THE STORY SO FAR
Whispers of Fire
It is the day of Greengrass in the year 1485 DR, and all across Faerûn, people are celebrating the end of the Winter and the coming of Spring, a new rebirth in spite of all the hardships faced over the past few decades. Iriabor, the aptly named City of a Thousand Spires makes itself known as one of the premiere mainland trading junctions in the Southern Sword Coast, and thusly indulges its mostly wealthy population with an extravagant festival commemorating this important holiday. Amidst the joyful chaos of these enlightened times, there exists a very clear duality between the merchant-class nobility of the city and the sprawling commons of the lower Tor. When the city is being brought to such great expense for something so trivial as a holiday, many within the subsidized district grow restless and agitated with their upper-class cousins, and it is perhaps for this reason that many of those traders traveling through the city on this monumentous day have hired added protection for their trips down the trail. In years past, the notorious Red Brand Gang has dominated the outlying regions beyond the walls, however they have been largely subdued with the efforts of a Purple Dragon Knight named Sir Isteval. This renowned hero came passing by Iriabor in the previous months, and along the way promptly eliminated the threat with the aid of his fellow order members. The trouble that has newly arisen in the wake of this development, is perhaps something far more sinister.
Within the wretched hovels or the Lower Tor, rumors abound of strange nomads clad in violet robes, who have promised the people of Iriabor that a coming fire will reign over even the most powerful of the nobility. The city's poor have flocked with hope to this ideal, vague and indescriptive as it may be, which has in turn caused the wealthier districts to act with greater caution. When the trade caravans leave Iriabor for the small town of Greengrass, they will be at their most vulnerable and filled with the profits of selling to the upper-class of the city, which explains their considerable fear that even as the Red Brand Gang has largely dissipated, a new threat may arise in the form of these robed strangers. It is under this pretense of widespread paranoia that the player characters begin their journey being employed by a particularly nervous merchant who is worried that his own properties will be attacked before he has time to finish his most profitable dealings in the city...
Within the wretched hovels or the Lower Tor, rumors abound of strange nomads clad in violet robes, who have promised the people of Iriabor that a coming fire will reign over even the most powerful of the nobility. The city's poor have flocked with hope to this ideal, vague and indescriptive as it may be, which has in turn caused the wealthier districts to act with greater caution. When the trade caravans leave Iriabor for the small town of Greengrass, they will be at their most vulnerable and filled with the profits of selling to the upper-class of the city, which explains their considerable fear that even as the Red Brand Gang has largely dissipated, a new threat may arise in the form of these robed strangers. It is under this pretense of widespread paranoia that the player characters begin their journey being employed by a particularly nervous merchant who is worried that his own properties will be attacked before he has time to finish his most profitable dealings in the city...