Rumors of the Northern Sword Coast

[mrm3ntalist]

In the past few days, Mendel has been spending more time in their small village within the Misty Forest, yet each night he still slips away once the sun sets, returning before the first light of dawn. He keeps to the older paths, circling a secluded glade where pale stone gathers the moonlight in a way that feels intentional, though he never lingers long. His gear is simple and chosen for protection rather than show: sturdy leathers, well-kept blades at his sides, and a trusted bow within reach. He walks not in search of enemies, but to ensure that whatever stirs beneath the trees finds the forest guarded.

Moonlit patrol of a ranger

[BarBearian]

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A green-cloaked figure has recently been seen lingering along the edges and in the public spaces of the elven village hidden deep within the Misty Forest. Though he tries not to, he clearly stands out among its typical inhabitants. The man is polite, speaking Elven with the rangers who guard and patrol the area. Those who frequent the village would note that he seems to be searching for something, or someone.

[Kommando]

A flier with an eye catching illustration makes its appearance around the Fields of the Dead and a few other locations in the Northern Sword Coast. The formal message is rumored to have been placed by a uniformed soldier of the Zhentarim directly...

[mrm3ntalist]

It was very early in the morning when Mendel emerged, his silhouette cutting a strange figure against the pale dawn. Instead of his longbow and quiver, he carried the heavy iron of a spade and long-handled shears. Curious stares followed him through the village, as the kin noted this departure from his usual patrols. Mendel ignored the questioning looks, vanishing into the treeline, determined.

Beneath the heavy canopy, he bypassed the scout trails for a secret path that led to the Shrine of the Sisters. He set his tools down with a heavy thud, scanning the vines and moss threatening to swallow the sacred stonework. To Mendel, the information the Sisters provided was a debt that could not remain unpaid without giving something back. He sucked a sharp breath through his teeth and began the labor of clearing the shrine. His hands, more used to the draw of a string, now worked to ensure the path between allies remained clear.

[MissClick]

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    Far to the North, a nigh subtle increase in activity heralds the presence of personage - some armored, others cowled, oft masked. At whiles they gather, at whiles wander 'lone, yet for hours uncounted do they tread amongst the abandoned and decrepit in silent survey of aught left to ruin. Not the first, nor the last - once more unto the road, thence gone, by boot or by sorcery, onto places unknown.

 

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[renshouj]

On the evening of the 9th of Tarsakh, 1362, some may have seen a gathering of folk (and some forest animals) in the Trielta Hills, a few may be recognised as proeminent figures of Triel - now named Antriera, and others may be recognised as druids from the region. What exactly was discussed under the starry night was for them to know, but it's clear the mood was of peaceful and mutual understanding.

[Thank you DM Ghost!]

[mrm3ntalist]

The Promise and the Prayer

The day dawned with the vibrant, chaotic energy of the storytelling festival. Organized by Elyssa, the village was alive with a "glimmer" that usually made a ranger like Mendel retreat into the deep shadows. He had hoped to remain a mere spectator, a "vantage point" in the back of the crowd, but Deleniel was quick to remind him of the importance of his word. A promise had been made: when the time came, Mendel would share a story with them.

Though his sibilant breath hitched with a rare, cold anxiety, Mendel valued Deleniel too much to break his promise. He took the stage, his hands folded tightly over his chest to still his nerves, and shared the tale of the Great Boar and the Guardian Angel. He spoke of his early days in Doron Amar and the silent arrow of Shynt that had saved his life. When he finished, he endured the playful teasing of his kin - a social "rot" he tolerated with a rare, dry grin - before a Sending from Larael vibrated in his mind. The message was urgent: a meeting at the Shrine in the Misty Forest with their new allies.

The transition from the festival to the shrine was a journey into a "Time of Firsts." Upon arrival, Mendel witnessed a sight that challenged his long-held view of the world: followers of the Dark Maiden and surface elves standing side-by-side. It was a union of shadow and light, working in harmony to excise the evil plaguing the woods. Information was exchanged and promises were sworn with the gravity of an oath to the Seldarine.

When the planning concluded, the priestess Alva'Ssun extended an invitation that Mendel and his companion never expected to receive: to attend a prayer to Eilistraee. Having spent his life under the moon of Sehanine, Mendel watched, awe-struck, as the ritual unfolded. It was a display of beauty and kind words of goodness that felt like a healing balm on a long-festering wound. For the first time, the ranger saw that even in the deepest darkness, there was a dance of light that could not be broken - a new vantage point that he would carry back to the village long after the festival fires had dimmed.