Tavern Tales & Rumours

[t-ice]

Paladins of Tyr are seen returning back to Corwell silently, heads held low. Most had blood on their torn and battered armors, and many had black spots of dead skin where skin was exposed.

I told ye relying on these invading outsiders and their foreign gods is taking the true great powers of this land for fools. They cannot stand against the earth, only the Mother can help us now, pray she will forget our transgression!
- Ebha, matron of the venerable Bronaq shepherd family

Word is reaching out the druids of Corwell Grove are sending out requests for help by messengers that board ships bound to locations from Calimport to Waterdeep and many in between. A "strong band of heroes" is sought to penetrate a "dark hole of cold, and destroy a foul cult within".

[I-KP]

Hours after the Tyran warband had returned to Corwell in a state of depleted number and morale, a small group of dutiful freelancers returned to the battle worn Paladins one of their fallen brothers.

Tasked by the news of the failed attack upon the “den of the coven of the chillwinds”, and by the pleas of the Druids of the Corwell Grove Moonwell, the freelancers had made a brave dash into the now-frozen eastward lands to the location of the battle to learn the fate of the missing. Detailed account of the efforts of the freelancers would be best told by asking the heavily armoured bearded young man, the bright-haired Elf, the Hin Druidess or even the ambushed traveller collected along the way themselves, yet all at the east gate of Corwell Town that eve could speak of the results: A fallen brother returned to his Tyran comrades-in-arms by means of a drag-stretcher harnessed to a 1500lb bear lead by the smallest among the freelancers.

Eagerness to return to the frozen battleground was not evident amongst the Tyrans, the Druids of the Grove or even among the freelancers, which may give pause for those seeking a hasty retaliation against the “coven of the chillwinds”.

[dergon darkhelm]

* More and more people hear tell that some evil creatures or witches, now being called the Coven of the Chillwinds are definitively responsible for the chill that holds the isles well into spring and prevents the planting of crops.*


*Adventurers beginning to fill Gwynneth's taverns and brothels as they arrive fro the coming Greengrass festival hear the barmaids and coinlasses tell stories about rumored great treasure held by the Coven of the Chillwind. It is said that not only do they hold an artifact of one of the greatest suits of plated armor ever fashioned and a similarly fine enchanted sword, but that there hidden cave draws magical power from a large vein of sapphires half a league long that might be worth thousands upon thousands of gold pieces*

*Rumors also swirl that a mysterious lord patron will be offerring additional gifts of gold to winners of various sporting contests on Gwynneth during the coming festival*

[Darkmystic]

((Will we get a date and time (with time on all the differnt zones) on when we will see this festival and cool events?

[Castano]

it is posted in the first posting thread directly below this notice.

http://www.alandfaraway.org/forums/view ... 17&t=47544

http://www.timeanddate.com can convert times to your location

[Castano]

Peasants in Cantrev Horstall can be heard grumbling about the new "magician" Lord Horstall installed at the old coast watchtower. They are none too happy the Lord has resorted to using spellcasters to protect his domains. For now the Lord has reassured his people that the magician is a goodly sort and seeks only quiet study in exchange for protecting the lucrative fishing rights off Cantrev Horstall and should anything untoward occur, those fishing rights may be lost by the Cantrev, which would spell economic ruin for its fishermen. The grumbly fishermen have returned to their night time fishing activities, though their boats appear to be outfitted strangely, with an assortment of ropes and pulleys, gear commonly used to transfer merchandise between vessels at sea.

[CloudDancing]

*the rough storms of spring and the warm zephyrs blowing from the south are driving the sleepy caves and burrow dwellers forth to sun themselves and thrive. This means that other creatures like Goblins are also rising to the surface after a long festering winter in their verminous burrows. Travel ye lightly, people of the Isles for your feet may take you by hungry goblins and kolbolds intent on you being their first spring feast*

((In various places encounters are set up. Roads are for groups of 3-4 level 1-3. Off-roads for groups of 5 level 4s and up. Caution and scouting is recommended)

[t-ice]

The spring around Corwell and Koart, especially to the north-north-east towards the Fens, has been the coldest in living memory. The druids have for a time now spoken of a supernatural cause, made all the more obvious by the weather in the sky not being unusual, it's as if the chill keeps creeping from the ground itself.

Regardless under Lathander's persistent rays the ice and cold is loosing ground, inch by inch, and the tenacious farmers of the ffolk have begun their springs planting - later than any year any of them recall. Druids dutifully keep their watch over the work and the crops, but a unmistakable spirit of gloom and doubt surrounds worker and guardian alike. Whispers among the commoners carry their fears: "Who among us is going to starve come next winter?"

[CloudDancing]

*Two Ettins were seen near the peninsula in the Trollscar's. Rangers are warning all but the most seasoned adventurers to steer clear.*

and

*Some sort of zombie threat is being contained in the Snowdown Tombs, local sailors mention a the town is trying to hire someone to come and cleanse it free* (see "Encounter: Snowdown" post)

[t-ice]

Druids of Corwell Grove alarm the ffolk of the area that hordes of undead have risen from the Fens and are pouring towards the area with a chill wind on their back. A scramble of Corwell Keep soldiers and the guards and militia of Corwell and Koart are hastily assembled in units, and joined by druids, rangers and even the foreign "paladins" of Tyr.

The quickly ensuing clash with the fearless and tireless enemy ends up being brutal, but the ranks of the defenders hold easily. Among the stories of this quick and short war, the most outrageous comes from Koart, where survivors of "The Battle of Crowmoore" have taken refuge.

We had just one child, but now we suddenly care for 5. Half of our relatives perished ... What small solace we have we find in that their bodies can now be put to rest to Earthmother's lap. We who live will forever remember the band of heroes who fought like you wouldn't believe. Without them, we'd all be among the walking dead, forever denied the warmth of the Earthmother's bossom. We, survivors of Crowmoore, have decided to abandon the ruins of our former village, and find a new place to settle. Far away from those cursed Fens.

Oh, the battle, yeah, of course you want to know of the battle. *rolls eyes* Well, we were evacuating the village, but we were too late. We were already surrounded! Who knew the walking dead could muster such tactics. We had to fall back to the village and take shelter as the undead fell upon us from all directions! All we had for defense was our militia and a couple rangers from Corwell. But just before the attack, a group of druids and mercenaries had came in. And by the Eartmother did they fight like the beasts of the Earthmother's Pack itself! The whole village was strewn with rotting flesh before it was over - We even saw a shambling corpse at least 15 feet tall, carshing trees and building as it came, and a druid, formed to a bear, cut it down just like that!
*the hectic mood of the story turn to gloom*
But even that was not enough ... With a chill wind, some ice devils just materialized in the middle of the house we were all huddling in! Half of use were dead before we could flee, and the heroes eventually cut down these horrors. *deep sigh* With that the battle was over. The Corwell officer who later came to guard over what remained said that the spearhead of the attack must have been blunted here, single-handedly by those heroes! For all their men didn't meet such horrors as giant undead and ice wolves.

So yeah, we're done being at the spearhead against the Fens. Tell Schenchal Finley to build a frigging fortress for it!

- Patrick and Ellen, formerly of Crowmoore

[CloudDancing]

*A cold wind blows over the Giantspine Mountains they say. The barbarian bandit chiefs, hostile and bold are being overrun from Undead creeping down from above the snowline. Some strange warm thaw has perhaps freed them from an icy rest but still they come and in great numbers, blocking the path to the dangerous barbarians and travelers alike.*

*Upon arrival an old man sitting on a stump shakes his cudgel at you fiercely!*

"Best avoid them bandit camps there youngling! They've gone crazy with hunger and that red plauge festering up there. You watch yerself and bundle up! It is slow going in the deep snow and those that try have yet to return to the villages below."



(CR 5 encounter. Is suitable for 3-6 players level 4-10 mixed group. Other small encounters have been set up around MS too. Note: I make harder things larger if you aren't the type to examine them.)

[t-ice]

Druids of Corwell Grove are busy at work trying to boost crop growth from the unnaturally late thawed fields under their stewardship. Word is the advance of the chillwind is over, but the lands won't be fully recovered until next spring ... if the doesn't come back then. Druids are counceling the worried citizens that odds are the forces behind the chill will strike again, but somewhere where the folks aren't aware and prepared.

Meanwhile Senechal Finlay and the Druid Grove are holding a feast to all citizens of Corwell to honor all the brave folks who fought against the tide of freezing death. All soldiers who saw front line service receive triple pay for the month, and special honors and a stipend in gold is awarded for Hully Tosscooble of Lowhill, Green sister Tam Wy, Bram Woodson, a foreigner who serves the Earthmother, and Morgan, a particularly brave and capable foreign mercenary.

[CloudDancing]

*A lovely bardess in red velvet robes and bright feathered hat is travelling from house to house spreading the new far and wide to noble and to peasant*

*Ding-dong* Wedding bells rang out in the Sunite Temple district of Caer Calidyrr as a new wedding was celebrated in festive Firehair style. Sir Drake Vensheuel and Lady Elektra Quickens were married in the lush gardens of the temple and enjoyed a spa day there.*

[danielmn]

Two heads upon sharpened poles can be seen south of Caer Callidyrr, one a human male, the other, a humanoid rat. A wooden board below the rat head reads "Ware any going into the southern wood, for Moonbeasts run free. Ware any seeking to lure you into said wood, for they may be working with said Moonbeasts."

Below the message is the name Tormas, and the symbol of an open plam, in which is a Double Headed coin.

[danielmn]

Word trickles into Callidyr, the gates of Blackstone were smashed in by a raging bear! Hot on the Bears heals were five howling mad women, who slew the great beast. A few of the villagers breathed their final moments in the chaos, though it is unclear whom killed them, the bear, or its persuers. What is known is that before the bear died, it took two of its persuers with it. Curiously enough, three hin, two humans and an elf were seen walking about after the battle, and as the townfolk one by one peered out their windows and unbolted their doors to stick their heads out, it could be seen that the other three women were also, dead. The names Malar and Selune were whispered quietly, as the townsfolk began to repair the enourmous front gates, bury their dead, and set to torch the five bodies of the women, whose heads were neatly tied by their hair to one of the human's belts. It is whispered that a bronzed, tall as a tree man, whose body was taken away and buried honorably, might have been the bear...