Arabel: Parchments scattered randomly (Open Thread)

[Silver Feather]

A shadowed figure's swift steps through the quiet streets of Arabel are followed only by fine parchments left in their wake in areas where heavy foot traffic usually takes hold.

Brave Citizens of Arabel's Fair Walls, whose homes and lives were nearly lost to all.

When orcish and goblin hordes descended, harsh their bark and left our streets awash in shadow dark.

Yet from that darkness, honor's light did shine an orc redeemed by courage most divine.

Urbuchek his name, who stayed the horde and sheathed their blades at word of his wise lord.

Some curse the Crown who granted such a boon, to one whose kind had wrought such ruin.

But look here citizens with open heart and see the healing his deeds did impart.

Through his command, our fair Arabel stands, no more laid waste by pillaging's cruel hands.

The gift of lordship, though it chafes at pride hath saved our homes where family doth abide.

Rebel no more against the reasoned Crown, they did what they must to safeguard our town.

Give thanks to Urbuchek and see the good in sparing us a darker likelihood.

No privilege he craves but order's sake for if his orc kin returned - what then to make?

Of our ruined walls and slaughtered cavalry?

Nay, better to live at peace, and hail civility.

So stay your course for vengeance or uprise and let cool wisdom win where anger lies.

Our city perseveres, our hope made new because one honorable orc showed mercy true.

Silver Feather

[Silver Feather]

[iamthecircle]

*A female gnome, smiling brightly, finds the parchment. After reading it over, she returns it to where she found it. Her bright smile remains entirely unchanged as she walks off, shifting her grip on her plain, wooden staff.

[Silver Feather]

Nightfall. The streets are quiet and the people rest, for now. Yet, the shadowed figure makes their way through the streets and alleys yet again, leaving behind fresh fine parchments in their wake.

Brave People of Arabel, Hear My Words

I know your anger burns hot as dragon's breath at the Crown's decision to grant lordship's wreath

Not to your kin, but to orc Urbuchek instead doubts and questions must surely fill each head

Yet this was the bargain to spare our city from rampaging hordes whose only goal was pity

Our homes laid to ash, our streets streaked crimson if not for this deal that saved Arabel's blossom

Though he be orc, Urbuchek stayed the attack pulled back the armies that would have turned all black

His mind turned from slaughter to self-interest's door we live thanks to the choice that many abhor

I urge you, take pause before rushing to rage at times life's twists have us turn an odd page

What seems foul injustice may hold seeds of reason give peace a chance to bloom throughout each season

In time, you'll see this was the path well-trod a future secured through orc hailed as lord

Silver Feather

[Silver Feather]

Some time passes since the last scattering of poems and no other parchments are found spread new amongst the streets while the moonlit alleys seem dead silent.. For now.

[DM Flash]

*At the end of a long day, the town's Blacksmith Vashan closes up his shop with a leather sachel strung across one side of his torso holding his day's earnings. There be only a few souls out at this time of night other than the patrolling guards, and no half-orcs in sight by decree of the Town Criers and their Herald, Westar. As Vashan heads to Kreg's in the Central Core of the city to make his deposit, he comes across a parchment on the ground, picks it up and reads it over with some mutters of frustration to himself*


"Whot is this nonsense? Some bleedin' heart askin' for peace, forgiveness, an' healin'?! It was my Lord who fought and retook the city, driving the orcs out of Arabel into the Hullack and other places...not Urbuchek. No amount of poetry gonna bring back me fallen lads. Captain Norister still holds a line out west and does well and good with me orcbane weapons. Hmph!"


*From across the Central Core, another of Arabel's merchants was also closing up her shop. Anjali noticed from afar something had riled up Vashan as she watched him crumple up the paper and toss it aside in frustration before he proceeded inside Kreg's Money Exchange. As curious as the cats of Suzail, she crosses the Central Core and picks up the crumpled parchment to read it for herself. As her eyes scroll down the page a brief smile appears on her face. She does her best to flatten out and folds the parchment neatly before putting it in one of her tailored dress pockets. She pauses a moment, then heads for the Arabel Ale House*


"Who is this...Silver Feather? There is hope if you know where to find it. I wonder if Dale has seen these yet?"

[The Feather Noir]

I tell's yea twere like a shadow it be. As Lathalander be me witness dem papers just appear right out o thin air dey did. *To the amusment of the tavern crowd with many hearty guffas. Still the papers did seem to appear, often with other missives had be found.



Forbearance, forgive, forget rejoice loudly all is fine

For we must sing the siren song of Urburchek now

Forbearance to the Orc who burnt your land

Forgive the pillaging of one and all

Forget the murders and the rapes, raise your stein



Drink down this bitter draft

For peace we have at a heavy cost

All is well so they say, just look!

but look not to far least you might see

Orc be gathering with amused laugh



For it is their year the prophets say

To rise once more in warrish ways

With demons might to prevail

So hide your head and sing the song

Never worry for soon it shall be their day