New Whispers at the Fire
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_At the Tuck-Me-Inn, talk also revolves around mithral, a full and richly gleaming vein of it having been uncovered in the so called Mines O' Doom, where filthy undead Eastlanders had been trying to lay their paws on the earth's gifts. Rumour has it no dwarf there could extract the precious metal, but instead a tall blonde human from the northern city appeared, not just to mine the vein out, but to ~share~ it with the dwarves.
Dwarved by the magnitude of this story is the one of the actual fighting, Disa Sten muttering into her ale mug:_ "Was twisted dragon thing, some type of experiment… think more trouble await, in Eastlanders old village."
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Cormac Randolph sits in the Grapevine Inn in Norwick, once again telling tales for his supper. Tall tales, this time. This time the yarn goes on and on about a mystical walk among the tall trees beyond the old realms of gypsy kings.
"_…you've all heard of spiders the size of dogs, and yes there were many. My one companion who's fists were keen as any blade and I laid all challengers in the forest low, and just when it seemed the disgusting creatures had finally had enough of the grim taste of painted death and were withdrawing - the trees all about us began to shake. A creature burst forth in a swirl of leaf and dust, dropping swift from above. A giant among giant spiders, as big - no - bigger still, than any horse! My companion smashed at it's legs with her fists, I clove it's body with my axe until the beast lay dead. Done for all, another weird creature ruined. And for one foolish moment we'd assumed the battle was over. Hah! Trees lurched to one side, they popped all around us sounding like boulders that had been hurled from afar by catapults. Thump! Thump! Thump! The creaking and groaning from within the forest as the unknown beast approached us. The queen! Her body, long and black, a giant egg made of her own body boiling with young that were ready to spill forth. And claws like the snapping beaks of a great Roc. A demon spider, unnatural and wholly evil.
It slashed and it grabbed at us, I bled much that day for the beast's claws were swift and true. A cunning creature that swore death upon us in the speech of Men! Though black was her voice; as if she called from her far away home in the wide abyss. Yet, unshaken we fought on - and on - until my axe could finally breach the bitch's shell and bleed her of her vital juices until she lay dead upon the forest floor. But behold! A chest of silver? No, mithral! The box gleamed from within her guts that spilled out like a wave, and there was much treasure to be had. Before we could rush to count it the egg-sac of her body burst and we were once again thrown into battle against a thousand biting spiders, some as large as dogs - others, no larger than a man's hand. Still pissing big for a damn spider!..._"
And so the tale went on that night, a lively and animated performance with many thumps upon his tabletop and shadowed jabs with imagined swords.
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Rumor has it Yllalynn gave Anna some things donated by the various farmers who lost loved ones to help raise coin at the auction, as well as something extra special both of them had been working on for awhile.
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The Cave O' Doom, as some of the adventurers involved have come to call it, is still not excavated in full. Rumour has it that Disa Sten will lead a third expedition down there shortly, expecting a continued high level of danger from the Eastlander undead.
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Rumour has it the dwarven-lead party returned to the Tuck-Me-Inn with a bag full of treasure and hair-raising tales of a cave as cold as death itself, filled with fierce undead of the long-legged variety. Judging by the adventurers talk, there's still more trouble down there…
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_The stout and honourable dwarf Disa Sten, daughter of Sten and Flisa Sten, is making the occasional gruff enquiry about town. It seems she is looking for able adventurers to delve into a partially collapsed set of tunnels. She warns that there is a high risk of encountering undead.
Interested parties should seek out Disa at the Tuck-Me-Inn or leave a note with Loogy._
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_Rumours spreading through the dwarven community mention a cave prospecting gone horribly wrong as the stout miners were seized by undead and used as slave labourers, until rescued by one of their own.
Anyone probing for details might well learn that the undead wore the colours of the Eastlanders, merciless bandits of old._
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Rumor has it the priestess Anna Blake has been doing her best to work with Yllalynn and the Norwick community to spread the word that they are looking for helping hands to help with the fields and labor positions required, many of them previously having been occupied by the men and women of Norwick that never have returned after being kidnapped.
Anna also can be seen personally training Helene and her fairy dragon, as well as anyone else interesteded on the various use of proper farming implements, proper animal husbandry, and general care-taking of the land.
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Fish lovers would delight in the knowledge that the Grapevine has a small supply of goodly sized fresh fish.
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Helene and her little sparkle dragon thing have been seen running about just North of Norwick quite regularly in some attempt at exercise. The faerie dragon just sits and watches or is just absent more often than not though.
Meanwhile, a wood-elven newcomer to Narfell called Talindra can be seen travelling through the woods every now and then when people spot her. Certainly spending more time out there than in Norwick proper. She is seen near the bear cave next to Maria's tower quite often.
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_The rumor mill is abuzz again as gossip mongers spread their tall tales across the town like an oil slick across the waters.
The recent batch of unlikely stories claims the town to have been visited by a balor so tall it dwarfed the southern walls, yet no tracks or signs of such a creature could be found by even the keenest eyes. Other tales claim several demon gates to have ripped open within the town limits, spewing forth their infernal travelers to ravage the town before they could be put down and sent back to the depths of the Abyss.
The most outrageous of all however, are the scattered tells that none other than the renown ranger and part time archery instructor Rasuil is to blame! Undoubtedly dark powers granted to him in the service of his white wyrm overlord.
While variations of the tales multiply with every other reciting, many seem to have a similar ending; Having cut down the last of their demonic visitors, Chief Vos himself of the Norwick Redcloaks was seen barking orders to the grievously injured guards present - Rasuil is no longer welcome in Norwick, and is to be killed on sight should he be found within it's borders._
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Cormac Randolph sits by the fire in town, telling his tales as usual while gorging himself on a huge turkey leg.
"…I like Willow, some folks call her an airhead and I used to think they were being unfair. Till I saw her head float right off her shoulder that is! Now, I've been lopping off heads since I were a child preparing my dinner, I've caused heads to roll in battle more times than I care to count; Orcs, Giants - oh yeah! Cursed zombies, Goblins dammit even the odd wolf. But did I think I'd ever put a head back onto someone's shoulders? Not on my life!.."
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_Among the stranger of Norwick rumours is a tale of a naked, headless man staggering through the south gates to attack one of the adventurers loitering there. A heroic horse (some versions of the tale suggest a paladin steed charging in on its own accord from the celestial plane) is said to have trampled the miscreant under its mighty hooves, yet the tale doesn't end there.
Despite his defeat, the headless man's curse hit his target, a tall and reedy woman going by the name of Willow. Known as something of an airhead, the stories insist that after the attack, her head grew so light as to actually come off her shoulders and float away into the Rawlins by its own accord!_
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@730ed861fc=ClownBaby:
A young man rolls an eerie wagon full of wrapped corpses down the Nars Pass, from the temple of Kelemvor through Norwick's North gate. He approaches a redcloak and speaks to them, gesturing to the corpses in the wagon. The redcloak gives a solemn nod and goes from house to house, each time a wailing widow or grieving young lass rush out to the cart bursting in tears.
Leading the procession is the former commander, offering what few words of comfort she can to help ease the pain of the grieving widows.
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A young man rolls an eerie wagon full of wrapped corpses down the Nars Pass, from the temple of Kelemvor through Norwick's North gate. He approaches a redcloak and speaks to them, gesturing to the corpses in the wagon. The redcloak gives a solemn nod and goes from house to house, each time a wailing widow or grieving young lass rush out to the cart bursting in tears. The young man tries to comfort them the best he can, but they persist in knowing the details of their lover's deaths and his words only seem to bring more anguish to the widows. The following day, he can be seen assisting in the burials of the men, laying flowers upon the graves, and praying to Kelemvor.
"Death is not a final ending, but the next step in a wondrous, ongoing journey. Let no one die not knowing that Kelemvor awaits them and that he is not to be feared, for he believes in justice and wields mercy."
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Word is that a panther has been prowling the Rawlinswood, culling any goblins that pester it. Some rumors indicate this panther hasn't been seen in a long time.
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_Rumor has it that a Goblin snuck its way into town, fortunately the greenskin's adventure was cut short when Cormac, with the aid of a Faerie-Dragon and a fair blonde woman, slayed the bad-lucked critter. Cormac reportedly dragged the corpse out of town at the request of a Redcloak.
No guessing then as to story behind the dead Goblin that might be found crucified upon a tree just beyond the walls of town; a grim warning totem to any other adventurous Goblins…_
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A peculiar and powerfully built construct has been sighted at the south gates a few times now, creeping guardsmen and adventurers alike out. Chill factor aside, the construct has remained unhostile, always requesting to speak to Norwick citizen Akseli.
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Lounging around at the Inn, Cormac begins a tale when the common room is just dark enough that the shadows - as thrown by candles and fireplace - begin to dance and slink, and fuel the imaginations of tired and simple folk. He tells the tale of a hole in the ground where wild cats prowl, a hole that leads unassumingly enough to another world it seems - a place of spirits and demons, where warriors must tread carefully and where sorcery rules. The tale goes on to suggest that the ghosts are in fact the ancestral spirits of warriors that he himself had put to dirt long ago, and that in trying to enforce their terrible vengeance they had left their treasures unguarded. The tale ends as he drains perhaps his third cup of mead, and through a boyish smirk he ends the tale on the bold claim that the gods themselves enabled him to trick the creatures of this shadow world in the deep earth into giving up their lost and ancient treasures.
"…of course, as part of the ghosts' curse upon me - I could take neither coin nor magic blade from the trove. Lest I, Cormac Randolph, too become as they are..."
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_Another wave of attacks by the goblins and their beetles hits Norwick, though this time a sizable and strong group of defenders stand ready. The attack is repelled, though this time a good few of the goblins seem reluctant to throw themselves at the gates, forcefully driven on from behind. Many are noticably malnourished and weak and after the leader figures are slain, the rest appear to scatter.
Is the Goblin Hold sending its rejects to preoccupy the defenders, the bottom of the barrel overflow from the teeming mines, or has the ambitious beetle breeding program simply consumed all the available food sources within?_
