to finish all of his business he proceeded to seek out the Ilmateri sister known as Ashenie, having not seen her in the north for a concerning period of time.

While lingering in the southern lands lent what meager aid he could to the elves of Doron Amar as they stalked a predatory wolf and pack of Malar savaging the woods near their city. Battle was joined and the wolves were slain, bursting forth with maggots which were taken by the elves for further study. Ran'll buried the carcasses deep to avoid scavengers digging them up and spreading whatever ill malfeasance was upon them. He remained in the wood for a time to keep watch and to offer his aid to the southern circle of druids. Upon meeting with the Guardian he was told his help was either unneeded or unwanted, ending any need for his presence in the southern wilds. He promptly took his leave and returned to his solitary protectorate in the North.

[artemitavik]

As the massive storm finally makes landfall (dm wisp), Derik Ranloss and Lylan'Synor of the Bladestone Foundation can be seen getting the refugees, merchants, and others that are there, into the building itself on the Way of the Lion to get out of the dangerous weather (including hail the size of tomatoes).

Meals are prepared but rationed as it might be a long haul...

Hidden: show

Thunder and Lightning, A Storm Cometh.

From the shores of the Swords Coast at night, an active thunderstorm is seen Westward in the distance, rolling over the waves. Tall clouds and repeated flash of thunder. For now, it seems yet to hit the coastline.

A fury of a storm rages over the ocean front that saw little sign of easing, from the night into the morning and well into the next day. Already ships have been diverting course to avoid passing through it. There are portents discussed among Seers, that this storm is awaiting some appeasement. The opinions are divided.

[Kiran]

FIRE IN THE GROVE!

What was otherwise a quiet, rather rainy day was interrupted as near Candlekeep on the Lion's way people heard a catastrophic booming noise. People spoke of a massive cloud taking the shape of a hand above Candlekeep. Further rumours state that the hand was grasping at some strange magical energy which was turned into red lightning, and from that same hand, thrown somewhere near Candlekeep..

It is only later it is found out from the pillar of smoke coming from the Lion's way that the target of this lightning was the Druid grove.

Rumours abound about what could have happened, but all that is known is that great damage has been done to the Grove and that near the Friendly Arms Inn, a large meeting of druids, protectors of the grove and other organisations met to talk about the situation.

[InTheFlesh]

Cyllin Skaeva, a Deneirrath Paladin, travels to a number of polities to address the guards of each to relay the same tale, including that of:

- Baldur's Gate's Flaming Fist and City Watch
- Friendly Arm Inn's Guard
- The Guards or Militias of Beregost, Gullykin,and Kraak Helzaak

The report he offers each polity is the same: On the Twenty-Second, a ragged halfling identifying herself as "The Rat Queen" began to ravenously consume a severed human limb less than fifty feet from the Friendly Arm Inn's gate, and in plain view of over half a dozen spectators -- Including the Inn's own watchman. Explicitly refusing to stop consuming the severed limb or depart the premises until threatened at bladepoint, the halfling strongly implied unspecified-but-perhaps-predictable retribution before scurrying off, true to her moniker.

Cyllin tells each that she may be identified by particularly ragged and flea-bitten appearance and perhaps above all, a distinctive sort of stammer, repetition, or "hanging-on" to certain words, providing his own verbal approximation of what he'd heard her sound like for their own records.