EFUM Gossip, Major Events, and Rumors (IC Knowledge)

[core]

In the wake of the Mayoral election, a flurry of events have taken place. Many villagers still speak in hushed voices of Order trespasses in the 'slaughter' of the Webbed Woods, though it's said that only one man died, the long-time Wyrm Watcher and survivor of the Fall of Nebedzzos Michael Tommas. His death is felt and mourned by many, and the Order resented for the killing of him, though other more rational-minded citizens say that the group was clearly warned of the consequences of their actions.

In the days that followed, rumours trickled back to Mistlocke of consternation amongst the Order's command at Castle Blackhearth. Word had it that the Order's food supplies ran low, and that the five-score men garrisoning the Castle against a H'balan siege were down to salt fish and rats. Serjeant Magnus Karloff arrived a few short hours after this news, making a demand for half of Mistlocke's food stocks. After a terse exchange with Mayor Pleate, he left disappointed and angry with little more than a couple of cartloads of food, enough to last the garrison another week or so.

It's said that the group who left accompanying this shipment were not quick to return, and an Aberdenn bannersman even put out the rumour that some of them had been taken hostage. Though the truth of this still isn't clear, the announcement came just minutes after the arrival of Sir Percy Roderick, one Lord Agravain Blackhearth's most trusted advisor and the man rumoured to be the Order's spymaster. After dismissing a stubborn Caermyn associate at Muskroot's Tower he made his way to the House's Hall to seek counsel with Menaster himself. In the wake of the Aberdenn announcement, a mob gathered, shouting for Caermyn to refuse the Order any aid. Menaster himself had to emerge, speaking platitudes though giving no promise of refusing the Order succour.

The next day, tragedy struck. A fire at the farmlands destroyed much of Mistlocke's grain crop, and while its defenders were trying to quash the flames, the Market Hall was attacked by cut-throats. In the confusion a great deal of grain and meat is said to have been stolen, even more burned, though Mistlocke retains enough reserves to feed its people without imminent fear of famine.

An Ordersman by the name of Hadwin Barne led a group into the Old Stones to investigate the strike, though emerged shortly after with the unconscious body of the reknowned necromancer Finster Voegal, said to have been a double agent serving with both the Conclave and the Spellguard, and responsible for the murder of Sergeant Fitch Nefzen. Mayor Pleate was on the scene swiftly and ordered the criminal burnt for his crimes. The Ordersmen dallied a time however, debating over their quarry's belongings with a member of their party who refused to surrender them, and a party of Wyrm Watchers are said to have stolen off into the Stones to follow the trail before it went cold. It's said to have led to Murdertown, though the group was fended off by a group of Father Michael's devout, never catching sight of the stolen food.

In the aftermath, a threatening missive from Knight-Templar Jacques de Villiers is pinned by the Lord-Mayor in Mistlocke square. The village waits with bated breath to see how, or even if, these tumultuous events will resolve.

[core]

Many speak of a meeting between Sir Percy Roderick and Lord-Mayor Jokast Pleate after the arrival from Castle Blackhearth of the adjutant and his retinue. Sir Percy is said to have been shocked at the sight of an engineer from Mistlocke missing an arm after a confrontation with Cyricists, and asked publicly that he go to the Priory and supplicate himself so that their priests may aid him.

The Lord-Mayor and the adjutant retired to the Priory, where a meeting was held. The Order are said to have made certain pledges and agreements with the Mayor in the interests of settling past conflicts. Sir Percy is said to have ordered his retinue from the room midway through the meeting to speak with the Lord-Mayor alone, though it is as yet unknown what about.

Many speak of the rebellion of Antoine Godson which, though short-lived, reminded villagers of the many threats facing them from within. The tendency of Mayoral candidates to die is on the lips of many within the Mist's End, many speaking of the foul end James the Bantam came to. His capturer is not named by government officials or Mustermen, though it is said that he incinerated himself on the steps of the Last Keep, severely wounding all around him.

[Talir]

18th of Eleint, 1381 DR

Chaos erupts after a call for the true warriors of Mistlocke to come to the Mist's End arena. Dissatisfied with the outcome, it is said that the Garagosian Malaki Andrikso took matters into his own hands and started a fight with the spectators, killing the priestess of Lathander Mira Ayrin before drawing the battle out of Mist's End, pursued by outraged Aberdenn associates and a Wyrm Watcher. The battle reached its end within the cursed halls of Old Stones, the pursuers seen dragging the Garagosian out soon after entry. Justice was swift as the murderer sought to do a final battle with his captor and died subsequently of his wounds. Mira was brought back to life from Brotherhood sympathizers.

Yet the day's turmoil was not at an end. Angered by persecution and bloodshed in their halls, Old Stones made a call for the murderer to be released and one Aberdenn associate handed over to ease the tension. Gone unanswered it was not long before an explosion of smoke came from the top of the Market Hall and the news of the banker Erica Summerset being abducted, her Caermyn guard slain. The village vault containing the gold of the fortunate now is threatened, as the culprits are in possession of the key and worker. One and a half day later no news have come from either the manager of the vault or the abductors, a silence that no doubt soon will come to an end.

[Jayde Moon]

Word of some manner of 'great victory' reaches the ears of Mistlocke, sending the tongues of the villagers wagging as they discuss the rumors and the possible repercussions.

It is said that the self-styled Great Druid of Ymph, said to be the troublemaker known as Fury, led a force of Wyrm Watchers and Aberdenn in siege upon a Circle of Power controlled by the Fellwitch.  Through some sort of blood ritual, resulting in the sacrifice of the Wyrm Watcher Skald Marcail MacCullen, the Circle was taken by force from the minions of the Fellwitch in a supposed blow against the withering itself.

A successful raid, some villagers dare to hope this may be the beginning of a change for the better, some curse the outcasts and Druids for riling up the Fellwitch to act directly against the village and wish that the Aberdenn had not involved themselves in it, but most simply take a moment to revel in a sense of immediate victory.

The mood in town and in the tavern is festive for most of the participants, who can be seen boasting of their deeds and toasting those that fell.  In contrast, the mood is somber at the Hearth of the Wyrm Watchers who lost three members, including the celebrated Duelist, Raffaella Fondriest.

What long term consequences will arise from today's event remain to be seen.

[Jayde Moon]

A fearful hush falls over the small village as whispers and rumors circulate of murders, cults, and other dark deeds.

In the wake of the attack of a marauding monster, two villagers were found killed, their bodies mangled beyond recognition.  Several adventurers sighted the monster and attacked, but many more simply cowered in fear or ran from it entirely.  It eventually made its way back into the Old Stones as dawn approached.

Alongside this, the whispers of a gruesome murder scene within the Hallowed caverns beneath the Tower of the Gods stir even more feelings of dread and distrust.  A body left before the Mystran Chapel, disemboweled and removed of several organs.  The work of dark and bloody cultists, the villagers fear, or retribution of the Maiden for works against her in the withered lands.

Susoicious glances are cast from the villagers to the newly arrived adventurers, the sellswords, mercenaries, and archaeologists that loiter about the town square awaiting their next 'quest.'  Some voices of dissent make their way to the Mayor's chambers, still others distrust even him, as an outsider himself.

The inadequacy of the Muster to handle the town's issues begin to be attributed to that same reason, being made up of outsiders eager to assert authority over a land they have no ties to but little motivation to actually solve the village's problems.

Tensions are up, the fear is palpable, and the village slowly simmers in dark and brooding emotions.

[Johannes]

The sun steadily dipped beneath the Ymphian sky. That evening the embrace of twilight's fall was only briefly felt; the elephantine carcass of the Floating Enclave tremored in its parlous flight.

"See there in the sky!", cried one nameless waif;

There upon the skyline shone its otherworldly glow, expanding outwards like a palpable wind. It filled the evening air and made it thick with errant musings and lost trains of thought. Betwixt these gossamer phantasms of fatuous ruminations flared the ghostly contours of crumbling bookshelves, faded statues, and other antiquarian fixtures, navigated by the mechanical pacing of savants swathed in the muted colours of the Transcendent Conclave.

Masses of dazed feet shuffled with the entrancing current of some waking dream, converging upon the spectral profile of four lofty obelisks alien to the derelict stones of the Mistlocke colony.

There in the midst of them, a grim chair of nefarious shackles, stained with the blood of a body defeated and broken. It groaned, barely clinging to the tortured vestiges of its life in anticipation of some hopeless verdict handed down by the judgment of three imposing thrones across the insubstantial chamber.

The largest and most ornate of the thrones addressed the battered body in a wispy, adolescent voice :

"Ex... Zeulisad Rodagh. Your fate, eternal and pitiless, shall be the first suffered by all renegades and enemies of our Conclave."

All of a sudden a ruptured crystal sphere, resting upon a clawed pedestal between thrones and shackles, began its soul-shredding chorus. The dazed crowds slapped their arms around their heads as their vital force, screaming for mercy, bled through their ears.

Rodagh's suffering, lashed by chains and chains to that cruel seat, was by far the worst. Onlookers watched in horror as his eyes bubbled up and exploded, and his teeth warped and fell from his mouth. The discordant harmony multiplied in intensity, and with it the traitor's torment until the final, blessed moment of the song's crescendo when with a grisly POP his soul gave way and leapt into the sphere.

As the sphere's unspeakable aria dropped to nothing, the Oracle lifted himself from his decadent throne to address the crowd.

"People of Mistlocke, be at peace. I am the Oracle Razul, Leader of the Transcendent Conclave. Those of you who cooperate and show our organization no ill have nothing to fear..."

"Long have we wasted time dealing in hollow diplomacies and humoring the quaint and ultimately meaningless games of government and negotiations which serve only to distract us from the direness of our circumstances. This land is ill, defiled and dying because one renegade grew out of hand and now wields an unacceptable sway over all of our lives, and perhaps upon the welfare of the wider world!"

"I am Razul. And the Conclave will have no more diplomacies. We will no longer humor the games."

"Our sight remains focused steadily upon the calling of the New Netherese Empire, and shall not falter. Renegades shall be cowed. H'bala and Her withering shall be tamed. From the ashen ambers of this vast destruction shall emerge a new Age of Understanding, tempered by all of the law and mastery that the original Netheril lacked."

"Know these, our goals... and see there, the bloodied seat of our traitor's execution. See now the penalty of crossing the Conclave and impeding its Transcendent goals"

"Know this as you continue about your lives. Impede our goals or cross our glorious Conclave, and your passage to this chair shall be swift and merciless."

As the Oracle spoke these last words, the bearded throne of Zyphaem Faussad upon his left, bewitched by the blood-smears of the inhumane massacre that transpired upon that shackled seat stirred and finally worked up the courage to speak,

"How- how... can we have done this?"

The tension in that phantasmal execution chamber became unbearable as the vexation of the two other thrones fell like a rain of daggers upon the last. At that moment, the dream abated, and the multitude shuffled back to their nightly duties, tormented by the things that they had heard and seen - wishing, with a passion, that the morbid sight was nothing more than a cruel nightmare that they would awaken from and mercifully forget.

But the nightmare never left them.

[Talir]

5th of Marpenoth, 1381 DR

After Aberdenn hunters reported sightings of orcs near the outlying farms early morning, Mistlocke Musterwoman Kara Szantovich gathered a group of volunteers and set out to investigate. Little is known about what the group encountered but shortly afterwards a sending was made that orcs were preparing an assault upon the Delving and would attack at noon. Inquisitor Herostrat Desjardins of the Order took the lead in delivering the message personally to the dwarves of the Prophet's Peaks, a feat applauded as the dwarves had time to prepare against the assault.

While initially refusing aid, the gates of the delving opened as the assault neared the end. Beleaguered by the sheer force of numbers despite the warning, victory has been credited the Order and volunteers of Mistlocke making true on their promise of help and running to the dwarves' defense against their hated foe. Celebrated and rewarded, the valiant rescuers returned to Mistlocke where grim tidings awaited.

After the orcs had been decimated, a large host of undead had climbed the Prophet's Peaks and made its way to the Unyielding Pass. Deprieved of its namesake guardian, the wildlings prepared their defense while word was sent to Mistlocke for help. Standing at the forefront, a bold group of stargazers confronted the enemy and held the defense while the inhabitants of the pass fled east, held as they waited for help that did not come. Pushed back from an unrelenting force led by Ar-Monghul Ymph himself and in the clutch of heightened Withering presence, the defenders had to let go and fled as their numbers were overrun around them. The Unyielding Pass has finally surrendered, after three years of standing strong against the undead, and for the first time ever the east is threatened by H'bala's dead.

Left in the east is the village that dared not oppose the host.

[ShadowCharlatan]

9th of Marpenoth, 1381 D.R.

News of a brutal move made against the population of Old Stones disseminates throughout the village. Lord-Mayor Jokast Pleate today ordered the doors of the cursed tower sealed, and traffic between it and Mistlocke halted. The so-called Summerset Act saw a significant number of the tower's population attempt to flee before access to the village was cut off. All were slain who attempted to slip or break through the perimeter of mustermen and adventurers around the Old Stones. The doors were finally sealed after all resistance was broken by this massacre.

In the aftermath, a grief-stricken bellow from Chief Hamilcar Argenti is said to have been heard throughout the entire vale of Mistlocke. A bolt from the crossbow of Jacey Steel-Eyes had strayed and struck a small girl of the Argenti who had been caught up in the chaos, killing her instantly. Hamilcar is said to be furious, having opposed the sealing of the Stones in the first place. He has decried the Muster as murderers, and demanded Jacey's head.

The people of Mistlocke have welcomed the news with little enthusiasm. While pleased that the Old Stones has been sealed, the seething Argenti and the piles of bodies carted through the town have silenced whatever celebration there might have been. Some suggest that this is not the last breath of the criminals and ne'er-do-wells of Old Stones, and will cause more trouble for the village than it was worth, while others praise the Summerset Act as a strategic masterstroke for village stability through the confinement and starvation of its worst elements. Most often, though, the people quietly consider the cruelty of this act, fearing what will come of it.

[Talir]

20th of Marpenoth, 1381 DR

In the waning hours of the day, a gathering could be discerned atop the cursed -- and now sealed -- Old Stones. The nature of the event became evident on the onset of night, as a great pyre was set ablaze with the rumoured remains of those having succumbed to starvation within the tower. An outcry against the fell Summerset Act was soon made afterwards, both in words and action, as bottles of alchemist's fire and other debris were thrown at the Market Hall roof and the village square. Not long afterwards an explosion shook the village and dust poured out of Mist's End. In all the dramatics and after a fruitless chase into Old Stones to apprehend the culprits, many praise the gods that the damage done was minimal and without casualties.

[Johannes]

Marpenoth 21st, 1381 DR

As Lathander's orb of splendour rises in the misty east to banish the  predawn blue of early morning, the people of the hidden village of  Mistlocke pause in their routines. Small groups talk quietly amongst  themselves and steal glances at the crooked contours of Old Stones with  darting eyes. It has been twelve days since the Summerset Act came into  effect, and new scraps and whispers now echo from the pores of the  Stones, rumours of a whole new season of hell within.

Ablaze with rage only a day ago, the tower stands corpse silent now,  caked in rubble and swathed in murk and fear. With its population  decimated by massacre and starvation, it is said only a scarce few  remain, huddled together in dim and quivering chambers. A deep, cold,  funereal darkness has taken the corridors of the Stones, as though the  mysterious malediction upon Old Stones has sprouted forests of gloom  where its sharp weeds once bled the feet.

Indeed, Mustermen who have opened the doors to cast the withered into  the Stones speak of an overwhelming darkness, of trails of tar, of moist  footsteps, of unseen Things stalking through the black. More than ever,  villagers avoid the haunted tower, speaking sparingly of the profound  change in its aspect. Those who wander the dark of Old Stones often find themselves stolen away or driven mad. Many have come to blame the dreaded creatures that are heard stalking the darkness, which locals have taken to naming “Grues”.

[Talir]

First of Uktar, 1381 DR

Several days have gone past since the farmlands were brutally struck by nightmarish creatures coming out at dusk. Scattered from the rest of the farmers, a survivor made his way to Mistlocke to call for aid -- and was answered.

A group led by Paige Cutteridge and Kara Szantovich went to the Skinnard's farm to investigate and later searched the river caves of the Tear at Stonehand's Scar for the culprits of the attack. After hours of fighting, the survivors arrived in frantic retreat, pursued by a beast of a werewolf. In the end the leader of the werewolf pack was brought low by Donovan Sariin and Jaric Sled after a fierce struggle, the head brought back to the farmers in celebration. The captives, some held by the pack for tendays, returned ragged but relieved to their homes and friends in Mistlocke.

In these recent days the farmers coming from the crops cheerfully tell of fewer sightings of the nocturnal hunters, the packs evidently scattered and split. The incidents and abductions that have for months plagued the village appears to have come to a good end.

[Johannes]

Eighth of Uktar, 1381 DR

A grimly appalled silence overcomes the usual bustle of the Marketplace as the air is filled with the redolent smell of cooked meat. A charred smudge of a carcass, later revealed to be the remnants of Conrad Rotolo was the source of the delightful fragrance, his sudden doom quickly accounted for by the blaring of a eulogy which imprinted itself forcefully upon the minds of the befuddled masses :

"Know that the cost of betraying the Transcendent Conclave is death. That is all."

The horror of the last massacre had hardly left their minds before tragedy struck again from the puissant will of that floating fortress. Kara Szantovich, herself a mage and vocal opponent of the Transcendent Conclave was sitting tranquilly upon her bench in the Market Square when a dizzying flash storm of assailants swept her away. One straggler from the assault - presumably an associate of the Conclave - was left behind. The masses, frustrated and otherwise impotent before the Conclave's attack, rose to their blades and abducted him to their cells as prelude to his then-inevitable execution.

…but then another message, clear and pervasive upon every man's thoughts transmitted itself across the Isle of Ymph, bearing the lofty pretenses of peace and mercy :

"Our proceedings are now finished and the Triumvirate have deliberated. On the condition that the individual in your custody is brought unharmed, Kara Szantovich will be returned to you beneath the Enclave."

Driven either by a sense of loyalty to their abducted compeer, or simply by a hatred for the Transcendent Conclave invigorated by the warlike proclamations of the Numinous Order, an immense horde of armed adventurers marched upon the desert to the access portal of the Transcendent Conclave. The diminished form of a dazed man was the pivot of this gathering, the wounds of Mistlocke frustration projected ruthlessly upon his flesh.

Another message was projected :

"Given the massive numbers you are no doubt bringing, you will be permitted to send one envoy to the Enclave to treat with us. This envoy may bring a guard if it pleases him, but any more will result in the soul of Madam Szantovich being immediately drained and the Conclave's defense systems being engaged."

The horde, thirsting for blood but nonetheless concerned for the return of the Renegade Szantovich, gingerly split off a pair of envoys to negotiate the exchange. The negotiations did not last long, however :

"I fear that your envoys' diplomatic efforts have proven insufficient. If the individual in your custody is not sent through the portal post-haste, both of their lives are forfeit. If you attempt to send more than one being through, the Enclave defense systems will engage. Your group will be obliterated and both hostages will be drained of their souls."

Enraged. Confused. Panicked. Helpless. The crowd of seasoned adventurers projected their frustrations upon the hostage and the Conclave guards beneath the Enclave. But their hostility did not last long, as no sooner than their assault began did a single giant of a man with a spear descend from the Floating Enclave, the starkness of his rage concealed behind a dark mask of steel. He swung his spear. One fell. And then another. And then another. In a panic, the crowds finally scattered, and the carcass of their dead ally was brought back into the safety of the Floating Enclave.

The Conclave were manifestly displeased :

"You have executed your hostage. This displeases me greatly. What follows are the death rattles of two of our pathetic hostages; since the Delving have been neutral to our Conclave and the Muster have not supported Order aggression, the dwarven Musterman shall be released."

…and then another…

"As was warned, every hostage taken is now dead. Kaina Lionsbane, for her execution of a good friend and ally, Sir Malkith. Adrian Thorne and Randall Ironmonger, for your betrayal and execution of Hammaghri Sabam. Urist Metulegdoth, though I had wished to release him, begged for death. His corpse will be returned to you."

…and another…

"Kara Szantovich has now been executed for her vitriol against the Conclave, her status as Renegade and her flippant dismissal of the Triumvirate's reasonable terms. Know that our Conclave wishes nothing but to work in peace, but to trespass against us will mean your swift demise. That is all!"

The tale spreads like an epidemic of crippling fear among the citizens of Mistlocke. Many of them, formerly complacent within the crumbled walls of the village of Mistlocke, now begin to question their safety and speak of the Conclave in far more cautious terms. They fear the invisible eyes and ears of those overlords upon their fortress in the sky, and the imminent death that should follow if these eyes and ears are ever affronted...

[ShadowCharlatan]

In the evening of Uktar the 15th, the election at last came to an end. Under light rain and the sputtering glow of torches, the villagers of Mistlocke looked on expectant as General Secretary Estelline Nettlehatch recited the results of the vote in the square:

Rovan Meyer -- 14
Daniel Amherst -- 15
Evangeline Nurjrit -- 38
Rodryk Sosay -- 40

Some villagers express relief at having been saved from another Caermyn term. But a wave of confusion and anger has rippled through some sections of Mistlocke over Rodryk's victory. Some villagers were seen to tear up their citizenship papers upon the announcement, and a Musterman is said to have stripped off his uniform in the middle of the rain and the gathered crowd, and accused Sosay of being both traitor and criminal. He then encouraged the crowd to demand the Village Elders exercise their collective power and remove the new Mayor. The village seems divided on the issue, some upholding the results of the vote, others declaring the entire election a farce.

Recently tarnished by accusations of hiring assassins, offering the Argenti a part of the budget for reparations, and allegedly serving the Conclave -- Rodryk ascends to his position amid heated controversy. Clan Caermyn seems especially sour at the result, having had high hopes to secure the seat again. In particular, the Mayoral candidate and Caermyn Retainer Evangeline Nurjrit has begun to campaign for the Village Elders to remove Sosay from office. The Aberdenn by contrast avidly accept the result as one better than the alternative. The Argenti Gypsies meanwhile seem smug and celebratory in their camp, drinking and feasting into the night as though they had themselves enjoyed a victory.

The commonfolk of Mistlocke chatter, wondering if subterfuge was involved, whether Sosay is a Conclave puppet, and what would have happened had other candidates not been eliminated. Some are content that Nurjrit's war will not come to pass, but others worry about Mistlocke's stability and defence under Sosay.

The footmen of the Numinous Order can be heard speaking about Castle Blackhearth with some concern, speculating on whether Lord-Mayor Sosay will  indeed provide relief. And amid the forests, the Wyrm Watchers are brooding and silent, as though spooked. When they do come to Mistlocke, Watchers talk of chilling rumours that H'balan plantlife has begun to grow in the desert, and it is spreading...

[Jayde Moon]

The people of Mistlocke are overcome with fear and uncertainty in the wake of a brutal assault upon the very Town Square by what felt to be an army of hideous, malformed, demon creatures.  Making a straight line for the reknown Wyrm Watcher Tobias Markham, their savage numbers brought her down before dragging her unresponsive body from the village.

Most rumours point directly at the Conclave for the attack, attributing it as a response to a proclamation issued only moments before by the Watcher Knight that the members of the New Empire were forbidden from walking the forests surrounding Mistlocke.  Villagers fear for their safety, shaken by the thought that the powerful Wizards of the Conclave can simply command any number of fell beasts to pluck them directly from the town.

They turn to the office of Lord Mayor Rodryk Sosay, demanding that he do something, anything, to curb this looming threat.

Meanwhile, both the Numinous Order and the Wyrm Watchers stew over their respective losses, pondering their next move.

[Talir]

4th of Nightal, 1381 DR

Rumors circulate around the village of a swift execution held at the Order Priory. The deceased is said to have been an elf that openly admitted the murder of a villager after an unsuccessful task on his behalf, the misdeed confirmed by other unsatisfied contributors to the hired work. Whereas little is known of the task itself, three villagers never returned in the efforts of seeing it all done.

Caravans from Sis Laman bring word of a skirmish that took place upon its secluded docks. A negotiation and issue of payment caused a bloody melee between the locals and some visitors over new crates recently shipped. Without paying first, the visitors decided to unseal the goods despite protestations and calls to cease. Fearing the reputation and integrity of trade deals done, the locals took up arms and spilled blood when diplomacy turned awry. In the aftermath a bounty for one of the visitors, a scimitar-wielding female warrior, has risen with the promises of a gracious reward.

The crates themselves, responsible for so much violence, have disappeared without a trace.