Rumors of the Harpers

[The Harpers]

Rumors of the Harpers on the Sword Coast

Please use this thread for harper-related events that may be noticed by anyone. Please also consider that if you want to play a character with a hidden identity, maybe most of your RP goes somewhere else!

For example, if you are looking to contact the Harpers, see How To Contact the Harpers

For more information about the faction itself, see The Harpers

[The Harpers]

Rumors speak of the disappearance of one Tristan Ebonhawk.

Disappearances are common enough, and would have gone unremarked, except the rumors say that Tristan was a Harper who betrayed Those Who Harp to the Zhentarim. Tristan's final fate remains unknown and no body has been found.

[The Harpers]

A song is heard circulating the taverns of the region.

• Hear ye, good people of the Coast!
  To rise your awareness, I call!
  For a shadow threatens us all,
  Ignored by some, unknown to most.
  
  Slowly, slyly, so silently,
  A foe spreads his dark influence ,
  With lies, advancing quietly,
  It made a dreadful alliance,
  
  In the past they used the same tools
  When to Hills Edge they led the Drows
  Promising to fake being foes
  And play the heroes, oh the fools!
  
  Poor choice, to rely on dark elves!
  The Drows left nothing there to save,
  So they kept their deeds to themselves
  And returned to plot in conclave.
  
  Meanwhile the Drows kept on raiding,
  Ulgoth and Greenest left bleeding,
  Victims of the foe's greed and hate
  That brought dark elves close to the Gate.
  
  Look further past and there is more.
  In Triel, Orcs were their decoy!
  Breaking lives and souls in their ploy.
  The land blighted. Still no savior.
  
  But they do not give up their prey
  They made a dreadful deal today,
  And in Triel the Orcs they armed.
  So people of the Coast be warned!
  
  Behind those blades, if you let them,
  What will rise from Triel's ashes
  Will serve to a dark stratagem,
  At a few miles from your houses
  
  Triel's future is in your hands,
  And key to the fate of this lands.
  Darkhold is the home of the foe.
  Will you let its ambition grow?

[The Harpers]

Rumors spread of a daring rescue by a band of Harper Agents. Three individuals, pursued by assassins, had made their way North, and were intercepted by the Harpers who offered them protection. The fugitives and the Harpers made their way north to relative safety away from the Lands of Amn, but they were assaulted on all sides by Calish assassins, bent on killing the fugitives and the Harpers. The bodies of the assassins can sill be seen for a full day after the fighting, scattered from the High Hedge Estates to the Coast just south of Candlekeep, until the scavengers eventually pick the bodies clean.

No word on where the fugitives ended, whether it was at Candlekeep or further North to Baldur's Gate or beyond. On the Lion's way, there were no further signs of attack, and the fugitives and the Harpers seemed to have faded into the shadows. What secrets the trio of fugitives carried to make them such targets is a matter of speculation.

[The Harpers]

A song begins circulating the inns and taverns of Baldur's Gate. Rumour has it that it was first heard when a local Priest of Ilmater recited in the palace district, looking towards the Temple of Tymora. It goes as follows:

Liam the Golden, so I am told,
Preaching loud for Tymora the Bold.

His deeds say different, if only they knew,
How he cooked up for Bhaal an Elven stew;

How he sang softly for foul servants of Bane;
How he sought to bring meek innocents cruel pain!

Liam the Golden, so I have heard,
Yet truly none can polish a...

In its original form the last word is left unsung, for audiences to shout out their suggestions, although whether that survives contact with tavern singers or not is unclear.

Yet as the song passes through the rumour mill, it becomes apparent that it is being spread from Harper sources.

Hidden: show

///related to this post:

A tall bronze-skinned tiefling with golden hair and resplendent blue-lacquered armor has been seen roaming the streets of Balder's Gate and the farmlands beyond. Normally not a remarkable occurrence apart from his rich garb, but this man carried with him a banner of Tymora enchanted to frame the silk cloth with a softly glowing flame. And if the lordly-looking man with the flaming banner weren't enough to draw the eyes of those he passed, he seemed to examine each person on the street; seemingly at random approaching some and offering them a handful of gold coin along with the greeting, "Tymora smiles on you today, friend." before walking away with nary a glance behind.

Hidden: show

(((edited after discussion with Boddynock to render the RP less controversial for all of us! No hard feelings)))

[Boddynock]

Liam, hearing about this insult, is happy to have inspired such artistic musings even if he is not excited about it's content. Regardless, he makes his way to the Palace district to deliver his response, his words flowing with the masterful grace of a born performer and a true bard.

"Long have these "do-gooders" hidden behind
The cover of shadow, paying the world no mind.
The concern themselves not, with the burden of proof,
For a faceless group has no use for the truth.

These "paladins" they say, do good all the day,
And yet it seems to most, up and down the Coast,
That all they do well is condemn others to hell.

A "priest of Ilmater" would never be so base,
To come to a goodly temple and deface,
The reputation of a man Tymora knows true.
I don't believe that man is Ilmatari, do you?

Next time, my friend, you come to MY house,
Perhaps consider bringing your spouse!
Then you could take the time to explain,
Why a priest of Ilmater would ignore so much pain.
The pain I speak of, caused by the Zhents,
With whom your beloved worked quite a long stint.

Run along now, tail betwixt your legs.
Perhaps next time you can muster better than dregs
Of poorly matched verse, and ill spoken prose.
And perhaps next time challenge a man with a smaller hose."


Liam finishes with a flourishing bow for his whatever audience may have gathered, smirking confidently and waiting for a response, if any.

((Final edit to account for changes in the situation))

[The Harpers]

Rumour has it the Harp has been playing more loudly than usual recently. Words loud and quiet, in fact. And ready ears to listen, too.

[mumble]

In the past tenday a new song began to stir in the taverns and inns. Slowly at first, in isolated events or on parchment left behind on a table. The song is called "Look to Elturel". Those that find the parchment with the song would discover detailed on the back a picture of a thin, pale, white haired elf bent down on his knees before a man sitting on a throne. There is a caption that reads: "See how the Dreadlord bows to Grand Duke Entar."

Today at early light when folks were awakening and getting food around various establishments, the plain faced minstrel in blue and yellow returned, lute in hand. He again sings the jolly tune Dirty Zhents but also a new song, this one with warlike tone.

Look to Elturel

Dark tendrils reach the Gate,
Look to Elturel.
They preach brutality and hate,
Look to Elturel.

The Watcher is alert,
Look to Elturel.
The war is not covert,
Look to Elturel.

They fight dirty Zhents,
Look to Elturel.
They do not relent,
Look to Elturel

Hellriders go to war,
Look to Elturel,
Their courage evermore,
Look to Elturel.

In one particular establishment, as if almost by request, there is a transition in the lutists sound and two verses are sung before the minstrel moved on.

The wizards of Nay
In pink dresses they sway
Enter the enclave
you'll met your last day!

Your body then found
Arrow filled up and down.
Shrugging pink shoulders,
Their dresses turn brown!

[The Harpers]

In the past tenday a new song began to stir in the taverns and inns. Slowly at first, in isolated events or on parchment left behind on a table. The song is called "Whispers among Friends". A way to have people know of the Harper's presence, looking for new friends, and work together.

Seek, oh seeker, in shadows you tread,
In clandestine corners, where secrets are bred.
A location veiled, a friend's embrace,
Where destiny's weavers converge in grace.

Silent, the first step, in shadows you linger,
Inquiries masked with an incognito finger.
Rumors dance in the midnight air,
Find the subtlest cues, unravel the snare.

In the tapestry of intrigue, where stories unfold,
Obscurity beckons, secrets yet untold.
Nestled in whispers, clandestine and sly,
Oh, seeker, your journey has just begun, oh my.

To join our friends, know us you must.
Emissaries of balance, with knowledge profound,
Dance with the shadows, where truths are found.
Whispers of wisdom in the moon's soft glow,
A friend awaits, the path you must follow.

Evade the overt, seek the subtle sign,
Decipher the riddle, let your senses align.
Wander where shadows meet the unknown,
And secrets concealed in whispers are sown.

Answer the call, embrace the unseen,
Step through the veil where the harp strings convene.
And when the moon in its zenith is high,
The friend's symphony echoes, a celestial sigh.

Illuminate the shadows, let destiny weave,
Awaken, oh seeker, to the call of the night,
In the silent embrace, where shadows take flight.

Please follow this method if you wish to contact us!

[The Harpers]

Nestled within the bustling streets of Baldur's Gate, a weathered parchment adorned with inked verses awaits discovery. Affixed to the corkboard near the central fountain in the Upper City's market square, the poetic call echoes amid the vibrant atmosphere of merchants and patrons. The harp's melody, an invitation to join a known fellowship, beckons those with an ear for adventure.

Yet, nearby, another message emerges, hastily scrawled on the reverse side. Pinned with a sense of urgency, it laments the plight of refugees chased by Mage Hunters. This desperate cry for empathy and justice resonates in the air, drawing the attention of passersby and challenging the status quo.

As the sun casts long shadows on the cobbled streets, the contrasting messages converge, creating a poignant tableau that mirrors the complex tapestry of life within the Gate. Adventurers passing through find themselves at a crossroads, torn between the allure of harpers' melodies and the harsh reality of a town divided by fear and hunger.

Beneath Baldur's Gate's sun-kissed spires, where tales unfold in vibrant fires,
Hear the harps that call anew, seeking hearts both brave and true.
Join our fellowship, minstrels fair, crafting songs in open air,
For Baldur's Gate, with chords profound, welcomes those with purpose found.

Yet, woes befall the refugees, chased by Mage Hunters, hearts to seize.
In Nashkel's plight, they hunger, weep, while hunters cold their vigil keep.
Presumed mages, in the shadows they hide, while the town's cry for protection bides.
Starving souls, their hopes withdrawn, amid the hunt, their dreams are gone.

Let the harp's refrain resound, a plea to those who wear the crown,
In Nashkel's need, in shadows cast, let justice rise and kindness last.
For harpers true, with notes so clear, seek recruits to calm the fear,
In Baldur's Gate, let mercy flow, and end the hunters' cruel blow.

Please follow this method when you wish to contact us!

[The Harpers]

Whispers of verse flutter like leaves in the breeze throughout Baldur's Gate, farmsteads, and the welcoming halls of the Friendly Arm Inn. Pinned to the bustling city's market stalls and discreetly placed along the fence lines of farmsteads, the poetry extends an invitation to all who dare to dream beyond the ordinary.

In the Lower City's taverns, where tales are spun and tankards raised, the verses find a home, each line resonating with the hearts of potential recruits. Affixed to the inn's bulletin board at the Friendly Arm, the call to join the Harpers' fellowship weaves itself into the fabric of camaraderie, offering a chance for those seeking a harmonious blend of adventure and purpose.

Beyond the city walls, on the outskirts of farmsteads, the poetry emerges as a beacon, inviting those tending to the land to trade plows for lutes and join Those Who Harp ranks. The verses become a roadmap, guiding aspiring adventurers from the farmsteads to the bustling streets of Baldur's Gate and the comforting embrace of the Friendly Arm Inn—a journey fueled by the promise of new horizons and the camaraderie of kindred spirits.

In the heart of the city, where cobbled streets unfold,
A melody beckons, a tale yet untold.
Baldur's Gate's Lower City, a vibrant start,
Free people call for kin with an adventurous heart.

From market's hum to the farmstead's quiet embrace,
Follow the verses, find your destined space.
Through fields where crops sway, a roadmap laid,
To the Friendly Arm Inn, where tales are made.

Harpers seek new blood, with pure hearts aglow,
Dreamers and seekers, destined to grow.
The call resounds, from Gate to the farm,
Join the fellowship, embrace the charm.

In the inn's warm embrace, a haven to stay,
Kindred spirits unite, under the sun's last ray.
For those who long to change the world's very core,
The Harpers welcome, forevermore.

Please follow this method when you wish to contact us!

[The Harpers]

Amidst the ancient cobblestone streets of Baldur's Gate, a lone wanderer strolls beneath the ethereal glow of moonlit arches. Cloaked in shadows, he walks with purpose, tracing the labyrinthine paths as if guided by an unseen hand. His footsteps echo softly in the stillness, a clandestine rhythm against the city's silence.

With a low hum escaping his lips, the wanderer weaves through the night, the haunting melody of a forgotten song accompanying his journey. Each step resonates with purpose, as he seeks a particular soul in the obsidian heart of the city. The rhythmic hum, a musical compass, merges with the distant tolling of bells that punctuate the midnight air.

His figure, a specter in the moon's embrace.



In the velvet cloak of midnight's embrace,
Skulking in the shadows, a phantom's grace.
Bells toll the hour, a clandestine rhyme,
As I seek you out in the veil of time.

Silhouetted whispers in the inky black,
Footsteps echo on the moonlit track.
Through the night, a spectral spree,
In search of you, my mystery.

Bells chime softly, a clandestine song,
Guiding me to where the Harp belongs.
In the dance of shadows, our fates align,
At the witching hour, where destinies entwine.

Please follow this method when you wish to contact us!

[The Harpers]

Amidst the lively tapestry of Baldur's Gate, minstrels and bards take the stage in dimly lit taverns, weaving tales that serve a dual purpose. Their melodies not only entertain but also carry vital messages to the ears of the attentive patrons.

Through lyrical warnings, they caution against the allure of deceptive spices circulating through the city, a threat masked by the vibrant facade of daily life. These troubadours, friends of the Harp, embrace their role as storytellers, guardians of truth in a city ensnared by hidden dangers.

With every chord plucked and every verse sung, they unite the revelers, creating a chorus of awareness that resonates through the cobblestone streets, echoing the need for vigilance and discernment.



In the heart of Baldur's Gate, where cobbled streets entwine,
The Wide, a lively market, where merchants' wares align.
A symphony of voices, a bustling, vibrant throng,
In the dance of commerce, where the city's pulse is strong.

Noble footsteps echo in the Manorborn's grand array,
Where silk-clad figures weave their schemes in the light of day.
Leaders in the open, with a facade so polished and bright,
Yet shadows linger, concealing a clandestine plight.

Behind the ornate façade, in secret chambers dim,
A sinister whisper promises dreams through a deceptive whim.
Spices and drugs, a toxic elixir they brew,
False dreams spread like wildfire, a dangerous ensnaring view.

Hidden lords in their parlors, orchestrating a delicate ruse,
Their silver tongues spinning tales, the unsuspecting to abuse.
A puppet master's fingers, weaving threads unseen,
A city held captive, ensnared in a web so keen.

Yet, in the taverns hidden, where lanterns cast a warm glow,
Friends of the Harp gather, tales of truth to sow.
Through music and poetry, they unveil the hidden snare,
Warn of false dreams and spice, a city in despair.

Let the friendly ears of the taverns open wide,
To the ballads of caution, where truth and lies coincide.
In the tapestry of tales, our eyes on the streets will sing,
Of the bustling streets of Baldur's Gate, where hidden dangers spring.

Please follow this method when you wish to contact us!

[The Harpers]

In the bustling streets of Baldur's Gate, cloaked in a deep azure cape that billows behind like the night sky, and concealed beneath the hood that obscures all facial features, this enigmatic minstrel traverses the labyrinthine alleys with a mission that transcends mere melody.

This agent carries a harp of exquisite craftsmanship that resonates with both ethereal beauty and underlying purpose. Draped in the folds of the cloak, the strings of the harp come alive as the harpist weaves enchanting tunes that seem to echo through the very soul of the city. With each pluck and strum, the melodic notes carry a subtle message of unity, hope, and resistance against the shadows that threaten to engulf the realm.

However, the harper's mission extends beyond personal performance. At intervals, the harpist pauses in the shadowed corners of bustling squares, drawn toward the melodies of street minstrels who echo the rhythm of the city. The hooded figure reveals themselves to these wandering minstrels, sharing the intricate composition that resonates with the heart of Baldur's Gate.

With a handful of coins as gratitude, the harpist imparts the minstrels with not only a song but a purpose – to spread this harmonious message throughout the city. The harpist's identity remains shrouded in mystery, allowing the minstrels to take credit for the enchanting melodies, yet the true force behind the music remains a whispered secret.







In the city of crimson spice, where shadows dance at night,
A tale unfolds of hope and pain, a battle we must fight.
crimson haze veils our streets, where dreams and nightmares meet,
A drug so dark, it steals the light, casting souls into the night.


But in the midst of this despair, a melody takes flight,
A song of strength, a song of care, to guide us through the night.

We will rise above the crimson tide,
Break the chains, we won't let them hide,
In face of sorrow, we'll find our way,
For in unity, we'll see a brighter day.


Families torn, hearts entwined, by the grip of crimson's bind,
A symphony of shattered dreams, echoes through the silent screams.
In the alleys where despair lies, a silent plea for changing tides,
But courage grows, like flowers bloom, amid the shadows and the gloom.


And in the heart of this dark plight, a song of hope takes flight,
A ballad of resistance, breaking through the endless night.

We will rise above the crimson tide,
Break the chains, we won't let them hide,
In face of sorrow, we'll find our way,
For in unity, we'll see a brighter day.

Crimson spice, a cruel mirage, a poison that's disguised,
But love will be our guiding star, dispelling darkness from afar.
United we stand, against the tide, reclaiming hearts, nowhere to hide,
For every soul lost in the fight, we'll stand together, strong and bright.


In the wreckage of broken dreams, where the crimson currents stream,
A rallying cry, a call to arms, to break away from drug-induced harms.
Faces scarred, but eyes ablaze, we'll challenge this twisted maze,
With every note, with every chord, we'll fight the battle, we'll wield the sword.


And as the melody takes flight, a beacon in the darkest night,
Together we'll rise, we'll find our way, in the face of hope and pain.

We will rise above the crimson tide,
Break the chains, we won't let them hide,
In face of sorrow, we'll find our way,
For in unity, we'll see a brighter day.

So let the song of strength persist, in the hearts that can't resist,
For love and hope will always be, the antidote to crimson and golden's sea.
And as we stand, hand in hand, against the tide, a united band,
The crimson spice shall lose its sway, defeated by the light of day.

Please follow this method when you wish to contact us!

[The Harpers]

In the bustling streets of Baldur's Gate, a flurry of flyers danced on the whims of the wind, carrying the heartfelt message of the Harpers. Inked words proclaimed gratitude to the city that had embraced their cause. The parchment, adorned with the Harper's emblem, found its way into every nook and cranny.

The message echoed a chorus of appreciation, thanking the steadfast supporters who had stood by their side through the trials. The streets buzzed with whispers of the Harpers, and the message reached both the curious and the dedicated.

The Harpers extended their gratitude to these fresh faces, recognizing the strength found in diversity. The whispers of change and hope ignited a spark in the hearts of those who had recently joined the cause.

Taverns and market stalls may became impromptu meeting places as citizens discussed the impact of the Harpers' work. The once-muted voices of the common folk gained strength, inspired by the acknowledgment from the secretive organization.

As the flyers continued to circulate, the city became a canvas painted with messages of gratitude and hope. The Harpers' appreciation echoed through the alleys, finding its way to every corner of Baldur's Gate. The mysterious organization had woven itself into the fabric of the city, not as enigmatic figures, but as fellow citizens, expressing thanks for the collective journey they embarked upon.

Beneath the moon's elusive glow, where mysteries unwind,
The Harpers gather, tales veiled, yet intertwined.
Barmaids and toilers, in the daily grind,
Farmers and minstrels, paths they strive to find.

People, we thank you, our allies so true,
In every tale, we're shaped by you.
From the taverns to the fields, we stand side by side,
Together we'll make a difference, our spirits won't hide.

With hearts full of courage, and dreams to pursue,
The Harpers rise, just like all of you.
We sing of the common, the heroes unseen,
In every soul, there's a Harp to convene.

People, we thank you, our allies so true,
In every tale, we're shaped by you.
From the taverns to the fields, we stand side by side,
Together we'll make a difference, our spirits won't hide.

So here's to the barmaid, pouring with grace,
To the laboring hands, a hard-earned embrace.
To farmers and minstrels, in every town,
We're the Harpers, in unity bound.

Through whispers of magic, and songs of the heart,
The Harpers stand strong, playing their part.
Not just legends or tales from afar,
We're the people who dream, beneath the same star.

People, we thank you, our allies so true,
In every tale, we're shaped by you.
From the taverns to the fields, we stand side by side,
Together we'll make a difference, our spirits won't hide.

So here's to the people, in every role we play,
Thanking our supporters, in our own humble way.
Barmaid, worker, farmer, and minstrel's call,
In the tapestry of life, we're united for all.

Please follow this method when you wish to contact us!