A Head on a Pike at the Edge of Cormanthor Crossroads

Few would be able to pass by the river path without seeing the gruesome sight of the head of a male Half-Drow upon a pike. The mouth hangs open, and an eye has been picked clean by one scavenger or another. Any familiar with the man would be able to identify him as Vuz Jaelre.

Attached to the weapon is a sign in common that reads

Drow belong in their holes. The fate is for all those monsters who tread the surface

Tara Whiterock, on one of her walks on the forest, would see the head impaled and blinks a couple of times.

"Wow.. just.. wow.. he is now even more ugly than he was before.."

She would walk on, muttering. "By Beshaba's barns.. how savage."

A man in merchant's clothing hauls a backpack over his shoulder and stops to scowl at the pike.

"This is the third time I've seen this same head on a pike."

*Roman would pass by the gruesome scene, the sight of a head on a pike always brings a warm smile to his face. Curiosity would get the better of him, he would walk up and inspect it... rub some of the crust and grime from it with a cotton cloth soaked in whiskey... realize who it is and frown most dissapointed*


Gods damn it! *he's throw up his arms and turns around and heads to Shadowdale.*

As Cruven and his dog walk by he gets a mixed expression of a grin and a scowl.

"All drow-bloods deserve that fate.... But that kill was ours!"

He grumbles to himself and heads out to slaughter some beastmen in annoyance.

The wanderer Ny'ithil passes the head on one of his regular trips, the sight of more severed heads appears to break his heart. He murmers quietly, unable to look at the 'warning' for too long even in passing.

"This is justice? Where is the dignity?"