A platform for posting short, summary-style reports and other smaller roleplaying scenes.
(Also used to compile Discord reports.)
An anonymous news briefing appears on the public notice boards all throughout Oberin.
Day 33 of the Sleeping Moon, Year 449
A party responding to a call for help at the Hidden Vale came across a campsite on the lower slopes of the peaks, surrounded by a small number of bracken. The campsite itself was occupied by two human guards who assisted in fighting the bracken, but who had nothing to say about their purpose or aim. Three shelters were searched, but nothing else out of the ordinary could be found.
(Preceding events are described in Trouble on the Peak.)
Day 45 of the Sleeping Moon, Year 449
A solemn reception: two guests arrive late, only to find an abandoned ceremony and piles of pixie corpses. What tragedy has befallen here?
Day 45 of the Sleeping Moon, Year 449 – Matthias – (2018-12-10)
Cleared. We disrupted a brigand wedding.
Great to see more Brigands off the roads
Day 45 of the Sleeping Moon, Year 449 – Ennui – (2018-12-10)
Day 50 of the Sleeping Moon, Year 449
A brief note is left on a cluttered desk somewhere inside the Vale.
I found some good stuff on my first patrols. First, Yen and I went back to check the guarded camp on the peak, but the whole thing had vanished. Later on, I went to grab drinks at the Ferrite Lounge, but there were crates piled all over the place. Delivery day in Duldrus! I'm not usually one to pry into other people's mail but I had to peek. There were two shipments from Duvalle to Cornelius, one from Gemma to Cormac, two from Mom to Destin, and... wait for it... three from the Gellansha to Miss Falvo. Wonder what's inside?
Day 117 of the Sleeping Moon, Year 449
The cleric strolls into the gates of the keep, and immediately reaches for his dagger. A cloud of smoke is wafting in from the direction of the kitchen. The air smells of ginseng and unwashed soldiers. Yin and Yang are visibly tense. He marches into the kitchen to find a brutish looking man in Maralian garb sitting cross-legged at the table, pipe in hand. The cleric clears his throat with mild annoyance.
“Oye!” The man looks up, and holds out a scrap of paper in between his fingers. “Message from Mizz Falvo.”
The cleric grabs the note and reads aloud. “Left the purple people upstairs. Thought you wouldn’t mind.” He takes a deep breath, thinking of some retort, when suddenly he notices the pouch of ginseng sitting on the table. “Aha!” he says. “GinBlend N°2?”
“Very well.” The cleric lets out a sigh. “Evening meal will be provided at precisely seven o’clock. You’re on your own for the rest. Feel free to peruse the stove, but for the love of Elara, be sure to clean up after yourselves.” He departs for the great hall with head held high. Just as he is about to turn the corner, he spins back toward the Maralian. “And no questions asked.”
Day 81 of the Waking Moon, Year 450
Lans emerged from the staircase. He barely even noticed the now-familiar cloud of ginseng smoke wafting in from across the great hall, nor did he pay any mind to the distant sound of a joyous lute coming in from who knew where, or to the sight of Yin and Yang dancing along to the jaunty tune. No, there was too much to do these days – always too much. He did however notice a bowl of fresh apples on the table that hadn't been there in the morning, and made sure to snag one as he made his way around the corner, down the long hallway past the locked doors of the sleeping quarters (which blocked the rooms from sight but did little to conceal the snoring), and into the study. A note awaited him at his desk.
I have conveyed the tome safely to Marali as per Miss Falvo's instructions. Now, to find the "purple fraud-fighter" of whom she spoke. I have taken up a temporary residence with our contact, and shall await the proper moment to act.
Day 143 of the Waking Moon, Year 450
"'WWW sheep shearing week!'" The boy read aloud from the pamphlet. "It says... 'Bring your pet, we'll take your wool for free. Give your friend a new look. Only with Waltham's World of Wool!' And oh, looky here... 'Due to the murders of dozens of sheep, the entrance now requires a ticket.'"
"Hmph!" said the man, as they strolled into the city's polished gates. "So much for free shearing week. I wonder if this has something to do with that Kwoo fellow."
"But wait—" the boy stopped. "I thought he was banned?"
"Something like that, yes. I'm sure it's just another crazy imposter trying to get their fifteen minutes of fame. Come, let's keep going!"
"Oh, goodness, that reminds me!" the man said. "You'll like this: today, while I was sitting down in the park, enjoying my lunch, I overheard some madman talking about how black magicians are conspiring with the merchants' guild to summon Dethras and unfairly manipulate prices."
"...huh. Neat! Who's that again?"
"The seventh disciple, who turned to shadow. You probably won't be hearing much about him when the pilgrimage comes to town. But don't you worry, son... it's just some more crazy talk. You'll get used to it!"
Day 1 of the Growing Moon, Year 450
The traitor has been taken care of. The True Commander sends his thanks to you and all the Citrinitas Aegis.
I will send a full briefing as soon as I can do so safely.