New Whispers at the Fire
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Uljas grumbles hearing the rumors
"Can no trust hexers."
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_The grim and ghastly warrior who's face is painted returns to Norwick with yet more tales of gargantuan heroism and over-the-top gore and violence, he tells those who care to hear of the gathering hordes of Goblins and their undead allies. Of on the first day he and but a handful of fearless slayers repelled a massive assault against the town, and laughs as he gives an account of the 'not-so-fearless' horseman who was dismounted and quit the field, to run home to Peltarch to feed his fat children more sweet-bread no doubt. He tells with much drama and detail of the Goblin's head he collected, of how he paralyzed the Goblin army with fear by yelling out his name aloud, thus bellowing as part of the story "CORMAC! CORMAC! CORMAC RANDOLPH!" and swore he'd wear the creature's skull as his new codpiece.
As he tells of the battles that came after he thumps his fist gently at first upon his thigh, and tells how he battled a great and evil storm with his own mighty sound, of the vast army that marched along with him into the deep forest where the lightning struck down in fierce and deadly anger! The pounding fist on his thigh moves onto the shield he carries, pounding like a kettle-drum in rhythm, quick and noisy like the rolling of thunder - punctuated at times with a loud BANG! as he tells of their journey through hostile lands, with many of his allies being struck down by stray bolts of lightning. Of how he reached out boldly and gripped one of these bolts of lightning which had killed those in his group who were weak of heart, or unworthy of the power of the lightning, and held it in his very hands! Except - that it had been stolen from him, by an Elven witch who had been found unworthy of it's power at least three times during their mighty and hard quest._
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Soldiers of the Troff Legion have been seen more often south of Norwick helping to combat the undead goblins.
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Rumors spread of an elf in green frequenting the south, dozens of the undead goblins bodies turning up here and there randomly. Randomly the elf stands far enough from the gate to see the Red Cloaks and knows well they see her before she slips back into the woods once more, as though proving to them that she is there.
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There has been an increase of red cloaks standing guard at the gates since sightings of the Moldy Rat tribe have increased even further, there numbers higher than ever before. Still they gather dead goblin corpses left behind from adventurers, they have also begun actively slaughtering animals of the Rawlins and openly performing dark, crude rituals on the beasts rather than eating them, rather than eating most of them. Their ranks are proof, now ambushing adventurers with all manner of animals partly eaten and crudely stitched together.
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Cormac makes use of the 'cheif's' unlimited tab and plies both his audience and himself with jug upon jug of mead, as the evening winds on the repetition of his story becomes more and more embellished with projections of gore and the thumping of his fist upon tables. He offers only the most wild accounts by the end of the night, claiming that a beautiful she-Half-Goblin princess came to him that very night! to bear his and his legacy away back to her people.
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Uljas nods approvingly at this
"Sound like good fight. Go, friend, buy drinks at tavern. Put on Chief Voss's tab!"
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Cormac, the warrior bard with painted face sits by the fire in Norwick town and recites a far-fetched tale of battle and glory, where the town was beset by many machines of war which rained fiery doom down about the outer gates. And he and a handful of great companions rushed forth through the burning wreckage and slew a MIGHTY hoard of Goblin and Hobgoblin warriors, he acts out his scenes of valor by mimicking the overhead swings of his great axe, and tells of how he flew into a wild bloodfrenzy and laid waste to swathes of enemies and their catapults, and how Valkur and Tempus sent forth howling winds and white lightning to celebrate their most glorious triumph in saving the town from the army of greenskins.
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A skullheaded dwarf chuckles.
Ye call them undead? Bloody pathetic! Put some effort to it, Gobs!
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Rumor is that Norwick scouts are reporting sightings of Moldy Rat tribe goblins moving quietly in great numbers into the Howling Woods where they gather many goblin corpses after adventurer's patrols and drag them back to the old Norwick ruins.
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A female elf is seen on the battlements of Aura Runedar, could it possibly be Eilonna returned home finally to her people? How will the militia take this?
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Defender Alvaniel received a note and she can now be seen standing guard at the south tower at Norwick…. why she is there no one knows yet...
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_The forest afire!
The news spread wildly amongst Norwickians about rains of fire besieging a good portion of the northern Rawlinswoods during the better part of the afternoon, and some are even sure that they saw a gigantic red dragon land somewhere near María's tower.
The rumours get even more wild at that point, where some say the end of the world is coming, others say it's really nothing because that was María herself just taking the shape of a red dragon to get back home. Some even say that it's the legendary wyrm, Rass, that has returned to claim the land!
It seems that after all the ruckus, an abundant forest rain doused the flames, keeping the forest damage to a not excessively severe level. Some parts of the forest may take some time, but assuming the rains of fire don't repeat themselves on daily basis, the damage will regenerate without much issue_
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A strange and fanciful tale is told around the fire, the wandering healer Willow gesticulating wildly in her enthusiasm over the story, which seems centered on all things frosty: winter wolves, snow goblins, strange frozen undead and a giant mystery frost beast, feeding on the N'Jasti undead. The tale goes on to horrid Yetis, gnawing on the bones of the living and the dead, hungry Ice Trolls and a beautiful yet deadly ice spirit in the form of a woman - and finally a huge ice Hag, whose wretched countenance sent chills into the heart of men… but none more so than Salin, who was abducted for a night of questionable enjoyment!
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Refugees, who only hours before left Norwick seeking sanctuary near the Temple of Kelemvor, have magically reappeared in the fields east of town.
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It seems that there was a zombie attack on the southern gates recently, evidenced by the charred pile of stunted bodies just outside. A traveller had commented that it might be prudent to burn all fallen bodies lest they turn into fodder for the Rat Tribe goblins, before limping to the shrine of Chauntea…
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Spellweaver Professor Salin Ashald meets these rumors with a grin.
"Yes, Norwick should find a Chancellor that watches for the town's needs…"
He then waves the commoner farewell and proceeds for the town hall to find out when's the next election
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A new rumor begins to spread through the town, word of the Chancellors failure to work with Aura Runedar after the matters of Ostromog, rumor says that they refused to even speak to the dwarves treating them like they would treat a slaver after the brave Beorn fell numerous times in the final push to free the town, not to mention that the Chancellor even refused to worry about freeing our poor neighbors so they could help us further in the fight and to reunite us as one town. Word says it is time for a NEW Chancellor, one that will protect Norwicks interests and NOT their own pockets, one that will make peace and friendship with the Dwarves of Aura Runedar who ARE citizens of Norwick, rekindle our friendship with Peltarch, and once again make Norwick a safe place for our children to play!!
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Words are being spread through the farmers and citizens in a very hushed tone about the Chancellor and the Chiefs failures to protect Norwick, word speaks of them pushing away their allies and friends, draining away the guards and the militia over time, proof of that alone being the new recruits being seen within days of a new Colonel. Suggestions go out of a new election, yet it seems no one will admit where they hear this word from.
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A huge burst of magic sprouted up from the Rawlinswood recently, turning into a blizzard heading east before dissipating.
