Rumors & Events of Baldur's Gate

[sweetlikesplenda]

Lord Lyonaler would be seen about the City. First entering the Palace for a meeting with the Council of Four. A candle mark later he exits moving with purpose for various temples within the City. If any paid attention, they would see him visit each of the temples of the Triad. At each stop he approaches the high functionary and after notifying as being on errand for the Dukes, speaks privately with them.

First visit is to the Temple of Illmater where he speaks with Mother Juna



Followed by Abbot Eldric of Tyr



Then Tia Olwyn of the temple of Torm

[doctorsimon4]

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THE TRADE SHIP OF THAY

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Image Credit: ChatGPT

For three days and nights, dockhands and harbor masters along the Gray Harbor spoke in hushed tones of a crimson-sailed vessel making its slow way up the Sea of Swords. Rumors flew faster than gulls: some said it was a warship, others a merchant vessel, and a few whispered it was a slaver ship or pirate vessel. When dawn rose on the 5th of Marpenoth, 1361, the truth—or at least part of it—was revealed.

The Scarlet Marrow, a Thayan trade galley bearing the banners of the Tharch of Bezantur, and Zulkirs, moored just past Dock Four. In sharp contrast to the bustle of local sailors and merchants, the Thayans moved with a chilling precision as the contents of the ship was unloaded and new goods from the Enclave were loaded in turn. Each crate and chest was marked with sigils denoting arcane reagents, exotic silks, or spices said to grow only in the east.

Few dared linger near the Thayan crew for long; Overseeing it all was a Red Wizard. He spoke little, but his gaze measured every motion, every whisper.

As evening fell and the last goods were loaded, the Scarlet Marrow unfurled its sails once more, ready to depart. Keen-eyed sailors and night watchmen noticed something peculiar, however: one of the vessel's passengers who had left in the morning had never returned.

[zhazz]

Having been busy preparing for a festival, and the ensuing cleanup after, Adrian finally makes it back to the Church of Tymora. After a prayer to Tymora at the altar he spends some time with other patrons in various games of chance once again to pay homage to his Lady Luck.

When he finds a proper moment Adrian once again seeks out High Lady Leeta to share more news from the organizing efforts against the Black Grass. He is happy to report that the aid of the church was well received by all in attendance. Unfortunately not all is good news, as he must also relay a request for able-bodied clergy to take to the field to aid in the ritual casting of the cleansing magic.

Like before, regardless of High Lady Leeta's answer, now or after deliberation, he thanks her for her time, and restates his previous promise of fostering new adventures.

Hidden: show

In the wake of a meeting at House Vale, and an impromptu trip to Ulgoth's Beard, Adrian makes good on his promise to Lord Osric.

Arriving at the Lady's Hall Church of Tymora, Adrian initially spends a few hours joining patrons and petitioners in games. Win or lose, Adrian maintains his soft smile, happy to simply spend some time in the halls of Lady Luck.

After speaking a private prayer to Tymora, Adrian seeks out High Lady Priestess of Tymora Leeta in the church, and shares his plea: for the church to aid in the cleansing of the fiendish grass spreading in and beyond Ulgoth's Beard.

He understands such endeavors are not typically part of what the church involves itself in. But shares a growing worry that, if not stopped, the grass will eventually spread far enough to hamper new adventures by being too dangerous to undertake except by the most seasoned and wealthy adventurers.

Regardless of High Lady Leeta's answer, now or after deliberation, he thanks her for her time, and promises to continue fostering new adventures among those he meet.

[Ashenie]

"Mercy’s gentle hand move to heal that which was sundered… Duty continues for some, and others rest peacefully in the arms of their gods."

Saint Merielle, as told in Murder Rended... Mercy Mended... , Saint Merielle Silene, The Living Saint

In the aftermath of the loud massacre in the Lower City, wounded and corpses are approached with diligence and care. To all the brave who fought the Cult of Cyric-Bhaal, healing and solace are offered. Each wound is treated with dedication, and the courage of the soldiers is honored for its just purpose.

The dead are offered blessings of resurrection, rest, and peace. Among all those who are cared for, only one soldier of the Flaming Fist returns among the living. The rumor says the others had been given the choice to return, still, and preferred to continue into another form of existence, in the afterlife. Their families are cared for, and helped, especially those who might find themselves in misery and poverty after such a tragedy. The word is spread that rites of remembrance and solemn prayers will be shared with their loved ones.

Proper burials and funeral rites are offered within the Ossuary of the Shrine of the Suffering. While the dead are cared for, the living that remain in their absence are also cherished, and helped.

Even to the cultists that were devoted to the Power of Cyric-Bhaal, the same dignity is offered. Dignity knows no name, no face, no race and no color, and has no restriction, it is said. Even without anyone to cry for them, their remains are properly offered funeral rites, if only - the rumor says - to protect from illnesses from spreading, and prevent undead from rising from the corpses if they were left untended. So does their cycle of violence find an end : in peace.

The Revered Sister Ashenie of the Shrine of the Suffering is seen, once the bodies and injured have safely been removed from the warehouse, offering blessings of consecration, sprinkling holy water and silver dust where the fight claimed so many lives. "Death and destruction shall not be the end. Solace, healing and care shall restore peace."

[Published with DM Smile's approval]

Hidden: show

Everything Dies...

The Flaming Fist

Cory Strong walked out of the Flaming Fist cells a free man. Someone helped him out and paid for his freedom, someone from the higher-ups, and that night the air in Baldur's Gate felt different: it was cleaner somehow, like he could actually breathe again without iron weighing down his wrists.
He didn't wait around, he just couldn't: he had too much work to do, and he had to continue with the Commons Militia.
That same evening he headed straight back to the warehouse where the Commons Militia still gathered, the same place they'd drawn up their plans, made their oaths to take down the Thieves' Guild for good, and finally take a place for themselves to finally find the freedom they deserved from the tyranny. When he walked through the door there was laughter, a few claps on the back, familiar faces passing drinks around... It felt really damn good, it felt like home.

Then the door opened again.

Figures slipped in from the shadows outside, moving silently toward him. Cory turned, confused at first, then watched as some of his own people lowered their hoods... Gods, the look in their eyes wasn't... right! They were not his men!

"For the glory of Cyric-Bhaal!"

The warehouse exploded into chaos: steel met flesh, screams echoed off the walls as they were butchered and killed and massacred. Cory fought, gods know he fought hard, but the betrayal was too sudden and he couldn't imagine this would happen. His brothers and sisters were being cut down like animals... People he knew, people he trusted, people he'll mourn. Their faces were twisted in horror as they fell one by one: blood and smoke filled the air, and before long Cory was on the ground too, feeling his life spill out into the dirt beneath him.

The Flaming Fist showed up, drawn by all the noise and screaming, but by then the battle was already ended. The cultists fought like rabid dogs, shrieking about treachery even as they were being cut down. Not one of them surrendered, and Each one of them chose death, laughing or weeping as they bled out on the warehouse floor.

At the same time, citizens in the City looked up to the skies in confusion as the sun was still shining, but the whole Baldur's Gate was wrapped by a mantle of darkness. In the temples scattered throughout the city, clerics of a dozen different faiths stopped what they were doing, feeling the unmistakable divine power radiating around them, outside of their Temples. Something was happening, and they knew it was the work of a God...
But which one?

But when the assault of the Flaming Fist ended, the darkness receded: it was finished. Bodies everywhere, those of the Commons Militia mixed with their killers. The Flaming Fist had won, the cult of Cyric-Bhaal was finally wiped out, and another victory was for the Gate's mercenaries.... but at what cost? Still, something was out of the ordinary.

One of the dead cultists was massive, bigger than the others, and his face was scarred on his chin. When the Fist turned his head to get a better look... they saw his eyes. They were slit like a snake's, with scales glinting faintly in the light.

In the end, the Commons Militia was gone, erased from the city like they'd never existed... and the Commons were once more on their own. But what more threats await Baldur's Gate? Maybe something far worse had just slithered in, as the Cult of Cyric-Bhaal was now finally destroyed.

If only the adventurers who hunted down the Cult, some time ago, investigated further, if only they opted to pursue or investigate a little better, maybe all this wouldn't have happened. Many lives would have been spared. But who are we, to judge with hindsight? Maybe something new was born...

...or maybe, just maybe, it's the end of a story.


[END OF CYRIC-BHAAL CAMPAIGN]