The Lich's Cult
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A strange thing has occurred through out Narfell, from Norwick to Peltarch and even Oscura (but what else is new) with the arrival of purple and black parchments decreeing the Cult of Darius. The cult promises the usual things, power and wealth in return for service in the name of the Lich, most famous for his killing and skinning of people and the occasional kidnapping, and aiding him in building his "spire."
What's even odder, however, is that it seems some people are buying into it. Not just the usual wannabe necromancer desiring more in life, or the brooding cultist without a god who needs some structure, but farmers and guards and travelers. Some leave their home to venture outwards and find Darius, some dwell in their stations either publicly believing in the power Darius brings, or keeping it on the down low. It's a strange time.
Is it mind control? Is it the natural charisma of a floating skeleton? Are these pamphlets just that pretty? Who can say... but it's certainly working out in his favor right now.
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A new strange occurrence has occurred in this string of odd occurrences. A tall bard with black bandages, inscribed with red runes, has appeared in various places across Narfell at varying times. The fast pace in which he appears, and the fact that some stories of his appearance seem to match up to identical times, indicate not everything is normal with this bard. When he appears, he speaks in a booming voice increased by magic.
"PEOPLE OF THE LAND. I BRING YOU GREAT NEWS. SUFFER NOT IN POVERTY OR IN UNEMPLOYMENT. SQUANDER NOT YOUR PAY GAMBLING IN THE DOCKS, NOR YOUR FUNCTIONAL AND VALUABLE LIVER TO ALCOHOLISM. TO THOSE WHO SEEK PURPOSE AND PEACE, THE CULT OF DARIUS OFFERS SUCH THINGS TO YOU. JOIN US BROTHERS AND SISTERS. JOIN US."
Strangely the few people who don't take kindly to incredibly loud weird cult speakers and try to get close to him discover that he has a habit of vanishing without a trace when approached... but his damn speech will always linger to completion.
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Telinus scoffs at the pamphlets.
"I be the only god 'n these lands! Who be this marrow-lickin' pretender?!"
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A woman uses her knowledge of and contacts in the back alleys of the docks district to covertly gather information from street urchins and the like. She is sometimes seen in the drinking establishment observing the customers. She seems somewhat vengeful
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Raryldor begins investigating this lich cult....discretely.
