Whispers at the Fire
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_Another fight night behind them, Foilir and Lucidious review the mess of empty bottles, teeth and dried blood on the grounds where the event took place the day prior. Sqee is quickly put to the task of cleanup as the Advisor and Captain review the layout of the grounds, talking about how to improve on things. With dice games, a bar, and even an auction, they both seem happy with the turnout but are in agreement the location may need to change.
After a bit of discussion, Foilir wanders off to fine's estate with lucid following close behind. The dwarf settles his eyes on fine's barn and the two walk though reviewing the interior, lucid taking notes and nodding in agreement as Foilir spouts out ideas for a new fight ring…_
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- A heavily armored dwarf appears from the legion barracks with a medallion of the militia captain hanging from his neck.
Word is Lucidious has asked him to occupy the position until his cousin returns. *
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The "Fight Night" festival was said to have gone off wonderfully once more. The cap of the evening was an "anything goes" tournament. It was kicked off with a bit of a bang as the Banite Vincent bestowed with blessings from his cleric companion went up against a fully blessed Zyphlin Re'cual, compliments of Divine Knight Shannon and his lord Torm, in a stellar fight ending with the Banites fall. The battles continued, leaving the three final contestants as the bard, the elven cleric Rary, and the Sharessian sister Lilin.
The three draw straws, with Lilin gaining a buy. In the semi-final, Rary struck down the blue bard, making short work of the duelist while the elf's skin was coated with stone. The final battle between the two clerics was truly epic and lasted some time, with numerous spells being cast. In the end Rary scored the victory in a rather sour ending; Lilin forfieted, despite having Rary injured a number of times,and left after the long fight seemingly having other obligations. Rary was awarded a hefty gold purse while the runner up Lilin was awarded a fine pair of spiked gauntlets.
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The incredibly fair and light handed Legion General Lyte bursts into the Inn at Norwick, rather out of breath from running all the way from Jiyyd, and she offers a story all within the tavern hear her relate.
"Folir. Good." huffs _"A set of haunted plate has been roaming around the Nars today, on the road to Jiyyd, and in Jiyyd itself. At first, it seem haunted by the spirit of some long dead dwarvish hero, but, then it's voice was clearly recognizable as Dwin's.
He spoke to me at length by name, after hearing my voice, and said that he is in the dark. He asked where you, and Maythor and Jirka were at. I think he needs your help, as he does not know where he is at.
He said he was "safe"…but not alone.
I dont know if his spirit has found any of you yet to tell you this.....he cannot see who he is talking to, and I felt time might be of the essance in this matter.
I do not know what exactly is going on, but had heard Dwin was taken by undead.
Dwin has long been friends to some in the Legion, and if you need our aid in going to rescue him, please dont hesitate to let us know, and we will join your party."_
Having delivered her message, the pretty elven woman leaves; nodding to those she knows in the tavern pleasantly, she heads back north.
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_A heavily armored dwarf stops sipping his ale hearing the rumor and smiles wide. The words spreading about the Legion's heavy hand seem to bring him some sort of inner victory.
Raising his ale in an imaginary toast, he downs it in one gulp and starts to laugh in a low, strong tone._
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Word crops up here and there about Norwick that the Legion has named itself judge and executioner and its heavy hand will be felt, without benefit of court or trial, wherever they tread
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Rumor has it that a certain elven advisor has fallen for a general in the Legion - as to which general, it appears to be unclear.
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Nym quite amiably suggests to Genzir that the cause is still the same. A powerful, ancient orb bristling with old magic in the hands of the drow. A race who's known for ruthlessness and seems quite willing to use the orb to further their own goals. The most simple use would likely cause the weave to fall apart. So, Nym suggests, it is likely more fruitful to look into the reasons why the weave seemed stable for a while.
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Some extremely perceptive may have noticed or heard of a wood elf who lives in the Rawlinswood leaving with a Malarite towards Lizardmen teritory and returning lizard blood splashed. Why such unnusual party was formed or what exactly happened in lizardmen territory remains uncertain. Sûldîn has spent more time inside the Rawlinswood since then in the single company of Mala (his panther friend).
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Genzir can be seen running around in a dignified frenzy, casting spells (of magic detection, to those who would recognize the) all over town and on the outskirts, and asking if anybody knows what caused the recent degradation of the Weave.
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When not on duty Mord can be seen at the gathering spots around Norwick nursing an Ale and keeping his head cocked, rarely speaking but always listenig and watching He often swings by the south gate and exchanges a quiet word with the guard on duty
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A hin is heard sarcastically talking to friends about the cemetary after hearing that the gates will remain locked and that violaters will be thrown in prison. He is heard asking what good locking a gate is when the fence has six holes in it.
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The advisor spends some time talking with the guard at the south gate, asking about who was involved in the murder and the details of what happened. He takes down notes in his book and heads to the barracks.
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Rumor has it that a man was killed right outside the South Gate by a half-orc clad in black full plate, after he agreed to help someone else kill a brown bear in the cave just south of the lake. Before that, he was having a polite conversation with the guards, and he never even got a chance to retaliate before being slaughtered. A dwarven mage also present even casted Hold Person on the two guards when they attempted to intervene.
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Foilir spoke to the armor in Norwick. Thorin is kin of his, long buried under the Nars.
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Rumour has it that Rando and Shad ran into a ghostly armour that said it was Thorin and Dwin. the voice of Dwin sounded in distress and need help. The tried to restrain this creature, but after a short fight the creature escaped. THe voice of Thorin said it was looking for kin
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Cyan Cardinale tells the guards of a threat of death placed on himself and his travelling companion by a halfling/gnome (not 100% Sure which) with razor sharp teeth
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A group of dwarves where seen in conversation with a disembodied set of dwarven armour. Names from the past were uttered, Thorin seemed prevalent amongst them. The confused looking dwarves followed the armour somehow conversing with it and looking startled at the answers it gave. After the armour left, the dwarves left north looking deeply concerned. Some say that it is the ghost of a long dead dwarf, others that Moradin is displeased with the state of the dwarven heart in the region. Yet others say it was just a hin in a set of armour with an elaborate set of strings and pulleys.
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turns to the guards
" anyone comes out of those gates, arrest them"
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So much fer the undead stayin on their side of the fence.
I want them gates locked. If ANYONE is caught inside the cemetery, and they make it out alive, I want em tossed in jail. I dont care if they are legionnaires, priests, or what have ya. They'll be no more stirrin the hornets nest.
Dwin heads off to the Chancellors office with Foilir, Lucid, Rando, and the rest of the town leaders to discuss a 'solution'.
