Rumours of the Western Heartlands

[sweetlikesplenda]

Lord Lyonaler had spent months in Suzail discussing the battles of the Cormyrian forces with the Tuigan Hoarde. After his long absence from the region, he was seen once more entering the Fort at Radiant Crossing.

[Sundown]

Gathering of the Faithfull of Rillifane (20. Alturiak 1361)

Winter is coming to an end and the first messengers of spring hesitantly made their way in.
There was an omen in the rustling of the leaves, bathed in the first warmer rays of sunshine:
The breaking of the fast would soon be carried out – “The Budding”

The faithfull of the Leaflord were like the branches of a tree: each grew in a different direction.
Sometimes they grew more and sometimes less away from the trunk. Each with their own tasks and their own way of living the teachings of the Many-Branched. Accordingly, all were strong personalities who could also rub with their thoughts against each other.
Like the branches in the wind. Free but still from the same tree.

Priestess Naer'eanque had consulted with Fang Caelian and asked him to send out a call and spread it to the far corners of the region.
So it came to pass that they gathered the faithful under the warm glow of the golden tree.



It was agreed that the holy hunt would be conducted together and kept only among the faithful. The "Misty Forest" was chosen as the hunting ground.
A challenging hunting ground that was supposed to show determination and tenacity.
Even if it was Naer'eanques original goal, to bring it together with the upcoming festival in Doron Amar, she allowed herself to be convinced of the united voice of the gathered faithfull.

Druid Isenduil suggested that they should see the hunting ground beforehand.
The feet of druidess Menolly needed movement. Naer'eanque was open to the idea.
And the fangs Lirelle and Caelian agreed. Ready to protect the priests.

The spirit-seer Tramahsthas also accompanied and supported them.

And so they strode through the trees to the north to prepare for the ritual...
(...and to decimate the orcs along the way)



The hike ended at En Dharasha Everae, where the group met residend rangers and citizens.

[sweetlikesplenda]

Word is sent out and notices are placed about the region

"A call to Rose, Mathilde, and Oona

I urge you all to consider the love you have all expressed of the people of Baldur's Gate. Those people are afraid and angry, given what they know of the situation. If you care for the people, please offer yourselves for questioning. If innocent of wrongdoing, this is the chance to express it. Should you wish, you can appear at the Fort at Radiant Crossing. I will ensure the safety of your weapons and belongings, as well asensure your safe passage to the City for questioning.

Lord Aaron Lyonaler"

[RedLancer]

A letter arrives at the Radiant Crossing to the attention of one Aaron Lyonaler, accompanied by a small box that could rest in a man's hand.

[DarkmoonKing]

The common couple of Carys and Elduril made their way from the Shrine of the Suffering, leaving the city for a casual morning walk. By the time they arrived at the Friendly Arm Inn - luckily without incident on the Trade Way - the two had hardly time to greet those gathered outside the gates when a crossbowman named Evan happened upon them to recruit for a bandit gang called the Copper Snakes. After some discussion, during which the familiar face of Alan Copperchime had become involved, the crossbowman took his leave and vanished.

Some hour or so later, the man returned. Elduril had been speaking with a Priest Inquisitor of Torm, when his presence was requested to deal with the man. Many others were already involved with the man, so Elduril merely warned the barmaid Lenna on the patio of the Friendly Arm the type of person this customer was, and that he was recruiting people to the gang he belonged to. Some more arguments and discussion went by, and the squire Alan ended up agreeing to a job offered by the crossbowman. This lead to some heated exchanges among his own people of the Order of the Silver Rose, as well as Elduril and some other bystanders.

Ultimately, a small group including Alan, Afendaria, Malah, Carys, and Elduril accompanied Evan to a village that had been under attack by another gang called the Onyx Fangs. While most of the party engaged in battle to clear the village of the remaining bandits, Carys and Elduril saw to the finding of survivors, to tend them and keep them from death. When the battle ended, screams were heard from the barricaded barn, and the strongest members of the team worked in unison to clear the way. Several more villagers were found inside, and escorted out to safety. Malah, a priestess, had successfully revived an elderly woman who perished inside. With the broken leg she suffered before death, she limped under Elduril's support to the safety of the lawn outside. Finally, Alan and Elduril heard the screams of a child upstairs, and Elduril jumped into the flames on the staircase to clear the rubble away, and with Alan's help they retrieved the boy and took him to safety.

With all who were capable of being saved gathered in the center of the village, the rescue team then saw to the recovery and burial of those lost. Graves were dug by the more physically adept, and last rites were performed Sister Carys. The remains of the slain Onyx Fangs were likewise put to rest in the village's cemetary, and the lone survivor - a mage - was taken prisoner to the temple of Tyr in Baldur's Gate so that the Blind God's justice would be done upon his head.

It was a hard and somber night for all, but as the sun rose on a new day over the consecrated graves of the slain villagers, hope and solace were found by the survivors.

[DaloLorn]

Over the coming tenday, handwritten notes appear on bulletin boards from Nashkel to Baldur's Gate, each elegantly written by the same author.

A young knight burdened by financial difficulties is seeking employment as a bodyguard, bounty hunter, soldier, or officer. Offering respectable rates for her years of martial training and experience.

If interested, seek out Belinda Ravenblood at the Northern Lights In, Nashkel; the Risen Phoenix Inn, Beregost; the Friendly Arm Inn; or the Blade & Stars Inn, Baldur's Gate. Recognizable by dark hair, formidable stature, dark armor with purple gambeson, and silvered ruby pendant in the shape of a flying raven.

The name and figure described by the flyers have been going around the Coast for a few months, now, often demonstrating one or more of the statements she wrote down, and showing little regard for the nature of her assignments as long as they were appropriately paid for.

Somewhat embarrassingly, however, perhaps her most prominent appearance in any local battlefield has been Lord Mountsend's Gauntlet of Champions, following up an otherwise respectable display of swordsmanship by interfering in a clash between Sir Felix Fassaway and Speaker Rhaeg, to the effect of being promptly knocked out when the Speaker bodily threw the armored knight at his would-be ally. With the subsequent discovery that Fassaway had in fact been attempting to assassinate the Speaker, it remains unclear if Miss Ravenblood was aware of the true nature of the man she was trying to protect, and whether she would have made the same choice now that his intentions have been made plain...

Transcript

Hidden: show

A young knight burdened by financial difficulties is seeking employment as a bodyguard, bounty hunter, soldier, or officer. Offering respectable rates for her years of martial training and experience.

If interested, seek out Belinda Ravenblood at the Northern Lights In, Nashkel; the Risen Phoenix Inn, Beregost; the Friendly Arm Inn; or the Blade & Stars Inn, Baldur's Gate. Recognizable by dark hair, formidable stature, dark armor with purple gambeson, and silvered ruby pendant in the shape of a flying raven.

[MissClick]

Prior morning ray's break over Sword Coast horizon, observant eyes might note the remnant stars of the night preceding did seem to glisten and gleam but for a beat in time. Naught more than a trick of the light, surely.

(( DM Vejigorm))

[JustAnotherGuy]

Placed in such locales as the Friendly Arms Inn and various other places can be seen flyers, made by the hand of one who is obviously not accustomed to doing such.

The time is nearly upon us. As many of you know, the Green Enclave will be hosting a Spring Equinox celebration at the newly restored grove upon the Lion's Way. There will be food, drink, music, dancing, and general merriment.

Any who bear no ill will against the Enclave or nature is welcome to attend.

((Saturday, 22 March, roughly 2:30pm CST / 7:30pm GMT!

[DarkmoonKing]

Having been gone since Highharvestide, after difficult farewells and promises of a springtime return, a couple familiar to some would arrive at the Lion's Way druid grove in time for the vernal equinox celebrations. Rivka, the Rashemaar hathran, had gone home at the close of her darjemma to report her learnings and await the Wychlaran's decision about where to send her for her future duties. Laethelas, the elven archer frequently found among his kin in Doron Amar, had gone with his betrothed to appeal for acceptance into Rashemaar society.

It was good news for both the witch and the ranger, as the Wychlaran rewarded Rivka with her braids and the responsibilities of a full-grown hathran, and Laethelas was indeed welcomed to join their society as her husband after weeks of trials to test his commitment to the strict ways of Rashemen. With their difficult stage of uncertainty about whether they would even be allowed to remain together long past, the couple waited with excitement to return to their friends in the West. The return journey proved far easier, with runes placed around the Heartlands by Rivka before leaving for Rashemen, where at the start of her darjemma she lacked the knowledge of such, and so the couple could now simply travel between marked trees.

And so this new stage of their journeys begin, as newly-weds and as individuals to pursue the endeavors that had to be placed on hold through a season and a half. Both the witch and ranger now look forward with eager hearts and bright eyes toward a long and fulfilling future in the Heartlands.

[DiceyCZ]

*posters are placed and word spread*

Hear one and all!
With everything that's going on around the coast, and with the spring weather finally arriving, The Bladestone Foundation has decided to bring everyone together for a few nights of bouts and fun. As anyone going into battle knows, you need to keep your skills sharp, have some enjoyment along the way, and it never hurts to boast a little, therefore, starting now we will be hosting a series of events, leading up to the summer, that hopefully accomplish all three! Starting with a proper martial tourney, leading to a series of mage duels and culminating in an open stage night of drinks, jokes and tomfoolery. Whether you are warrior, scout, mage or jokester, please join us for any or all at the Warrior's Rest! The first two events will be focused on the test of skill while the last should serve as a proper space to unwind and embrace the summer spirit. There will be about 2-3 tendays space between the events, with details posted separately for each. Every event will offer drinks and food in the inn proper, along with exotic refreshments provided both at the inn and the arena, so even if you don't come to fight, come join us to enjoy others' prowess and some delicacies and luxury.

For the first we will be starting with a martial tourney, specific rules will be announced at the start of the tourney, some depending on how many people will sign up, so we would like to ask each who thinks of joining to make sure to come properly at the beginning for a sign up. For prizes, you will receive tokens that will offer the aforementioned bragging rights, with a mysterious but fun grand prize for the winner. The martial tourney will welcome anyone in any walk of life, be it a warrior or scout or other. You can bring a bow if you like but you will be restricted to the size of the arena, and lastly for the ones depending on guile, there will be limit on how long you can stay hidden in your smoke bombs and twisting shadows.

So everyone come and join us at the WARRIOR's REST, on ((Sunday, the 4th of May)) at ((18 GMT, that is GMT not BST)) and we hope you enjoy yourself!
*if you have trouble finding Warrior's Rest, it is the compound just on the path to Candlekeep

Hidden: show

Hear one and all!
With everything that's going on around the coast, and with the spring weather finally arriving, The Bladestone Foundation has decided to bring everyone together for a few nights of bouts and fun. As anyone going into battle knows, you need to keep your skills sharp, have some enjoyment along the way, and it never hurts to boast a little, therefore, starting now we will be hosting a series of events, leading up to the summer, that hopefully accomplish all three! Starting with a proper martial tourney, leading to a series of mage duels and culminating in an open stage night of drinks, jokes and tomfoolery. Whether you are warrior, scout, mage or jokester, please join us for any or all at the Warrior's Rest! The first two events will be focused on the test of skill while the last should serve as a proper space to unwind and embrace the summer spirit. There will be about 2-3 tendays space between the events, with details posted separately for each. Every event will offer drinks and food in the inn proper, along with exotic refreshments provided both at the inn and the arena, so even if you don't come to fight, come join us to enjoy others' prowess and some delicacies and luxury.

For the first we will be starting with a martial tourney, specific rules will be announced at the start of the tourney, some depending on how many people will sign up, so we would like to ask each who thinks of joining to make sure to come properly at the beginning for a sign up. For prizes, you will receive tokens that will offer the aforementioned bragging rights, with a mysterious but fun grand prize for the winner. The martial tourney will welcome anyone in any walk of life, be it a warrior or scout or other. You can bring a bow if you like but you will be restricted to the size of the arena, and lastly for the ones depending on guile, there will be limit on how long you can stay hidden in your smoke bombs and twisting shadows.

So everyone come and join us at the WARRIOR's REST, on ((Sunday, the 4th of May)) at ((18 GMT, that is GMT not BST)) and we hope you enjoy yourself!
*if you have trouble finding Warrior's Rest, it is the compound just on the path to Candlekeep

[Labradorit]

There are paper charms scattered across the trade ways and potential settlements. Some will see them, some will hear the faint tune, and in that quiet space between the edges of night and day, this song will hopefully continue to spread. All paper charms are indeed unfolded by the time they are placed. One paper at a time is pinned where possible at the wide, near the Inner Gate, in the outer city, at the Friendly Arm, the Phoenix Company, Greenest, Gullykin, Beregost, and further. Eventually reached Triel, Windingwaters or along the Roaring Shore to Kraak Helzak. Soubar and Boreaskyr Bridge are aimed as even Nashkel is, perhaps even finding their way further along the trade ways. But who knows?
Tacked to a board, a tavern wall, or a market stall of willing, yet it is nothing that calls for a glance of “hasted,” “very important,” or “socially blind” eyes, but for these things:

• The ink and used paper: of stark white and greige, written in an elusively flowing hand of an artist.
• A charm sewn into the reinforced bottom: two willow rings, braided and intertwined, with a tiny chime swaying beneath them.
• And at the top, a title followed by prose, simple yet deliberate:

“Sylphen Whisper,

You know not my name, nor I know yours.
But let me sing, and if you, dear, listen,
You may find we walk a similar course.

Oh, folk and traveler…
Be you wanderer, merchant, guard, or guest,
Take these words, not as mere burden,
But as a moment of your mind’s and heart’s rest.

We’ve all heard the murmurs ,
Felt the sinister weight in the air.
The fog thickens, gloom creeping near,
Turning whispers and words into twisted blurs.

But now you, dear, know my names flare:
A song, a reminder, a small smirk and more.
Hope still lingers and glisters, even here, even there.
Don’t let it slip, nor skip it ashore.

I bid you, dear, well…
Let not the fog nest deep in your chest.
Strengthen your light against the glooming crest.
I am singing for you, to bring your souls rest.
Come join in my tune, dear, until all pale things fell.

Until soon, you hear this,

Sylphen Whisper.“

*If one searches for a signature, one will find drawn beneath:*

A white flower.

*Under the flower, eleven notes rest between three lines, all sketched in the same hand:*

h, g, f | h, g, f | h, g, f, e, f

Hidden: show

((spoiler : song inspiration https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wp2XyxrMq9E))
((while singing the bardic feat: song of freedom :is used))

“Sylphen Whisper,

You know not my name, nor I know yours.
But let me sing, and if you, dear, listen,
You may find we walk a similar course.

Oh, folk and traveler…
Be you wanderer, merchant, guard, or guest,
Take these words, not as mere burden,
But as a moment of your mind’s and heart’s rest.

We’ve all heard the murmurs ,
Felt the sinister weight in the air.
The fog thickens, gloom creeping near,
Turning whispers and words into twisted blurs.

But now you, dear, know my names flare:
A song, a reminder, a small smirk and more.
Hope still lingers and glisters, even here, even there.
Don’t let it slip, nor skip it ashore.

I bid you, dear, well…
Let not the fog nest deep in your chest.
Strengthen your light against the glooming crest.
I am singing for you, to bring your souls rest.
Come join in my tune, dear, until all pale things fell.

Until soon, you hear this,

Sylphen Whisper.“

*If one searches for a signature, one will find drawn beneath:*

A white flower.

*Under the flower, eleven notes rest between three lines, all sketched in the same hand:*

h, g, f | h, g, f | h, g, f, e, f

[Zeikari]

Nearing the end of 27 Mirtul 1361, loud rumbling and howling could be heard echoing from the mountain-pass north of Nashkel. Angry winds carried a cacophony of orcish sounds, and the flickering of lightning could be seen flashing from great distance.

In the following morning, wary travelers would find the emblem of the Destroyer planted along the road, on top of a pile of grisly, monstrous trophies. Both the banner and the flesh and bones underneath had been left blackened and charred, and all the earth around it was despoiled, emanating a pungent acidic stench. Judging from the messy, heavy footprints, a group of people had performed some wild and unholy celebration around the totem before retreating deeper into the Cloud Peaks.

[Zeikari]

The late night leading to the 1st of Kythorn 1361 saw unnatural howling and thundering echo from a trait of coast south of Candlekeep. Even as the sun dawned to the new month and the sky seemed to largely clear out, travelers noted a constant bellowing of words in foreign tongue oft punctuated by sudden flashes, cracks of lightning, and mild, unnatural tremors.



The bizarre phenomenon culminated in the late morning, when a forked lightning arched, blindingly bright above the coast, and struck the very spot from which the turbulence had originated. Not too long after, the shouting stopped, the winds calmed down, and an eerie quiet fell upon the tormented patch of shore.

To those who would arrive later in the day, the area would be found charred and filled with the stench of acid and burned ashes. At the core of the violated area would stand a totem of gruesome offerings of humans and monstrous skulls alike, and the marked banner of the Destroyer.

[OOC: Thanks again to DM Verjigorm for this event!]

[Labradorit]

Where to find it, or how it might find You

There was no greater play set upon a stage, no lesser magical charm woven. Just a paper, new again yet again, that’s begun to appear, quietly, along the Trade Way.

You might come across one already... unfolded by other hands, maybe even with a faint hum left in its wake. They’ve turned up near the Inner Gate, out in the Outer City, at the Friendly Arm, near the Phoenix Company, down in Greenest and Gullykin, Beregost too... or wherever wind and wandering feet may lead. Some find their way toward Triel, Winding Water, the Roaring Shore, even to Kraak Helzak, Soubar, Boareskyr Bridge, and Nashkel. Likely more, by now... who could say?

They do not call for the hurried eye or the weighty step. You’ll find them where someone allowed a quiet moment. Pinned to a board, a tavern beam, the edge of a market stall. Not loud. Not urgent. But for those who pause, here is what rests in the hush again:

• The paper itself, of white and greige, marked by a flowing, elusive hand.
• A folklore charm at the bottom: two willow rings, braided close, with a small chime that stirs only when it must.
• And at the top, a title followed by what may be read, or simply felt.

"Second Sylphen Whisper

Oh Pride, what a fragile and strong dance of a butterfly

You know not my face, nor I your flame,
but walk with me in wondering thought
for pride is never just a name.
Oh, traveler, merchant, you, my dear
with sword or scroll, or hands worn thin,
have you not felt it lift you up,
and then curl quiet, deep within?

It dances bold, on banners wide,
in titles worn and rules obeyed.
It hides in silence, stiff and pride,
and shouts in ranks that won't be swayed.
It wears a mask of calm command,
or sparks when no one takes your hand.
It flickers in a leader's gaze
both torchlight bright, and mirror-maze.

Oh, dear…
What pride is yours? What pride is mine?
Is it the shield, or is it shine?
Does it defend, or does it blind?
And when it cracks… what truth’s behind?

I saw a thread snap, heard it ring
not shame, but storm in early spring.
A butterfly once brushed my chest;
its wings were gold, its flight unrest.
And yet it flew, through fault and grace,
unbound by rule, or time, or place.
It did not ask to be excused,
but left a mark where thought was bruised.

Oh dear,
So here’s no blame, nor praise outright,
just drifting wings, caught in the light.
We rise, we falter, one and all…
and pride may dance, but it must fall.

Still dear…
there’s strength in steps we dare to break.
There’s truth in laughs we barely fake.
And something soft remains behind
each flaring breath of wounded pride.

Until soon, you hear this,

Sylphen Whisper."

*This time the paper is signatured with:*

three white flowers: clearly shaped as moonflower, white violet, and white heather.


*Beneath the final line, eleven notes drift across the parchment like scattered wingbeats*

b(h), g, f | b(h), g, f | b(h), g, f, e, f

Hidden: show

((spoiler : song inspiration https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wp2XyxrMq9E))

"Second Sylphen Whisper

Oh Pride, what a fragile and strong dance of a butterfly

You know not my face, nor I your flame,
but walk with me in wondering thought
for pride is never just a name.
Oh, traveler, merchant, you, my dear
with sword or scroll, or hands worn thin,
have you not felt it lift you up,
and then curl quiet, deep within?

It dances bold, on banners wide,
in titles worn and rules obeyed.
It hides in silence, stiff and pride,
and shouts in ranks that won't be swayed.
It wears a mask of calm command,
or sparks when no one takes your hand.
It flickers in a leader's gaze
both torchlight bright, and mirror-maze.

Oh, dear…
What pride is yours? What pride is mine?
Is it the shield, or is it shine?
Does it defend, or does it blind?
And when it cracks… what truth’s behind?

I saw a thread snap, heard it ring
not shame, but storm in early spring.
A butterfly once brushed my chest;
its wings were gold, its flight unrest.
And yet it flew, through fault and grace,
unbound by rule, or time, or place.
It did not ask to be excused,
but left a mark where thought was bruised.

Oh dear,
So here’s no blame, nor praise outright,
just drifting wings, caught in the light.
We rise, we falter, one and all…
and pride may dance, but it must fall.

Still dear…
there’s strength in steps we dare to break.
There’s truth in laughs we barely fake.
And something soft remains behind
each flaring breath of wounded pride.

Until soon, you hear this,

Sylphen Whisper."

*This time the paper is signatured with:*

three white flowers: clearly shaped as moonflower, white violet, and white heather.

*Beneath the final line, eleven notes drift across the parchment like scattered wingbeats*

b(h), g, f | b(h), g, f | b(h), g, f, e, f

[Labradorit]

*And so it came at last, that after many days and nights, again a greyish paper of perhaps familiar pattern appears. The white ink, elusive in the way of an artist, weaves its strange and perhaps unique pamphlet. A small charm glimmers at the paper’s edge; faint notes of a song, heard somewhere before, linger in memory. It will just appear, without turmoil or greater notice, eventually.
Perhaps a white-clothed lad, or a very thin-muscled lass, or yet just a gray person or gurri were seen here and there. And as they left, nothing has changed, but the bulletin boards of the Heartlands would have new greyish paper with a little lucky charm.*

"Third Sylphen Whisper

You know not my voice, nor I your tear.
but eagerly I whisper, no, sing for you
to lead my echo softly in your ear.

Please, oh dear…
traveler, farmer, or warden keen
if chance you brushed its haunted breath
then haste must guard you close from death.
Seek shrine, brother and sister, healer’s grace
let holy power take its place.

Protect yourself, the patient in care,
with divine grace ’gainst evil’s glare.
Then proceed as follows, one by one,
protect your father‘s daughter, your mother‘s son.

First break the curse, then heal disease
without delay, let blessings weave.
Guard further the rite with shields of light
till evil falters, fades, and loses its bite.

Oh dear…
the body wretches, sharp and small
a pellet black, the sickness’ call.
Touch it not, nor hold it fast
but pour on waters holy cool at last.
Repeat, repeat, until it end‘
be it three days, or thrice till its bend.

Till no dark casting leaves the chest,
continue still, then grant them rest.
You will be save, so stay that way.

And one thing, my dear, oh listener keen
who tans by day grows pale at night.
Forget it not, yet though unseen
be wary, be brave, against ill thoughts fight.

Until soon, you hear this...

Sylphen Whisper."

Beneath the final line, eleven notes drift across the parchment like shimmering beads:

b (h), g, f | b (h), g, f | b (h), g, f, e, f

And beneath the notes blooms a white drawing of angelica.

Hidden: show

((spoiler : song inspiration https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wp2XyxrMq9E))
"Third Sylphen Whisper

You know not my voice, nor I your tear.
but eagerly I whisper, no, sing for you
to lead my echo softly in your ear.

Please, oh dear…
traveler, farmer, or warden keen
if chance you brushed its haunted breath
then haste must guard you close from death.
Seek shrine, brother and sister, healer’s grace
let holy power take its place.

Protect yourself, the patient in care,
with divine grace ’gainst evil’s glare.
Then proceed as follows, one by one,
protect your father‘s daughter, your mother‘s son.

First break the curse, then heal disease
without delay, let blessings weave.
Guard further the rite with shields of light
till evil falters, fades, and loses its bite.

Oh dear…
the body wretches, sharp and small
a pellet black, the sickness’ call.
Touch it not, nor hold it fast
but pour on waters holy cool at last.
Repeat, repeat, until it end‘
be it three days, or thrice till its bend.

Till no dark casting leaves the chest,
continue still, then grant them rest.
You will be save, so stay that way.

And one thing, my dear, oh listener keen
who tans by day grows pale at night.
Forget it not, yet though unseen
be wary, be brave, against ill thoughts fight.

Until soon, you hear this...

Sylphen Whisper."

Beneath the final line, eleven notes drift across the parchment like shimmering beads:

b (h), g, f | b (h), g, f | b (h), g, f, e, f

And beneath the notes blooms a white drawing of angelica.