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

Isabella raises an eyebrow at the various rumors merchants bring to the gate admist the usual small talk.

"Is it true the Keep is after Crownsilver!?"
"I hear you harbor Drow!"
"Somebody tried to tell me you're a safe haven for wanted men! Is it true? I don't want to sell to no theives!"

The Gatewarden sighs with a slightly flat expression, her eyes roll, casually dismisses such talk as foolish, and waves along the guests.

"I hate rumor mills." She mutters to herself, eyes turning back to the road

*As a figure sits atop the roof tops of one of the nearby buildings of the Elfsong. He grins at having heard words from the "top". He continues to listens but waits for the signal soon to come, for when it comes...someone will be soon missing.*

*The man in the //"Pimphat"// swashbucklers hat listens to the rumors of the town.*

Um..yes indeed I think I will leave the city like right now...Many dangerous things are going on I think. *Says alittle loud so people can hear* "Too bad I have so little coins".

*A lone figure sits in a darken corner of the tavern*

*Lets out a long sigh*

Thinking to himself, Why am I here. It's not as if I can partake in the enjoyment of company over food and drink. With that thought, the right hand unconsciously rises to rub the face. But before touching the mask, the hand lowers back down.

It's still hot outside and nice in cool in here. What a summer. Using those thoughts to justify being here. He takes care to study his surrounds. Listens in on the bustling activity in the tavern.

What!! Has this place gone mad. Interesting times are afoot for the coast. After further thought. Could it be, this oppressive heat is melting people's brains?

*chuckles*

The thought of his homeland enters his mind. The heat, indeed!

Isabella Villame stands, staring slack jawed at what looks like a local merchant.

"Wait -what-!?"

"Ah, that's right madame. I'm sorry to be the herald of bad news, but there is a shortage of ink and paper about the Trade Way. Your order will have to wait another ten day."

"You are telling me you -sold out- of ink and parchment?"

"Yeeee-up."

"What ever are they being used for?"

"Posted notices, I think."

A short pause.

"Ulraunt is going to have a fit..."

Isabella waves on the seller absent mindedly.

//Couldn't help myself.

"Ahh.... another one," Siomir said as he approached the posted tree. He pulled the notice down from the tree, wondering exactly who had had time to nail this many to trees, fence posts, and other objects up and down the road.

Shrugging, he muttered, "A new tax.. new highway men, eh? Well, the paper -is- rather handy..." and walked behind a nearby bush, removing his belt and beginning to unbuckle his trews while reading the rest.

Several minutes later, looking much relieved and no longer carrying the paper, he emerged from behind the bush and continued on his way.


/// Neither could I

lol

Rumors abound in Baldur's Gate concerning a mysterious gale of wind on a cloudless day which blew through the city and sightings of a strange ship in the distance. The Fist responded by sending a ship of their own to intercept the vessel and dispatched a foot patrol to where the ship was heading.

Word back about what they found is even stranger: A large tribe of warrior women numbering in the hundreds who are seeking an item of some significance to them.

The two forces are at an impasse, one negotiated by curious adventurers who were able to communicate in a common language with the women. The warrior women have taken hostages as assurance that what they seek will be delivered to them.

Whatever the situation is, it doesn't look good for the peace of the land. The Fist are readying a detachment in case the worse comes to pass.

Members of both the Weave Masters and Candlekeep seem rather down lately, and when asked about it the general reply has to do with the death of a bronze dragon by the name of Plantagonox.

The rumors that spread around town sing a much different tune, however, as the citizens of the city and surrounding lands are overjoyed at the news of a dead dragon. After all, dragons are huge scary monsters that eat livestock and burn homes, right?

*an elf in a green hood sits in the Elf Song tavern, his features hidden from view. He stands, setting his wine glass on the table and walks toward the door when he hears the rumor and speaks to himself in a whisper*

"A vile shame that, guess karma is a harsh mistress. The more I think of it, the less I care...maybe his actions make a point...the wilds are a dangerous place after all....."

*he leaves pondering the thought*

Rumors soon begin circulating that since Keshari Bleth was attacked so violently, and because she was scheduled to perform in the debut play at the theater, the grand premiere performance of the Performers Guild may be canceled.

The organizer of the Performers, Selis Vhaire, is said to be livid at the attack.