Rumors of the Northern Sword Coast

[DaloLorn]

A band of gnolls and flinds lies scattered, sliced apart, across the northern outskirts of the Reaching Woods. The weapons that did this are crude but powerful, and there is orcish blood strewn across the woods. An orcish warband, it might seem, descended upon the forest to test its might against a worthy foe.

But there are no fallen orcs, and the cuts are too uniform. Not a warband, then: One orc. One blade.



Further north, in the village of Uruk Lurra, the young warrior Gurzhuk returns from another hunt, bloodied and beaten, but standing triumphant nonetheless as he drags along a sack of valuables plundered from the Reaching Woods. The wounds will heal soon enough, and join his vast collection of scars... what matters to Gurzhuk is that his foes cannot say the same of the wounds he has inflicted. That he has shown, yet again, and not for the last time, what it means to be ORC.

[Kevin_Smith]

A strange event occured at the Gorge last night... an expedition encountered an incredibly rare orc specimen that was invulnerable to any weapon. Ryke Lighthouse quickly figured out the circumstances of this, realizing it was a mirror orc that can only be slain by mirror weapon. Only with a mirror axe, an artefact that Piir has found long time ago, the mirror orc was defeated.

Ryke Lighthouse proposed a theory that the tribe's chief was trapped in a mirror world, where his own mirror reflection killed him and took his place. This new leader ship explains why orcs have suddenly become more ferocious than ever before...

[Mother Night]

In the shadows of busy roads and taverns, curious whispers are heard following a peculiar missive. Originating from the north, the whispers trickle down the coast, gathering speed and becoming the talk of merchants, commoners, travelers, and even entertainers. These words of rebuttal spread like wildfire and stretch to the far reaches of the realm.

It seems entertainers will go to any length to drum up antagonism against our Lady of Loss, even if it means using lies and slander to do so. In recent musical tripe concerning the issue of a certain fallen celestial, blame is lazily pointed at our Lady, with no true evidence to support such an accusation. Then again, some entertainers are not known for their investigative prowess or caring for the facts themselves when fanciful tales will bring in more listening ears.

One should instead take the time to collaborate with those who share an interest in ridding a common enemy.

To those hearing songs of our Lady's unsubstantiated alliance with this deficient fallen celestial, know that it is built upon a foundation of baseless gossip. Remember who chooses to chirp these songs to you, and know that their goal is purely one of manipulation. You have been forewarned.

The Temple of Shar

Text:

Hidden: show

It seems entertainers will go to any length to drum up antagonism against our Lady of Loss, even if it means using lies and slander to do so. In recent musical tripe concerning the issue of a certain fallen celestial, blame is lazily pointed at our Lady, with no true evidence to support such an accusation. Then again, some entertainers are not known for their investigative prowess or caring for the facts themselves when fanciful tales will bring in more listening ears.

One should instead take the time to collaborate with those who share an interest in ridding a common enemy.

To those hearing songs of our Lady's unsubstantiated alliance with this deficient fallen celestial, know that it is built upon a foundation of baseless gossip. Remember who chooses to chirp these songs to you, and know that their goal is purely one of manipulation. You have been forewarned.

The Temple of Shar

[Rhifox]

From the Trielta Hills emerges the Zhentarim force. Numbering some 200 strong, it departs from the black orc village of Uruk Lurra and marches west. Along the tradeway, it splits, one half moving north towards Soubar, and the other continuing west towards Thundar's Ride. High above, great beasts shadow the black-garbed soldiers - wyverns, drakes, great bats, and other evil beasts, each bearing a single rider. Five in number, Darkhold's skymages have been fully replenished since their losses from taming the black dragon Vuthair, and they stand ready to drive any airborne foe back to ground.

[Rhifox]

The Zhentarim force closes in on the location of the Unravellers, two separate groups coalescing from the southeast and the north with intent to envelop and entrap the enemy's position. As the army bears down on Castus's forces, a woman's commanding voice casts out upon the wind, weaving a spell of weather control. The air across Thundar's Ride begins to roil and rage. Thunder booms across the hills, and the winds howl fiercely. The skymages take back to ground as flight becomes difficult. They keep to the rear of the Zhentarim force though, watching and waiting, just in case the fallen angel decides to attempt to brave the dangerous weather.

((all rumor post developments made with DM Mimic's permission))

[Avanos]

A Dark Figure, cloaked in shadows, led a contingent of blood golems towards the battlefield where the Zhentarim clashed with the Unraveller Army. The blood golems moved with precision, collecting the corpses of the Unraveller soldiers, leaving the Zhentarim bodies behind. Each golem, formed from congealed blood and dark magic, handled the bodies with care, their master overseeing the grim task.

As the golems gathered the dead, they carried them to a series of hidden caves nearby. The process was swift and methodical, with the golems disappearing into the shadows as quickly as they emerged. Once the bodies were transported, the Dark Figure would be seen entering the caves along with the rest of his golems.

Those who would be brave enough to investigate the caves later would find the unmistakable remnants of a teleportation circle. The designs of the circle suggested a destination far beyond the surface, leading deep into the Underdark.

Hidden: show

Rumor posted with permission of DM Mimic

[mixafix]

A Golden Wheel trading company wagon train recently wound it's way north from Amn with mainly textiles as cargo. However hidden within were other goods and a store of gems ready for the northern gem markets. The only clue to their transportation perhaps the presence of two directors hidden among the modest escort. Kiiron and Brualot opted to escort the goods personally.

They fared well negotiating the pitfalls of the trails and making good with local communities along the way. They purchased other goods as they went from remote villages and farms to boost their sales. In fact Kiron undeterred by the risk of drowning even swam a small lake to secure a little extra profit.

They faced off bandits and other denizens of the coast and arrived safely to release their goods to the northern markets. After reviewing the profits and loss of the journey it was deemed a success for the Nashkel based guild.

Some more exotic gems were retained for sale to the rarer wealthy class, the adventurer.

[Louvaine]

Monroe and Nafaris stood in the doorway to the study. A loud pop was heard as the bottle was opened.
"Slightly to the left." Said the man. "You will want to keep the desk in the sunlight."
Nafaris sighed. "Not in the middle - closer to the wall." She pointed at the only place shrouded in darkness. Both of them looked appraisingly at the desk. Once it was moved to the corner, the tiefling moaned. "You know, I don't think it fits here. Move it back to the other room." By the end of the day, the desk had found its way into the shed. Outside.

It was time to check the status of library and the two hoarites were determined to see what knowledge was to be found within. They rummaged through the shelves, discarding what was inappropriately stored and organising the rest by their internal logic. Monroe sang:

"I'm in the office thinking back to rules of poetry.
It's fourteen lines, the last two rhyme, what does pentameter mean…?"

Nafaris slid a scarlet-bound tome on the top-most shelf. "Halt, Nafaris. Red is B, not D. It's going to go under A and after the second B in the second line. B for blue, but don't let that fool you. That's just a coincidence." Monroe continued the song to better guide the order.

"… I write AB AB, try to find your rhyme scheme.
I look for objects on the desk with which to sculpt your image best."

Then, in defiance of rhythm, was a rumble made by stone against stone as Nafaris pulled on a book clearly set outside of the poetic order. Their eyes laid upon an open doorway. "Aww! Secret passage." Whispered Nafaris, excitedly. "Let's see what's inside." The book in her hand was replaced by a dagger. "I think I see red robes. We might have found our magician, Monroe"

Hidden: show

Hidden: show

You in the living room
You on a Tuesday afternoon
A breeze seen when the curtains move
You by the window with both feet up on the couch
Where you sit and you read and I watch you
From the office the sunlight frames your silhouette
I think of lighting fireworks, I think of pirouettes
I idly write down observations on the scene
Like do the blueprints name the rooms alone?
Do we name them on our own?
We hardly live in there
You with a book propped on your knees
A breeze seen in your coffee steam
I'm in the office thinking back to rules of poetry
It's fourteen lines, the last two rhyme, what does pentameter mean?
You in the living room
Legs bent at forty-five degrees
I write AB AB, try to find your rhyme scheme
I look for objects on the desk with which to sculpt your image best
What would I name this could I paint it "Woman (reading)?" "Girl (at rest)?"
I remember it so well watching you shifting your weight,
Turning the page, I can see it all there
Inside a living room where only I live and never go in
A role in name alone
And I pause where I am for a second when I hear your name
Sometimes I think I see your face in improbable places
Do those moments replay for you?
When I'm suddenly there and then won't go away
When you're sitting in the living room reading for the afternoon
Do you put your book down look and try to find me there?
Sometimes I think of all the people who lived here before us
How the spaces in the memories you make change the room from just blueprints
To the place where you live
When you leave here
When you go from a home
You take all that you own but the memories echo
On hardwood floor in the living room
Tore the carpet the scratches below that we found
And the wine stain on the couch
We got drunk and decided we'd still try to move it around
And I can't tell what the difference is between
The ones that we made and the ones that we didn't make
They all conjure images still
Where you sit and you read in the sunlight aware that I watch
And I live alone now
Save for the echoes
I live alone now
Save for the echoes

17 Eleasis 1359

[selhan]

Rumors In Corm Orp




Rumors-





Corm Orp, a town that has known war during the Zhentarim and Lords Alliance conflict finds themselves with a new threat. A dark blight that scattered and spread across the town even towards the Sunset Mountains. Eye witness say the amount of flies was so much that it obstruct view. But the worse report was how thousands of little spiders crawled out from the very ground to consume farmers, even entering their mouths. Some militias attempted to save the farmers but they too suffered the same fate.





It was seen that a pair , a man and woman had taken to high ground to avoid the spiders until they caught Bart the Wagon man attempting to make a hastily flee to Soubar. The couple slid down the ladder and made sure Bart was not going to leave with them. What became of Corm Orp, after is unknown, only the distant screams and cries were heard as the wagon departed.

DM Ink

[TheBorderPrince]

Travellers still deciding to cross the Winding Water at the gloomy and infamous Boareskyr Bridge would notice something... new looming over the river valley. A tall, jagged tower now overlooks the crossing, erected apparently with much haste in the middle of ruined fortification once known as Bridgefort. The tower, constructed from crudely hewn black basalt, bears symbols that make its purpose very clear - the jawless skull in front of a black sunburst marks it as a fane to Cyric, Prince of Lies. And indeed, rumours already circulate in Soubar and other nearby villages and hamlets that it is the Spire of the Black Dawn - a seat that the Herald chose for himself.

Some might question the decision, as, while on one hand the place is undoubtedly sacred to the Black Sun, but on the other, the Dead Magic would prevent the clergy inside from performing any rituals requiring access to the weave. Or perhaps - it should. Because some other hushedrrumours say that it is not the case at all, and while magic outside of the tower remains as dead as a stone, it is not the case inside. Well, since Cyric was the one at least partly responsible for emergence of the dead area - perhaps it is in his power to alter it as well?

[MissClick]

Suggestive of veneration over desecration, faintly discolored patches of dirt around the shrine to Hoar on Thundar's Ride indicate that the nearby earth has been disturbed; barely perceptible amidst the weathering of the elements and fading over coming days.

[TheBorderPrince]

Yet again it comes - the anniversary of the Cyric's victory on Boareskyr Bridge. The Day of the Godslaying, two years to a day from the day Bhaal fell under the fell stroke of the Godsbane, tearing the Weave in the area and poisoning the waters of the river below. As in the previous year, it might be expected that the followers of the Black Sun will celebrate their patron's triumph. Especially that now they have a proper venue, as the Spire of the Black Dawn now looms over the river crossing.



Given how dramatic turn these celebrations took a year ago, who knows what is to be expected...

OOC: Preliminary Date: Sunday, 15th 22nd September, around 19 GMT. May be subject to change depending on whether issues with the venue wll be ironed out till then - event postponed due to technical reasons

[Zeikari]

On the dawn of the 12th of Eleint 1360, a group of dark-clad knights was spotted in the quiet town of Winding Water, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.
Despite their gloomy appearance, the conversation between them was lively and pleasant, judging by the tone of their words, even if one of their number seemed somewhat wary of the onlookers. From what the passer-bys could hear, some of the topics of conversation were the safety of the Trade Way, the current state of the Fields of the Dead, and the religion of some far flung Kingdom of the Far East.
A few times, the Doombringer and his role and origins were brought up.



Eventually, the group left from the town's main gate, heading north; according to one among them, the reason for their gathering was "sight-seeing", yet they did appear to have a very specific destination in mind. After several hours since their departure, the group passed through the town once more, and dispersed immediately after.

[Titania_1]

A short blonde woman was seen humming her way across Boareskyr Bridge, seeming in good spirits. She headed to a newly built structure and walked inside. After some time, she was seen exiting with a very different look. A look of utter disappointment. "They sang the birthday song... They had all the candles out... but no cake! No vanilla, no chocolate, no nothing! Not even a party favor to go home with!" The woman pouted and quickly left the area, having no need to be there anymore. The hopes and dreams of chocolate cake had been brutally murdered here today. "Worst. Birthday party. EVER."

[TheBorderPrince]

The celebrations of the Day of the Godslaying were much less dramatic this year than the previous one. Perhaps, lessons were learned, and no one dared to interrupt the celebration of the Dark Sun in one of his unholiest places, on one of his most unholiest days. Sacrifices were made, rituals were performed for all to see, both believers and curious guests, but nothing unusual occured this time.



One thing though, that might be of consequence for more attentive listeners, would be formal denunciation by the Herald of those who would dare to refer to the Black Sun as Cyric-Bhaal and refer to the Dark Prince as merely a new incarnation or even heir, of his predecessor. Those ones, who would fail to recognise how Cyric's grandeur far surpasses that of the old Lord of Murder were thus branded as blasphemous heretics outside of graces of the Prince of Lies.