Tavern Rumors of Peltarch
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A few commoners can be heard complaining in the Mermaid "Them jagass adventurers I says, no wine and no food for us who came late to the Kings coronation! Bet dem adventurin types scarfed it all! (Or was it stolen! Dun dun DUN!)
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It is rumored that while Jurino was ranting in the market square a Million golds was withdrawn from the Peltarch bank.
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With the recent upheavals surrounding the city, and the increased incursions from outside forces reshaping the countryside, new opportunities have opened up for intrepid adventurers seeking to make a name, or a bigger name, for themselves. New legions of undead in the barrows to the west of the city wait in their dark crypts to test the mettle of anyone foolish enough to venture into their dark recesses!
Tales have been told of secret passages and hidden treasure for those who survive the onslaught of the damned. At least, for those who return from the barrows...
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The city is abuzz with news of an unexpected light show that happened just the other night. All over the city, fireworks exploded into a riot of color, all of them shaped like the smiling face of a gnome. That same gnome - one Jorvin Fendiggle - was later seen walking the streets, asking citizens to please vote for him as the gnomish community's representative in the Hinhold elections.
The fact that the people he was speaking to were not citizens of Hinhold, and that most of them weren't even gnomes, did little to deter him.
He was also said to be quite enthusiastic about his proposal to declare that Hinhold's sister city is the Moon, as well his commitment to fighting for the right of Hinhold's dogs and horses to vote.
Some have noted that there is a relative lack of horses in Hinhold, owing largely to the fact that most of its residents are far too small to ride them. Fendiggle dismisses these assertions, claiming such to be vile anti-horse propaganda which he does not deem worthy of comment. He further asserts that such lies are likely spread by the Cat industry, long known, he claims, for promoting such falsehoods in the name of their dark and mysterious agenda.
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Every few days or so.. an apparently blind lady wanders Peltarch seemingly at random. Raazi never makes it too far from the Mermaid Inn or the Lighthouse Temple. She often is discovered knocking on and/or trying to open doors when she finds them. For the most part she is predictably distracted and is rather easy to subdue. Usually its the abrupt crying or bouts of screaming that leads others to ferry her to elsewhere, but more so than not its the trespassing. When she's turned over to guards or priests there is nothing known amongst them currently to help the woman, only a place to stay and disturb the public less.
The answers provided from guards or local priests are that a few weeks ago Raazi had a run in with a horror of the Astral Plane and is a subect in a murder case. Studying or attempting to cure her blindness and/or her mental state reveals that her condition is of a non-magical nature and that she herself is resisting and not accepting help to cure the blindness. The details of the event are known to a few adventurers: Sebrienne, Makoto, Elodie.
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An exciting, lighthearted day in the ruined city of Peltarch; Somekind of festival! Five contestants running through the city, collecting eggs and friendly sparring matches to a loud, joyous applause. Curiously, no one seems to be able to say who organised the festivities, what the festival was for, or where the applausing crowd seemed to be. But it seemed to be devilishly fun!
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As the repairs of the lands surrounding Peltarch get underway, one of the morning's shipments of materials carries an unusual sight.
A normally extremely colourful and lavishly dressed halberdier goes out with the shipment, dressed in undyed wools and leathers. His halberd on his shoulder just the same, but he doesn't seem dressed for war.
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Rumors have it that the loving couple of Ravos and Varya Tiller will look into organizing repairs for towns and lands on the outskirts of Peltarch to be restored and fixed. The duo seem enthused and happy as ever, working together outside the realm of their usual duties in service to Peltarch as captains of their own branches.
Another rumor going on about the farmlands is that Tiller may be expecting a child in a few months from now, and while training and exercise regiment seems to remain the same with her and the soldiers under her charge, the paladina seems to be refraining from active adventure at the moment to preserve the treasure Chauntea had bestowed upon her.
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In the aftermath of the downfall of Jessica Whyte, one familiar face in Peltarch is notably absent much of the time: Roslyn Underhill, Whyte's longtime political adversary and, some might say, nemesis, is said to spend long hours shut in her apartment in the docks. While she keeps up her usual cheerful appearances on the rare occasions she ventures out in public, those closest to her would speak privately of a depression that seems to be settling over the normally raucous hin.
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In the aftermath of the defeat of Jessica Whyte, the city, albeit even more badly damaged than before, regains a certain spirit of optimism. The Black Sails, they say, came out of the ordeal with flying colours (for staying out of the fighting entirely) and celebration runs rampant at the Lucky Ferret Inn. This can perhaps explain the tale of one particular guildsman, who swears to have seen a small army of monsters calmly traipse out of the city through the main gates in broad daylight. A floating suit of armour, a rakshasa, a towering ogre, glowing green lights and other oddities - either a very unusual circus passed through town or this Black Sail stood guard still drunk as the proverbial skunk!
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In ever increasing numbers children are heard chanting odd slogans, some wile doing chores, others while playing, some just scampering about. Things like Fish Breath Jess and Whyte smells of Seamen can be heard while moving through the city. A new popular jump rope song pops up (to the tune of Lizzie Borden) Jessy Whyte bought a death, payment was under her dress, when it failed she stomped her feet, and out crabs dropped onto the street.
The children might react in a number of ways if approached by an adult, guard, seafarer or other.
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In the various taverns, bars and dives across Peltarch, particularly with crowds who were receptive to the Song of Brante, Elodie Rumae has a new song to sing.
Oh people, of The Jewel
The kind and the cruel
Come together, come to me
I would have words with thee
Of oppression, of strife
And of upcoming fife
And a hero, Sebrienne
Maybe you've heard the name now and then?Oh people, of The Jewel
Look up from your gruel
Are you rich? Are you proud?
What about the others in the crowd?
And the Guilds? The Seafarers?
The "beloved" torchbearers?
While we're in ruins, and the muck
In which ditch are they stuck?
Oh wait! There's no ditch!
Just a certain stuck up...Oh people! Of The Jewel!
Will you be played for fools?
Will you be suckers? Be schmucks?
Hang around like sitting ducks?
Let them rule you? Let them abuse?
Just quietly cover up the bruise?
Quietly suffer? Quietly blame?
Quietly consider all the shame?
Or will you stand up? Stand up?
Stand up for all thePeople, of The Jewel!
Things have already begun
They're going to silence those who stand
The one named Sebrienne!
She fought oppression
She helped saved lives
With mystic powers over the skies
And what did they do?
To the Gaol they threw
And next they'll do it to you.Oh people, of The Jewel!
Don't you think it's unusual?
They praise Asha, Isolde, Eliro and Rey
But not the one who saved the day?Oh people, of The Jewel!
Don't you think it's unusual?
She's on trial, for what?
For Peace? For Naught?
Is this all what you were taught?
To take it? To obey? To watch on in shock?
Until it's your time on the headsman's block?Oh people, of The Jewel
Are there ones among you who'll
Stand for freedom, Stand for what's right?
Who wont run away at the sign of a fight?
Stand for Sebri, who stood for you
Or will you stand aside and allow the coup?
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Amidst the swirl of rumours around Edwin Ashald's attempted vote of no confidence against Jessica Whyte at Seafarer HQ, one particular story stands out. This rumour describes Reyhenna Jorino's sudden beheading of a boy during the middle of the meeting, and the full-blown chaos that ensued after. Some versions of the tale insist the boy beheaded was still not dead, was in fact ~undead~ and that the head and body continued to wreak havoc upon the assembly until finally destroyed with great mutual effort. While those in the know might whisper the name Triloquist, others can but state one strange fact in the aftermath: neither head nor body of any child have been found after the dust settled.
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Attacks on Peltarch continue intermittantly from the Jewel's more opportunistic neighbours - most recently kobolds and lizardmen in joint forces, striking through the waterways. A successful evacuation of the Commerce district beforehand saw no commoners come to harm, though the scalykind's last big push wrought some casualties amongst the defenders. For now, however, the waters are still and the threat averted.
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Rumours flying around the docks district speak of three Wavebreaker sailors, found dead in the sewers under suspicious circumstances. Darien Hardin, newly returned from travels overseas, could surely have hoped for a better welcome home gift than these dire tidings.
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An edited, sing-along version of the Song of Brante (written by Elodie Rumae) is spread throughout the taverns of Peltarch:
Struck with a sword
Beat on the head
One by one you fell and you bled
A Punch to the gut
a kick to your balls
Your screams echo through the City Hall
Break off your Limbs
Rip off your ears
That's gonna hurt for a few more yearsThe name's Brante, that's right.
Brante, Get it right.
Brante the Lord of Terror
He'll beat everyone of your damned Seafarers.Brante, Brante, that's his name
Brante, Brante, he's to blame
For all these blood spots, on the floor
For the pain in your crotch, and so much more
For the throb in your head
And the blood you shed
Boys, you're lucky that you're not dead.The name's Brante, that's right.
Brante, Get it right.
Brante the Lord of Terror
He'll beat everyone of your damned Seafarers.If you want more, you know where to find him
With his big sword he'll swing on a nigh whim
So go for the glory, Go for the pain
Just know, if you go, you'll be cut in twain.
Go if you think you can settle the score
And before you know you'll fall before...Brante! That's right!
Brante, You got it right!
Brante, the Lord of Terror!
And he's going to beat everyone of your damned Seafarers!
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Cormac's return to the city may be noted with his seditious crooning. Not at all unlike Brante's songs, his words too fill the air most nights - accompanied by the violent wailings of his magic 'singing' axe. After a mug or two of ale, and a turkey leg in his belly he'll start his song all at once.
"...but I look around me and wonder - how could it come to this? Let me tell you about the uprising..."
*I've been to many lands to fight force our enemies back
In Valkur's I've raised my axe for the attack!
Serving in heroes' ranks, for honour and for fame
And now we're back in the grand town
to raise our claim!Storm and fire
we'll provoke to those
Standing in our way, a sanguine river flows!**Call on the warriors
Varangians unite!
Dethrone the usurpers
The gods want us to fight!Remember the good times
When we were young and full of pride
The uprising begins, the palace burns
Head for the storm with us or die!*His axe sings out its peculiar song, a bold grin spreading across his black-painted lips, kohl lined eyes scanning the room for those who might have backbone enough to stand with him.
Open the City Gates for all Peltarch to break free
Let's follow them in union and for victory!
Down to the palace where the usurpers try to hide
You corrupt guilds! You're dead and gone, by Cormac's might!*Storm and fire
we'll provoke to those
Standing in our way, a sanguine river flows!Call on the warriors
Varangians unite
Dethrone the usurpers!
The gods want us to fightRemember the good times
When we were young and full of pride
The uprising begins, the palace burns
Head for the storm with us or die*After this chorus his axe-play peaks, his fingers moving rapidly along the length - each striking another note, some shrill, some heavy tones so thick they'd make the back teeth of those close enough to vibrate in their skulls. After his great solo he calls out the seditious refrain all the louder with hopes that the boldest of those men in the taverns he visits will join in with him.
*Call on the warriors
Varangians unite
Dethrone the usurper!
The gods want us to fight!Remember the good times
When we were young and full of pride!
The uprising begins, the palace burns
Head for the storm with us or die!****Call on the warriors
Varangians unite!
Dethrone the usurpers
The gods want us to fight!Remember the good times
When we were young and full of pride!
The uprising begins, the palace burns
Head for the storm with us or die!***His song ends, usually with an empty mug and finished supper. He has no time to hear anyone who bemoans his call to arms and self-service. But why wait, he asks, for someone to save you? You outnumber them. Grab a kitchen knife, sic your dogs on them, take control of your home; or live the rest of your lives as cowards...
((Lyrics edited for Rebellion's song, The Uprising - Rolled a 24 in game for Perform ))
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Notes are spread all over the city with the following lyrics:
Struck with a sword, beat on the head / one by one, you fell and you bled / A punch to the gut, kick to your balls / Your screams echo through City Hall / Break your limbs, rip off your ears / That'll hurt a few more years
The name's Brante. That's right, Brante / Get it right: Brante, your favorite Terror / I'll beat every single one of your stupid Seafarers.
Brante, Brante, that's my name / Brante, Brante I'm to Blame / For all these blood spots, on the floor / For the pain your crotch, so much more / and the throb in your head, boys, you're lucky you're not dead.
If you want more, you know where to find me - I'm in your head, your thoughts and dreams / Brante, Brante, get the name, your favorite terror / Brante, Brante, who'll beat every single seafarer.
Sometimes Brante himself is heard singing it on the streets.
