Rumors & Events of Triel [RP]

[Steve]

This small, stockaded way-village is located on the Trade Way north of Scornubel, where that road meets the Dusk Road that swings across country from Elturel to Hill's Edge.

Triel has a small permanent community that exists behind a log-and-boulder stockade and locks its gates at night. Most travelers are not welcome within the gates after nightfall, and during the summer most merchant caravans camp out in wide circles on the surrounding fields.

Triel has a few farms in the area, but most of its needs are cared for by passing merchants.

To the northeast are the Trielta Hills, quiet, rolling grasslands rumored to contain gold, and home to many small, peaceful gnome and halfling communities.

Also consult the DM Rumors of Triel

[Steve]

Tarsakh – The Claw of Storms – 1360 DR

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Subject: DM Rumors of Triel

An Honorable Migration Towards High Hopes

Since the months of rebuilding under Lady Vanders and Lord Alexander Mashall, Triel has taken shape. Word spreads of further open opportunities for the people in the surrounding region. Upon the next few tendays, caravans of hopeful citizens arrive to castle of Triel from a variety of lands. Some merchants arrive from Baldur's Gate seeking a better life and new trading ventures, while others from Beregost wear the bright yellow colors of Morning Lord. Among the new arrivals are those few who admit they began life in Darkhold, and have sought a home where they could raise their families. Each of the migrants arrive with a smile and a purpose. While many of them differ greatly, each of them seem to echo:

"To Triel, to new beginnings."

[Steve]

On the heels of wagons loaded with supplies and dreams, the monk-priest in grey-blue garb does trod slowly to the edge of the village of Triel. He stands outside the walls for a time, observing both the structure as is, and the passing of those entering and leaving on ventures unknown....

Wandering about, he eventually encircles the village before choosing a gate on northern side. To him, everyone bustles about with some purpose of another...and as he pauses between one structure and another, he appears to meditate for a long moment on his own present, possible purpose....

[Steve]

Subject: The Tor where the God Talks [RP]

Over the last few days, the Azuthan priest in a puffy-shaped hat of foreign style, present within the village of Triel, has been rumored to wander the surrounding western hills and summits in a metered, practiced motion of careful observation or attention to...the stonework. It is even said that he, at times, embraced such rocky outcroppings, or at least, was as it appeared, to be listening to the boulders and stacked upon high.

Easily seen as odd work, and added that the man was of foreign origin, such behavior would cause concern, or at least, wariness to the why of it all, for if not madness be the cause and thus the answer, then what be it? But such rumored actions were balanced by the general calm and open demeanor shown by Arthayer when he traversed the village and interacted with the people.

[Steve]

With a certain regularity, the Magistrati of Azuth named Arthayer Zorastryl is active within the village of Triel. His activities of late consist of two main interactions with the citizens, the hopeful arrivals seeking to make Triel their new home, the merchants...but especially the younger population, those entering into professional phases of their lives.

Of these, it is often seen the monk-priest giving "evaluations" in magic, that is, tests that would determine to whether such any individual youth or youthful adult, has the means to wield or produce Magic. Of whomever would show a propensity or talent, Arthayer donates a blank spellbook or grants a few scrolls, encouragement to the learning and further process of experimentation, toward developing these skills...all in the name of the Lord of Spells, the High One, Azuth...so that magic may be used wisely...and even mindful as to when not to use it.

As Triel grows to be a vibrant hub of prosperity and purpose, this Faithful acts as if to build a respect and a seat for the promotion of Magic.

As always, he ends such meetings and lessons with a prayer, or an adage...such as:

“Walk in Azuth’s light, and speak through the sure sight of magic.”

[Steve]

It is said that after efforts to proselytize the Faith of Azuth, the monk-priest known as Arthayer Zorastryl was observed to encounter the increasing undead soldiers wandering in the Trielta Hills, beating back wave after wave...until the futility of a single man's effort became apparent.

Upon return to within the secure walls of the village Triel, the priest would begin to apply his granted prayers to the militia, to embolden their grouped efforts.

But while the "short war" militia continued their efforts, Arthayer was seen traveling toward the paths that lead around the edges of the Hills, the local paths that lead to vantage points throughout, from which some wisdom might be gained as to why such Undead now congregated in the lands once dominated by the living beasts.

[Steve]

The monk-priest known as Arthayer Zorastryl speaks with those involved in military or militia actions taken to reduce the presence of undead wandering in the Trielta Hills. Though it is not his focus as a Magistrata in the Church of Azuth, he can and does offer healing for those that have returned from said encounters.

Where it is said the undead seem difficult to find and engage, the Magistrati offers his prayers and perception granted him to detect the Undead, at some distance, to the militia itself.

[kenichiyagyu]

In the Shadow of Loss

The journey back to Triel was a silent one for Lia’Vella, her thoughts consumed by Saryx’s death. Every step felt heavier, as though the world itself shared the weight of her loss. When she finally reached the town, she parted ways with Micar'Vilchi and retreated to the solitude of the nearby glade. There, in the stillness, she laid her blade across her knees and let the grief consume her.

The tears she had held back for the sake of the group now flowed freely. For hours, she wept, mourning the woman who had been her anchor in a turbulent world. Saryx had been her mentor, her mother in all but blood, and her truest friend. The ache of her absence felt unbearable, but it was a grief Lia knew she must carry.

When the tears finally subsided, she sat in silence, staring into the soft light of the moon. Her mind turned to Jaritheil, whose redemption had come at such a great cost. Lia had promised to help the Vampire woman find peace and restore her house, and she had fulfilled that vow. Watching Jaritheil shed the darkness that had consumed her and find her way back to the light was a small comfort amid the pain. Even so, the price—Saryx’s life—was almost too much to bear. Yet there was relief in knowing Jaritheil had achieved what many believed impossible: true redemption.

Saryx’s voice lingered in her mind—not in the haunting way of regrets, but as a quiet reassurance.

“Stand tall,”

“Do what is right, even when it is hard.”

Those words became her anchor, pulling her out of the depths of despair and giving her the strength to rise.

With renewed resolve, Lia’Vella rose, gathered her thoughts, and prepared for what lay ahead. She penned a letter to Maevyn, the leader of Hunter’s Moon—a declaration of sorts for her future plans. In it, she outlined her vision to ensure that Saryx’s sacrifice would not be in vain. Her words carried both sorrow and determination, a promise to carry forward the light Saryx had ignited in them all.

The path ahead was uncertain, but Lia’Vella knew she could not falter.

For Jaritheil, whose redemption, hard-won as it was, offered hope that even in darkness, light could prevail.

For her mother, whose been missing , and her fate unknown.

For Saryx, a friend, a mentor, a mother figure, and a beacon of hope that had her light snuffed away from the darkness that threatens all.

[Steve]

It is the "dead of Deepwinter" when the wandering priest of the Lord of Spells enters once again into the village of Triel as the dawn breaks. All is quiet as the cold deadens the air, the smaller beasts that would enliven the hills with chirps and song have taken to their winter rest...and it seems the only rustles that can be found within the village are the shuffling feet of the soldiers holding their posts, keeping warm as best they manage.

As dawn eventually gives way to the day, the increasing light warms the village to rise. It is then that the Magistrata of Azuth begins his search for those he has before and often guided and equipped for their journey into ways of spellcraft, to see if who if any have benefited from his faith-based tutelage...and may wish to receive more.

But as the day eventually wanes, the monk-priest known by name by some as Arthayer Zorastryl sees that some aspects of Triel have remained unfortunately the same, that being, the lack of resources for the traveler to rest within the standing pine walls of the village proper. No inn, no tavern, no lodging. Before the cold again descends via nights creep, he seeks out any friendly citizen that may offer, at least, a single nights shelter....

[FearBeforeTheFlames]

Word drifts from the shadow of the Marshall Estate that the farmers of Triel no longer content themselves with only plow and sickle. Twice each tenday, they gather upon the open grounds, polearms in hand, grim-faced and drilling. The seasoned fighter Thok is said to train them well, his lessons difficult, shaping common folk into something more than simple villagers; but something harder, something more militant.

Whispers tell of another who joins them on occasion, Michael Dunn, who teaches tricks not meant for battlefield honor but for ambushes and unconventional fighting. Some find such schooling unsettling, yet the people bear it with quiet resilience, taking to the drills as though they were grim seeds sown for a darker harvest. It's said his teachings are punctuated with wild conjecture, and the scent of a sharp, acrid tang that stings the nostrils.

Alexander Marshall is oft seen among them. He does not command, but walks their ranks speaking of duty, the importance of family, and of love. To some perhaps, his presence steels the heart more than any blade could. Yet to others, even those words sound like a quiet call to arms. Not everyone believes Triel prepares only for defense, as some begin to whisper the barony may be hardening for a greater war yet to come.

Whatever the fact; As some of the fields are tilled in winter preparation, more than a few now resemble a warzone, with craters of mud and dirt marking once pristine landscape - a sign of things to come?

Hidden: show

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[YourMoveHolyMan]

Hanging on the back porch door of the Dunn residence hangs a simple note,

Gone Fishing

[zavox]

Time has passed, months in fact since Thok and Michael Dunn was given the task to train the humble farm folk of Triel by Lord Alexander Marshall.

Thok found their physiques lacking when tasked to face the dangers, a physique built from farmwork while decent will not be enough to fight off the threats against their home and loved ones, the training regiment has included three whole days of boulder carry and three days of polearms training, spaced out in each tenday period, each time the farm folk progressed in strength the weight to be carried was adjusted just enough so they could carry on without getting comfortable, after a period more steps to the training was added such as having to carry said boulders up and down steeper and steeper hills.

[YourMoveHolyMan]

A lot can happen in a day. Dunn returned, the sign was taken down, and he resumed to sitting on his stoop, a few bandages the sign of a fishing trip well accomplished. Never mind the gore and grime covering him, that was soon washed away.

[YourMoveHolyMan]

A hunter of the Hunter's Moon meditates and prays under the hunter-moon by Selune's Shrine. A silver sword, tarnished by corruption, is presented to the shrine as he says a simple prayer, nearby, a maiden of tarnished hair bears witness.



It was the beginning of hours of worship, meditation, prayer, and reflection. Until the midnight mark came to pass. The wind and the road was not abandoned, prayer too uplifted to patron long worshipped. But all things wax and wane, and a new path was begun this eve.

[BattleBee47]

The Fall of Winding Waters: As rumors circulated through the area, a rapid response was offered. To aid where able, to bury bodies and clear rubble. Though the weight of the day hung on everyone's shoulders, the work continued ceaselessly. Hands were blistered and carefully healed, a push to ensure the dead properly respected. A silent, unspoken motivation rippled through those that call the region home. This could have been Triel.

~~~~~~~~~