Camp Bon Fire Rumors and Stories
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Orion was seen wandering from the empty bridge, past the utter lack of Hoarans in the least, and into the heavily fogged but empty camp. She wandered it fore and aft, occasionally talking to no on in particular. Or perhaps people only she could see. She sat down near the communal fire eventually, drank a bottle of Rom wine, and wondered what horrible fate no doubt befell these people, and then went on her way.
"No doubt little bastahds had it comin to dem but this won't be da end of it, no way" She remarked as she walked through the Peltarch commons.
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A grave, small and forgotten along the rear of the camp near the entrance to the woods, lies empty. The weathered and forgotten stone marker shoved to the side and near the grave are the remains of some type of ritual in the form of burned down candles, strange charms and pendants, and the sparkling dust of a diamond intermingled with the dew waiting to be burned off by the light of the day.
One set of tracks leads to this grave and two lead away, heading back into the woods from whence they came. The keen eye if they examined the stone for some time would be able to make out little more than the deeply carved name, the epitaph lost to time and the heart that mournfully inscribed it.
"Orion Nerefar"
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_Not long after the arrow comes flying over the wall, the gates open and a large number of heavily armed Hoarrans come flooding out quickly forming a semi-circle and walking a clear slow path towards the bridge. None of those in the pass patrolling make any move to get in their way, and behind them… slowly coming from the gates appear to be children and women, unarmored men with them pushing hand carts. A woman, dark haired rides along the line with a length of rope keeping everyone in line. Splitting them into roughly groups of five, she makes sure that all groups are connected to another by rope. Seemingly, pleased finally with the arrangement (and possibly driven more by the sudden shouting within the camp) she raises her hand in a swift motion and one person in each of the groups starts singing, as the songs continue, each group disappears from sight, leaving an empty pass except for some seemingly amused scouts.
An amusement that is quickly gone from their expressions when Jonathan appears with a blood tipped spear to gaze in silence for a long time, before turning back in to the camp when it's clear no one will speak of where those in the pass went._
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_The camouflaged Eluriel leaves the gathering place to move swiftly North through the trees. She is unseen and unheard by the better part of the wildlife, let alone any human traffic down the so-called safe route. Neither tracks nor scent trail mark the slender elf’s passage.
She hasn't gone as far as the Legion tower before she stops to stand quiet and still. Watching. Turning her head to let the scents on the breeze waft past and listening for the small sounds of a stealthy predator. Nothing. Only after judging herself unobserved does the grassy coloured shape move across the narrowest part of the open ground and on into the heavier forest which rims the gnoll woods.
South along the treeline then West out of the woods and up into the hills. She moves adroitly along a familiar route. And it is one chosen to keep rises behind her as she picks her way onwards, her profile invisible to any who might watch from below. Ever-sharp senses hum with awareness in case of an unexpected scout or guard themselves in the hills. Eluriel comes to a stop close to the boundary fence to mount a boulder set against the steep incline which takes the barrier to its highest point.
Her balance easy, the elf slides a dark bowstave out its case on her back and readies it with a twisted sinew string taken from a pocket on the outside of the quiver at her hip. Hanging alongside this is what might be an especially long scroll case, but it is a single arrow which is removed from the cylinder. The bulbous tip is carved and hollow. She blows softly on the fletching, looking for an imperfection she does not find.
Eluriel swings the bow into place, fitting this arrow to it. With a strength far beyond that suggested by her slender flame, the archer pulls the arrow back and speaks a single word, “Dulinelea,” then fires.
The arrow streaks through the sky along the Northern edge of the camp towards its mark followed by the sound of a loud, high-pitched kettle at the boil. It flies almost impossibly far and whistles its message near the full length of the outer camp. Having passed the leafy bowyers of Cera’s tree the missile flies low along the boulder-strewn clifftop. The whistle fades as the arrow’s propulsion fails close to the site of the old vine rope.
The ranger has already turned to head back the way she came. This accompanied by the small, subtle elven hand gesture that is in part an acknowledgement of battle averted._
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_The hawk catches sight of something tasty to the west, and breaks away as fast as its wings can carry it to catch it….
.....then turns back north once it feels confident nobody can see it, and follows Aelthas until it's sure he's safe from attack._
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And somewhere behind the two a stomp of frustration at the teleport.
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A good amount of time later, and the two are escorted back out from the camp, and sent on their way. The two horsemen that took them in, ride off hard to the north. Aelthas and Sy have a short conversation, before Sy shrugs, turns and is gone into nothing with a step. Aelthas has a much longer walk to Peltarch.
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((available to anyone who wanders the pass, though what happens in the camp would be limited to those scouting. One PM to verify whether you hear and/or see what happens))
_As the sun rises across the pass two figures come across a rise walking openly in to the claimed Hoarran lands. One dressed in Romani clothing, and walking with a limp, the other in a worn, tattered and oft mended cloak that seems to crawl in an odd way with the early morning light.
From the high grass rise slim forms to meet them, hard to see till they stand, but neither adventurer seem startled or even surprised by their sudden appearance. The slimmer of the two adventurers flips his cloak back over one shoulder, showing an arm with a white strip of cloth tied around his upper arm. He raises both of his hands showing them empty and sidesteps in front of the adventurer in Romani clothing, and speaks clearly…_
My name… is Sy'wyn Blackwood. Once an Elder.. of the same camp you call home. Long ago... sworn to give aid to that place... and to not bring danger into its lands. I would keep.. that word. I carry that oath still. We seek to speak... not with your leaders.. but with you and yours. Would you hear us..? The man with me.. is known to you. Aelthas... also once of the camp...
The Hoarrans do not lower bows, nor let tension off bow strings, watching closely. More scouts begin standing up around the two. Just when it appears that tensions may spill over in to something violent two riders come galloping at full speed down the road from north, the one in front raising his hand.
Hail, Aelthas! He nods to Aelthas then looks over the gathered scouts. Stand down! Maybe one day you'll have a stab at him, don't be so quick to rush it! A quick smile back to Aelthas and Sy'wyn, Danielle thought you might be trying something rash or stupid like walking in to talk to people. Come on then, we're to escort you if you show by her orders.
The two mounted Hoarrans flank the adventurers and escort them in to the camp and beyond the gates.
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((for those PCs who have been risking themselves scouting Hoarran lands, one PM to verify the you would indeed know the below))
The camp seems fractured, as people no longer wander about alone. Though the nights are still spent in wine, tale, and music… dark rumors are beginning to be whispered of an ill curse spreading again. Three patrols have gone missing, nothing but bloody patches found in the spider woods, the gnoll lands... and Hoar knows what happened to the Cold Cave expedition. There was the child Jonathan had been working with... still missing. And old Mary that was fetching water? They found her bucket, but nothing else. Though the searches have increased, everyone seems to have an opinion. From dark winged creatures to another Queen Spider having risen, to gnolls looking for food, having been trapped so long. Even the ogres get mention. Patrols are certainly up, not just at the gates, but along the ravines and cliff edges.
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Shadovar were reported active in the Gnoll Forest and once again pressing the Hoarans at the camp. Battling both Gnolls and Hoarans on seperate fronts eventual caused the shadows to lift and the Shadovar to return to wherever they now lurk.
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Shadows descended on the Camp and a small skirmish ensued between the Hoarans and the Shadovar, rumors of the Hoarans repulsing the attack are heard, but an increase in Hoarans in the pass was felt following the attack, what caused the attack is unknown.
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The fireballs launched towards the warrior hits with such impact he's thrown several yards back. Even though he is unable to land on his feet, he still manages to roll around and quickly push himself up to regain his balance. Cursing over having his invisibility dispelled, yet a wry grin soon spreads over his face as the magic missiles appears to simply be omitted by some invisible force, it's intended effect left out as a damped poofing sound puts out the lights from the magic missiles as if water poured on fire
You fools have been exiled too long to even grasp reason. The Nars just fell from your grasp!
With heavy and long steps the warrior disappears into the gnoll infested woods
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The last one offered the same!
Due to the armor… this time it's a fireball followed by a dispel to the area once the invisibility potion has been drank. Magic missiles light up the night until the message is clear.
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_A heavily armored warrior watches and waits until the woman in red has made her escape. He remains silent for a while longer and curiously observes the commotion from a distance before he makes his entrance.
With spikes covering the end of his broad shoulders and a green oozing sword sheathed on his back, he only holds his shield readied in case his presence would receive the same welcome as the previous visitor. Easily to access, his belt pocket carries an already opened potion of invisibility.
With opened arms he raises his voice_
And vengeance is best brought out with allies! Atol was a great man, I say this because I have had the honor of fighting side by side with him! I've come to you now to offer strength in the battle of a shared enemy. You are not alone in these lands to be forced into exile and…
// the speech will continue here unless another arrow comes flying within a day or two, RL time
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Seeing that she's not going to be listened to, she departs quickly without risking antagonising them further.
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A shout followed by an arrow is the response…
Tell that shite to the last elder ya all jus' wanted to farkin' speak to!
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A brown haired woman, dressed in red, approaches the Hoaran sentries with no weapons bared, her hands raised as if to signify no ill intent.
Please, hear me out before you dismiss me. I'm a historian and I'm recording the history of the land. I wish to speak with one of your elders, to learn of your history so that it can be recorded for others to learn from.
I bear you no ill will.
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((If you use this as a rumor or as direct gained information, please PM how your PC got wind of the story please))
Jonathan waits by the fires, staring into its flames while he waits for the Hoaarans to gather themselves. Finally looking up from the flames he turns to his people and begins speaking softly.
We can no longer stay quiet my friends. We can no longer hide ourselves here in our valley and declare ourselves safe. Soon, I will give the order to take our old positions in the pass, soon we will work to regain what is ours.
He looks quietly around the crowd.
Violence will meet violence, my friends. Our scouts have brought word of a Peltarch agent trying to frame us for the murder of a Legionaire in the pass. An agent so BRAZEN as to come to our gates and try to blackmail us into complacency. I had our old friend Silverblade speak to this woman in good faith… and in breach of good faith she stabbed him in the neck and fled like a coward.
What once was old blood on their hands has been dipped fresh anew from the bodies of our fallen. If we do not respond, we will only invite future attacks upon ourselves. Many of you know we have tools we did not have the last time, tools we swore not to use unless we must.
I say now we MUST! I say now we WILL!
Bring vengeance upon any who walk our lands, and know that THEY have brought this upon THEMSELVES!
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_Slow rumors begin to seep out through reports of some Legion scouts and those few who are brave enough to sneak close to the old camp. None have seen anything themselves, but it seems that every watch group set out by the old camp seems to have one story on their lips, spoken about in hushed tones. Though the stories always differ as to purpose they all seem to be around one theme. Jonathan was seen entering Cera's old tree with a young child, and exited hours later with a box that he immediately left to parts unknown with.
Theories abound about what was in the box. Some as simple as him wanting to clean out the tree to make room for new growth. Some that he's adopted the child and is claiming the tree as his new home. A few make note the box had to have contained some kind of powerful artifact left behind by the tree's previous owners and that it would be used soon.
Either way, as confusing as the stories may be, it certainly does seem interesting._
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*One of the last remaining true gali strides into the camp, presenting his oath whenever he is stopped, heads down into the communial tree and gathers up his belongings. As he strides out of the camp, he nods to all the Hoarans. When he is out of arrow range he sits and straps on his armour which has changed to black and blue, colours of the Leigon and heads up to Peltarch.
