A hooded figure pounds a note to a tree

NOOS
New Oppressors of Shadowdale greet all the inhabitants of the Dalelands. We want you all to rest assured that freedom rings for all those we approve , ... and all undesired races, characters, faiths, affiliations, attitudes and anyone the powers here choose to dislike , will be banned , jailed and hopefully, one day, persecuted. Just give us time. Oppression is not only a learned art, but also a natural talent , and we got talent !
NOOS - We are watching you

\\...Where is said tree? Crossroads, SD East?

Cross Roads
Others will be pounded up in all the areas mentioned

Rage

Pathea wanders by on her way back to Freehaven from the Krag, eyeing the note and laughing aloud. "What is this crap?" She smirked, ripping it down and stuffing it in her pocket. "Some loon'll probably put up another, but I'm sure Jack would like to see this..." She twirled her dagger, flipping it up and down nonchalantly as she whistled a cheerful tune, continuing on her trek.

If a new note is nailed to a tree Mark walks by and reads it taking away the nail "Oh, looks like somebody is intelligent" then using some tree sap puts the note up "There you go, buddy, all happy now"

Other notes are pounded to sign posts, fence posts, each for pedestrians to see. The mystery person works tirelessly reprinting , obsession burning in the eyes.. Each stroke of the pen expertly done with other than human agility and speed , with total focus of the mind.
As the dawn breaks over the hills, the hood and robe again conceal , as the figure steps out into the morning dew, to spread the message wide, with no concern of those taken down.
If challenged, the figure is tall, thin, and well disguised , and moves on with out even a glance, quickly fading into shadows of darkness that may appear when needed.

A spooky person with full helm and dark padded armor manages to find one of the fliers torn in half on the ground and immediately gets on the wagon to Freehaven. Within hours upon arrival in Freehaven, having copied messy but legible copies on the long wagon ride, these fliers are spread around the buildings outdoors in Freehaven and the posts and bulletins within the trade city. The spook disappears into a tunnel beyond the red Light district and is not seen again for days or longer.

((Just confirming that they're going up at the Dancing Moon, too?))

A man in white armor with a skullmask can be seen ripping down the note at the crossroads crossing, he then leans on the rock next to the torn off paper and waits for the poster to put up a new one.

((pm me if you want to rp something out or so. Available for forum and IG rp.))

A dwarf walks by the skull clad man leaning on a rock and nods, as every note seems to have been torn down by an army of wandering note-stealers, he has no idea what the notes said, nor does he likely care. The dwarf continues on to the Ranger camp to check supplies, then perhaps murder some gnolls to steal their treasures.

"A man in white armor with a skullmask can be seen ripping down the note at the crossroads crossing, he then leans on the rock next to the torn off paper and waits for the poster to put up a new one."

A tall , thin figure dressed in raggedy faded black and gray robes steps with in speaking range. Red eyes peer from within a dark hood. The facial features are very hard to distinguish, as the flesh seems dark and blends into the shade of the hood.

A low giggle gurgles up from a heavily congested lung, as an aged, yet totally steady hand cradles a package of some size.
A raspy, voice crackles out through the air:
"Skulls ?"

The skullknight would observe the man.

"It seems that old farmers have more depth in their actions than thought."

He then would follow the suspicous figure.

Another amused sound rattles up from with the chest of the "suspicious figure".
" Do the skulls reflect your service or faith with death? Or perhaps , to inspire fear and control over others?" , comes the raspy voice from the hood.

The Skullknight observes the man and would reply..

"I wear those skulls because I desire to do so, this is the only reason I need. What about you old man? Try to make another "shift of guards" by pinning up papers? Whats your name?"

A noisy belly laugh rips forth from the figure , with rattles and gurgling from the chest, then turning to a hard coughing spell and choking sounds.
Once recovered , with multiple clearings of the throat, the raspy voice begins a response, as the eyes deep with on the darkness of the hood, seem to brighten a bit , and occasional glimpses of yellow and brown teeth speak from withered lips.
" I am no one, a mere shadow of ... What once was... But you ( a pause as a thin boney finger lifts to point ) ... You are well into your prime... These words on old parchment that concern you ... Will make both enemy and friend to ... Whom ever pens them... And whom ever reads them.
I have read them, and now that you have spoken of it , I shall tell you something a short lived mind may not have seen...
All government is but an attempt to bring order... The purpose and use of such order is a reflection of those who wield it... Order may bring freedom for some and destruction to others... Anyone who believes that there is such a thing as freedom , is the uninformed dreamer, unaware that freedom is only from bring adrift , away and in solitude from the masses of controlled.
All things come in cycles, all
Powers grow only to stumble and fall from acts by their own hand... All new powers , in time become the old powers in every way but faces and name.
Who ever may have penned those words seems to know. If you deny them, then you only declare your self one of the blind believers in self pleasing lies."
With that, the old figure seems to become weak from speaking, and leans upon a near tree.
" if you were thrown out , then the day of vengeance will come... If you are now in place, your downfall is predestined.
My days are also done ... I don't really care what you do... I laugh at all of your puny efforts !"

The skullknight chuckles beneath his mask.

"What you claim there is called life. If you deny what is truth then what would be your proper way of living? The strong become comfortable with their strenght in time and thus breed weakness. That is the time power shifts. And if one claims to have had a prime then this means he already gave up to ascend to true power. What efforts would I put into the likes of you?"

The skullknight would turn towards the location of the old man and roll a bottle of spirits over to him, then goes back to leaning against the stone, awaiting an answer.

Red eyes peer from under the hood, as the form leans carefully forward to pick up the bottle.
"Skulls...", the raspy tone begins ," will not be so attractive to you when the day approaches that some one will be wearing yours because they like it."
As the sleeve reaches out for the bottle, what appears to be a dead hand, dry , withered, with a slight dull blueish aura takes the bottle.
Standing back up, the eyes seem to focus on the Skull Knight.
" At the vanguard of many a great army marches conscripts ... Fodder of undesirables ... Sappers of the enemy's spells, arrows and endurance. A wise man, with long term vision , might view such undesirables as opportunity .... To galvanize the unwanted into a new rebellion ... Many a fool will raise a blade for no more than a meal and a sense of purpose.
Are you such a wise man ?"

The skullknight rams his greatsword into the ground infront of him and leans onto it with one of his palms. He then snaps against the skullmask with his gauntlet to reveal that it is made of steel.

"I fought enough in countless wars to know that there is no long term vision or wise men in war. Thus I decided to step out of the dust to concern myself with matters that are worth it. Now I stand here with old bitter man that could be an undead which I had slain years ago. Doing as I please. Your name was again?"

The other hand comes up gesturing to making a point ... A normal hand of a living person...
" Undead ! ", croaked the feeble voice," do I look like Zass Tam to you ? Yet there stands a powerful and wise one who brought Thay into its glory...
Here , in this land... I watched as Zhents foolishly dawdled until the enemy in Myth Drannor rebuilt the Mythal... And look where the Zhents are now... Overturned by farmers , milkmaids and such... It is a disgrace that no finer leader stood at the helm before this joke of an army took Shadowdale from the feather grip of the 'iron gauntlet'...
Yes, I mock the new oppressors of Shadowdale , because I know that those who were onced shoved face into the mud, are eager to do it to others ... To feel the power they lacked... I also know this is their most vulnerable time.
Soon my flesh shall be consumed and I shall walk days no more. I spoke with you ... You alone ... In hopes that words of long learned wisdom might carry value to your ears ... But I see I have chosen foolishly , and only excited a fool who thinks the world begins and ends at the tip of his sword ..."
With that, red spit flies out upon the ground, and the figure turns to move away.

As the old man would leave the skullknight would pull his blade from the hole in the ground and rests it on his shoulders.

"Your words sound like the message a shocked Banite would make. But be it as you desire. If you desire to talk somebody into attacking Shadowdale.. Head up on the snowy mountain, the dry cave beneath the dusty hills or down into the darkness of Faerun. Those are persons you should talk to. I see no reason behind your posters. Rage against the Dying of Light, old man."

After this the skullknight would return to the stone he sat on in the beginning and starts to clean his blades.