Rumors & Events of Baldur's Gate

[arakes99]

An stone faced man with earthen colored hair can be seen wandering the Gate with a sullen look. He often moves from one tavern to the next, drinking generous amounts before moving on without a word.

He often stops in the street and lets his gaze linger about as he moves around, as if looking for something but he inevitably ends up at the next tavern in the end. Those that know the man, and converse with him as he wanders about may notice his polite mannerisms have shifted in the last few days and in at least one incident he was outright rude to a friendly acquaintance.

He most often stops at the Elfsong patio, something familiar drawing him there for his usual tankard of dark ale more than any other spot in the city.

[Boddynock]

A small plackard has been hung on the bulletin board in Baldur's Gate. It seems to be in the same style of a recent series of songs that have been making their way through the populace, but interestingly this is "song" has never been heard, in fact try as one might there is no evidence it has been posted anywhere but on this one board.

"You find my verse commendable, and bid me to keep going?
You find my message rings with truth, desire the songs continue flowing?
If that's the case my friend, you should I think, listen a little harder.
Your anonymous tips, claims of secret evidence, ring with little ardor.
I've said before, and I'll say again, the enemy here is anonymity.
So if you want to help the cause, and value truth's sublimity.
Then come and seek me out my friend, bring your papers, show your face.
I've already told you where to find me, where I seek my Lady's Grace."

[paw]

Apparently a party of bards enjoyed a day and evening on the patio of the Elfsong. Reminiscing old times, catching up on newer times, even a kind of a contest? on who can give the most complimentary greeting to the lovely lasses joining in the fun and simply reveling in song and tales drawing large crowds from those passing by.

Did words get uttered of a play possibly coming into production at the White Mask Theater? and rumors of a new "Bross " in the city? gods help us all!

[Young Werther]

A curly haired youth of broad stature has been witnessed at the various taverns and watering holes of Baldur's Gate speaking to lone adventurers in a meek and non-forthcoming manner. His name when he is reminded to give it is Joules Winfield a local from Baldur's Gate turned adventurer. He states that his adventuring crew The Fabulous Five need someone to help explore a certain castle in the north known as Dragonspear castle. He explains that locks and traps, certain natural spells and even the arcane itself isn't a problem as much as taking hits and standing ground with enemies is. He has a certain morose way of speaking and one might assume something bad has recently befallen him or the crew and lead up to this moment of candor with stranger adventurers. Finally, he invites those interested to meet with the rest of his adventuring crew to get a better feel for the particulars. He also mentions gold being the reward for the job as a last effort to convince those who listen.

///Hi, we're adventuring ground #2 with a thread here: http://bgtscc.net/viewtopic.php?f=10&t=51334&start=225. We're players who are about making the game interesting and challenging for ourselves with a well rounded party to attempt accomplishing various tasks we get set up with by other players and when we can DMs. Our rules are that we should all be in a similar level range no greater than our highest but less is ok; no muling of items, perma-death in the event of a total group wipe-out, and being sporting players. Currently our highest level is 9. We want similar levels to keep the challenge interesting.

No alignment restrictions but we have decided certain extra-ordinary classes like warlocks and favored souls wouldn't fit in with our current theme of plain jane adventurers. Should we die there is a possibility we restart at level 1 as an entirely new group with an entirely different concept. We've thought about red wizards and underdarkers but we haven't crossed that road yet. With all that thanks for reading and please let me know if you're interested either in this thread, via PM or in our #2 adventuring party thread (which also serves as an RP thread).

We have been playing only on the weekends usually Sunday but sometimes Saturday starting 11 am US west for me or 19 GMT. We won't be on this weekend but the weekend after we will be.///

[Tsidkenu]

The following poem finds itself pinned to the public noticeboard in the Gate's central square. Some folks might even feel inclined to put it to song, but it's message seems clear enough in any case.

An Ode to Truth

What is this game you play,
Guilt by association, all the day?
For if it truly were to be believed,
Is an oak by a thistle therefore a weed?

Of course you forget or ignore,
(it must indeed be quite the chore!)
That a heart can change
Despite your apparent rage.

Dark magics once her hands did swirl,
A heartless, cruel and unkind girl,
All which changed upon the day,
That Mystra took her pains away.

For truly, now, you surely see!
A Zhent a Mystran cannot be!
Taking oaths to the Mother of Magic,
oh now it would be quite tragic!

How the two have fought from old,
Now that's a story you've left untold,
That oaths to the Lady one cannot make,
If one's heart is black as slate.

It is clear, you see, when truth is spoken,
That magic's gift can be awoken,
And become the joy that it should be,
Rather than a past of misery.

But all these things, I surmise,
Come to you as no surprise,
Because the truth is not your goal,
Just to bark; groan and cajole.

The Dukes decreed some time ago,
That a break occurred, or didn't you know?
That a Zhent can turn against her god,
And start to turn a brand new sod.

Not to bury those whom she killed,
It is not denied, but now is willed,
To promote the good, and fight against,
Those with whom you've some interest?

Ah, alas! My fears are borne,
Upon the chaos of your storm,
You think that libel is you anchorage,
Against whose home's an orphanage?

What can I expect from words so bold,
Or guess, if only you were told,
That life has no value, meaning or worth,
Except to sit by wealth's warm hearth?

But far more comely, this I say,
To find a home not so far away,
Where love's strong ties have cast aside,
Yestermorn's chains that bound her tight.

Liam the Golden, could it be true?
That someone has not permitted you,
Her banner high for all to see,
And in her name spout tyranny?

Peace you say, but I see none,
Just tempers raised by what you've done,
Although I perceive there is no need,
To preach a lie because of greed.

In Tymora's name you proclaim,
That Telia is more or less the same,
But I digress to prove you wrong,
That lies are the lot of your unwholesome song.

Go tell the faithful what you've done,
And when offerings stop, what will come,
When your priestess kicks you in your bum,
Assuming you've not already turned to run?

Perhaps, next time, when you grow a brain,
You will think upon that blissful name,
Tymora, whom you claim to serve,
Now besmirched by your thoughtless nerve.

[Boddynock]

In short order a page is tacked on below:

Once again, you come, your words empty with boast.
You strut around spreading lies, up and down the Coast.
I've called you all out, and I'll do it again
To come and seek truth, where this fight did begin.

But it seems to me, alas, it seems to us all,
You fear finding the truth, in good Tymora's Hall.
I've invited you to come, a chance you did dismiss,
So I say to one and all, in your duties you are remiss.

I think it's safe to say, of this I have no doubt.
The seeds of truth in you and yours have found nought but drought.
I'll give you one more chance, to come and see me face to face,
I shouldn't have to tell you where, I assume you know the place.

I'll offer also this, a bit of friendly advice,
But only since you seem ill-prepared, your facts so imprecise.
Next time you step to me, to engage in a battle of wit,
You'd best actually come prepared, you insufferable ignorant twit.

((Just a quick OOC reminder, all this mud slinging is purely IC, I don't think anyone is an "insufferable ignorant twit."

Well, no one here anyway... ))

[Charraj]

The wizard Charraj runs to the docks and books a ship to Everlund. He seems quite anxious.

[Featherfox]

A brown-haired human woman wanders the streets of Baldur's Gate: East District. She asks for help finding directions to the Sword Coast Commercial Exchange. She's a little shy in her attempts to approach people; but she goes about her task with an obvious determination. Her armaments are a well-kept bow, a plethora of quivers, and some mithral chain with green cloth accents.

She'll also ask for help in the Elfsong Tavern.

[Silver_Lining]

.

[arakes99]

Event will be Satuday 8/6 at 20:00 GMT and is open to everyone on the plain between Boareskyr bridge and Soubar. Join us for pit fights, fist fights, a caber toss, games drinking and more.

[Boddynock]

Rumor spreads throughout Baldur's Gate that a golden eyed tiefling stormed out of the Pathfinder's Hall earlier today. Shortly before the front door was thrown open with nearly enough force to rip it off the wall, there was a brief shout and a large crash, like splintering wood.

[Rhifox]

Word spreads that an explosion rocked the crowd that was attending today's Ilmater sermon in the East Gate square, leaving dozens dead or wounded. Survivors were rushed to the temple for healing.

[TheKai]

A handsome figure sits outside of the Elfsong Tavern. Hair cut short, eyes a bit hollow, he sits staring at his empty bottle of feywine. Passerby walk by him paying him no attention; just another drunken patron. After a few moments, he begins to speak in rhyme, his voice somehow carrying over the noise of the tavern.

"The days have gone, the tides are turned,
And yet the short lived, have yet to learn.
Strike at one, you strike them all,
It matters but little, your faith will fall.

See fate is a fickle thing, best never to tempt it,
With Tymora, Beshaba, you may as well end it,
Labelas know whos comes, who goes, as we have ever known,
Trust those crones, and free you will never roam.

A curious thing, these humans,
As daring as the day is long,
A curious thing, these humans,
Mostly good, with many wrong.

Golden may you be, golden may you claim,
Burnt is your soul, so tame is your flame.
The Philosopher sees through you, as probably Those Who Harp,
Such a folly with the short lived, often a young upstart."

The crowd came to a hush, looks of fascination and confusion obvious on their face. He said nothing, did nothing, except leave his empty glass and leave the establishment.

[Boddynock]

Hidden: show

A handsome figure sits outside of the Elfsong Tavern. Hair cut short, eyes a bit hollow, he sits staring at his empty bottle of feywine. Passerby walk by him paying him no attention; just another drunken patron. After a few moments, he begins to speak in rhyme, his voice somehow carrying over the noise of the tavern.

"The days have gone, the tides are turned,
And yet the short lived, have yet to learn.
Strike at one, you strike them all,
It matters but little, your faith will fall.

See fate is a fickle thing, best never to tempt it,
With Tymora, Beshaba, you may as well end it,
Labelas know whos comes, who goes, as we have ever known,
Trust those crones, and free you will never roam.

A curious thing, these humans,
As daring as the day is long,
A curious thing, these humans,
Mostly good, with many wrong.

Golden may you be, golden may you claim,
Burnt is your soul, so tame is your flame.
The Philosopher sees through you, as probably Those Who Harp,
Such a folly with the short lived, often a young upstart."

The crowd came to a hush, looks of fascination and confusion obvious on their face. He said nothing, did nothing, except leave his empty glass and leave the establishment.

Liam, having been working recently close by in helping clear the scene of a tragedy, arrives in short order to deliver his reply. Unsure of whether or not the original author of the libelous song is still within earshot, Liam trusts that fate, and the rumor mill, will deliver his reply to where it needs to be heard.

You claim Labelas, god of history, sees the past without haze.
But can you be said to have the same skill, or is this all just a turn of phrase?
This is all your lot can do, it seems. You brag and you boast and you bluster.
But when it comes to a meeting with me, your courage never seems to muster.

What is it you fear? Why do you hide? Why deny a meeting face to face?
I think you fear the truth getting out; people realizing their trust is misplaced.
It seems once again, despite your pride, all you've to show is arrogance.
The facts have never supported your claims, you spread lies like a pestilence.

I, for one, think I speak for many, when I say we tire of this charade.
You try to work the rumor mill, but the people seem to me unswayed.
Perhaps they are simply smarter than you have given them credit to be.
They know if you had a shred of proof, the law would already be after me.

But you sit, instead, and sing about the folly of short lived races.
But in all your years and experience, you never learned any social graces?
Perhaps you elves never bothered to learn, how to get along well with neighbors,
But usually running off at the mouth with lies, creates relationships belabored.

Perhaps next time, before you speak, you should meditate on your god.
Think for a while on his teachings, give it at least a cursory nod.
Labelas is the god of the past, and holds dear knowledge and history.
But you, it seems, totally lack the first and cloud the second with false mystery.

I'll not bother with you again, I'll leave you in the past.
I am confident in Tymora's future, the luck of her forecast.
So you can sit and whine and wallow, wasting your long life in the whiskey.
I'll look to the future, leave my fate in her hands, though it may be risky.

For I live to be bold, to be bold is to live! That's the mantra I hold dear.
I'll shout that dogma from the mountains, I'll preach it far and near.
And while I do, here you can sit, and play the drunken fool.
I'll be out doing good works, now that I've taken you to school.

For those of you who heard this man's song, and wish to avoid an alcoholic's fate.
Don't put your faith in gods of the past, but come to the Temple of Tymora in Baldur's Gate.
Don't cry over spilled milk, don't focus on what has been.
Focus instead on your future and trying to earn Tymora's grin.

I implore you all to come, come and seek the Lady's Hall
For the Lady Who Smiles will welcome one and all.
Come and give up your worries, give up your trouble and your strife
And let our Lady Luck guide the fate of your life.

Liam bows gracefully after his recitation, waiting to see if perhaps anyone rises in the defense of the libelous performance to which he responded, scanning the crowd of those gathered with a confident smirk and raised eyebrows.

[TheKai]

In the crowd, a figure listens and a small smile crosses his face. Filled with both cheer and sorrow. "Too easy..." And after a while he continues "....too naive."