Rumors of the Northern Sword Coast

[electric mayhem]

Two dwarves would suddenly appear in the middle of the deserted trade area of Soubar. One clearly displaying the sigil of Kraak Helzak on his cloak.
They'd have a very quick look around before being greeted by a tall person matching the description of Malign.
They'd then walk towards the bridge at the river, speaking a few words as they inspect the area, before seperating. The dwarves would then make for the Fort briefly inspecting the area.
They would then disappear into thin air again to parts unknown.

[Israe]

Israe is seen enter The Winding Way Inn with two bottles of an exotic liquor. She takes a seat at the nearly deserted bar, passing one of the bottles to Mag. She silently drinks her own, before speaking a monologue to Mag.

"Well, I know you have no faith in us. You insisted that we are fools for standing to this threat, and that Soubar will do what it always does. Regardless it doesn't change the battle to come, and I will not abandon the few who stand to their fate. I know you believe us cockroaches. I wish that I was able to persuade you, but you owe us nothing. If anything you've been more than generous to me, so you surely don't owe me a thing.

So this drinks to you, and the hospitality you've shown. I wish the population was different, but we are what we are. Standing for Soubar is a single mercenary company, some elves, and a drow. It must force me to admit you are correct, and to me it's shameful Soubars general population fled. You've deemed the chances for success non-existent, and I can't argue with your view as I've never known you to be wrong. I will be at the gates, I will fight, and by your estimation I will die. Unless I somehow prove you wrong, I just ask that you know what you've done is appreciated. Good luck with the aftermath, and I sincerely hope that when the cockroaches return things change and they are better than what they currently are. So this is likely the final goodbye, and final drink to you."

The dark eleven woman raises her glass to Mag, before downing the rest of it and exiting The Winding Way. She reconceals her race as she steps out, taking a seat in the grass and sharpening her blades, oiling her weapon and pampering it. The sweet analgesic effects of the potent alcohol in her system shows, as her demeanor displays one of someone who's seen too many battles. Afterwards she heads to the fire, removing ash from it in her hands and smearing it upon her face completely not as a religious act, but as a memory of V'Eldrinnshar as the realization that the situation is very similar. This time she won't run. This time she will not lose a second home while she draws breath.

As the dead silence descends upon the ghost town, her gaze stays focused outside of the gates, those who look upon her would notice her crimson red armor shining and clothes perfectly clean. The way she stands leaves no room for interpretation, she is ready for this fight and has returned to the mindset that allowed her to survive many wars and battles. The trolls will meet at least one seasoned warrior at the gates who calls Soubar home.

[Bad Omens]

A certain dwarf, a patch over one eye, is seen kicking around the Ebon Blade Fortress in Soubar. Looking around the devastation he turns to his commander, the Baron Greil Nightingale. "Oi Boss, tinkin it's time ta move on, eh?", he states more so than queries. He continues, "Ain't much ere' namore and how we gonna get ale, wit all da roads Troll controlled?". "Bah, an don't even get meh started on da damn devils!", he declares, the octaves in his tone clearly rising. "How dem basterds got behind on ranks, ye got any Tieflings, or Warlocks in da ranks, tinkin it's time ta purge dem, purge dem real good!!", he says with a glare in his one good eye.

[aaron22]

Uruk Lurra
14 Mirtul

"Ma. I want to see the ruins. I want to see what is gone. What is left." The female orc presses the issue to an unwilling listener.

Szwo'Boo can be very persuasive. She is one of the most sought after mates in the camp. She carries a beauty about her and physical strength to match. The gods even seem to favor her more than the less attractive.

"You heard the chieftain. Females are to stay in camp for now." Faag'n is much smaller and less physically impressive than the other female.

Faag'n may not wield the same physical gifts that Szwo does, but she make up for it and more in discipline to the Nishrek. A small statue of hatred, anger and violence in the name of the gods that cherish such devotion. Her humble attire and physique have caught many poor male orcs of guard looking to suit the female. A mistake that is only made once. Even from the most foolish males.

"Nobody needs to know. You want to see as well. Perhaps even see some of these corrupted trolls that have been spoken of." The younger female continues to persuade her elder. "Just a single moon. No one will know."

The raspy whisper and cold eyes of Faag'n is a warning to cease the direction of the conversation. "The guards will know."

Quick to retort and expecting such a tactic, Szwo responds with a tusked grin. "Already thought of that. We will use the beetle exit. No guards to spot a thing."

"Save you charms and grins for the males. We are not to leave for good reason." Faag'n continues to deny to the young female orc.

"Why do the males get to leave, but we cannot?" Szwo continues to persuade now opting to flatter and pull Faag'n's challenge strings. "How many males now limp because of your.... adjustments?"

Anger, hatred and violence well inside Faag'n until she gives in and whispers out in her raspy voice, "Fine. We stay low. Stay to the shadows. One moon."

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The two females sneak away from the cover of the craggy outcropping crossing quickly the rolling plains that separate Uruk Lurra from Soubar. Upon approach of the west wall of Soubar the devastation is apparent. Walls broken. The great archway shattered. The normal sounds of the denizens of this collective quieted.

"Trolls did this?" Szwo gasps in astonishment upon seeing the destruction.

"Trolls" Faag'n whispers back to Szwo

They slowly move into Soubar proper where it once held merchants of all kinds. Empty the village now rests quietly. Torches and lanterns used to light the area to suit the eyes of both races that prefer the day or the night. But now, the only light now comes from the keep that holds the human defense of this ruined village. It is all that remains usable and therefor occupied. This is likely the hole they dug into to the last stand.

Faag'n points toward the keep of the Ebon Blades. "Some protectors."

Szwo adds. "Humans.. What did you expect."

"Even Less." The older orc female adds in a harsh whisper of disdain.

The two quickly make there way throught the village, or what is left of it. Without much to see, there is little time needed to observe.

As they pass by the Ebon Blade Keep, Faag'n whispers, "The only people headed toward here belong to them." Pointing to the Keep.

The young female grunts in agreement, moving back into the shadows spotting the approach of a man in armor.

Faag'n takes a passive approach to the oncoming human. Moves to the side and lowers her cowled eyes. A tactic that she uses often to make the humans feel they have met but a lowly peasant. She moves away from Szwo in an effort to have them turn their back to her hidden ally.

The human stops to question Faag'n. He wears the armor of a human commander. A bright Plum tops his heavy armor helmet. His steel pauldrons show some symbol of what must be a human civilization. Unknown. Uncaring Faag'n draws forth information trying to confirm that this human must belong to one of the Ebon Blades.

The human cares not to back away from the promise of devastation that await his progress further toward the ruins. That nothing there is worth traveling toward. Unless he is going to provide relief to those that occupy the keep.

He is large for a human. Not as large as orc blood, but larger than most humans of these parts. He is also keen of senses, quickly spotting Swzo hiding in the shadows.

Discovered to be hiding and overconfident as always, the young female approaches the human being clear to show her long steel claws. The human pulls up his large two handed axe. He readies himself to the approaching female.

He squares himself to the young female. He says his name is Andreas. That the orcs shall know the name of the man that will kill them this night. With that, Andreas sets his large axe ablaze.

Continued Below....

[Sputnik]

A band of orcs came sniffing around a mostly abandoned Soubar tonight.
Well-armed and ready for trouble, they scoured the place for any valuables left behind by the fleeing denizens.

After a fruitless search, the group spots a lone warrior standing before the Ebon Blade keep. He is warded and armed as well..
They approach, and a tense conversation follows.
The self-styled Baron tells them to leave in peace, that there is nothing here to raid.
One of the orcs, Grishnak, responds by demanding a tribute of gold and gems for this peace. . .

In reply, the Captain of the Blades casts a few defensive wards before being set upon by a berzerk Grishnak. The fight is brief and violent, and in the end a badly wounded Greil barely escaped to the safety of his keep with his life, his men barring the door behind him.

The orcs outside, robbed of their victory, cursed and bellowed in outrage, before deciding that sticking around probably wasn't a good idea.

The band was last spotted climbing down into the well in front of Mag's Inn...

[TheTwiste11491]

A band of orcs came sniffing around a mostly abandoned Soubar tonight.
Well-armed and ready for trouble, they scoured the place for any valuables left behind by the fleeing denizens.

After a fruitless search, the group spots a lone warrior standing before the Ebon Blade keep. He is warded and armed as well..
They approach, and a tense conversation follows.
The self-styled Baron tells them to leave in peace, that there is nothing here to raid.
One of the orcs, Grishnak, responds by demanding a tribute of gold and gems for this peace. . .

In reply, the Captain of the Blades casts a few defensive wards before being set upon by a berzerk Grishnak. The fight is brief and violent, and in the end a badly wounded Greil barely escaped to the safety of his keep with his life, his men barring the door behind him.

The orcs outside, robbed of their victory, cursed and bellowed in outrage, before deciding that sticking around probably wasn't a good idea.

The band was last spotted climbing down into the well in front of Mag's Inn...

Moments after this band of Orcs fled the doors of the Ebon Blade stronghold burst open with many men armed to the teeth flooding forth the bruised Captain amoung them. The large group of armed men Do a small search for the orc band around the fortress. The search produced little and the men returned to their stronghold though the entirety of the fortress stayed on high alert

[aaron22]

Andreas falls to the ground. Unconscious. Unmoving. Blood spattered across his charred and broken face. Blood pools from a grievous wound in his back. The two female orc stand above the man. Like wolves on a bear, the two orcs spun the man about during the fight. Exposing his softest places to drive the fatal blows. Blows from fist and claw as orc tradition disallows females from wielding the weapons of the men. The warriors. Now the two stand over the broken man that clings to life. A bear of a man bested by wolves of fury and hunger. Wolves of Zar Ut Khan.

"Pick him up. we must move and now." Faag'n commands the younger orc.

Szwo'Boo hefts up the large and armored man. She is strong. Stronger than most males of the horde. This is one of the many reasons why she is desired by many males to be a mate. They must be able to survive her first.

As quickly as they can. A hefty task given the size of the defeated human. They move him to a nearby cave overrun with bears. They needed to move quickly. This fight would attract many and discovery by pinkskin or orc blood would mean certain death to the two. Disobedience is not a trait that is desirable by the chieftains of the horde.

Dropping the man to ground, Szwo looks toward her wiser elder in realization of the mistake made this eve in the shadow of the sun.

"Now what Ma?" Szwo looks down the tunnel hearing something stir then continues, "How can we hide this?"

Faag'n leans down to the spitting and coughing man. She calls upon her fury to burn a white hot flame in her palms. The intense heat disfigures the unfamiliar metallic adornments that identify this man. The symbols twist and fold in the heat of her fury.

Satified with her work the plain clothed female issues a directive to her ally. "Heal the man.. just enough to stay his life."

Szwo, like faag'n, is a devout of the home mother. But, unlike her partner, she has taken a special devotion to the teachings of Luthic's healing. She calls upon her devotion to bring forth magical healing to the dying man.

Denied. The healing fizzles. This has never occurred before from the young devout. Has Luthic frowned upon her actions? Has Luthic found the human unworthy of the gift? Neither felt right.

"It is not working." Szwo pleads to Faag'n as she can since the life slip from the man before her.

Faag'n looks sternly at the younger female and her raspy whisper pushing her since of urgency."Try again. Be quick with it."

Again Szwo calls upon the clan mother's teachings and pulls her thoughts inward to listen for Luthic's breath upon her words of healing. Again the healing fails, but she could feel Luthic within her.

"He denies my magic" Szwo calls outward frustrated at this realization.

Before the two orc females can even consider another approach, the sounds of footsteps nearby change any plans that may have been taken.

The two stand and before they can escape to the darkness a man dressed in armor stands before them. Less than an axe length away Faag'n quickly moves toward the curious onlooker.

"He has seconds to live. Save him or fight us. Choice is your's pinkskin." Faag'n's whispered threats deny the cloud of excitement that rushes her head.

Szwo'boo moves to Faag'n's side to sell the threat as the man speaks his reply. The words of the man are lost in the buzz of excitement and fury that deafened the two female orcs. But he moved aside anyway. And the two took their leave of the bear cave.

Once clear away from the site of the dying human and his attendant, the two understand fully the predicament that they have created for themselves. The secret exit they took to leave is now unavailable. They are also covered in the blood of a human and entrance to the front cave would not go unnoticed by the guards.

"We cannot go back now."

"We will have to find another way."

[Invoker]

Those brave, desperate, powerful or simply savage enough to travel within eyeshot of Boareskyr Bridge or the mild slope ending with Soubar's now shattered gates would come across a grisly scene: countless bodies destroyed by steel and magic weaves of all sorts cover the ground from the closest part of the bridge itself to the road leading back to Thundar's Ride. Trolls and their deadly black variants, as well as oozes' gelatinous remains, goblins and their worg pets as well as dimensionally shackled demonic bodies, accurately prevented from returning to their plane for whatever reason.

Despite the carnage and the horrendous losses caused by whoever passed by, the area remains well garrisoned by the invaders' forces.

[aaron22]

Those that would travel through the battlefields around the ruins that used to be Soubar might have heard rumors of a new scourge. Those few brave souls that have escaped the legions of trolls and devils have met demise by bands of orcs. These orcs are both smarter and more powerful then what would deem typical. Traveling alone is greatly ill-advised.

Bodies recovered from these orcs have been said to carry a calling card. The letters Z,U and K carved into their broken flesh.

That is from the bodies that are recovered. Many remain missing.

[Wildsheep]

An half-drow woman with blue eyes and dusky skin wearing plate armor walks into the Winding Way Inn in Soubar and gives Mag a message. She then sits at a table with an orc that was following her and spends the rest of the evening drinking.

(pm sent to the dms)

[KOPOJIbPAKOB]

A troublesome word spreads about significantly increased orc activity at the Nothern Lands. Something is coming...

[Invoker]

A patrol of Silver Rose knights and squires in a tight formation, armors shining in the bright daylight, mantles flapping in the wind and weapons ready could be seen yesterday traveling from their Keep towards the Fields of the Dead. Rumor has it that a well-known crypt was cleansed from the taint of Undeath, the necromancers within dispatched for their crimes and the ground consecrated to the Triadic Gods and their allies.

[aaron22]

Under the midday sun of a hot day on the plains of the Northern Tradeway, A battle took place. A clash of steel and magic, arcane and divine energy rattles the dusty hills of the wolf plains.

When the dust settles, only two remain on the blood stained battlefield. A large orc and a slender woman speak.

The large orc limps back slowly toward Uruk Lurra. The woman disappears into the shadows.
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Power must be shown. Respect must be earned.

In the wake of this epic battle, both seem to have been done.

[KOPOJIbPAKOB]

Many adventurers and travelers who arrive from the North speak about a new danger in the face of frequent orcish patrols roaming the roads. Those orks are well organized and trained, and those foolish enough to remain on their path are being mercilessly cut down. The reasons behind this activity are only to be guessed.

[The_Gruff_Stout]

He rode into Soubar under the cover of night on the back of a battle scarred steed. Jarresh had spent his time away from the coast fighting for the highest bidder in Tethyr. With all the civil unrest, the gold had been plentiful.

He had received a message from his friend, Zahven, to return north. He spoke of gold to be had. Bounties on orc that had moved into the area. Zahven had joined a group of mercenaries named the Ebon Blades. The grizzled old mage had promised Jarresh a spot within the ranks upon his arrival. Not knowing what to expect he decided to slip in under darkness and see what he could glean about this group.

Zahven was nearly never wrong about things such as strategy and positioning, things that Jarresh could use work on. He trusted the old mage. That was enough to get him to travel the multitude of miles north. It was what drew him to Soubar.

Wearing his armor of Red Dragon scales, sword and shield he made patrols around town to pick up information. Not only about the Ebon Blades, but also about the general happenings around this lawless area of the coast.

The hardened mercenary was curious about this High Baron Greil that Zahven had sworn fealty to. He had not known the wizard to place stock in anything that wasn't solid, secure. If the pay was good, Jarresh would have a new home for the time being. At the very least he would collect a few orc heads for bounty money and head back south. The coin would decide his fate. Not in the flip of one, but in how high it was stacked...