Tavern Tales and Rumors

[dergon darkhelm]

A light rain fell from a leaden sky as the big bearded man made the final adjustments to the leather strap on his bulky hiking pack. The men of the Green Griffon costers saddled horses and tied down goods on their cart, nervously looking northward, openly fearful of what they may encounter on the Trade north to Waterdeep.

As he set out from camp with the Company, Tralyn felt something unusual, something that seemed to tug him back toward the Bridge. He rarely had such a reflective sensation. He was always smiling with a springing step to meet the open road.

He shook off the melancholy as they rounded the bend, leaving Boersekyr behind him, but an inexplicable dull sense pulling him back toward the muddy camp remained as the wagons creaked and groaned northward.


"I hope ye be allright, lad," he spoke to himself as he walked along. "May ye find your own proper trail to walk. And I pray it be the path away from the darkness."



Within a league, the rain tapered and thin sliver of sun peeked out, bringing forth a brilliant rainbow and bathing the caravan in rich, warm sunlight, drying their sodden boots.

With that occurrance the man they called "Wayfarer" finally gave a big smile, scratched some of the rain out of his beard, and faced north humming a soft trail song. He was off.

[Adanu]

Rumors spread like wildfire of fiery beasts appeearing in the dead of night near Boareskyr bridge and charging at the Tyrran camp. Those who get close enough to the former camp site only see scorch marks, corpses, human and otherworldly.

[Adanu]

An elf, a dozen wounded humans, and an adventuring party are the talk of Soubar and the Bridge recently. All suddenly appeared out of nowhere at the western entrance, with a Tyrran Priestess walking away towards the Bridgefort. Rumors of foul magic are denied by the guards.

Meanwhile, the Trade Way south of the High Moor is being flooded by rival churches. After the recent undead horde attacks, people are scattering to the winds in the area as the war intensifies.

[Adanu]

Rumors from mercenaries and the few caravans willing to brave the road suggest the main battlefield has moved north again. The trade way has dozens of bodies littering it between Dragonspear and Boareskyr Bridge, most scavenged, leaving most unable to tell who was who in life, with wildlife starting in on the remainder.

[Adanu]

Merchants have been seen traveling along the trade way in more numbers again. However, many give tale of Zhentarim and Black Sun raids alongside various other parties still. The war might have moved elsewhere for the time being, but the trade way is still a matter of luck getting by without getting attacked.

Meanwhile, Bounty Posters of various sorts have started to be posted in Soubar, Hill's Edge, Triel, and Dragonspear. Some are torn down quick, and others linger. Bounty hunters are starting to take their toll regardless.

[Teric neDhalir]

Travellers on the High Moor report that rogue gangs of the followers of Bane and Cyric have been seen acting no better than common bandits.

[Adanu]

The war on and around the Trade Way intensified the last couple days. Various rival churches clashed near Dragonspear, with Caravans coming in from the northern climes lucky if they recieve triad protection. The battle has since faded back into the High Moor, but bodies litter the trade way in varying numbers for miles down the road, and east into the High Moor.

Monster raids have grown as of late as well, marking another wave of chaos hitting the Heartlands.

[Ronan]

"Oi, the bucket's stuck! Someone come 'elp me with this!" shouts a tanner, stopped at the well in Hill's Edge to fetch a pale of water. No long after a burly blacksmith wanders over to help the smaller man pull the bucket up. Its slow going, as something heavy is obviously hanging from the end of the rope.

A line forms, waiting for the well. When the bucket is finally brought to the surface, gasps are head: a man had fallen head-first into the bucket! What remained of the wooden pale supported his ruined face and skull as he was hauled up. Wrapped about one wrist was a fine silver necklace, some folks say was stolen earlier in the day.

After the crowd realized the man was a thief and foreigner, uproarious laughter spread like wildfire. Priests then came to fetch the body and purify the town's water. In a few hours all was back to normal, though few will forget the curious case of Hill's Edge's first and only Well Pirate. (( RIP Bodkin, you were a prince among men. ))

[Rumple C]

"Oi, the bucket's stuck! Someone come 'elp me with this!" shouts a tanner, stopped at the well in Hill's Edge to fetch a pale of water. No long after a burly blacksmith wanders over to help the smaller man pull the bucket up. Its slow going, as something heavy is obviously hanging from the end of the rope.

A line forms, waiting for the well. When the bucket is finally brought to the surface, gasps are head: a man had fallen head-first into the bucket! What remained of the wooden pale supported his ruined face and skull as he was hauled up. Wrapped about one wrist was a fine silver necklace, some folks say was stolen earlier in the day.

After the crowd realized the man was a thief and foreigner, uproarious laughter spread like wildfire. Priests then came to fetch the body and purify the town's water. In a few hours all was back to normal, though few will forget the curious case of Hill's Edge's first and only Well Pirate. (( RIP Bodkin, you were a prince among men. ))

It was a perfect snatch and grab, a little distraction, a little touch of masks favor, and a little snatching of the necklace. Exquisite.

Yet for some reason, Bodkin had a falling sensation in his stomach. In fact, his stomach was falling. Along with the rest of him. Headfirst. In his haste to flee the scene, he had decided to use an old thieves gambit, the well jump. Acting casual as he rounded the corner... then a quick climb down the well until night fall. Slick.

The well walls were slick.

To the casual observer (of which there were none, even Mask would have looked away in embarrassment) it may have appeared that Bodkin did not even make an attempt at climbing down. Indeed, had anyone asked, Bodkin probably would have claimed (out of shame at his poor showing) that he was overtaken by a spontaneous desire to end his miserable life. The truth was, that he was a gods-awful climber on slick walls, and had managed, somehow, to tumble in headfirst. Luckily he was a practiced survivor. He positioned his body on the way down to cut the water cleanly. What could possibly go wrong?

His face struck the wooden well pail floating in the water.

Once again, if he could somehow have been questioned he would have claimed to be aiming for the bucket, so perfect was the insertion of his head and face into it. Alas, one cannot question a scabby corpse with a broken neck (and temple, eye socket, and jaw). Nor would anyone try.

He was going to have a lot of explaining to do on the other side.

(thanks to Ronan for enabling me to make excellent decisions backed up by hilariously comical rolls)

[DarkHin]

((i burst out laughing while reading this))

[Adanu]

Dragonspear is reporting higher than usual orc raids in the aftermath of a bloody skirmish between Tempus and Zhentarim forces near the outpost. Rumors from Caravans traveling through the area say the Warrior Priest Rafet has called for warriors stout of heart in repelling this latest series of attacks, and has put out a call as far as Baldur's Gate for Adventurers for aid.

Meanwhile, news of renewed raiding along the Trade Way between Dragonspear and the Bridge by monsters has merchants hiring more guards than usual, though mercenaries inquiring tell that the pay is pathetic compared to the height of the Trade War months back.

[HEEGZ]

*A cowled and heavily armored knight arrives in Soubar and begins making inquiries about the rumors.*

[Twin Axes]

A dwarf in a black cloak and a human with a greying beard, both blood bespattered and grim faced, entered the Winding Way last night. Apparently they were returning from a succesful raid against orcs. Some Merchant League property had been recovered. Finally a blow had been struck against the marauding orcs, but typically enough it only took place once moneyed interests were involved. Well, at least the merchant caravans would continue passing through while the war raged on.

[Rumple C]

The two heavy wagons, drawn by equally large heavy oxen ease their way through the congested tent town at Boareskyr bridge. They unload heavy timbers, and crates of brightly colored canvas at the rivers edge. Passing Gur, the ever quick opportunists are hired as day labourers, and work on some kind of... cage? begins. Rumor quickly spreads of a -no holds barred- fighting tournament soon to be held, though no one official can be found to confirm anything. The dour teamsters and surly dwarf carpenters have little to say other than "Piss off, i'm busy".

[Adanu]

Rumors abound of a renewed war in the northern parts of the Trade Way. Waterdavian mercenaries have been reported going into the High Moor, and those who have come down from the City of Slenders give tale of orc bands harrassing Dragonspear and other caravans. The tales give mention of work to be had, as the followers of the Lord of Battle are hiring help with handling orcs, gnolls, and bugbears, among other warbands, taking advantage of the ongoing Trade War.