The Lucindites are in league with Pyrtechon!

[EdTheKet]

Rumor has it that two nights ago, a group of commoners defiled a shrine of Lucinda in Port Hempstead in the dead of night. They called the few Lucindites present dragonlovers, collaborators and traitors.

Merchants out of Port Hempstead spread a tale of the church of Lucinda being in league with the legendary dragon Fisterion, and are bent on destroying all cities on Mistone, like the white dragon did with Leringard.
When these merchants are asked about how they come by this, they state it was stated by somebody dressed in Lucinda's colors, in the middle of Port Hempstead in broad daylight. Many a passer-by had heard it.

The rumor spreads like wildfire across Brelin and into Trelania.

Most common folk nod their heads when hearing the story "Always said them magickers cannot be trusted! Now they're in league with the Destroyer! We're all going to die!"

[gilshem ironstone]

*Walking through the foothills of the Brech mountains towards Vehl, Tristan notices the odd stares his ostentatious blue breast plate, and diamond lightning-shaped pendant are drawing from the travellers he happens to occasion upon.  At first, he thought it to be simple mis-understanding, perhaps borne of a bad experience with an affirmed, but upon hearing one traveller mutter about "What those wizards did in Hempstead.", he turns his gaze north, and begins to march towards the desert.*

[EdTheKet]

The rumours reach Spellgard and many people speak ill of the church.

The morning after the first rumors arrived, sketches of figures in blue on leashes can be seen on many a wall.
The leashes are held by what seems to be a big red lizard.

The sketches are easily removed, but the ones making them are persistent, so they return within a few days of being removed.

[Acacea]

[INDENT]A small halfling with eyes as black as her hair wanders with bare feet both scarred and dirty through the city and other cities like it. The myriad of colors in the movement-cut skirt of her worn dress are faded with time, and the vivid red of the bodice appears now a mellower shade. The bells on her wrists are untarnished, however, and her voice is clear and alluring; when she draws down the hood from her hair, small chain links of silver drape as a circlet under it, meeting at the center to form a tooled unicorn's horn set with a glittering stone, to match the shadowed cloak hinting at the forms of the equines... about the only thing that matches anything. Hung around her waist is a belt of keys in a variety of shapes and sizes, and her skin is marked with strange and colorful images and swirls of ancient scripts.

In open areas, elevated from the streets, she sings to the emerging stars with a heartbreaking emotion that anyone acquainted with her could say she never used with friend, family, or lover; it is all too clear where her true love lies. With her lilting voice she weaves the mysteries from starlight, the wordless melody sounding of more truth than any tale she has ever spoken.  The song carries easily, appealing to all with ears and bringing to life for even one moment out of a lifetime the spark of the Al'Noth that lies within every soul... strange, wondrous, unfathomable. Stop! Listen! it seems to call, whether for an instant or an hour. Remember!

A light globe from a child's fascinated eyes, the discovery of new and complex spells, the strange gift Mam always had with people, or that time Granpere held the wilting rose and it bloomed in his hand... cheering for Mistone's queen, or laughing at fools juggling illusions... so many more people than one might at first expect, touched by some distant memory in a song to the arcane; so many that at one point in life may have loved some aspect of magic before they knew to fear it. Some may always be truly deaf to the mysteries, and for those she can do nothing... for those that have ever had even half an ear though, the world may be illuminated with magic, if only for a moment.

Those affected, however close or distant their memories, may find bruises and injuries from the day fading slowly and unobtrusively as the music lingers in their ears... hurts healed slowly over. Another day and another song, perhaps a queer feeling of being sheltered both by and from magic, a mantle off of which harm would slide...

After a time, the tattooed halfling gently rips a parchment in two and lets the breeze stir the pieces of the popular sketch away. To those near her, whether many have gathered or only a handful, she asks, "Would you think me leashed?" In the city she is especially familiar with the people of, the questions carries a personal emphasis and challenge. In an almost wistful, perhaps regretful tone, she sings distantly to herself,

Adherents to magic,
They bicker and squabble
A case truly tragic,
When blood's on the cobble

Some puffed up committees,
They shout and point fingers,
Ignoring the cities,
Where bitterness lingers

That is not our purpose,
Those are not our dreams,
One world crosses the next,
We who guard the seams

We protect the mysteries,
Keep the secrets of the stars
Look ye to the histories,
Before you close the bars!

"If you have questions, ask... if you have rumors, tell... but remember what your mother said about gossip's poisoned tongue, and let me tell you a story that is true and not true..."

[INDENT]Once there was a circle of mages that lived in a great and mighty tower, protected by all manner of magics. They studied and they scribed, and dealt with all things arcane, from artifacts to scrolls. Near their tower, two terrible dragons warred for kingship, kept distracted from the rest of us by their rivalry and endless plotting. Each was maddened by the other's ability to out maneuver him, and each possessed a powerful thing of magic to use against the other... effectively cancelling them out.

It came to pass that one day, one of the dragon kings had their toy misplaced or stolen! In a rage he lashed out against nearby cities, sending his own out to ravage the homes of those he felt responsible. The other dragon was pleased, for now he had an advantage over his rival... and the mages in their tower became greedy at the thought of some powerful item floating around, waiting to be possessed by surely the only ones able to appreciate it!

When the opportunity presented itself, they used those closest to the item in order to manipulate them into bringing it back to their tower... they boasted that their magic could protect them from anything - even dragons. After all, he wouldn't have his toy anymore, anyway. It would be kept cloistered and safe for their studies, no matter how many dragons beat themselves against their walls... or how many died to protect it. They grew more powerful still with their discoveries, though they had need to divert most of their resources just to its keeping. Other things fell away, and their region was set upon by dragons from both kings... one side wishing to reclaim it, the other to possess both. With the balance tipped in their endless battle, war raged, with the mages' mighty tower at its center.

Did they live to regret it? Who can say? There was war within the tower as well, and bitterness, and betrayal. Perhaps their magic could very well hold against the dragons forever? Did it matter? Was it better to take it into their own hands for power, even if it kept it from the hands of something cruel? With two powerfully dangerous opponents kept in check by one another, is it possible that maybe, just maybe, it may have been better to simply...give it back? For that matter, who removed it in the first place? If not them, who? Why? If it had not been taken, would cities still have been destroyed? This is a story that is true and not true, and has only questions and not answers, for I make a poor seer. This question then, for this true story that is not true: is it possible that supporting the return of something to a dangerous creature may keep a larger balance?

Let us not answer yes, or no... only... maybe. And maybe is enough. Always question... take nothing for granted.

The world is full of dragons,
The world is full of hate,
Turn not upon your neighbor,
Open not that gate...

[/I][/INDENT]

In her travels, she does her best to restore any defaced shrines, though she is neither priest nor artist. Cleaning and singing is what it amounts to for her, with the leaving behind of a desert firstbloom... and for her, perhaps that is enough. Or perhaps not. Playful mocking and insulting she seems to enjoy rather than be offended by, tossing them back with a quick tongue. Serious ill words she mostly ignores, along with other forms of personal injury. Those that wish to play, or talk, or sing, or drink, or learn, she is more than happy to accommodate. She never seems to seek to enlist anyone into service, or ask for any prayers or donations. All that she ever asks with words is to remind there is more to life than what vicious gossip may imply, and that goes not for one faith or any faith at all, but for everything in general. She rarely stays in one place for very long, being bound to get into trouble for silliness sooner or later, and ignores matters of committee paperwork altogether.[/INDENT]

((Under Bardsong - Persuade: +74; perform: +91))

[/I]

[EdTheKet]

*Everywhere the halfling goes on Mistone and spreads her song and tales the aggression against the Lucindites seems to lessen somewhat. However, many also confront her and state she's skirting around the issue and that the Lady of Spells is courting the Destroyer.*

[lonnarin]

*Farros adds, ranting on a street corner*

I for one am perfectly happy that Lucinda has an irresponsible streak in her.  If she hadn't gone all "bad girl" and done the nasty with Corath, m'lady Xeen would not be here!  Then where would we be?  All work, no play, all frumpy and grumpy like a paladin, unable to court a woman or hold their liquor.  She is not evil, simply more human than most care to admit.  So raise your flagons to dumb love, ladies and gents!  If it weren't for that, most of us wouldn't even be here.  I think it is quite refreshing to see a god just as fallible as you or I, or any other barfly lush!  All the other gods pretend to be better than us, and their followers claiming that their own chamberpots smell like roses.  If you're not ever willing to take chances, what would you ever accomplish other than a stagnant, boring, sober life of toil and abstinence?  Nothing but work and church, that's what.  Everybody who truly enjoys life only lives for those turbulent times in between!

Besides, it is not LUCINDA who sides with Pyrtechon, merely a handful of members in the corrupt hierarchy of her temple who have been infiltrated by sleeper agents and duped by Green Dragon Cult saboteurs.  Rest assured that the Blue Lady herself utterly HATES mean old Mr. Firelizard, and would gladly dance on the smoking ashes of his corpse should the opportunity present itself.  Any who claim to be of her flock and side with him are either mad heretics or lying about their allegiances.  Don't cast your curses into the heavens, look to Spellgard's mortal clergy for answers.  Ask them about the scrying of Firesteep and how all this started.  Begin an Inquisition.  This was not Lucinda's doing or decision, but those of mortal men.

Milara and his lapdog Black Wizards are the biggest threat of all now.  That shadow dragon god Drachus makes Pyrtechon look like a mischief kobold with matchsticks in comparison!  Look to the Mountains of Madness, therein lies the REAL threat!  Support the soldiers of Bloody Gate, for should they fall, you are all inevitably doomed!

*continues to spread word to the people of the terror that is Milara, and the dark dragon Drachus*