[!]
Over the next few days, Spirefolk can see a woman with wild red hair and a familiar mask
toiling away on the outskirts of town, near a burnt down camp.
Those who get close enough can hear a mournful melody, hummed wordlessly.
On the final day, a splash of crimson is painted across the land;
a field of poppies blooms from spread ash,
vibrant petals splattered with gold and black speckles.
A memorial.
Emery:
[ ! ]
Come morning, the placard and red banners of the Phonquis Estate appear to have been stripped.
In their place? - Scaffolding. It appears the building is under new ownership.
[ ! ]
The scaffolding is lowered unceremoniously sometime in the evening. The building now appears wreathed in banners of black and purple, depicting an almost occult-looking crest. The new placard reads:
'The Kyr Estate'.
[!]
Those who tasted the wine of the Human Festival may recognize an almost familiar face around town. The Sommelier? Although, with a different hue, and a lost look, now.
In the dark of the night a guard was called to office of an Oaken Quill.
Those in the vicinity may had seen a lady clad in the dark silks waiting for them -
Bound in ropes and tidily packed for collection.
She was promptly arrested
She was taken to the guard house and released short time after, but was scarcely seen in streets since.
[!]
The figure with the prey mask can be seen skulking around town with a smudge of blood on their tattered cloak. Now brown after drying.
You’re not sure if it’s theirs.
[
]
[!]
After a relatively long absence immediately following the conclusion of the Human Festival, Captain Helara Umeneri has returned to the Spire.
Still, it seems she is largely avoidant of others, and rumours circulate that she spends more time out in the wilds around the Spire-town than within its walls.
[!]
Witnesses claimed they saw a bolt of lightning strike the silhouette of a man wielding a scythe, standing defiantly atop the lighthouse. In a blinding flash of steel, the bolt seemed to ricochet off him, arcing harmlessly into the ocean below. Then, as if the storm itself had been bested, the thunderclouds scattered—spent and silent. Moments later, the figure toppled from the lighthouse and vanished into the sea.
[ ! ]
Over the past few days a fool in a pointed cap has been running about outside of town screaming and cleaving at vegetation with a sword. Most foliage is spared, especially those around homes thankfully, but wild grass and lone bushes seem to be prime targets.
[!]
Those who ventured past the small river by the docks, toward the southern beaches, would find a gruesome sight.
Blood littered the sands, everywhere, in spatters and trails.
Arrows littered the site, many snapped and shattered. Some investigation would find the arrows blunted.
The only other detail to be found was a fishing rod resting in the sand. Unhooked. Without its owner. Sand that wasn’t washed away by the tide showed evidence of smeared footprints, and indication of prone movement.
Signs of a scuffle.
»»———- 𓆩𓆪 ———-««
The showers in the Spire subside, and with it, rumors fly.
A snake hunts the rabbit.
»»———- 𓆩𓆪 ———-««
Word of mouth spreads quickly in the Spire; odd encounters with an unfamiliar green-eyed Arsa Sidhe on a mission.
Face typically covered by a collared duelist cape and a mischievous glint in his eyes, spotted tailing another newcomer - hair white as snow, face speckled with freckles. Quiet murmurs spread amongst the guilds with less that reputable backgrounds.
The Trickster has arrived.
»»———- 𓆩𓆪 ———-««
