Wiki Category: News & Rumors 271

A crispness holds in the air as people continue their work bringing in the year’s harvests. As the nights come earlier in the day more and more people move inside to spend their evenings within the shared warmth of taverns and mead halls. With proximity comes chatter and with chatter comes the spread of News and Rumors.

A shocking piece of news quickly makes the rounds throughout City-state territories and it’s not long before it erupts beyond the borders and spreads over the continent. All had heard the news that Arragones was set to be hanged in a public execution, some had even begun planning their travels to make sure to be there to see the highest profile execution of an era, but what came next was a shock. Arragones was found dead in her cell. Details are hard to come by as at this point rumors have taken a firm hold, but what can be ascertained is that she was found clutching a glass vial with a soft-green foam leaking from the corner of her mouth. No one is certain how she managed to come to possess such a poison. Some believe that another member of the council must have brought it to her and given her the chance to accept a graceful death in exchange for her keeping her mouth shut about any scandalous information she may have on them. Others believe that one of Arragones’ own supporters must have brought her the poison to spare her the spectacle of a public execution. And some even believe that it was staged all together and that she did not drink the poison by her own volition, but was instead murdered and set up to look like a suicide. With these ideas, and many other traveling stories and theories, no one is entirely sure what happened. Regardless of the details, the truth remains that weeks ahead of her public execution, Celestial Arragones was found dead in her cell from an apparent poisoning.

The recent rumors of wights stalking through the landscape has shaken the core of some of the Ulven people, especially those living in more remote areas. A few Nightriver villages bordering The Great Wolf’s Hackles have resurrected an ancient Ulven practice of leaving offerings for the Nature Wights to insulate themselves from the harsh conditions that often follow in their wake. A young Nightriver villager recently set out on a journey to the top of The Hackles to leave an offering of mead and bread for the wights and was surprised to find that he was not the only one that had made this journey in recent time. He came home and told his friends and family that when he summited the mountain he found that there were already offerings left, and fresh ones at that. He made sure to add his offerings to the pile. The people of his village were surprised to hear that they weren’t the first to send someone up the mountain and given their location they assume that the other offerings must have come from a Grimward or Ironmound village on the other side of the mountain range. It seems that in the more remote areas of Mardrun that some of the Ulven people are embracing the traditions of their old ways and these traditions may be spreading.

ANOTHER massive turnip! Rumors have blanketed across Clan Goldenfield territory and spread from there of another village unearthing a humongous turnip! Some say that this turnip rivals that which was dug up in another village recently. People flocked from nearby towns to peek a gander at this marvelous vegetable, but faster than the news of its harvest spread, so spread the news of its deceit. Though truly a splendid specimen and while it was a well and enormous root, it turns out that the farmer lied. This was not a turnip set to rival all others. This was, in fact, a radish. 

A crispness settles into the air all across the continent of Mardrun. The very first of the leaves begin to change their colors and the harvest season is well and begun. Fall blankets the denizens of the land in her cool, refreshing embrace. But then somewhere on the eastern seaboard, someone accidentally knocks over a small ceramic pot, spilling tea all over their tablecloth. It’s News-and-Rumors, baby!

After her notoriously sloppy escape attempt, Celestial Arragones has been captured by Newhope forces and turned over to the Lictor Courts to stand trial. Many rumors swirl over the lands about what is going to happen to her. Many agree that she was likely looking at a stern rebuke and an escort back to her holdings prior to her attempts to raise an army and fight against her state. Now most agree that she is likely looking at charges of treason, though not all agree on what this could mean. Some say she could lose her head, others argue that the nobles on the Council would never eat one of their own like that and she’ll probably still escape with blood on her hands and a slap on the wrist. No one at this point knows what will happen, but there is no doubt that many eyes are resting on The Newhope Council.

Deep in The Hackles a story was born of a young Ulven hunter. That tale goes that she was stalking some prey through the wilderness when a heavy bout of hail struck that forced her to take cover in the hollow of a mighty oak tree. While she hunkered down she heard what she swears were the heavy footsteps of a large beast walking on two legs. She tried to poke her head out and get a good look, but was unable to see anything. Eventually the footsteps marched off into the woods away from her and soon after the hail eased and let up. She immediately ran back to her village and told everyone in the local meadhall. Most laughed at her, but some piped up to mention ancient Ulven tales of spirits and landwights bringing storms, hail, and forest fires. Did the echo of hail on the tree trunk cause this young hunter to imagine the sound of heavy footsteps, or has something called back the landwights that walked Mardrun in the eras before history.

News is slow in the small village of Brackenloft in Clan Goldenfield. In fact not many people even know it exists. Most maps don’t include it and those that do often find this little village mistaken for an accidental drop of ink. But this miniscule village has found its way to the forefront of the harvest season news. A farmer by the name of Harrod Mudfingers has risen to great acclaim for a feat unlike any seen before. This year Harrod managed to grow the most amazing turnip. People have flocked to the village to see this turnip, which is so large it could almost be hollowed out and turned into a hut! Harrod will stop and tell any who will listen of how it took him days to dig this turnip out of the ground and how it took a team of sixteen burly Ulven with ropes to pull it from its hole. If you want a chance to see this marvel of root-veg then make sure to take a trip out to Brackenloft!

The weather across Mardrun has been fair over the last several weeks and the people of Mardrun have been making ample use of the long days. While fields still need tending, the bulk of the planting season has passed and it’s still some months til harvest season. The month of June brings about a time of relative leisure for many citizens and the local taverns, alehouses, and meadhalls make immediate use of this. All across the continent outdoor biergartens and seating areas spring up next to drinking establishments, easily enticing passersby to stop in for a pint, a curious summer mixed-drink, or just to pass the time with friends and gossip.

*

Many tell the story of a young Syndar woman who’d wandered into the foothills north of Starkhaven. Know one knows why she left her home or where she was going. Her mysterious disappearance has shaken her friends and family who immediately put together a small search party to head to the hills to find her. They asked around to gather any information they could and eventually found a member of the Layorder Militia who told them that he’d seen a person matching her description around the time that they claim she went missing. He tells the story that he saw her walking out of the eastern gate and turning north toward the foothills around midnight. He tried calling out to her to ask where she was going that time of night, but she seemed unable to hear him, fixated on her destination. “I assumed it was some kinda Syndar moon thing, I dunno,” he told the worried party, “But either way she walked her way right up into the hills. 

The party set off immediately up into the hills and luckily were able to pick up the trail of their missing. They followed the trail for hours and eventually crested a hill and found her standing in the middle of a clearing below. They called out to her but she didn’t respond; she simply stood still, holding a purple flower clasped over her heart and an empty smile on her face. One of her friends took a step toward her and immediately she vanished into the mana stream leaving behind nothing but a cascade of purple flower petals. The search party returned to Starkhaven, crestfallen and with more questions than answers.

*

Some people in a roadside tavern between Keys Crossing and The City of Newhope have begun spreading tales of a strange occurrence. Some days ago the people of the tavern were awoken in the early morning hours to an eardrum shattering blast on the road in front of the building. People fled outside to gawk at the source of the explosion, but saw nothing more than a black-haired Syndar running about frantically, cursing and worrying, and picking up shattered bits and bobs while a human clad in a green tunic tried desperately to assure her that everything will be okay and that things can be replaced. The pair looked up and saw that they had drawn a crowd and quickly gathered what they could onto their travois and took off on the road toward Keys Crossing without acknowledging their audience.

*

A sickness has gripped the people of a small Stormjarl village near their border with Aylin’s Reach. People report incredible fatigue and stomach pains. Some have been seen vomiting blood. No one can be certain of the cause of this disease, but luckily it hasn’t seemed to spread beyond the village. A few travelers visiting the area also fell ill, but grew better after they left the area. Only one family has managed to avoid the rapidly onsetting plague though no one can tell why. They have mingled with the rest of the village, but not contracted the illness. Some are beginning to accuse the healthy family of dark magics and claim that they have placed a curse upon the town for some unknown slight. Hopefully someone will step in and get to the bottom of the situation before it ends in bloodshed.

*

The Council of Newhope has been meeting regularly over the last couple months. Such activity is to be expected after the proclamation from the Ulven leadership. What takes this from a mundane news report to a load of hot gossip that spreads over the continent is one small detail. It seems that Arragones and her stewards have been formally barred from these meetings. No one can be certain whether or not this is a calculated move that Arragones is also a party too and simply a series of political maneuvering; or a serious sign that things may be shaking up for The Council.

It does appear, at least outwardly, that the latter is the case. Small whispers have drifted out of the Libraries of Celestial Arragones that tell of her increasingly erratic behaviors and apparent genuine upset at the current turn of events. 

*

Reports start surfacing from people in coastal settlements and those living along larger waterways about small longships passing their homes with increasing regularity. These ships have been seen flying various flags, none of which are recognized as Clan flags and none of which match any Packs local to the area. While these ships haven’t made any large moves that anyone is aware of, there are still reports trickling in of some of them harassing people as they pass them on the rivers, often shouting insults and hurling refuse. The speculation is that these boats may be related to the recent raids, but others say that they could just as easily be drunken sailors blowing off steam, but then why would they be sailing the routes in the first place? Regardless of the origins of these unidentified aquatic objects, the people of the coastal and riverfront settlements are growing anxious.

Warmth descends over Mardrun and the planting season begins in earnest. The fields fill with local and migrant labor forces and the mixing of people allows for the ease of travel for news and rumors. During the day laborers exchange stories from their corners of Mardrun and in the evening those same rumors are shared with traveling merchants in the taverns and meadhalls that pepper the continent. As is often the case a few stories end up being shared more than others.

People tell stories of a violent raid on the village of Brattsholt. It seems that no one really knows what caused this raid, but the story circulates like wildfire. Many people denounce what they call senseless violence, but there are still those, mostly younger Ulven, who talk about these raids as if they were a return to traditional Ulven raiding culture. Some of these young upstarts even seem to be eyeing up the idea of joining these clanless raiders themselves. It seems the tenuous peace between the peoples of Mardrun coupled with the relative security of the Shield of Mardrun is placing a yoke on the rowdy nature of some Ulven and as the seasons pass some may be looking for ways to shed that burden.


In the meadhalls of Clan Goldenfield a bizarre story seems to have taken root. Over ale and liquors people drunkenly tell the story of a young man named Thackery Crowsbane. Thackery earned his name by profession as many do. As an inexperienced young man with not much in the way of marketable skills he was hired, at first by joke, to act as a scarecrow in a large barley field. Soon, however, the farmers found that Thackery proved to be an actual asset. Armed with nothing but a large stick, Thackery took well to his position. He would charge across the field and wallop any crows he caught and each night he ate well of stewed crow and ramps he foraged in the nearby woods. The crows, though numerous, were no match for the lightning quick rod of Thackery Crowsbane. 

One evening as Thackery was gathering ramps for his stew he heard a strained scream from over the hills. He armed himself with his stick and charged ahead to find the source of the sound. When he crested the hill he saw, in the darkening twilight, a small man dragging what appeared to be a blonde woman by a rope around her neck. Thackery set upon the man immediately and began to beat him with his mighty stick while shouting at the man to let her go. The man sputtered and cursed and screamed that she was his property. Thackery steeled his resolve and continued to batter the man until he dropped his rope and tore off and away over the hills.

Thackery took a deep breath and turned to introduce himself to his damsel in distress, but he was not prepared for what he saw. The damsel was in fact not a woman at all, but a tightly shorn sheep, its lips coloured with red stain and its face partially obscured by a braided blonde wig. Thackery shuddered at the sight and untied the rope from the animal’s neck. He watched his damsel trot off into the night and immediately went to town to drink and forget what he’d experienced. Unfortunately for himself his drinking loosened his tongue and before long all had heard the story of Thackery Crowsbane, Rescuer of Damsels.

Rumors continue to spread that some unknown group in the colonial lands have developed a new technique to create objects imbued with magical properties. At this time no one can be certain how true these rumors are, but that hasn’t stopped them from being spread with fervor. At this time it seems people are more interested in sharing the rumor rather than getting to the bottom of it.

The snow thaws as spring begins to wrap Mardrun in its warm embrace. As people begin to mill about and trade routes begin again the well of news and rumors bursts free and spreads gossip over the continent.

Rumors swirl of another brutal raid on a small colonist farmstead, this time along the Yurnai River south of Daven’s Hold. Again there was no trace left by the raiders that could give any idea of their identity, but their violence was extreme. No one escaped the slaughter and much like the last raid, several people were left with their heads on pikes. Some people question the legitimacy of these claims and instead tell stories of people trying to whip up some sort of panic to take eyes off the alleged lies of Celestial Arragones. 

A rumor has been making the rounds through the tavern circuit that seems far too fantastical to be true. Someone claims to have been privy to a secret research group that found a way to construct new, powerful magic items for the first time since the skill was lost during the fall of the Syndar Kingdoms of Faedrun. Before long drunken lips are spilling this ‘secret’ all over Mardrun. The majority of people toss aside the notion as nothing more than alcohol-fueled delirium, but enough people believe it to carry the rumor on to their next watering hole and soon the buzz has swept over Mardrun.

Tales sweep in from the taverns and ale houses of the City State of Newhope of another couple murders. This murder seems to have happened in the deep of winter, however the bodies are being found now due to the thaw allowing travel between settlements and the smell eminating from the households. The first house belonged to a small family of five that were found arranged in odd grotesque positions. The second was similar to the first, but instead there was a message left in the flesh of the family of three, “Blood flows faster, yet none answer. Will you listen?” 

With trails opening up many stories swap with the previously snow locked northern territories. One such tale is that of an animal of abnormal size. A merchant caravan from Ironmound speaks of seeing a bear that came out of hibernation that was the size of a fully loaded wagon and probably could have swatted them like flies. They knew that the creature was watching them for some time before they saw it, due to that feeling a person gets on the back of their neck as if something is just behind them. They only saw the beast by sheer luck as they rushed through the pass to a break in the tree line. According to one of the caravan guards the creature was running full tilt towards the caravan, and they were only able to avoid being eaten alive due thanks to the oxen pulling their cart tearing down the trail as though The Great Wolf himself were nipping at their heals. So if you travel through the Pass of the Great Wolf Hackles, beware of a massive bear that could do more than just make off with your food stores.

Word tears across Mardrun of a troubling development along the borders of Newhope territories. A small colonist village was ransacked in a brutal and deadly raid. Not a single inhabitant survived the assault and some of them were even left with their heads on pikes. It wasn’t until a traveling merchant came to the area days later that anyone even knew of their fate.Taverns and alehalls throughout the whole continent are abuzz with worried whispers and fervent debates. Some claim that it must have been the work of bandits, but others think that it was clearly an Ulven attack as some sort of a reprisal for the rumors of the crimes of the Ancient Syndar. Regardless of the perpetrators, the colonists along the border find themselves on edge and sleeping with one eye open. It is yet to be seen if Newhope proper will mount any kind of a military operation along their borders.

The tales of an Ulven hunter who barely survived being lost in a blizzard make their way through the tavern circuit. The stories say that a Nightriver hunter went out to hunt deer on the southside of The Great Forest. She was gone for many days, during which a brutal snowstorm blanketed the land in deep snow. Her packmates began to come to terms with the thought that she may never return, but one day she did. She limped into the village on a broken and splinted leg and after resting told a story of losing her way in the storm and hearing the heavy breathing and dull roar of a beast in the woods. She ran, but while blinded by the storm, tripped over a tree root and fell down an embankment, breaking her ankle. Still hearing the rumble of the beast she pulled herself into the hollow of a large tree and huddled herself together. She continued to hear the beast’s heavy breath and solid footsteps around her tree, but she could not bring herself to look outside. She shivered through the night, but didn’t dare to light a fire. When the morning came and the storm passed she splinted her ankle and made the slow journey home with no quarry, but the story of an event she’ll never forget.

Some months back the Ulven Clans of Mardrun put forth a joint effort to supply a party of Steinjottun Fleetfoot scouts and Spiritclaw Truthseekers to be sent into the heart of The Dirge to verify the rumors that have been circulating about the origins of The Mordok and the lies of Arragones. Though no official statements have been made by any of the Ulven Clans it does appear that some loose lips have given rise to even more rumors that the Ulven scouting party has returned. Many of these rumors also claim that the scouts have verified everything contained in the scandalous letter that has been circulating with claims that Arragones has been lying to cover up the sins of her ancestors. Though some choose to wait for official confirmation by Clanleadership, others have already begun to spread these rumors as fact.