Tavern Rumors of Peltarch
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_Burning fires and screams of pain and grief. Cursing guards dashing to and fro, glancing often at the sky.
The push was heavy and vicious. The outer south wall was left in ruins, and the inner wall breached. A mix of Defenders, allied troops, and adventures fought desperately, as civilians ran in terror or died screaming. At one point the forces of Peltarch were pushed back into the commons before rallying and driving the baying hordes back.
Survivors speak of a great red dragon incinerating both sides, massive demon siege beasts, swarms of demonic flyers, Vrocks, herzou, succubi, and fiend-orcs. Many soldiers and adventurers fell.
Yet the city still stood at days' end… Even if the exhausted survivors might be too tired to savor their victory._
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_After a skirmish at the south gates, an inpenetrable wall of infernal fire rose, trapping the defenders at the walls as demons poured in to assail them. Just when it seemed all hope was lost, bright creatures descended on the whitest of feathered wings - at long last, the city's own guardian angel, the most beloved and revered Lady Daisy Millern of Tyr had arrived, alongside the shining Devas known as Lunara, Bastilla and Spica.
Carried over the flames in celestial arms were Ashena Teroldys and Allestor Hollins of the Order of the Divine Shield, and the Cerulean priestess of Mystra, Sheserai Foutopolis. With these new arrivals, the fight was won and the flames vanquished.
Word soon spreads that the four celestials will remain to protect the city, residing within the Temple of the Triad itself to be called on in times of need._
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"…so and out of the sky, right, it's a dragon! An actual dragon. Not as big as I'd heard they were. Little bigger than a big ox, sort of thing. Right in the middle of the commons. Copper. Those are the safe ones. Safer. Whatever."
Dodger motions for more ale.
"So it lands and starts to talk, but it says very little. All profound and philosophic like. Everyone's gasping and grinning and nodding at the thing, like it was Ilmater come to cure the sick. Mostly it just grinned and enigma'd at people.
"It did say something about more dragons. Watching us. That pleased everyone even more. Tempus's Arm, why in the name of the gods would you welcome being watched by dragons? I mean, are they watching when I bathe? Because that's sort of creepy. And if they're helpful dragons, wouldn't they have stepped in by now?"
Clearly having had a few glasses, Dodger gestures grandly.
"Mark my words, when there are dragons burning the city and watching us all undress, you can cover your privates, huddle in a cellar, and say, 'Dodger told us so'."
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_Rumour goes round peltarch that a group of adventurers made good with a mage's help through a portal to south norwick. With limited time they made quick work of collecting better basic weapons and shields with some armour for the guards and adventurers within the city. Along with the supplies are two large Oxen that Dermin and Abigail set upon the old soup table before the usually golem covered plate Abigail set to gutting, skinning, and butchering the animals.
Several hours later a stew was started and the exhausted pale looking warrior stumbled to the east, weaker and more exhausted than one may expect from a typical supply run._
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While doing rounds healing soldiers on the wall and doing what she could to bolster morale, Martoushca leaffall was cut off from her companions by a cluster of flying demons. Her sickle seemed incapable of inflicting serious damage against the flying creatures that blocked her exits. She fought against them on the wall alone, and would eventually have fallen or been carried off if it weren't for General Theon and a mixed group of Legion soldier and adventurers who broke through, provided a distraction and enabled the "Voice of the People" to join a melee that defeated the airborne/teleporting assault.
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Isolde, her luxuriant red hair pulled back into a faux-elven styled warbraid, sings the following compelling war song at the Commons and as close to the battlements as she dares, a steady marching rythm thumped out on a small hand drum:
"Axes flash and broadswords swing,
Shining armors piercing ring!
Horses run with a polished shield,
Fight those bastards til they yield!
Midnight mare and blood-red roan,
fight to keep this land your own!
Sound the horn and call the cry:
~How many of them can we make die!~Follow orders as you're told,
Make their yellow blood run cold!
Fight until you win or drop,
A force like ours is hard to stop!
Close your mind to stress and pain
fight until you're no longer sane!
Let not one damned cur pass by,
~How many of them can we make die!~Guard your women and children well,
Send these bastards back to hell!
We'll teach them the ways of war,
They won't come here anymore!
Use your shield and use your head,
Fight till everyone is dead!
Raise your flag up into the sky,
~How many of them can we make die!~Dawn has broke, the time has come,
move your feet to the marching drum!
We'll win this war and pay the toll,
We'll fight as one in heart and soul!
Midnight mare and blood-red roan,
fight to keep this land your own!
Sound the horn and call the cry:
~How many of them can we make die!~Axes flash and broadswords swing,
Shining armors piercing ring!
Horses run with a polished shield,
Fight those bastards til they yield!
Midnight mare and blood-red roan,
fight to keep this land your own!
Sound the horn and call the cry:
~How many of them can we make die!~~How many of them can we make die!~
~How many of them can we make die!~"
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While taking up his regular patrols through the city streets, Sir Allestor Hollins of the Divine Shield - who some may still title The Slayer for his victory over the undead herald of the south - can be seen casting consecration spells along the waters of the docks district, in the hopes of providing some ease to the citizens concern as well as aid to their forthcoming amphibious allies.
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For the past few days a scrawny, talkative hin has been ingratiating herself with the defenders of the city. Though poorly equipped with a homemade shortbow (which is honestly little more than a stick with some string) and only the most basic scavenged gear, she has nonetheless shown a dogged determination to make a contribution to the war effort.
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_After battling a horde of demons that spilled through an open ritual-gate of some kind and winning their victory over the beasts, a fresh mist fell over the commons in the hour or so before dawn, enshrouding the adventurers who had valiantly laid low the monsters just a short time earlier. The mist persisted through the dawn but came to nothing; it wasn't until a Thayvian wizard had been asked the nature of this fog that it was revealed to be of undead design - an attack halted by the rising of the sun.
The adventurers have been given fair warning to gather supplies and prepare to take the fight down into the crypts, else the summoning may continue come nightfall._
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Rumors abuzz suggests that foreign royalty, a Princess no less, had joined in repelling the Giantkin and Orcs from the Western Walls. The participation of such a prominent figure in direct combat perhaps serving as a boost to morale, especially as her arrows and blade had indeed toppled many a foe alongside the City's brave Defenders and adventurers. Is she the heroine that the city needs during its troubled times? Who knows - but it sure makes for a good story!
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_Bustling from City Hall to the walls and off into the city as need dictates, the sight of Cerulean Commander Lycka Zomasdottir and her undeniably striking husband Aelthas - the Pink Wolf - becomes an everyday occurance. The two seem to stick close at all times, back to back in the thick of battle or at the planning tables.
Meanwhile, the wandering healer Willow wafts through the city like a breath of fresh air, healing wounds and curing ailments, lifting curses and restoring drained life forces. Only rarely does she step into the fray of battle, but rather focuses on keeping the troupes alive throughout. When Shaundakuls blessings run dry, she proves to be an excellent field medic, capable in both surgery and herbal skills.
The crimson-curled Isolde, however, seems rather more taken by the gravity of the situation. She spends most of her time off the streets and ramparts, usually at the Mermaid, where she spins her light-hearted tales and occasionally sings, attempting to lift spirits._
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In and around the Lucky Ferret Inn, the Black Sails in their distinctive gold and black colours keep a close lookout. Despite the siege, the petite captain of the trading company, Sabre Seesaw, hangs a sign on the door:
"Open for business - hot foot, burnin' brews, protective potions an' coolin' lotions - plus all th'weaponry yer purse allows"
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The ever smiling and jovial nomad, Yatagan, whilst a constant sight upon the walls, grabbing and helping those he can, though he rarely ever strikes, his magic and enthusiasm alone provide their help! Though the curious rumours abound that since the arrival of the Silvers and their timely aid, he has been found staring enraptured by one of them in particular! Jovial turned shy he works harder upon the front line now almost as if he seeks to impress!
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_Numerous adventurers from all over the lands gather to protect Peltarch when they hear of the coming siege.
Some are Peltarch's own troops. The helmite defender Adelie de'Lanieth stays vigilant, sharpening her sword for more demons to come. Longtime guard Annie Quickspear patrols the area around Stargazer's shop and phoenix guildhall. The cerulean Emellia throws her spells at the enemy. The magistrate Rath Ashald-Jorinsen is sporting full combat gear and riding his trusty steed, Aspera.
Others are notable local adventurers: the sunny priest of Lathander, C'tan, is seen guarding the docks and staying by her sister at the temple of Morninglord. Womanizing pirate John Isle concentrates on keeping the Sails owned structures standing. The merry bard Helena tries to keep the morale up.
From the refugees of Silver Valley come the lunatic gnome GROVEL, and one of the Tealeafs, Cloudberry.
Along the dwarves coming from the dwarven hold one might see the elderly Glognar Troff and Gloinus Kegheart as well as the younger, purple bard Hignar.
Elves too are spotted. There's the silent archer Amilmathien and the bladedancer Mebrilmathrade.
Druids of all alignments unite against the unnatural demonic threat. Among them are the malarite Glebrindra and the skullmasked talonan Alinda._
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In the wake of the first attacks, a misty shape drifts down towards the Commons, wafted along by a cool and soothing wind. Looking at first like a thin patch of cloud, the figure reveals itself to be more and more humanoid in shape as it gets closer, finally solidifying as its feet touch the ground. A tall and reedy woman in green armour looks about, her white cloak still fluttering in the remaining wind.
"I heard this place might need a helping hand!", the woman exclaims, a wide grin on her face.
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And so it begins. The initial stages of the siege of Peltarch spells dark times for the city as hordes of fell orcs, demons and bloodthirsty Garagossans attacked the west and south gates, as well as opening portals into each of the city's district…
((just a little placeholder rumour to verify to everyone that the siege has indeed begun. Those who saw the attacks, feel free to add detail to the rumour mills!))
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Rumor has it that the hermetic Nathen Wingates has emerged from the Bardic College and Theatre. What is certain is that the playwright has not been seen since the fall of Jiyyd, and the departure of Maya from this realm. Some even say he has not been seen even before those events. What is also certain is that the flashy friend of the city seeks to donate to the city's military and militia ranks, to bolster Peltarch's defenses given the recent state of affairs.
One version of the rumor claims that he was asking locals - such as the songstress Isolde and sir Yatagan - about where to give donations for the upcoming war effort to save the city.
Another version of the rumor has him actually pushing a wheelbarrow filled with a small life's fortune - paintings, gold, jewelry - and bringing it to the defender's keep for donation.
Which version is the more accurate one remains unclear.
((Will let a DM take gold to help tip the scales.))
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_Onlookers in the Peltarch Commons could see Brumir and Raryldor arguing and shouting insults at each other. Brumir gets up and walks away towards the marketplace.
A few moments later a loud noise is heard followed by a foul stench where Raryldor and his cat were standing. The dwarf Brumir appeared out of nowhere and was laughing hysterically. He then ran south out of the gates of Peltarch with unnatural speed. Raryldor angrily tried to chase the dwarf, but could not keep up._
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Rumor has it that priestess and defender Anna Blake has been heard to be open for doing enchantment for the city of Peltarch fundraiser. Experienced in her craft, she will be taking one time bids for a single, powerful enchantment. , starting at a minimum of 13,700 coin, with all proceeds going to the city. She asks whatever you wish to enchanted, please have the base material and possibly any gems or accessories that you would like incorporated into it so she can have it done as quick as possible.
((Anna will enchant up to a 9 point item for the highest bidder. As with Emer's auction awhile back, I'll be doing one private bid per person, that can be sent in either PM IG through a letter she can pick up at the defenders, or Forum Private message. Bids will end next Wednesday.))
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_As if the looming threat of the Kuo-Toa were not enough, portals letting out horrific creatures sprouted city-wide, pressing guards, Ceruleans and adventurers alike to spring into frantic action. Hairy spiders giggling like children, enormous floating eyeballs, tall and gaunt tentacle-faced monstrosities - everywhere the red portals spewed them out, spreading fear and death.
Frightened residents of the Residential district murmur and peer cautiously behind their curtains, as rumours also circulate about dread demons such as Vrocks and Succubi appearing out of the blue, assailing Magistrate D'Arneau and his two companions. Though it's without a doubt that the fiends soon knew Torm's wrath, the reason for their appearance gives much room for speculation.
And in the Commerce district, a red-headed woman in clingy blue silks tells the tale of a massive black dragon, disguised as a man until revealing its true and fearful shape. The dragon is said to have spewed its contempt for humankind with a searing acid breath before taking to the skies, due south._
