The young blonde half-elf barely makes out what the old dwarf says but she steps closer, and as Jirel puts her powerful and reassuring hand on her back she practically melts into it, feeling the blonde giantess´ comforting strength. With the half-elf's increasing insecurities over trying to be a Harper agent she relaxes in the hands of the mighty goliath at her side, and she gracefully follows along to wherever she is brought, walking close, her silvery eyes frequently peering up at the honey hues of Jirel as they make their way after the old dwarf to the park. "An ally from the Emerald Enclave?" Tylaerys curiously whispers up to the blonde giantess as they follow along.

(Would Tylaerys know anything about this park?)

Jararaka, you snag a copy of Baldur's Mouth and flip through it.  Most of it is sensationalist gossip material centered around the nobles, merchants, and celebrities who call the city home.  You do spot two particulary juicy articales that catch your eye.  One is plastered all over the first page:

SHOCKING EXPOSE: BALDUR'S GATE NOBILITY LINKED TO SINISTER CULT! 

Baldur's Mouth Exclusive

In an explosive revelation that's sure to rattle the foundations of our fair city, whispers abound of a bloody connection between some of Baldur's Gate's most esteemed families and the recently dismantled cult brought to justice by the heroes of the Watch.  The very families who have long held positions of influence and respect are now shrouded in a cloud of suspicion, with the Vanthampurs and the Hhunes at the forefront of these shocking allegations.

Sources close to the investigation claim that members of these prominent families may have ties to the very cult that terrorized our streets.  While no official statements have been released, insiders suggest that even the Watch is unable to deny the swirling rumors circulating throughout the Upper City.

Our team has tirelessly sought answers from the Watch, but officials remain tight-lipped.  No one, it seems, is willing to confirm anything on the record.  Is there a concerted effort to cover up the shocking truth?  Could the very guardians of our city be implicated in a web of conspiracy?  The Vanthampurs and Hhunes, families long regarded as pillars of our community, find themselves at the epicenter of these sinister speculations.  How deeply are they entwined with the cult's dark activities?  Are these esteemed names merely a façade for a more sinister truth?  As rumors circulate, citizens are left to wonder: Are the elite of Baldur's Gate involved in a secret society that threatens the very fabric of the city?  Our sources tell us that high-profile gatherings and social events may have served as breeding grounds for these clandestine activities.

 As the Watch remains silent, and the whispers grow louder, one can't help but wonder: What other secrets might our city be harboring? The heart of Baldur's Gate may prove darker and more twisted than any of us dared to imagine. Stay tuned, dedicated reader, as we delve deeper into the shadows to expose the truth that may reshape our city forever!

The other interesting article is buried in back pages....

EXCLUSIVE: HALF-DRAGON SPOTTED IN THE STEEPS

Hold onto your hats, Baldur's Gate, because we've got a sizzling scoop that's hotter than dragon's spit!  Whispers of a black half-dragon sauntering through the shadowy lanes of the Steeps have ignited a frenzy of speculation and wild theories among our city's residents. But is this scaly sensation the real deal, or could it be a case of mistaken identity?

Eyewitnesses from the Steeps swear they've glimpsed a creature straight out of nightmares — a half-dragon!  The neighborhood, already known for its peculiar happenings, now finds itself in the throes of dragon-mania.  But is this rare and dangerous being truly wandering our cobblestone streets, or have citizens been duped by their own imaginations?

Some skeptics suggest that the alleged half-dragon might be nothing more than a misunderstood dragonborn, a far more common sight in our city.  Could the citizens of Baldur's Gate be falling victim to their own ignorance and confusion, misidentifying a relatively ordinary person as something more sinister?  Or is our own well-grounded caution and reservation causing us to doubt what our eyes are telling us?

Always looking out for our dear readers, our investigative team dug deep into the heart of the matter, consulting with experts in draconic lore and interviewing supposed witnesses. The consensus among experts is that half-dragons are exceptionally rare, and exceptionally dangerous.  If one really is lurking about the Steeps, the next question is why?  And where will it strike next?  Stay tuned as we unravel the scales of deception and dig deeper into the rumors that have the Steeps and all of Baldur's Gate in a tailspin. 

---

 

Reacting to the strange whispers in the marketplace, you are unable to pinpoint their location.  There is no discernable response when Yeshil tries to communicate, and no one else near you is betraying any sign of hearing the voices.  Listening closely, Yeshil is able to make out a little more detail.  It seems to be a crush of many voices together, making teasing out individual words difficult.  For the most part, the voices speak greetings ("Hello!" "Hail, friend"  "You're here at last!") and requests for you to follow ("This way"  "Please Hurry"  "You must follow us, please").  The voices seem to be asking you to follow into the westernmost sections of the Upper City.

Looking at the myriad symbols on the old dwarf's bald head, you do recognize some.  There are a host of different symbols in blue paint, delicately printed in rings that overlap one another.  There are runes in Dwarvish, Elvish, and another couple of languages you suspect are Sylvan and Goblin.  More to the point for you, there is a ring of Giant runes.  It is a repeating pattern of Runes symbolizing life, resiliency, and patience.

While you do not spot any iconography of the Emerald Conclave, this dwarf is either a Circle of the Land druid, or an expert cosplayer.

'The Tree' is new to you.  You're not aware of any special trees within this crowded and urban city, such that one might have a desire to see you.

You would be aware that, for all it has to offer, Baldur's Gate has a remarkable lack of public green spaces.  Most places wide enough to hold a park are quickly replaced with new buildings.

Come to think of it, you're hard pressed to recall even a single place you could call a 'park' in the city.

The little chipmunk pauses uncertainly when Jirel nods to it, before pressing its palms together and providing a curt bow.  It then resumes snacking on the old dwarf's shoulder.

Torimesh leads on a walk almost entirely across the city.  For the most part, you follow the huge semi-circle of the harbor, from the counting house near the middle of the city, around to the far southeastern corner.

[Pause here briefly... will update again soon]

The two both look concerned.

"Why in the hells would they have sent you to raid again?  I thought the plan was for the raids to be done and for all of us to hightail it to Baldur's Gate?" asks Moltar.

"Cyanrath," Brak answers.  "I told you he was a loose nail.  I swear, that blue monster cares more about fighting than he does about pleasing the Dragon Queen."

"Ok, but..." Moltar continues, "I thought Cyanrath was going to be guarding one of the big gold treasure wagons.  Did he bring that with you to this camp?  Did you lose it?  And what about Cyanrath himself?  Did he fall?  You said you alone escaped...".  He grips the edge of the table, nervously.  "This is ill news, you bring.  People are going to be angry."

---

 As they process your 'news', you are startled slightly to see Jirel and Tylaerys walk by.  They have no way of recognizing you in your new disguise, of course, and they continue past, unawares.  They are following behind an old dwarf in robes and blue body paint, with a rodent on his shoulder.

[Perception check DC 14 please.]

---

 

At last Moltar sighs.  "That's enough time at the docks.  No one is coming through this way.  I think it's more important we get you back to meet with the others and you can share what happened in the Wood."  He rises up and motions for you and Brak to follow.

     "I think it was just a target of opportunity.  It was just there, looked weak and an easy target... And was until wandering reinforcements showed up."

     "The wagon and Cyanrath should be safe," Finn adds.  "The camp was small.  The whole group didn't need attack.  Just a few of us were sent off from the rest of them.  But as I said, once we had lost and I had to flee I ran blindly for a while.  By the time I was sure I had shaken any possible pursuit I had lost my way and couldn't make it back to the wagon..."

     "They should be angry!  I'm angry!  It was a stupid move and me and the others paid the price for Cyanrath's greed..."

     Finn starts to raise a hand in greeting as she spots Tylaerys and Jirel walk by but quickly remembers she is undercover and hides it with reach for a mug and taking a drink.

Perception Check: 13

     "Yes, good...  they definitely need to know what happened..."

Torimesh continues to lead the way along the harbor.  You pass by a tall, three-masted ship anchored to the harbor by heavy chains.  It has rigging, but no sails.  Soon you see a sign and recognize it as the Low Lantern, the establishment where Volo invited you out tomorrow night.

The docks are busy at this time of day and it is slow going.  At times you have to pause as teams of longshoremen block the path to allow for long rolls of carpet or other goods to be carried across from ships.  

Eventually you reach the far southeastern corner of the city, in the shadow of the curtain wall.  Torimesh turns inland, here, and after another 50 yards, you reach a small park, surrounded by a natural gate of red and white fungus.  The ground here slopes sharply up, toward Dusthawk Hill.  The entire park is only a couple of acres.

He walks through the gate beckoning you to follow.  For the first time since he greeted Jirel, he begins to speak again.  "When I arrived here, I was appalled.  There are beautiful gardens maintained in the Upper City... restrained and confined, but beautiful and green.  But outside the palaces of the wealthy, there were no gardens, no nature.  So many souls packed into this city of stone and brick, with no green to be found.  Not even a crack for a seed to take root."  He gestures around you.  "This space was given over to refuse... the trash and debris from countless construction projects.  I took it... illegally, the master of this city might say... and I built this park.  Even in a place like Baldur's Gate, nature wishes to thrive.  It took only a little encouragement from me before the garbage and broken stone was covered with lush lawns and bright, green trees.  I dedicated it to the people here, that they may escape the noise and congestion of the city and commune, if even for a short while, with the nature to which they owe their existence."  Indeed, looking around, you see a handful of children playing, ducking in and out of tunnels in the green hillside and playing tag.  Elsewhere, a couple sits on a white blanket, enjoying a picnic together.

"And nature had a surprise in store for me.  The Drawing Tree."  He leads you to the center of the park.  There stands a tall tree, much taller than any of the others.  While most of the trees here are barely a few years old, this tree is quite larges and seems to have been here for decades.  Its species is hard to determine... the leaves look like nothing you have seen before, and the bark is an odd whirl of white with black streaks.  "The tree speaks to us.  When it is willing, or when it is necessary, it grants us a glimpse into what is to come."

"This morning, it asked me to find you," he says to Jirel.

Life. Resiliency. Patience.

While alert, Jirel still took in her surroundings as it passed by and noted the Low Lantern for tomorrow night. It was nice for her to stretch her legs, even if it was slow going. And with each step they took, separating themselves from the bustling streets, and closer to the hidden park, the giantess could feel her shoulders relax back. She felt less confined, less on edge and the return of some comfort. The closest thing to feeling like 'home' in these parts.

Life. Resiliency. Patience.

Jirel hesitates not to follow Torimesh through the small, but mighty park. She listens intently while the wise man shares the intertwined story of him and the green space he gave back to the people. Honey eyes pan the area which couples picnic and children play. Her heart swells as she witnesses first hand the joy he restored and gave back to the community, and now shares with her. The blade warriors respect only grew for the elder as she reflected.

Life. Resiliency. Patience.

The Drawing Tree. It comes to view, standing tall amongst the rest. Jirel was speechless, even for a woman of few words. There was not even a grunt. She'd step carefully, drawn forward by the presence of the tree which Torimesh has introduced. Of all to call forward, he was asked to find her. But why? Honey hues trace the colours of the bark as she reaches forward. The giantess places her palms against the tree, her fingers resting along it's ridges. She closes her eyes and brings her forehead to rest against. She felt.

Life. Resiliency. Patience.

"I'm listening."

The young blonde half-elf follows closely beside Jirel through the streets of Baldur's Gate, her silvery eyes glancing around for threats but not quite seeing any. She notes the venue where they would meet Volo the next night, her hand going to her pocket to check she still had the tickets the famous author had given them. As they reach the small garden, Tylaerys looks up at the blonde giantess and smiles, hoping she would enjoy being in this small but peaceful part of nature, even for a short while. As they reach the tree the blonde half-elf stands back in silence, smiling warmly as Jirel approaches the tree to commune.

Jararaka will hunch over and point out the connections that may be of note in the seedy paper to Yeshil on their way, "might be worth chatting with the people who wrote these, huh..." but this gets put on a back burner when the two hears the whispers.

The lizardfolk scratches her head, tail swishing indecisively for a moment before stilling. She turns to face Yeshil and nods once. "A'ight, now, to be honest, I didn't have a bad time the last time I heard a mysterious whisper in my head." She raises her arm a little to show her shield. "Let's see if that's the case this time. The library's not going anywhere. Hope this don't take too long... Stay behind me and keep an eye out? Skedaddle if it looks bad." She pats Yeshil on the shoulder, mutters a half-growl half-prayer, then continues in a lower voice. [Yeshil has guidance for the next minute!] "You know the arcane stuff, yeah? Is this looking like a magic trick?"

With that, she goes towards the direction of the whisper.

[when a bait is dangled in front of me, I will take it haha. Jararaka is curious but as a player I'm ok to go either way, whisper or library, feel free to stop Jararaka!]

The old dwarf nods, and then turns to face the tree.  He begins a ritual that seems to mostly involve chanting to the tree.  He speaks the language of the druids, a tongue you but recognize but cannot comprehend.  It is mostly disconnected syllables, throat singing, and clicks and clucks.  It straddles the line between performative, and reverential.  

As his ritual stretches on, a young, bespectacled human man approaches, standing back about 20 feet behind the two of you, watching and taking notes.  

As Torimesh's ritual reaches its crescendo, there is a cracking, peeling sound, and two large strips of back separate themselves from the side of the tree, red sap dripping down around their outlines.  The druid falls to his knees in supplication before the tree, holding that pose for a few heartbeats, before rising.  He approaches the tree, whispers, "Thank you, friend," and then grasps the topmost strip of bark, pulling it free with a wet, tearing sound.  You feel relief as you see fresh, unmarred bark below, instead of an open wound on the trunk.

Torimesh turns and hands the strip to Jirel.  "A vision.  From the Drawing Tree."  Though he hands it to Jirel, he makes no effort to conceal it from Tylaerys.

Jirel, as you turn the strip of bark over to reveal the underside, you are startled by what you see. 

It is a map of the Sword Coast, in near perfect detail, red sap outlines against offwhite bark.  More, it is not just a map... the image is alive.  Puffy clouds of sap drift over the land, casting shadows, as though you are looking down upon the real land from some unimaginable height.  There are no labels or words, but you can see the familiar paths of Rivers, like the Chionthar and the Neverwinter, and features like the peaks of the Sword Mountains and the great Reghed Glaciar in the utter north.  Roads are barely visible, meeting together at the great settlements of the land.  

And it is here, at the cities and settlements, that the image changes.  Dabs of red sap at the city centers appear and begin to grow, spreading out, pouring across the surrounding geography like a flow of blood.  From the locations of Luskan in the north, Silverymoon in the northeast, from Baldur's Gate in the south and from Waterdeep, Neverwinter, Secomber... a tide or red sap fans out until covers all the land, raining down off the page, covering the toes of your boots and turning your fingers into a sticky red mess.  The Sword Coast is gone, and only a bright swath or Red territory remains in its place.

As you have watched this unfold, the druid has returned to the tree.  You are snapped by to the moment by the sound of him tearing free another strip.  "There is one more.  The Drawing Tree says this second image is why it asked for you, above any of the others who could stand against this future."

He hands you the second strip of bark.  Once again, the underside holds an image painted in red sap. 

No map this time, it is portraiture instead.  An assemblage of faces.  From left to right, there are five.  All of them are two faced in a way... when you hold the paper bark just so, you see one image of them, but when you turn it slightly, the image changes to reveal an alternate, similar face.

The first face is an elf woman.  Beautiful, hauntingly so.  Almost regal, with eyes of piercing intelligence.  When turned, however, the face falls away, revealing a rotten skull, with pin pricks of baleful red light where those brilliant eyes should be.

The next face is another elf, a man this time.  Where the woman had been ravishingly beautiful, this face is scarred and old, an eyepatch covering the right eye.  Despite the injuries, there is a certain roguish handsomeness in the face.  But then the bark is tilted, the eyepatch disappears.  The scars remain, but the elf now has two, clear and cruel eyes in his face.

The next image, dominating the middle of the page, is a black dragon.  Or two.  When you tilt the bark, one head becomes two, two heads become one.  It is confusing to look at, as if your eyes keep trying to turn the image of two back into a single dragon.

Next is a human man.  He squints hard on his right eye.  You're reminded of the elf two slots over, though it's not clear if this man is missing an eye, or just has some kind of facial deformity.  But when you turn the bark, the entire right side of the face rots away, revealing bare skull.  Both eyes are replaced by glittering diamonds in this jarring undead vision.

The last image... your breath catches, ice cold in your chest.  You see a familiar face... young, the faintest hint of a beard growing in.  A cocky, arrogant but playful smile.  A face you saw every day, that you can remember with your eyes closed.  When the page turns, so does the face, from a teen prince, into to young king.  Thick blond beard covers a strong jaw beneath a cruel smile.  Honey eyes stare into your soul from below the jagged rim of a bloody crown.  

Your twin.

Tearing your eyes away, you see there is more... behind and above them all, a shape in the background.  Dark robes and a crimson cape twist and furl around a bleak white skull.  Bony fingers grasp the tools of a puppeteer, wires and chains grasping the figures below.  The lesser faces pale in importance against the thing in the background, the master, the grinning spectre of death itself... coming for the Sword Coast. 

Coming for all of you.

As the three of you rise from the table, a server finally emerges from the back of the diner.  

"Too late," Brak mutters, and reaches out with an idle hand, tipping his chair over onto the floor with a loud clatter.

Moltar leads the three of you down an alley and then turns north toward the city center.  As you weave past beggers and urchins, and hop across narrow lanes, Moltar occasionally casts worried looks behind you, as if concerned about being followed.  The further you go, the more he relaxes, apparently satisfied that there is no one on your tail.

After a few minutes of walking, he looks at you.  "When we get there, tell your story but be careful of any criticism of Cyanrath.  He may have more guts than sense, but he is still a wearer of purple and he carries clout.  Say the wrong thing, and you could bring trouble down on all of us.  If you must blame someone, name one of those who perished in the failed raid.  The dead care less about scorn than do half-dragons."

A little while later, the two of them slow and the stop at a corner, looking around while trying to appear nonchalant.  Brak motions to a building across the way.  There is a large warehouse building.  "We're crashing on the back side, there."  He points to what looks like an addition tacked onto the back of the warehouse.  It is a three-story structure, and the bricks are a different color from the rest of the warehouse.  A white painted sign over the door says simply 'Boarding House.'

When traffic in the road increases, they ease out into the flow.  Across the road, Moltar slips into the open doorway, while Brak remains behind you, motioning you to head inside.

As you ponder the peculiar voices, Yeshil, it strikes you as something akin to the spell sending, yet also different.  These voices appear to be one-way only, yet they also seem targeted to you and Jararaka alone.  It is an interesting technique, to be sure.  One has to assume there is a divination component at work here as well... else how would you two be targeted for contact and be guided to the intended destination?

That destination, meanwhile, is not so close as one might have hoped.  Jararaka slinks through the upper city, reptilian frill up and alert, as you are lead past and through the temple district.  You pass by the High House of Wonders, the ringing of hammers and clicking of gears a testiment to the 'worship through craftsmanship' employed inside by the devotees of Gond.  Nearby, a yellow granite building is decorated with motifs of the sea.  Interesting, the symbol above the arched doorway is not that of a sea deity, but of Tymora, Lady Luck.

Leaving the temple district behind you, you pass into a neighborhood of palatial estates.  The homes and gardens of the patriars, the ruling noble families of Baldur's Gate.  It occurs to you that many of these homes likely control more wealth than all that which was stolen from poor Greenest by the Cult of the Dragon.  

Onward still the voices pull, and you move closer to the southwestern corner of the Upper City.  The huge manor houses shrink in size and the gardens gradually disappear.  Eventually, you stand before the open gate of a courtyard leading into a modest, old-styled manor home.  Letters wrought in iron above the gate identify it as 'Hhune House.'

The voices call you to enter....

 

   Finn is getting excited but also worried.  She is either about to find the cult's base here or she's about to be trapped and exposed...

Insight into Moltar and Brak to see if they are sold on her story or not:  13

     As she is being rushed along she does her best to make note of landmarks and street names so she can find the place again if she must.  But she also tries to get a really good look at a beggar and urchin so that she could hopefully do a good job at mimicking their look at a later date if she has need.

     "I... I can't lie to them..." Finn insists, using her actual nervousness as fuel to seem such about the idea of lying to the cult.  "Maybe I don't say anything at all... Just, you know, meld into the background?"

     Depending how convinced Finn is that they are buying her story of not, Finn is considering melding into the first crowd she can find... A little Thaumaturgy, a little Minor Illusion...  But if she can see inside and see their numbers she could always sneak away later.  Hopefully...

((Not sure if she will get anything definitive on the 13 so if she is unsure she will swallow her fears and head inside with the others.  She can't back away all the time just 'cause her gut tells her to...))

Brak seems to have accepted your story without hesitation.  Moltar seems highly agitated, though you don't necessarily get the impression that it is in regard to you.  As you traveled here, his body language toward you was no different than that toward Brak.  But something has him spooked.

     Finn follows them into the addition of doom...