Rumors & Events of Baldur's Gate

[Arn]

A bald monk, dressed in simple robes, begins to spend more time in Baldur's Gate.

He spends some hours tending to the injured at the temple of Ilmater, and other hours sitting at the base of a tree at the south end of the Chionthar Bridge.

Whenever he is sitting at the tree, he is looking at the southern horizon as if keeping an eye out for some danger.

[Hidennka]

Cecilia stood on the ship's deck as it pulled into the harbor. Long had it been since her feet had touched its shores, and unknown was the reception she would receive, if any. The knight-errant returned to seek out a reason to stay, one final time.

And so it was that the cormyrean ship cut through the aquamarine depths soon shallowed, to dock and belay with the harbor itself. From the expanse of wooden deck a lone figure; hair as golden as the radiance of dawn, clad in dark fur wrapped at the shoulders of amber-hued armor with faint scar tickling the edge of an upper lip, strides down the length of notched ramp with almost unrecognisable confidence and luggage in tow.

[MopKnight]

The outskirts of Baldurs Gate are busier than usual. A mile or so outside the city, a small army camp has come into being.

[finneas]

*A tall, lean man, copper hair flowing to his shoulders underneath a hat plumed with the tail of a red fox steps off ship onto the dock of Baldur's Gate. His step is a bit tentative, as if testing new legs or perhaps unused to solid ground. He spends long moments studying the city from the harbor, thumb and finger stroking one corner of his moustache absently. After several long moments he reaches down, straightening first one cuff, then the other. He brushes a bit of debris from his vest and strides toward the city proper, long legs chewing up the distance rapidly. The man disappears into the temple of Ilmater first then quickly re-emerges, a slight scowl on his face. He flags down one of the street urchins, takes a knee and speaks quietly but imploringly to the waif gesturing to the sewers. As the boy runs off the man stands, strides purposely to the main gate and leaves the city. He turns south without hesitation and walks off.*

[Hoihe]

The whistling wanderess casts off from the docks, only to take harbour by anchoring down once clear of the woodwork. None the less, judging by the sailors on board, it looks ready to set sail.

[Hoihe]

And so the ship returns! Battle scarred, after a giant explosion rocked the harbour. It is said that the Whistling Wanderess, a caravel not designed for combat, has managed to take out two ships singlehandedly, without suffering debiliating damage. Repairwork began immidiately in the docks, as the acting-captain went to take a sleeping elf to safety.

[grymhild]

Farmers complain this morning that water drawn from a well south of Baldur's Gate has recently gained a foul taste, offering fresh produce for someone to climb down the well to investigate.

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i

OOC: If interested, please send an IG tell to Grymhild or Wolfsdaughter.

[Monnock777]

Whispers from sailor and few citizens speak of a crimson figure dodging in and out of the shadows of the warehouses making its way from the docks this very night. To what this figure was up too no one can really say. Some reports of gold missing from a few individuals pocket have been brought to light. As for the crimson figure on one can recall it being anywhere near the victims.

[finneas]

*A tall, lean man, copper hair flowing to his shoulders underneath a hat plumed with the tail of a red fox steps off ship onto the dock of Baldur's Gate. His step is a bit tentative, as if testing new legs or perhaps unused to solid ground. He spends long moments studying the city from the harbor, thumb and finger stroking one corner of his moustache absently. After several long moments he reaches down, straightening first one cuff, then the other. He brushes a bit of debris from his vest and strides toward the city proper, long legs chewing up the distance rapidly. The man disappears into the temple of Ilmater first then quickly re-emerges, a slight scowl on his face. He flags down one of the street urchins, takes a knee and speaks quietly but imploringly to the waif gesturing to the sewers. As the boy runs off the man stands, strides purposely to the main gate and leaves the city. He turns south without hesitation and walks off.*

*As quickly as the man arrives, he departs. His stay brief and as he walks down the dock toward the ship and the sea beyond it, he does not so much as glance back toward "The Gate."*

[Monnock777]

For those that might visit the shrine of the mask a crimson figure sits in the corner ever quiet. Not saying a word or even looking at those who might enter. Keeping to himself. Writing away in a book.

[mrieder79]

Durin Ironfaar staggered under the weight of the boar haunch he single-handedly consumed at Feldenpost's. He ran a finger through his beard and brought it to his lips, savoring the drops of Neverwinter Mead which had gathered there.

A twig crackled in the bushes.

Durin brought his axe to the ready and froze, surveying the forest around him.

A thin voice quavered through the trees. "Help me." It was barely audible.

"Eh? Whose there? Show yerself lad."

The voice came again, quieter this time. "Help me." It seemed to be coming from the ruins of a forgotten chapel.

With a grunt and a shrug, Durin followed the voice until he reached the vine shrouded edifice. It's walls were caked with moss and the roof had partially collapsed.

"Oy, anyone here?" called Durin.

The voice came again. It was stronger this time, good natured but with a hint of steel. "I'll have your gold or your life. Your choice."

Durin whirled to face his assailant but found nothing but open country behind him. "Show yerself, Lad, and we'll talk about me gold."

There was a chucke. "Show myself? So you can beat me senseless with your axe? No, I prefer to remain hidden. I require two sacks of gold, and I will be on my way."

"Ye want two sacks, do ye. Heh." Durin withdrew a tattered burlap sack from his pack and knelt to the ground. He filled it with the rotting leaves and decay at the base of the church then stood. "Here's yer bag!" he said, flinging the decomposing filth into the clearing.

There was a pause then the voice came again, resigned. "I had hoped it wouldn't come to this, but alas. I must have the gold."

Words of power rang out, resounding against the stone walls of the forgotten chapel. A brilliant finger of red light sprang forth from the shadows behind a bush and struck Durin in the chest.

Durin's axe flared emerald green and the ray dissipated, leaving the dwarf unharmed. He quickly withdrew a small rod from his belt and whispered to it.

A sphere of blue light engulfed him seconds before an enormous hand sprang from the shadows and floated toward him, fingers outstretched and menacing. The hand struck the sphere and shuddered for a moment before dissipating with a piercing report. From the bushes, the shadowy figure cursed.

"Clangeddin!" roared the dwarf as he raised his axe overhead and charged.

The figure ran lightly before the dwarf then melted into the forest, vanishing. Seconds later arcane chanting echoed through the wood and a freezing storm coalesced above the bewildered dwarf. Stinging ice and pelting hail rained down upon him while gusts of freezing wind rimed his beard with frost.

Durin gritted his teeth against the howling wind and squinted his eyes to see the shadowy figure amongst the trees. Durin charged, but the figure disappeared again.

"Bah! Show yerself, ye coward!" he shouted at the empty glade.

The voice came again, this time with a hint of amusement. "No need, for I already have your gold."

Durin's hand shot to his belt and found his purse missing.

"Bah! cowardly thief!" He reached for a flask on his belt and hurled it into the wood. It shattered in a brilliant explosion of fire, startling a flock of sparrows into the air.

The wood fell silent and in the far distance, Durin could barely make out a flitting crimson figure flitting between the trees. Soft laughter drifted to him on the wind.

[TheTwiste11491]

*flyers can be seen around the city*

The Ebon Blade Mercenary company will be hosting a tournament of martial might in the Northern farmlands. This glorious occasion will take place Friday evening[22:00 GMT]. All are welcome to join in the festivities, though entry is limited to those skilled in melee combat. The entry fee is 600 gold coins, and the winner will walk out with 10 golden trade bars. There will also be a bookie taking bets. Tournament rules are simple You are allowed to use any of your melee skills, as well as up to 3 wards per match (for this purpose Hips will count as a ward and you may only use it twice per match). For more information Feel free to contact Captain Greil of the Ebon Blade.

[paw]

There are rumors of Director Herran Hymns return, from where though, as of yet there is no word.

There are coinciding rumors of "massive forests" made of theater props popping up not only inside the theater, but outside and even in the middle of Baldurs Gate itself.

Advertisement for upcoming event?

Publicity stunt?

or just some form of madness?

none seem to know, or if they do, few words are whispered as to what and why.

[predrag]

A less known blue skinned bard may have been heard telling a story of six heroes , as he put it , by those visiting the Friendly Arm Inn .

The small band had apparently entered the Wood of Sharp Teeth on the last full moon and tracked lycanthropes through it after the malformed man-beasts had threatened the inn by their sudden surge into it's proximity .

The tale takes an , what may be considered , unexpected twist as the teller claims they had spoken to one of the beast , learning that the pack of them under leadership of some Ragnar are actually fighting the Talonnite army's dead soldiers , the beasts words are claimed true as they had also witnessed the wolf-men and flesh-less men fight on a small field further to the east and north .

The story ends in an anticlimax , as both the wolf and dead were gone by sunrise and the party returned safely , but the way it's told almost invites others to investigate this possible ally against the lifeless army , without directly suggesting it .

Of course , if one is to believe such a wild tale .

[ladyawesome]

Rumors from the docks say that a trouble maker known as vali was seen in the vicinity of neverwinter, though not entirely sure, the giggle was the thing that set it off. She was bundled in copious amounts of fabric with dirt on her face.... but you know, they are just rumors.