Baldur's Gate : The Sword Coast Chronicles : NWN2 Persistent World

New posters from various figures sporting silver badges get posted up again, in most of the same places as those that came before. Though, the subject at matter hits on recent grumblings and groanings of the mob.

Whitewood Vanguard wrote: ↑Mon Dec 06, 2021 7:59 pm New posters from various figures sporting silver badges get posted up again, in most of the same places as those that came before. Though, the subject at matter hits on recent grumblings and groanings of the mob.

Once more the silvery grey haired older man would step up to one of the posters and take one down, not seeking to take them all down, obviously. Fold it, neatly, then tuck away. Muttering to himself, yet again as he walks on.

As none had come forward to claim the bounty of donated food to the Halls, the Heartwarder did as promised. Two wagons worth of dried meat, sacks of grains and vegetables, and a heap of wolf furs are donated to various grocers across the wide and city, the furs divided up amongst a couple of tanners.

Another grain of sand added in an attempt to make a heap.

Wattie and Mazy stand on a cold dock watching an unmarked ship slip out to sea, perhaps one of the last of the season before the frost sets in the harbour. They check to make sure the note taker has not followed them into the port. They seem satisfied and eat out of the hand some free food of Ilmater and share a confidence "Watcha make o that talk on right and wrong o a tiefling?" says Wattie. "too much rich adventurin' wine as like I would call it, right an wrong of it is for the rich to be wonderin. " repies Mazy clearly more attentive to the food in her hand. "Well" says Wattie "three things to be doing now..free soup over at the wharf there, an I heard Grocer Green has some fresh things donated in at the market...or we could be to the Palace tell the Dukes what we are thinking o them!" "Mazy looks realising he is not that stupid and counters by saying "hey no none of that lets be having a free heat at a big bonfire in the fields!

(Just another day in the big city)

A new anonymous poem published, just on a few billboards at the docks, in the alleys and left near taverns, where ale is cheaper than food.

sweetlikesplenda wrote: ↑Sun Dec 05, 2021 10:26 pm The bodies of the Flaming Fist soldiers slain by fey in the Cloakwood were sent from the Radiant Heart Keep, where they had been delivered to, out to the Flaming Fist compound in the Harbor District. The wagons left the Keep under guard of eight Radiant Heart soldiers, at the head were the Grand Knight along with many of the Knights of the Order, in a solemn procession to the city. Once they arrived the fallen Flaming Fist were given over to the care of the city.

Three silhouettes reach the Headquaters of The Flaming Fist Company, and they disappear in the shadows of the fortress. Hushed endeavors seems to have been undertaken, offering blessings under the guard of the officers. Happy reunited families seem to have left the Headquaters, tears in the eyes, and moments of unexpected joy and relief shared. A half-conscious Ilmatari is brought back to the Temple of The Broken God by two Tormtars. Whatever happened seems to have been straining.

Only one coffin remains for a soldier. His body tended, his eyes closed, he seems to revere another existence. Flowers around him adds to the sense of peace that claimed his face.

An older looking male, silvery-grey hair in heavy armor would be seen entering the temples of Torm and Tyr paying respects with recent events, and looking for people of the faith along the way.

Another few days passes, and new posters are pinned by men and women in silver badges, but otherwise coming from all walks of life.

Posters go up in and around the city.


((6pm EST/11pm GMT on 13 Dec.))
((All are welcome, there is no formal guest list.))
((There will be a group leaving from the Eastern Farmlands campfire at ten minutes prior to the start time in case any characters need to be escorted through Thundar's Ride.))

A face perhaps forgotten by many but remembered by some is seen once more walking through the Coast and into the Gate.
A wandering hooded elf in worn clothes, shouldering a large dark hued Bow strolls through the cobbled streets, greeting those he knew with
wide smiles and those sights he remembered with faint bemused ones.

A long journey it has been, though I return and am thankful for the sights I have seen and the memories that resurface.... yet there is always more work to be done.

(( It is good to be back. I hope to see many of you once more IG for further adventures.

Walking through the harbor district, the Half-elven Jon Smythe pulls his collar closer around his neck, and pears up toward the sky, as what seems a torrential rain falls in heavy droplets all around him. As well, the fog of winter seems to settle among the open areas of the harbor, causing concern for those that already worry to keep their pockets safe from nimble fingers.

Furrowing his brow at the oppressive weather, Smythe speaks aloud, enough for open ears nearby to easily catch his sour tone:

"Does it begin?"

That eve, in the Lewd Lyre, fun and revelry were had as a young couple celebrated the day of their wedding.

One blue coated man amongst them set a bucket up on the bar top, and explanations of home-spun traditions were shared, before nearly each and every reveler added to the bucket.

First a flask of whiskey, and dirt (later revealed to be cinnamon), for the man of the road.

Next, a whole bottle of Cormanthan wine, in the traditions of the Purple Dragons out east.

Snippings of blue hair, from a lady who didn't hear the intent of the bucket, over the din of revelry.

A purple potion of Haste from a violet hued magi.

A potion of great strength, from a man who took great risk to join his fellows.

Peach snapps, brought on through wisdom of a lady knowing the fate before her.

A potion which provided space, as any good marriage needs from time to time.

An antidote, because based on the above, even the hard drinker saw need.

Moonshaean single malt whiskey, for a bit of class, by the man in the fancy hat.

A thick, viscous substance, from everyone's favorite noodlemancer.

And a stone, without word of why, from the taciturn man with grand dreams and a heart that did not match his outer visage.

The mixture was dolled out one cup at a time, and a man in a fresh blue jacket gave a toast, to a happy couple.

Here’s to cheating, stealing, fighting, and drinking.

If you cheat, may you cheat death.

If you steal, may you steal a woman’s heart.

And if you fight, may you fight for a brother or sister.

And if you drink, may you drink with me.

And with that, everyone involved took their sip. Was said the bride shortly thereafter blessed the groom's boots, one man lost his dinner entirely, and others gagged and choked as the Westgate tradition was imbibed.

Not long after, the man in the blue coat tossed a bucket of the mess out back, before laughing and rejoining the revelers.

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

Several marks passed, and the same man was sighted on a dogged path to the Halls of Inner Light, an elven magi and priest of the Doombringer at his heels, before a heated exchange was had at the steps of that house of worship, with the fiery haired Heartwarder.

Passing through the Gate the rural trader one Trapper Krogel overhears a disturbance at the Halls of Inner Light with an indifferent shrug and continues towards the market apparently anxious to be out the City. At the market he produces rare Hin ales and luxury fish with a view to doing his bit to help the food crises at the city. He then makes his way stoically to the dock area to distribute food to the hungry at the docks merely those goods a single trapper might carry but he trusts what he can offer is well received and makes his solitary way back to the countryside and his work.