Rumors of the Southern Sword Coast

[LivT]

Smoke was seen rising from the forest around Doron Amar, after a vicious lightning strike. The elves of the City and their allies in the Green Enclave converged on the spot, combining efforts to put out the flames and restore the forest. The druids were seen tending to the wounded creatures and sacred golden sapling, while it is said a brave hero of Doron Amar called upon Corellon to banish Talos' influence from the forest, sanctifying it once more.

The people of the forest are now on alert for Talos worshippers wreaking destruction

[Rhifox]

Bright lights and an aura of righteousness emerged from within the Woods of Sharp Teeth today, as a holy ritual was performed and bargains made.

[LivT]

From dawn till dusk, a druidess worked to clear away the scars of battle left at Silvanus' Shrine. She washed pools of blood into the grass, cleared the broken tree limbs, leafy boughs, scraps and brambles. One Oaken companion aided her in this endless reparation.

Once the blemish of the terrible battle was cleared as best it could be, she stayed in silent reflection at the base of the shrine. Exhausted, covered in a mess of dirt, blood, and once-living tree sap.

[JustAnotherGuy]

A parchment is posted to entryway of the Flaming Fist Fort near the FAI.

Persuant with agreements that have been spoken, this fort must be destroyed, the wood returned to the earth.

Failure to do so will result in the ire and anger of the gods themselves, as has been seen already in the battle of the gods near Silvanus' shrine.

This breaking of the good-faith pact will have implications far beyond my control, and will result in violence if left unchecked. The wood belonging to the forest has been taken for use, and is now being sold; stolen. The forest itself does not take kindly to this theft. Silvanus himself has spoken and is looking for restitution.

Our demand is therefore thusly;

The Fort is to be abandoned, and left for those of the wild to dismantle, destroy, or bury as they see fit.

Our words and our pleas have gone unheeded, words spoken by the Fist have been rescinded. Our gods have spoken, and restitution must be made. The wood is not the Fist's, neither by right nor by territory. It was loaned, and must be returned.

It is my sincere hope that violence is not necessary, or sought. However, there is little that I can do to quell it at this point. It is up to the Fist to remain true to their words, and up to the Dukes to keep peace. I have done what I can. These are my words on the matter.

- Emmanuel Venandi, Druid of the forest in the Circle of Alluvium from the Emerald Enclave; charged with the care of the balance in the lands from Amn to Waterdeep by the Elder Circle led by The Grand Cabal Shinthala Deepcrest; Archdruid of the Green Enclave, whose lands cover the same; Guardian of the Cloakwoods

[predrag]

*Sane Fensen could be spotted near the trade way , cleaning the shrine to Silvanus , and tending to the plants and animals around it .

To those who know him , an uncommon deep dark frown upon his face , as he slowly completes one task after another .

Moving towards the south afterwards and the Cloakwood .*

[mastajabba]

Orders in hand the Radiant Scout edited the Charter House, a satchel of supplies and two quivers full of arrows. He nodded to the Man at Arms as he swung open the heavy wooden and iron reinforced gates. That usual cocky smirk on his lips as he waved and removed his signature bycrocket cap, slipping it between his sword belt and tunic. He then pulled the hood over his now short hair. And pulled it low so only the ends of his signature forked beard poked out.

He paused to look over the farmlands and it’s usually busy roadside fireplace. Then to all but the most keen of eyes the Scout would just disappear.

[bharring]

An elven druid in a blue breastplate passes by the Fist fort next to the Friendly Arm Inn, takes the time to read a note posted there carefully, smiles, then continues on his way to Candlekeep.

[CooCooCachoo]

As if called back by the afront to the wilds. Sarisay Meynar had been seen gathering information on the sighting of her lord and the transgressions against the land. Seemingly at the same time a masked wild woman was spotted leaving ill warning of further wrath and keeping ominous vigil at the fort.

The masked wildwoman is seen leaving scrolls, wrapped in vines and sealed with a stamp of oak and acorn. She seems to take little care in hiding her actions, having been sighted walking past the fire in the farmlands and dropping a scroll in front of multiple witnesses.

[renshouj]

---

Those that visit the Shrine to Silvanus, right on the side of the Trade Way, could maybe see the druids that were even more often visiting it. Something had happened, and prayer to the Oakfather was high. Maybe some might've seen an auburn-haired druidess covered by a hood with wooden antlers praying at the Shrine for hours. Her expression somber, she'd wave off any who'd speak to her.

It was also clear that druid activity was specially high around the Cloakwood, the Friendly Arm Inn seeing much of it, as the nature folk were often seen observing the Flaming Fist camp from afar. Though the camp was dismantling, and there was talk of selling the wood acquired from the deforestation of the Cloakwood, those who'd speak with the druids would often encounter ominous comments regarding the encampment. Tensions are clearly high.

---

[Ashenie]

"This was written before time began…"

Hushed in the moondark of Uktar, two silhouettes walk towards the grave of Mercy's Children. Whispers scattered by the wind speak of prayers and cruelty, of hope and echoes. The devout kneels while the knight stands, and the quiet contemplation of the children seems to follow the respect for the dead.

Unweavering in the task, she leaves a crown of braided angelicas to rest upon Ser William "Billy" Williams grave. But the sibling unforgotten is cherished too. A motherly care offered to the girl, while the boy is met with the reverence Knights inspire. The devout seems to take much time in consecrative prayer, communing with the Holy Grave, lighting candles to let the flame die in the night. The preparation accomplished, and united in endeavors, and quietly praying, the knight and the devout do seem to share a moment of devotion. The Children of Mercy honored, they do leave only with sunset, when the moon dies in the scarlet painting of dawn.

[CooCooCachoo]

Warnings on vine-wrapped parchment, bearing a wax seal of oak and acorn continue to litter the countryside. Spottings of woodland spirits have been turning up; Ghost bears and wolves, all still and eriely watching the fort from the minimum distance that does not provoke. The warnings have been issued, instructions on repairs have been made. Now the forest watches. . . But for how long?

A masked wildwoman is seen dropping the parchments. In fact, she does not seem to be hiding what she is doing at all. Her mask is odd in that it has no eye holes. The mouth is shaped much like the masks of colliseum actors. No one has heard her speak yet, as no one has bothered to approach the ominous figure. She is seen most often at the shrine of Silvanus or in silent vigil, watching the fort among the spirits that also prowl there.

[blazerules]

A man clad in mithral approaches the wooden fort at the Friendly Arm Inn with a wooden mug in hand. Tossing it to the ground and shattering it with a stomp. Burying it in full view of the forts entrance making himself known to all that pass.

"Do not be pawns of Garagos's schemes. Agreements are to be kept, not broken. Else your word is worth less than the dirt beneath our boots."

[CooCooCachoo]

The masked druid makes note of the sacrifce of wood at the fort. From her distant vigil she marks them ally of the forest, protecting them from the forest's ire. She looked behind her to the cut back treeline. She murmured something, but what it might be was lost to the wind. Who could know? So few bothered to speak to her, as if she where a reminder of the sins they wished to ignore.

[artemitavik]

LIkewise, the rather large, blatantly obvious, and chainmail clad form of Derik Ranloss is seen moving to the area of the fort.

In his hands are a spade, and an ornate wooden carving of a dragon, now broken. He digs a hole, planting the wooden figurine and burying it with some regret on his face. "I'm sorry Teris..." he mumbles as he covers it with dirt and packs it down.

Turning to face anyone that is watching, Fist or otherwise, he simply tells them:

"The fort's wood and resources were promised back to nature. Upon a scheme of Garagos' agents, that word was broken to cause a conflict in the area that none are likely to win and only cause suffering to those caught in the middle. This fight is not looked favorably on by Tempus. Don't let pride and greed cause people to fall into the trap of the Reaver and the lord of slaughter... The region has seen much war, and even Tempus teaches there should be time to rest and live between such battles, if for nothing else but to prepare and recuperate. That has not happened. This fight serves no point or purpose other than death. Give back what was borrowed."

With that, Derik shoulders his shovel and heads south towards the Bladestone Foundation.

[CooCooCachoo]

Derik Ranloss is marked friend of nature, protected by the wood.

Word has it that the masked druid has been seen stalking merchants that have bid on the wood of the fort. She is seen in the distance, unarmed, seeming to stare at them. Since her mask has no eye holes, it is an unsettling sight.

Meanwhile former archdruid Sarisay, once keeper of the dragon stone, is seen directly approaching every merchant she knows has interest. Of keen interest to her is Bentley, who has a long-standing relationship with the enclave and who she is sure will wish to know of the druidic lein on that ill-gotten prize.

Word is that the druidess, who had disappeared for some time has been entertaining multiple meetings with old contacts in high-ranking factions. Her influence does not seem to have been diminished in her absence. She openly encourages peace, as war with the druids during famine and other conflicts is not likely to go well for the gate. The price of this peace is the wood of the fort.

There is also a rumor that the mysterious druid, whose hair once black is now blue, whose eyes once amber now are blue and glowing, may be interested in buying the wood and the spoiled land.