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

A courier wearing Mystran regalia would arrive on a fine horse carrying a letter which would be handed over to one of the watchers should they accept it.

The letter itself would have a Mystran seal on it. Once delivered, the courier would depart in somewhat haste, perhaps off to deliver another parcel somewhere else, riding away from the village.

With the name Vanira written upon the sealed scroll, the ranger on watch takes it in hand. The elves then offered the rider a bit of food and water for both himself and his stead, allowing them a brief moment of rest before continuing their journey to deliver the next parcel.

The scroll, it finds its way passed onward to one of their own couriers, who set off at once towards the Glimmerlady's home. It was to join the flight of paperwork dragons upon her desk. The ever-growing stack of a tasks to tend to. If only these dragons would come with gems in tow....

The day had proven not to be a dull one....

Under the canopies of the ancient trees that surrounded Doron Amar, one of the most curious of sights was the Glimmerlady sprinting through the village towards the gates. The hem of her dress was lifted high in one hand to ease her stride, her voice clear and commanding as she called for healers to follow her.

At the village gate, the rangers had their bows drawn, eyes narrowed at the two approaching figures. What ever they saw stirred up unease. Their aim would be true. It was only at the Glimmerlady's command to "Stand Down!" that their hands eased and their bows reluctantly lowered.

Time passed before the party passed back through the gate. The Glimmerlady leading the way once more. Here she make sure the bows remained lowered. Two large men, one elven the other not, guided the one that brought unease up to the temple.

There was no pause, they walked silent and purposeful.

The oath has been kept.

A quiet traveler in dusky clothing, bearing the marks of long roads and wilder paths, was seen approaching the gates of Doron Amar. It was clearly his first visit, and he moved through the village in silent amazement while cautiously taking in the sacredness of the place.

Not long after he greeted some of the settelement's inhabitants, including at least one of its councillors, a rare sight stirred the village: a small procession of ancient treants passed through, their towering forms creaking with age. They spoke in calm tones with the new visitor and the children of Correllon Larethian, as if catching up with old friends. The treefolk mentioned they were bound for the "Dome of Rainbows" and only stopping by briefly before continuing on their journey.

Whether the ancient beings visit was mere coincidence or somehow drawn by the visitor's presence, none can say.

The Village was on alert after the warning had been sent; black orcs moving through the Glimmerwood... an enemy the People would neither forget or forgive.

Only a few candlemarks after the warning had been given, the Glimmerlady appeared, as if by magic, upon the path with a small group beside her. They bore the marks of recent battle upon them, as did she, her dress in tatters her expression alert and concerned.

The rangers at the gate reacted at once, bows raised and strings drawn taut. Just as quickly, they lowered their weapons at the Glimmerlady’s signal and words to stand down. One among her company, cowered behind despite the calling the guards aim being lowered. The man in the hat was not about to risk the chance of a 'accidental' stray arrow...

Words were exchanged with those keeping watch, and soon after, more figures arrived. Of those gathered, five entered the village, while the rest lingered near the path that lead to the Village, waiting for word to be sent back to them.

Time slipped by....

One woman then emerged from the village, her clothes spattered with blood. No, splattered would be the wrong way to describe it... it was a storm of blood. Her clothing and skin were covered... heavy droplets clung to them in a chaotic pattern. It spoke not of a personal injury, but of being in the close proximity of something that was very violently undone.

The presence of one that had lingered outside the Village, approached concerned.

Minutes later, the Glimmerlady stepped out, she too, was covered in blood.... dark wet patches that soaked into her tattered dress, her hair, her pale skin. Sharp eyes would see that there was more than just blood... there were bits of flesh... viscera... there was nothing 'glimmering' in this scene. Her facial expression was one that looked as if she was still processing whatever had just transpired within the Village.

Two others followed close behind her; untouched by blood... yet heavy expressions having witnessed a violence that would likely haunt them the rest of their days.

Brief words were exchanged between them before groups parted ways.

((A DM Smile event))

Earlier in the day the Knightly Lord Lyonaler entered the Village and met with the Glimmerlady within her dwelling. About a candle mark later he once more exited, seeming to be in a hurry to the next meeting.

Solemn hour in the middle of evening, Alasaris, Vanira, and the Micar Iliathor sisters deliver the remains of kin in preparation of interning, as well as its presumed recovered offspring for rest.