Rumors of Roaringshore

[The Whistler]

Corpses have begun to wash ashore of late, their insides churned into unrecognizable ruins by what appears to have been the single, titanic strokes of a savage weapon. Most of the bifurcated victims bear ink marking them out as corsairs of lesser crews, and have in their possession, almost without exception, religious trinkets of a nautical nature.

[selhan]

*Rumor's in Roaringshore would tale the tell of how a night filled with laughs and humor took place at the market. Until one drunk pirate began yelling and annoying the Stablemaster.



One punch later, the drunk half orc was fast asleep, and the Stableman and one of the local bartenders from the Broken Goblet, was seen hauling the sleeping drunk down to the docks. A woman counted to three just before the sleeping half orc was tossed into the cold ocean quickly sobering from his intoxicated state.*

DM Faith Thanks for the funny

[selhan]

*Rumors spread from the market of Roaringshore of how some local pirates were in a grim discussion. Besides some antics, a few words stood out *


"The Mother of Demons is coming this way again"

"Eh? When was it not coming this way ?!!"

"It was heading North, but it's coming back this way"

[selhan]

Harr' There Still Be Pirates!





In the recent days of the Pirate Village of Roaringshore, the locals still see new faces, and faces of old. Rumor spreads the Broken Goblet had a new bartender to its addition and a likely reason for the renewed lively activity. As Pirates drink rum and talk tales of the past rumors of events, it didnt slip their minds of existing ones, like the Mother of Demons. A name many do not wish to say, for the chilling fog shrouds when lips utter ...

"The Pale Night"

[Eliasz_Kowalski]

A dwarf, a flute, and an umbrella

A well-known Dwarven skald, tipped off by a no less famous pirate captain, arrived at Roaringshore looking for a rare musical instrument to purchase and expand his repertoire. He visited a local shop where the tool of his questionable craft was supposed to be found. Regrettably, the dwarf had been misled, and his efforts to acquire a certain flute that had been evading him for so long were fruitless. Not discouraged by his quest failed yet again, the rowdy skald purchased a fancy umbrella instead as a memento of this journey and headed to one place he certainly was a good fit for to drown his sorrows in a pint of ale. Or a dozen, for that matter. The Broken Goblet.

Later that night, pirates, enforcers and the rest of the folk at the Roaringshore’s docks, who I believe had already seen quite their share of peculiar and unfortunate events at that unruly village, were nonetheless somewhat bewildered by what transpired before their eyes. The notorious dwarf, dead-drunk, rowed to one of the ships anchored in the harbour and tried to commandeer it for his epic quest — his faith in it fiercely rekindled both by his indomitable spirit and the unholy amounts of beverages consumed.

Put out tis bloody cockleboat to sea, ye buggers! We’ll board and plunder every wench along em Coasts till I found meself a proper flute tae blow!

Alas, no one was on the vessel that night, and the drunken skald’s attempts to hijack the watercraft on his own, armed with nothing but his stylish umbrella, a mug of ale, and an inexhaustible supply of courage and stupidity, were proven to be rather futile. Eventually, while trying to set sail, the dwarf managed to fall overboard. Between his inebriated state, impressively heavy armour and the natural lack of Dwarven disposition to swimming, he was destined to finally face his doom. Yet, at that moment of dire need his newly-acquired fashion accessory happened to be quite handy! Lifesaving, even. To utter amazement of all the observers, onlookers and loiterers at the docks our hero deftly grabbed a piece of flotsam and used the umbrella as an improvised sail to catch the ever-changing rough winds of the Roaringshore's harbour and get back to the beach. For good or for ill, his story continues...

Written down by a humble unnamed traveller, unfortunate enough to be pressured into accompanying the dwarf to keep a record of his wild and disorderly adventures

[selhan]

*Krauser would had likely told one of the bartenders of the Broken Goblet who was the Captain of the ship namely The Sparrowhawk about seeing a dwarf take the small boat out to his ship*

"Eh?! Wot yer bloody mean, some scallywag ol a drunk'n Drawf went to me ship and never seen return'n?"

*The Captain of the Sparrowhawk made haste hopping onto the dinghy and made way to his precious ship with worry of what sort of damages a drunken dwarf might do to his beloved Sparrowhawk!*

*After the intense inspection aboard the ship and seeing no signs of a Dwarf he quickly headed below deck to check with Davey if there was a Dwarf on board in which case Davey likely told the Captain he saw no Dwarf but did hear a loud splash*

"Eh? Loud Splash? Did yer even go to check wot it was?!! Better make sure we nae have a stow o away!"

[Febriel]

*The dark elf clad in blue plate mail enters the Sword Arm Inn along with an armored male. She directs him to the strange looking inn keeper and tells him to get his own room. As she enters the upstairs and goes into her room she purchased for herself, she stands and looks around. For a moment she considers pulling off all the metal but decides not to. As she tries to rest, she begins to become covered in her own sweat. As hard as she tries to stay awake, she eventually gives in and falls asleep a knife held in her hand. It doesn't take long for the dream to occur again. She dances under the moonlight, the beams of light latch onto her like spiders webbing, the sky goes black, and the ground turns to a web. Beneath the web are crimson eyes staring up at her. Mitheera awakens to the sound of her own shriek and a hissing sound. She looks around the darkened room the knife in her gauntleted hand. Her eyes eventually go to the door. Her fear is written on her face as she readies herself to kill anyone or anything that tries to come through the bedroom door*

[wurdpass]

A clique of well dressed drow took up brief residence at the Broken Goblet over the weekend, enjoying the sea breeze and the establishment’s many attractions.

Hidden: show

Conversation ranged across various topics familiar to vacationers: music and the eternal search for talented musicians, the prospect of purchasing a pleasure yacht and finding a dependable surfacer to captain it, and the excitement of risking one’s hard earned coin at table games or in the fighting pits.

Hidden: show

The lone male among them happily identified himself as Miirszyx, a patron and financier of opportunities and those who know what to do with them. What exactly he meant by that, or any of the many other exotic claims he made, remains unclear.

OOC: Credit to BeFunky for putting the filters on my screenshots.

[Deragnost]

The storm had been raging since dawn.
Thunder rolling over the waves, as the wind howled like a banshee.
At "Pestil's Pawn Shop", a handful of pirates were haggling over trinkets and daggers, because their stuff was better, when... out of nowhere...

A stool fell from the skies!

It smashed straight through the roof, sending splinters everywhere and letting the rain pour right into the attic. Chaos followed, of course: curses, laughter, and someone shouting that it must be a sign from Umberlee herself!
An old man might or might not have just shook his head and muttered something similar to... "It rains cats and dogs… and now stools, apparently."
Nobody ever found out where the stool came from: some might have said it was tossed by a drunken wizard aboard a passing ship with a ballista, while others might have suggested it fell from another dimensional plane entirely.

Either way, it was just another perfectly normal day in Roaringshore!