Rumors & Events of Baldur's Gate

[mrm3ntalist]

Mendel has become a more frequent, if silent, fixture within the walls of Baldurs Gate. Most often, he can be found amidst the chaotic bustle of the Wide, his presence there as steady and unobtrusive as a shadow passing over the market stalls. While the Upper City remains his primary haunt, he is occasionally spotted navigating the winding alleys of the Lower City or standing near the docks. Despite the density of the crowds, he remains an island of stoic reserve; he minds his own business with a cold, clinical focus, making it clear through his guarded posture that he is not seeking conversation or camaraderie

[Ashenie]

" A story of suffering and survival… A story of healing and renewal."

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

In the wake of the strange and dark manifestation that shrouded Baldur's Gate in shadows, the Ilmatari Sister and the Guardian Nathan Goldenmane walked through the lower city, the outskirts and the dark corners of the sewers. The street children, the loss, the homeless, those whose minds had been shrouded in darkness, those who panicked... none should remain beyond Mercy's reach, was it said. The Ilmatari shared food, blankets and words of reassurance. Loss, despair, tears and madness... all are but a passing shadow. In Mercy's care, there is lasting solace.

With the promise of finding more support in the various Ilmatari shelters of the city, the Orphanage, and the Shrine of the Suffering, the Ilmatari guided those willing towards warmth and care in the sacred house of the Broken God. The heavy rain that came soon after, with a sudden change of the weather, renewed the promise of care. Lanterns were lit, their faint halo shining as a misty light in the wet city, to guide those in need of a shelter.

It is said that Sister Ashenie spent time to guiding the lost children and the street children away from harm. In the following day, she was also seen escorted by the Guardian, visiting various houses of the City. Whispers said that she comforted mothers and checked on pregnancies considered dangerous, traumatic, or troubleds, ensuring that the dark event of this day did not affect the mother and the baby in any way.

[Blackhorizon]

On 22 Alturiak 1362
a local dockworker, aided by a bottle of rum, said to have seen a group of individuals emerge from one of the warehouses on the dockside. Rumor has it that they they were looking rather battered and bloodied with their armor and garments clearly seen vicious battle. One by one they were said to have headed towards Heapside and were rumored to have ended up in the Temple of Ilmater. The number of individuals, what they looked like and whether or not they were able to walk on their own two feet, or perhaps some even had four feet, appeared to change by the telling and the amount of rum. Be what it may, some battered individuals had been seen to go into the mentioned temple that day and some of the them didn't come out on the same day.

[Kiran]

Somewhere in the deepest bowels of the flaming Fists prison complex, judgment was passed.

[SandTrout]

Among the devastation of House Vale in the wake of the Hellfire Drake's attack on the city, Baris Waynolt works to contain the spread of the flames as best he can, and providing healing for the injured with a touch gentler than his black and green armor might imply.

"Only patience can beget justice," he repeatedly mutters under his breath in a mantra as he shovels dirt and broken masonry into firebreaks, or channels divine power to heal gathered masses of commoners.

His labor is steady and relentless, the soreness of muscles mute against the burning fire in his eyes as he seeks any way to mitigate the catastrophe for the people of the city. He takes only necessary breaks for simple food and water to keep his body from collapsing under him as he moves with grim determination for hours on end.

[Safo]

Being Fashionably late keeps you from one duty, only to provide you with a vastly more important one.

On one hand it starved Iason Whitehawk of a confrontation with the Hellfire Wyrm and it's minions

On the other, it allowed him to see the power of the Hellfire Wyrm up close as it sent the Vale Estate up in hellfire flames.

As the other heroes moves off in chase of the foul Wyrm. Iason stayed behind to assist the locals in the efforts of keeping the fire contained, starving it of fuel and taking care of those wounded. The half-elf in what started as shining silver armor with the crest of Silverymoon emblazoned on it, stayed until the last embers went out. By that time, it was shining silver no longer but, soot and sweat stained.

Being a knight isn't always about slaying evil, it's also about taking care of the innocent citizens that find themselves in harms way.

[Ashenie]

As the battle raged in the skies, and in the desolate village, brave souls offered help to those who were caught by the hellfire flames, in Manorborn District. With holy water, silver dust, blessings and consecrated poultices, Sister Ashenie attempted to offer help. Baris Waynolt gathered some of her preparations, carrying them swiftly to the wounded and facing the flames bravely. The rumor says that very few people were affected.

The endeavor to secure people away from the choking smoke, and the burning heat of the flame was long. Burns healed, scars mended, pain eased, as the dead people were offered a chance to return among the living. None of them returned, now at peace where they ascended. The purpose was clear : to undo whichever harm the Hellfire Wyrm attempted to cause upon the people of Baldur's Gate, and to mend the injured soldiers, so says the rumor.

The healing procession found the echo of goodwill and brave souls who did not wait to brave the heat of the flames, in hope to contain or tame the fire.

The Ilmatari endeavor to offer solace and reassurance to those who witnessed the flames. For some, the mending will take more time, ensuring that the souls themselves have not been burnt by hellfire.

[DaloLorn]

In a strange twist, the first responders at the Vale estate would've been joined by a member of the Commons: The last of the Militia, Virin.

Although the young redhead tries her best to help, there is not much that can be done: She has little talent for any of the tasks that might be performed here, and she soon gives way to those more qualified to clean up in the wake of the dragon's attack, returning wherever she might have come from.

Brief though her presence may have been, the swift arrival of one of Rhaeg's lieutenants and her absence from the (... sixth? seventh?) battle of Ulgoth's Beard may both invite questions. The more suspicious or malicious voices might suggest some manner of treachery - either betraying the Common Cause, or somehow taking advantage of Vale's misfortune. But ultimately, very few know for sure...

------------------------

... I don't suppose we can banish it to an unmarked grave, instead.

In the hours after the battle, a battered young knight forces herself down the cobbles of the Upper City. The ragged remnants of her armor are stained red with a disturbingly uniform coat of blood, whether her own or that of others, and she seems ready to pass out in a bed or a bath (hopefully only with the proper enchantments!) at a moment's notice. Yet this is something she has to see for herself, first.

"Knight of the Silver Marches", she introduced herself shortly before the wyrm arrived. "Director of the Golden Wheel," too, though she reminded her would-be comrades she was not here in that capacity. There was a third title, not shared through words but through her acts and symbols: "Devotee of the Divine Right". The sacred chalice proudly emblazoned upon her shield, the overwhelming outrage at her shrine's destruction spurring her to ride into battle atop a flying dragon and charge through a river of blood with no regard for her own safety...

She had prayed in that very shrine, mere hours before its annihilation. And here she stood now, exhausted and powerless in the morning rain, desperately trying to recall the memory of the world she'd lived in just a single day before. Another bitter defeat in the guise of victory. Another painful loss to endure.

A thousand years in the Hells was too short and too mild a punishment for this beast's crimes...

[BehindClosedDoors]

She goes more than she comes, the young woman with her ample dress, lifting and dragging the large panels of fabric in her hands.


Some call her a lady
...others remember she is faithless...
People saw her even in the worst parts of the city...
Often, she speaks of destiny.
...surely, not with a dress such as this, they gossiped.
...?
Some could not even pronounce her name correctly, even if they knew what it was.
...An elected few, she speaks to.
Most, she studies with no sense of self-restrain...
They whisper she can divine the future.
...


A newcomer in Baldur's Gate.
"Salutations", she said, the word spoken in the native language of Cormyr.

But, who is she?

[ValerieJean]

Gaven Arkalis can be seen walking up to the doors of the Temples of the Loyal Fury, the Enduring One, and the Evenhanded. Parchment was lifted and placed upon with nail held and then hammer struck through Parchment into the main door of each.

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To the citizenry of Baldur's Gate, both the Noble and Common,

The hidden servants of the Cult of Loss, who worship Darkness, Loss, and Hopelessness spread suffering and seek to extinguish the Light of Our Lady of Silver and her Faithful as well as the Light and hope from the hearts of the people. Likewise the followers of the Black Sun, whose creed glorifies supremacy, murder, and fear, labor to spread chaos and corruption wherever their poison takes hold. These Cults are an affront to justice, a mockery of mercy, and a threat to the safety of every soul within this city.

The Loyal Fury teaches us that our Duty, Loyalty and Courage are to our Faith, Family, Masters, and all good beings of the realm. This must be fulfilled without hesitation, the Faithful must stand firm against Dark Gods.

The Enduring One teaches us Mercy and compassion towards those suffering. The Faithful must comfort the broken, oppose cruelty, and endure so innocents being targeted by these Dark Gods do not suffer.

The Evenhanded teaches us that Justice, and Truth will stand above all corruption and fear. The Faithful must reveal the Truth, protect the innocent, and the guilty judge in fairness under rightful Law. No man may twist Justice to serve ambition, nor conceal wrong doing behind secrecy or lies.

Their works will be brought before Justice. Justice, tempered by Mercy.
Their corruption will be thwarted. Alleviate Suffering through Courage.
Their cruelty will be opposed. Deliver Duty, so long as it is Righteous.

The Church of the Triad will not tolerate the spread of such Darkness within the City of Baldur's Gate. Those who prey upon the innocent and suffering in the name of despair or fear will find no shelter among the Faithful of the Loyal Fury, the Enduring One, or the Evenhanded. Let those who serve Darkness know that the Light of the Triad does not falter before it.

Duty binds us together, Mercy is the Grace we offer, so that Justice prevails

In Service,

Knight-Commander Gaven Arkalis of the Church of the Triad

Alexander Marshall

[sweetlikesplenda]

Lord Aaron Lyonaler was seen entering the Flaming Fist Compound, his destination was the Shrine to the Red Knight within the grounds of the Temple of Tempus. The Knight-Lord was seen entering and kneeling before the shrine of the Red Knight. Attendants there would hear him speak prayers to the Red Lady. Prayers to find his place in the world once more. Prayers to bless him moving forward with his goals of building a school of strategy, aother shrine for worship to her.

Any attendants nearby would see the Knight slump over upon the floor, his eyes open, though as if seeing things far distant. No amount of attempts to revive him seemed to take any effect, until, and only as if a moment later, he awoke again. Snapping his focus back, as if he had been somewhere else, though not physically. He stood on shakey footing, for within a moment, bulges began to emerge from his shoulder blades. With help, the Knight's armor was loosened and it was discovered that wings had begun to form upon his back. Within moments two feathered wings spouted and grew to their full length. Spread to their full length, the wings must have been nearly tweleve feet. Upon further prayers to the Lady of Strategy, the Lord was seen exiting the Shrine and then passing through the City, wings and all.


(Credit AI Art Generator)

[dak12attack]

Ches 19-20 1362

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Funding Fireworks From Felogyr's For A Festival ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The techsmith Eberc Smitherman finds himself paused before a store-front. He stares at the window full of wondrous wares and trails eyes up to the few floors of this place. Shadows of busy-bodies upstairs haunt the curtained windows, keeping their work mostly a mystery. There's a smile of familiarity that the magi finds particularly peculiar, a spell of deja-vu or illusory nostalgia puzzling him. In truth it was almost a year to the very day since wizard-smith's last visit to the establishment of Felogyr Sonshal, famed for his candle-crafts, fireworks, and other alchemical needs.

This memory is interrupted by a reminding sound of chuckles and eager chats amongst six more younger fellows in yellow robes. Some talk about the payment, spending it before it is gone. Another is eager to learn more secrets to alchemy. Two simply want to learn how to not blow their fingers up in their pursuits of smoke-powder. These two makers of mischief bring Eberc to touch his brow and call a soft prayer to the Wonderbringer. Each and every lad is firmly instructed to stay outside and wait, yet all six cling to the wide shop windows to ogle and awe.
A small brass bell chimes atop the door as Eberc enters the shop. He makes talks and discussions with a person behind the counter and retrieves a parchment - perhaps a list or receipt - as this is traded for an awaiting order of boxes and crates. He waves in his awaiting hired-help, who all seem to blunder into the shop at once. They each in turn fill their arms and share the burden - except Eberc - who pays and walks out empty-handed only to holler after the fellow faithful.
"Hurry along now - I'm not paying you double-time to half-step it. We have work to do!"

The count of seven saffron-robed craftsmen all hurry back to the their temple of creation at the High House. There they work the rest of the day and into the night. Though the promise of double-time encourages each to labor on one by one each of the lads retire, unable to effort longer. Eberc pays them for their time and tells them to 'rest up and look up.' Eventually Eberc is left to toil alone and mix and pack powders and propellants together. They are brought out sometime before sun-rise in a cloth-draped handcart out of the walled city-limits and up Dusthawk Hill.

(image courtesy of Baldur's Gate 3 and Larian Studios)

Fliers of a festival are found upon every street available from days before and late-rumor talks of a party or celebration from the lips of gossiping commoners. While the festivities rage on at the Darius estate and the people gather one man sits alone atop Dusthawk Hill, waiting - watching - for the right time. What little rest he got in these in-between hours was then, for now is the time to work again. Eberc arises with an aching sigh, rolling his shoulders and cracking the neck. He tugs the cloth-tarp from this cart full of assembled fireworks and makes ready for the cue.

The air above the city resounds with the dull thumps of distant blasts and the whistles of projectiles sizzling high over the city. These blasts flower outwards into a many-colored rainbow splay of explosions and golden sparkles, gradually increasing with intensity and brightness into a single crescendo burst. Erupting from just a single firework blast the image of a dragon - made entirely from reddish-orange sparks - starts to fly higher over the good city of Baldur's Gate and appear to sweep over the denizens below. . .

. . . until it stops mid-flight, implodes upon itself, and bursts a-new instead as a lofty, radiant phoenix made of shimmering, soft-yellow sparkles. It peacefully soars out and over the river yonder outwards before fading entirely. The atmosphere over Baldur's Gate is hush enough to allow witness to awe, woe, or reflect on the recent times. Just as the acrid, lingering clouds of smoke start to clear and lend hazy view to the stars the skies dot again rapidly with one last intense flash of rainbow puff-ball explosions.

The air stills once more and the city settles, yet the party continues on. Cats and dogs and birds alike slowly adjust to the calm of the night. That sole initiator of the dusky-sky disturbance departs from his lone spot upon a granite hill and descends to join the rest of society. He makes two final stops in his ever-growing list of errands, first to drop a small parcel - a gift for a named individual that he quietly discloses - and second to join the other six in a promised round of ales after a success.

"Glory to Gond! Blessed be! To the sacred substance! Hear, hear!" they each cheer together in celebration and though they drink not one over-imbibes for there just might always be more work to do. . .

(image courtesy of AI Generation)

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