New Whispers at the Fire
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An old man can often be found near the town fire leaning on an iron shod staff. Though soft spoken he often verbally prods at peoples philosophical outlooks on life, as his staff prods sparks from the fire. No holy symbol can be seen on him and his robes are simple and clean. He seems to take delight in anyone willing to exchange words with him, when asked he simply states his name as Mortimer.
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The grapevine was a roar with laughter and fun one Norwick night and well into morning. A grand feast hosted in honor of those who slew one Herman the Terror, whatever he might have been. The party ended well after the largest of dwarves tied off a drinking contest with the reigning champion.
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Cormac Randolph spends another evening at the Grapevine, telling tales and accounts of his storied deeds. A new tale of late spoken over a large mug of beer.
"…so I done what only one such as I could - and brought a grizzly death to a thousand Goblins. All their armies seemed to gather in one spot and they stood ready to encircle just three of us. Of those many hundreds my companions maybe cut down one a piece..."
_He goes on to tell of how cursed witcheson had been playing god and would ultimately and without any doubt bring chaos and bloodshed to Norwick's gates. His tone is rowdy and almost welcoming. Though bitter warnings are spun within the tale of gargantuan Goblins that stand as tall as Bugbears, with flesh that seems to turn all but the most savage blows.
The tale ends, Cormac holding the horned metal head of some fallen enemy aloft._
"…but even the enchanted suit of metal, with magic sword, could not stand against us. So I claimed it's head as mine and I wear it as a helmet. A reminder to the wizard and his abominations that he has picked a fight with the spirit of wrath, and that I will feed him ruin upon the edge of my blade..."
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Word is passed to the resident and adventurer based elves within Norwick, Hen wish's to address the elven community to see if they are as willing as she is to set a solid path to the future for the Shesae en' i'Seldarine. Elves who are perhaps hesitant towards the past actions of Corans and the Shesae name are encouraged to come and listen to see if they may find their faith restored in the community. Those whom wish to hear Hen out are encouraged to come to the Pixie Roost, any who are not keen to its location are told to seek out Hen personally for instruction and escort. Those whom do not wish to travel alone to the location are encouraged to see the help of their fellow brothers and sisters.
(( Plan to make the meeting for Saturday evening EST (-5), I wont set a specific time however I can tell you It will be held at least between the times of 15:00 - 22:00 EST, I am aware this is a VERY wide time range however I can not be any more specific based on my work time and the times others may be available sorry for the inconvenience. ))
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@6e44c3970b=Karion_Silverbow:
A group of elves return from the Rawlinswood speaking of Minotaur, the Shesae, and a broken truce.
Hen is quite to seek out the rumours around Norwick about the encounter, asking the present to take the time to find or send her a letter regarding these matters.
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A group of elves return from the Rawlinswood speaking of Minotaur, the Shesae, and a broken truce.
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The rumour spreads once again that bandits are being spotted in the pass. Some swear they are the old Nars bandit that have come back to claim what's theirs, others say they are Sharrans, others just think is a prank.
Whatever the case, what is true is that the caravans have been having trouble arriving to Peltarch, and that in some cases they didn't arrive at all….
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_Tales of a legendary journey are told over cups of mead and jugs of wine at the Grapevine, the skald Cormac Randolph tells his first-hand account of slaying demons and laying low the spirits and shades, and even a great demon of rot that was responsible for the monsters that plagued the great forests of Narfell. He boasts that it is by his axe that the town might once again prosper - and greatly.
The tale swirls around, the weird shamanic Elder Druid, a Bugbear no less and his display of honour and respect toward the warrior-skald, and of a huge demon that guarded a narrow bridge and was felled by 'his' axe. Another bridge that fell to ruin after it was attacked by magic spells, and left only himself and that city-dwelling Knight 'Shannon' to fight off a great host of demon sorcerers. Yes - the boasts are woven thick, and although many names are shared within his tale; Belia, Hannibal, Shannon and Silver to name but a few, the story always comes back to illuminate his own personal glory and feats of might and prowess in combat.
Taking what one might from the story, by the end one thing is certain; Ruin has been slain, melted away along with all the rest of his filth. And the heart of the Rawlinswood is at least partly less tainted by demonic rot._
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Against the rumors to the north of Mlemite criminal activity, there's been talk in the south of the same group repelling probing attacks from Gnollish try-hards. Even the Bloody Baron himself has been said to have been involved in one way or another.
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After rumors build of an adventurer party scouting into the forest, it seems at least one of the adventurers has returned to Norwick. Cormac Randolph is once again a familiar face around town, though his painted face is often caught glancing south - perhaps expecting the repercussions of his savagery to follow him to the gates.
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Rumors of pirates on the water route to/from Peltarch spread.
Watch out fer the dread pirate, Sally Jones, and her scurvy crew - including a huge Minotaur who may or may not have sunk to the bottom of the river when he fell in.
Her ship sustained heavy damage in its latest attack, but it still sails.
Beware of the fog…
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An Elf roams the streets of Norwick, occasionally leering up at the posted signage above the doors of shops and stores. He hurriedly moves about from here to there before going about his business beyond the confines of the town's walls. A beaked helmet hides his face, but the longbow in his hand is emblazoned with the sign of Sehanine Moonbow. Perhaps a familiar 'gargoyle' returns from his travels after all…
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Infamous elven scout hen is seen entering the hall of Norwick at dawn and leaving shortly after handing D'Cameron a letter. Hen has a puzzled look over her face as she left slipping her mask back over her face before slipping away into the morning light towards peltarch.
((PM sent to Gonnar
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Although the ever damnable undead made a nasty appearance by the end, it is widely agreed that Norwick's Harvest Festival was a roaring success, with food and drink aplenty, merchants hawking special wares and a wide array of exciting games on offer, including some spectacular mages duels! The crowning of a highly unlikely pair as King and Queen of the festivities took place just before the unwelcome guests came knocking on the gates, Uljas and Nate Wingates forced to take up arms instead of of gliding onto the dance floor!
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Word spreads that militiaman Hannibal Charon has fallen in battle, and efforts to return him to life have thus far been unsuccessful. His body is, evidently, held in the Militia Barracks for the time being, watched over by his comrades as well as a halfling acquaintance who insists on maintaining a vigil by his side.
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Rumors spread of a meeting taking place outside the north gates of Norwick. Notable participants include Roslyn of the HDL, the druid Aoth, General Theaon of the Troff Legion, and the white dragon known as Ky. It is said that the meeting had to do with the demons across the Scar in Jiyyd. Eventually all parties went their separate ways, however the Legion General was supposedly left feeling as if he had just been in a bone-chilling blizzard, and the white dragon flew away in a more crispier state than he arrived.
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Rumors abound that a large party of adventurers made their way into the old crypts, initially to seek and destroy undead before exploring further underground into the underdark.
Along the way, they evidently encountered a mage powerful enough to cast Time Stop and escape, before sending more undead against them.
Thankfully no losses are reported amongst the party, but it remains a troubling report.
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_A dark cloud descended on the south gate, bringing with it demons from the deeper Rawlinswood. Descriptions of the battle are confused, and it seems the demons turned those present against it one other. Even after the fighting stopped, bitter curses were tossed between some parties.
There is talk that the demons took the druid glen, something for which human memory can find no precedent. Others say the demons were repelled there. Yet the darkness lingers like the rotting vegetation, and a sense of foreboding lurks throughout the woods._
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A guttural, soul-wrenching howl was heard everywhere at once. Some in Norwick swore it came from the woods, others the Nars or the river.
Whether connected to the howl or not, loggers and scouts returned to town with reports of hundreds of dead goblins in the borderlands and stretching deeper toward the cliffs of the western Rawlins. Some of the bodies were burnt, some choked or drowned, many were sliced and pierced with weapons or claws. Those who arrived early said the very mist was red from the carnage.
The bodies piled high in circular mounds as if the attackers were few indeed. Not a single track was found, save for the goblins' own.
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After many years, and unexpectedly by most, the Spellweaver descends from the skies into her usual spot. The ground shakes as it lands, and a cloud of dust arises. When it clears, everyone can see the majestic Keep intact, as it was 10 years back…
