[!]

In the coming weeks, the streets of the Spire become noticeably cleaner, and any litter seen around town is quickly dealt with.

[?]

Seemingly out of nowhere, Marcel's Workshop has been destroyed - It seems that the man, in some fit of rage or insanity or both, has taken an axe to every - single - thing, within.  His services, and that of Nell & Company, will be unavailable for the time being...

[!]

In the late hours of the night--after a long and tense dinner, violence erupted in the Thelwen household. An impish but well-dressed elf scurries into the streets, pursued by a much quicker Fallstoner woman. The chase spills into the town square and the elf is nearly caught... however, he has a few tricks up his sleeves. According to some accounts, the villain seemingly... teleported from behind concealment to evade his captor. One blink and he was suddenly on the roofs, vaulting into the night. Whatever the altercation, it seems only one man was targeted and he was badly bruised from a flurry of attacks. Thankfully, the victim was healed in time although the wounds were hardly fatal.

A poster advertising new guild was reposted. 

Penned in different no less elegant writing, multiple copies were posted around the town

Hailing all craftsmen, artisans and traders of the Spire!

As our city expands, so too does our number of skilled artisans.
In order to gather these creative abilities and services into a proper roster a new guild has been formed.
It will provide services within and without, support its members properly, offer joint advertisement
and host festivals to showcase the artistic abilities of all its businesses.

Spirefolk have proven themselves to be a people of strong wills,
Let us prove to the world we are also a people of fine craftsmanship.

If you seek to join as a founding member or company, please reach to Brieze Martolod, a secretary.

(OOC: If you  have crafts, industry or trade oriented character, and are interested in joining, drop message to original forum post  or contact Olomet (Brieze) IC or on Discord)

[!]

The Winds shift.

Strangers. Too many to be called coincidence. Boots still caked in road-mud, cloaks soaked from travel, eyes sharp. One, by one.

The stables overflow.
The Inns only fare a tad better.
Brawls nearly break twice before dusk. A drink refused and a sword drawn in The Cask.

Some townsfolk say they’re here to shelter from the storm. Though, some say they’re the storm.

And just like that, the whispers begin ...

[!]

The short, red-haired woman usually seen manning the Honed Horn Smithy appears to be battening down the workshop as the storm arrives in full force upon the Spire. Tools being stowed away, the Golem kept secured and wrapped up whilst the flames of the forge itself roaring more than usual to keep the area dry. A passerby had said to have witnessed this woman nearly blown away by the high winds before scurrying back inside.

[!]




In the ever unrelenting downpour and in the time of dimmed lanterns with darkened skies, Rumors from night owls and early risers that view the streets of the spire in such times would see a eerie hulking figure carrying a wieldy iron staff on their shoulders. Being spoken to by the locals and despite the dread that their presence emits, would be friendly with a grin. They claim to be finding smiths mastered in their craft in hopes to partner and build a weapon with extraordinary skill as a gift for a pupil they find endeared to them.

[!]

[ ! ]

Some time in the night or early morning, notices are put out. In common areas out of the rain, and pinned onto certain doors.

Elova Thelwen brought a beautiful baby girl into the world this eve. Calla Wynne Thelwen. Both mother and babe are healthy as can be, and happily resting in Patient Room Two in the hospital.

Come give your congratulations! Or don't. She doesn't mind.

[!]
The Cask; A dagger dug into the bar, papers strewn all over the floor and stuck in random places.
Missives penned in different handwriting, some with barely legible grammar. Some torn, some wet, some bloodied.
Someone keen on sending a message, but not very thorough or thought out.

'Callista is a murderer'

'The assembly cares not for your safety'

'Your councillor too cares for little beyond his beloved'

((message me here or on discord for any questions or concerns))

[!]

After the odd ship wreck, and the arrival of the Bosun on the Spire's shore, the trunk that he claimed could bring about calamity and tragedy if opened resides with Diarmait, at an undisclosed location. Should any be interested in seeing it, he is often found wandering, always friendly to be approached by strangers.