Tavern knowledge - post your rumours and gossip here

[Muse]

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[Brother Humphrey]

Soon afterwards, a clearly upset Knightblade Ogdenstorm was heard questioning several townsfolk, militia and legionaires about the incident, his expression getting sterner all the while. He then spoke at length with Lt. Flinn Pomador, requesting that he counter-sign his predecessor's writ regarding necromantic activities in all areas where the Argent Legion enforces the law of the Confederation. Once the Lt. aquiesced, the notice was reposted on the board bearing the new signature and the Helmite then went to seek out the brownhaired troublemaker.

[johnlewismcleod]

Many Rivermoot Angler’s Inn patrons can be heard discussing an incident involving the well known (in pub circles, at least) bard/drunk hin Rugo, the beautiful white haired human Ingriss, and a mysterious dark-haired human female. Some of the comments over-heard might be as follows:

“That dark haired lass looked like she was done for…the blood rolling down her leg was making puddles even as she carried Rugo over her shoulder….”

“I didn’t think she’d make it up the stairs myself, for such a slender lass she has some iron in her spine, I’ll give her that…..”

“And who d’ye think had to clean up all that blood, eh?....Me! That’s who!”

“And how do ye know Rugo were nay dead…..looked dead to me…..maybe he’s her creature now….”

“Aye….when he came back down he looked dead to me….covered head to foot in blood and white as bleached linens…..groveling about….didn’t hardly utter a word….and what he did I couldn’t understand….”

"That Ingriss be a looker...I'd like to polish her armours fer her...."

"That wench ain't no Sunite, mate...Ye'd be wise to watch what ye say lest she hear ye..."

“He’s mad…everyone knows it….it was the rum, I says…..nay more than that….well…that and the beating he had….”

“Aye…he’s mad….but I heard what he did say….begged for that dark haired wenches life he did….and her with her dark magics…I say he’s her creature, just like that shadow she summoned….”

"Mayhaps...I heard it....but who'd he follow out like a dog on a leash?..Ingriss, that's who....if he's someones creature he be her creature...."

“He’s walking dead methinks….as will she be when the Legion lays hands on her….ye know that Helmite Ogdenstorm be after her….”

“I hope his bar tab be paid up….we’ll be pulling double shifts to make up the difference if it's not….”

[danielmn]

Knights within the Silver Fortress have identified the body of one Vaeyo Nestar that had been sent to patrol the Silverwood Forest but never came back. The finder, apprentice to Rundarr Garlus Ironbeard, could be seen taking the body after identification toward the catacomb entrance to await sanctification by a preist sent by the Knights.

[johnlewismcleod]

The children in Jonas Orphanage have been chattering about the strange hin who has been sitting on the floor in front of the fire for a week now. He hasn't been heard to utter a word, but has slowly amassed a collection of empty rum bottles and scraps of bread crusts. Some would likely have commented that he is beginning to smell and wonder why Jonas doesn't make him wash like the children have to.

*time in this instance would be calculated at 7.5 IG hours = 1 hour realtime*

[Wynna]

An Argent Legion patrol returned late from a journey along the North Road and reported that they had been held up by the need to take cover when the earth shook beneath their feet. As the news of this spread, the Rivermoot and High Hold Legion posts were besieged with reports of nature behaving oddly. Animals have been observed moving off the heights and down into valleys; birds circle in the air without landing while screeching ceaselessly; a mudslide has fouled the snowmelt off the Frost Hills Glacier. One merchant reported that he lost a packhorse when the animal was thrown off a narrow Fourthpeak trail by a sudden intense shaking of the ground.

Uneasy whispers speak of requests from the Lady's College of Silverymoon for architectural drawings of all townships and holds in the north. The request apparently come with an explanation that it's just an eye towards 'the security of the bedrock'.

[johnlewismcleod]

The children in the orphanage began to grow bolder as the odour of the strange hin sitting silently before the fireplace continued to increase. After fifteen days some of the children began to creep up behind him, whisper cat-calls, and pull on his cloak whenever Jonas or Louen were not watching.

Shortly after some visitors were heard to be discusing the arrest of the necromantic magic user Shannon and her delivery to Rauvinwatch, the hin slowly rose to his feet, and walked silently toward the door, leaving a refuse pile of empty rum bottles and crust ends behind.

Many of the children, amazed at his audacity, began to chatter about what would happen when Jonas saw that he didn't pick-up after himself as they had all been taught to do, but as they caught a glimpse of his haggard, sallow face and blood-shot, haunted eyes silence fell over them until he had departed.

[Wynna]

Today, the world shook. All north of Rivermoot or west of Winter's Edge has been changed. Cliffs have slid into river valleys; ice has crumbled from glaciers. Old pathways are choked with rubble and new ones have opened...but leading where? As the dust settles over the northwest of the Marches, adventurers must find the new routes to settlements and civilization. But be wary...more has changed than the landscape. Rumors fly of monsters released in the temblors, monsters none have heard of outside of legend. Beasts that walk like men and men the size of houses have been spoken of. A man with a rat's head was discovered pinned beneath a boulder near Winter's Edge and the town there seems on edge tense with suppressed fears. Much has changed in the Marches, except the ultimate truth: there is death here for the unwary and the just unlucky.

[kiyoti]

It’s being passed around that a group of intrepid explores was successful in being the first to map a new route to the northern settlements of the marches. If the rumors are true the unlikely Crew of cutters was said to have been lead by a handsome Crinti Bard and was made up of the Devil of Rivermoot, the Bitch Wave Maiden, an Ice Priestess, a near feral hin and a Paladin of Kelemvor.

The Crew returned after a long and dangerous journey with one less crew member. When asked about the missing hin they said his god had claimed him on the glacier. The Crinti was seen to hand off a map that could be considered a work of art (perform roll of 27!) to Lt. Flinn Pomador who in turn handed the crew a sack heavy with gold.

[Vendrin]

A woman in Winter's Edge was brutally cut down as she walked to her house. The murderer is said to have surrendered immediately, and most agree that the man was immediately hanged. Some wonder if this had to do with the earthquake recently suffered by the region, or if it was done in retaliation for the death of a common man in Quervaar some time ago. The Argent Legion is attempting to investigate.

[Brother Humphrey]

A bloodied and battered warrior in Helmite regalia can be seen stumbling into town, his helm dented in, dried blood caked to the side of his face and head, one shoulder of his plate mail crushed so badly he can barely lift his shield arm and at least one dent on the area of his kidneys which may have been caused by a large blunt object slamming into him from the rear.

He walks with visible difficulty up to Lt. Pomador, one leg bound with a crude splint around his right ankle, and hands the man a blood smeared map, the details of the area of the frost hills glacier being very roughly dicernable (Perform roll 7). Before Lt. Pomador can even get around to mentioning how poor the payment would be for such a crude and messy rendering, the wounded warrior turns and limps his way to the Basilica of Tyr, where he remained in the care of the priest for nearly a day, while his wounds were tended and his armor repaired.

((Note to DM staff: tap me later for a payment to the armorsmith, if you wish. Serves me/Lem right for pulling a stunt I/he should have known better than to try alone, but allowed my curiosity and gluttony for punishment get the better of me. ))

[Arkan Bladesinger]

A Gaunt figure in ragged black cloak and a dented armour covered in road dust was seen in Rivermoot. A Man bearing this muchworn equipment was reported to have been ordering a beer and a bread in local tavern and afterwards having moved to the bridge where he fed the fish with half of the bread.

Some of the sentries recognized the man as Devon Sangraile, the self acclaimed Bleak Raven. A Man with a past in Rivermoot´s troubles, a cold mercenary, they remember him as an efficient soldier, but much thinned since they last saw him. He looks haggard now, even emancipated, but he still carries his weapons and regalia without bravado and if anything, looks deadlier than before.

The sentries report seeing him walking east towards Silverymoon itself.

[Riotnrrd]

*overheard within the halls of the Lady's College*

*first student* - Did you hear? Marcus Wands finally finished advanced illusion.

*second student* - That sniveling scarecrow finally finished Volebane's advanced class eh? It's about bloody time... that nutter has been driving me batty, gibbering about the halls, up and down the stairs, back and forth... he seemed quite insane these past few weeks, if you ask me. Have you seen that ragged tunic he wears? It looks like its been chewed by rats.

*first student* - Well, I think he deserves a little bit of praise. He's been studying awfully hard to pass this term.

*second student* - Like I care how hard he's worked! If I had rich parents and nothing but time, I'm sure I'd finish in half the effort it took him!

*first student* - Well, you know, that was the last class for him, and it's said he pays his own way. He's finished all of the advanced classes... all eight of them! I think that's pretty impressive.

*second student* *snort* I think he devours his classes like Pastle devours men.

*the students cackle together*

[fluffmonster]

The morning was bright and crisp with what bits of deep winter seeped in around the mythal. Emmura bounded along the hall into the dining room, stopped short and surveyed the room with an arrogance only high-born could so effortlessly find. As usual Imitine was in tow, her beautiful auburn curls nonetheless a poor counterpoint to Emmura's carefully sculpted golden-blonde trusses. Emmura would readily tell any other student at the University how the best hair-speller in the Marches was often at her parent's house.

They stocked their plates and sat at an unoccupied table. They picked at their food and giggled in barely-hushed tones for a bit, hardly noticing young Tilson Brice take a place further down the table.

"Oh Imi! Guess who I heard is back at school." Emmura's back straightened, and she grinned widely. Imitine knew that meant the gossip was particularly good. "Do you remember Ellora Applehead?"

Tilson's eye twitched with a wince. He had been quite taken with Ellora, almost from the first time he had met her. The darkness of her hair, the strength of her blushed cheekbones, the danty pointedness of her chin, her kind smile, the straightness of her petite poise; it was all a glow of a beautiful young woman.

Imitine leaned forward in unbridled curiosity. "Not the Midnight Weeper!". Tilson winced a bit at that one too. By her telling of it, there was more than one night she heard Ellora in the middle of the night, just outside her dorm room, laying upon the cold stone, sometimes sobbing quietly, sometimes a fitful nightmareish sleep. No wonder she would go to the MoonMaiden's temple Emmura would say, touched in the head as she was.

"Yes, Applehead the Weeping Ghost," and they both then shared a cruel chuckle. Emmura lectured as she would a child, "People like that should know better than to embarrass this university with themselves. It is plain she wasn't of fit blood. And here I thought she came to understand that. Even in the time she was here, she never could cast even a single spell." Imitine let out a playful gasp, "Not a single one? Even my baby brother even knows how to cast cantrips!" Their shared laughter briefly pierced the calm atmosphere of the dining room.

Tilson looked away, slightly disgusted with the ridicule, but no sooner did his eyes turn from the gossips than they laid upon her, Ellora. He was delighted that at least the part of the teasing that she was back was true. He made to stand, driven by his impatience to speak with her. He did not even fully arise before his grin faded. Ellora turned her gaze from the girls, whom she could almost certainly hear, to Tilson. She looked upon him so intently as to be awkward and alien, not a woman he had known before except perhaps in body. If the girls' jeering had hurt Ellora, she didn't show it...or anything else, for that matter. Never had he seen her face so empty. He sat as Ellora turned away, wondering if this was the woman who had ever worn the kind smile he remembered...on a face just like hers, once upon a time...

[Rion of Erb]

*A drawing in the sand, close to where the river runs across the road east of Rivermoot, can be seen briefly before being washed away.*