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Skip Lipman
May 01, 2023
In Roleplaying
A Tale of APRIL EVENT: The Siege of Cailenstadt In the world of Osterra, the power struggle between the forces of good and evil was reaching its climax in The Plains of Sorrow. The Obsidian Obelisk, a place of great power where the Ley Lines of magic converged, had become the focus of the conflict. The demons had fortified themselves in the Citadel of Darkness, surrounding the Obelisk with their armies. Dame Gwion Triarta of The Grove had joined with the United Forces of Osterra, under the leadership of the renowned "People's Knight," Sir Garon Ironrock, to lay siege to the Citadel and liberate the Obelisk. But the goblin wizard Dezz’irack The Disagreeable, who was bound to protect the citadel by dark pacts with the demon Lord Orzalon, had other plans. With powerful magics, standing upon the demonically carved dias before the Obsidian Obelisk focusing his malevolent energies, he summoned a chaos storm of incredible power. The winds whipped up the already dark and foreboding clouds, creating a terrifying spectacle in the sky. The storm rumbled with thunder, the clouds were black, and boiling with blue lightning. It made the ground into dark mud, and the torrential rain poured down in sheets. The forces of good and evil both retreated to their respective camps, seeking shelter from the raging tempest. The Grove's forces had planned on attacking the demons from the south gate, while the United Forces of Osterra were to lay siege to the main gate - a terrible skull-like maw in the Plains of Sorrow. But the rains took the day, driving both attackers and defenders from the field. The chaos storm, summoned by Dezz’irack's powerful magic, gave the demons a brief respite. But the forces of good were not deterred. They vowed they would return, strengthened by their determination to liberate the Obsidian Obelisk and rid the world of the demonic scourge. In the meantime, the storm raged on, wreaking havoc across the land. The winds howled like the screams of the damned, and the lightning strikes lit up the dark sky like fiery daggers. The rain fell in torrents, turning the land into a quagmire of mud and misery. The taverns, however, had a good day. The chaos storm may have stolen the fight, but it did not take the morale from either side. The patrons huddled around the hearths, trading stories and songs to pass the time. The great siege would wait for another day. They spoke of heroes and legends, of battles fought and won, and of the mighty magic that coursed through the world. The chaos storm, summoned by Dezz’irack, The Disagreeable, had caused mayhem and destruction. But it had also brought the people of Osterra together, united in their determination to fight for what was right. And so the storm had raged, a testament to the power of magic and the courage of those who wielded it.
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Skip Lipman
Aug 28, 2019
In Roleplaying
*Note this is a place for in character (IC) role play and discussion. All events described below take place in game, between events. Please pull up a chair and enjoy some mead next to the fire, thank you* + Settled comfortably along the road between Cailenstadt and Trinity Lakes, the Mountain Run Tavern has long provided a refuge for adventurers, bards, tradesmen and common folk alike. The family of the hospitable barkeep turned king, Foster, built the tavern up from nothing and has made it a place of respite in these dangerous lands for all. A fair price brings a warm bed and a hearty meal. The hearth is fired year round; those who draw near to enjoy some wine, mead, cider, or a smoke can always hear a song, share a tale… or find adventure. + -— —-— -—-- The midday sun was shining through the shutters when K strode through the doors of the Tavern. While few patrons took note of the arrival, Foster came around the bar to take the offered hand. "Ah you’re back” “Yes, and no more wiser for the journey, and I think I am developing a cough” lamented K, as he coughed into his sleeve. Everyone looked up at him. “Whaat?” he whined adjusting his pointed red hat, the afternoon light streaming into the tavern fell on the K's dusty burgundy robes, glinted on his many fetishes, and highlighted his wizardly accoutremon. K hobbled over to a chair by the fire, taking out his pipe. "What news of late?" He threw the question over his shoulder at the barkeep. "A group of Wardens passed this way yesterday," said Foster. "They drove off a band of orcs that troubled the villagers in foothills, but it seems they've been dealt with." K looked up at the mention of orcs. Foster noticed that K’s right hand dropped unconsciously for his sword grip and then he fidgeted nervously. Remembering that he had taken it off and left it outside with his pack, K smothered another cough, his throat dry from the road, and leaned back in the chair as Foster anticipated his need poured him some mead. "You are on your way from the south, then?" asked Foster. K nodded. "Aye. There is growing unrest in the southland and I fear that even now the plagues are spread north. We’ll be inundated with cases here by harvest if my calculations are correct. Nothing seems to stop it except that amulet Brennen Farno has, but he is only one man.” he added as he drained the cup of mead. Foster refilled the cup, smiling. "Oh, that doesn’t sound promising. Maybe if you hadn’t opened that portal to the abyss and let in those demons..." K simply nodded, looking into the fire. "Yes, my liege," he said - seemingly half to himself, as Foster returned to the bar. "I'm sure we’ll sort it out." K drew on his pipe and gazed into the fire, lost in thought, and wasn’t so sure.
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Skip Lipman

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