# (Cydra) Delilah's Story



## the Jester (Jun 14, 2005)

This story hour will trace the evolution of a group of villainous pcs and npcs over time, starting with Delilah the Damned.  Those of you who read my Early Years SH will be familiar with her, and those of you who read my Great Conflicts SH will have just seen her recently at the conference of spellcasters.  This thread will fill in, in broad arcs, the 270-odd years in between.  For the rest of you, Delilah the Damned is a conjuress who became undead in a dark ritual to her god, Bleak.  Also, this story hour takes place in the bygone days of 2nd edition.

If you're interested, here are the links to the related story hours (the Great Conflicts link goes to the start of the conference).

Cydra: the Early Years
(Cydra) Great Conflicts: the spellcasters' conference begins

*FAIR WARNING:* This thread explores some vile subjects- actions taken by pcs who would certainly be considered 'vile' (by the BoVD).  If you are easily offended, turn back now, before it is too late.


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## the Jester (Jun 14, 2005)

*Delilah's Tale- part I*

_*8/1/371 O.L.G., the astral fortress Hiktakka Getsch*_

Delilah the Damned strips the beautiful dress she was wearing off.  With a contented sigh, she runs her hands over the naked curves of the body she wears.  She loves feeling _warm_ again. 

Delilah smiles languidly as she steps into a cage of adamant bars, taking only her spell component pouch with her.  Outside, the githyanki jailers close the locks, and then Delilah releases her hold, returning to the _magic jar_ that holds the woman’s soul.  The switch takes only an instant, and the naked woman collapses, sobbing, in her cage.  Delilah transfers back to her true, undead body, and _teleports_ to her boudoir.  

It is always slightly depressing to be in her real body.  The spark of life, the _verve_ of living flesh is something she cannot match as an undead.  She has tried, Bleak knows; even hundreds of years ago, not so long after the fight with Dexter, she had tried, crafting the spell _inner warmth_ to aid in her seductions.  Delilah’s Cheshire grin spreads across her face.  She has always been an intensely sensual creature, and she has always needed to be gratified.  The utter inability to achieve satisfaction as an undead was torment for years, until she achieved the mastery necessary to control a herd of women (and, later, men) who she could possess at will.  

Of course, allying with Dzaram the Lich, and thus gaining access to an astral fortress run by githyanki, didn’t hurt either.

***

Later they come together for the first time since the end of the caster’s conference.  Delilah and her close allies, a cabal of villains of incredible power and uncertain desires, together represent an immense arcane power.  In fact, ironically, even Delilah does not know their goals.  Only Dzaram understands the schemes they are perpetrating.  Only Dzaram knows why they have aided the Forinthian Empire, servants of Galador, god of the Light, so much over the centuries.  

Well, one piece of the picture became clear when Dzaram put Prayzose on the throne.

Nonetheless, Delilah glances sideways at her master, Dzaram.  He is a short, dark-haired man.  No one could tell by looking that he is a lich.  Indeed, to look upon him, one sees only a man garbed in respectable green clothes.  He looks wholly unremarkable.

Delilah knows better.  After all, Dzaram carries a tarrasque in his pocket.

Nydroth- “Grisly” to many- is there as well, stinking of unwashed flesh and the taint of dead meat.  His clothing crawls with vermin.  He cackles frequently, his vulture clutching his bony shoulder.  His recently-constructed _staff of necromancy_ is clutched in his hand.  Behind him is his newest quickling crossbreed- merged with spider eaters, he raves, and they can paralyze enemies with incredible speed.

Zazou is looking out the window, strumming his lute.  The Yellow Bard, as he calls himself these days, seems uncomfortable near the death knight Ominous, an undead githyanki blackguard of unfriendly aspect with the orichalcum teeth of the devourer in his belly.  For a moment, Delilah thinks of Jerakai Ilmixie, tiefling ally from long ago, long dead.  She is feeling quite reflective.  The group discusses the outcome of the caster’s conference; Dzaram feels that it is a constructive engagement.  The others, naturally, concur.  If there was something wrong with Dzaram’s opinion, they would feel free to voice it, but there usually isn’t.  He’s brilliant, after all.

After Nydroth’s report on his current experiments- he’s trying to replicate some of Felenga’s more interesting constructions- Ominous tells them of the progress he is making on conquering some rather far-flung islands.  Apparently, the locals are able to duck and hide fairly well, forcing the combat into poor terrain and giving themselves all the advantages.  Despite the challenges, however, he obviously relishes the level of slaughter he is allowed to perpetrate.  

Then Delilah rattles off a report about her newest research; unfortunately, one avenue she was researching has reached a dead end, but another shows promise.  Her desire to take control of summoned creatures of others burns bright within her.  

Afterward, the group mingles.  Delilah drinks tasteless wine, sitting pensively, thinking again about Dexter.

Dexter- now worshiped as a deity by many of the masses- was Delilah’s arch-foe when she was alive, and then when she first turned undead.  She remembers him vividly: an acne-faced snot-nosed kid, branded and scarred by the Inquisition.  She and her friends attacked him- attempted to slay him- but failed.  Only she survived, at least to the best of her knowledge, and only by virtue of being undead and not needing to breathe.  She fled into the sea that day, staying under water until she had walked for miles and the danger had passed.

Ah, how bitter she was!  Delilah thinks back.....

****

_*4/18/97 O.L.G., 11: 30 p.m., the shores of Forinthia*_

Once she reached shore, Delilah had already determined that it was time to lay low.  _Dexter and Malford and their crew might come after me at any time!_ she seethed.  Fear raced through her; if she had a pulse, it would have pounded.  

Already, in her mind, she was working on the outlines of a spell to defend her and any allies she might seek from Dexter’s mental powers.  _The accursed psionicist,_ she thought bitterly.  _Chanti- you should have attacked him directly, without stopping to engage their stupid paladin and that brute fighter!_  Grief welled up in her momentarily, but it was half-artificial.  

_I am cold now,_ she realized.  _My undead flesh will never kindle as it once did.  Passions require the flowing of blood.  And I must be very, very careful or I will be destroyed._

Slowly, she began moving inland.


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## weiknarf (Jun 15, 2005)

the Jester said:
			
		

> After all, Dzaram carries a tarrasque in his pocket.




And I thought he was just happy to see me.


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## the Jester (Jun 16, 2005)

Hmm, should have mentioned this in the opening post- BEWARE!  This thread is all about villains and will explore some areas of their psyches that might be disturbing.  Call them 'mature' or 'vile,' those events will be there, as they were in the game.

This thread is not recommended for young kids or the easily offended, in other words.


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## the Jester (Jun 16, 2005)

*Delilah's Story II*

_*8/2/371 O.L.G., the astral fortress Hiktakka Getsch*_

“Ah, Delilah,” croaks Nydroth. His smile shows yellow teeth beneath the matted remains of his moustache.  “Coming up on three centuries before too long, eh?”  He cackles again, madly.  

She smiles briefly at him.  “Yes, another twenty years or so...”

“Ah, remember when we first met?  You were traveling with Billy, and he hired me on as an architect...” The necromancer sighs and grins.  “He certainly was rich and in love with you!”  

Delilah smiles fondly at the memory.  “Ah, Billy.  He was the closest thing I have felt to love since...”  She trails off.  _Since I became undead._

Nydroth snorts.  “You know I could make you something that would look just like him, of course.”

She shrugs.  “And I could summon something to imitate him.  It’s unnecessary.  I hardly even think of him these days.”

“Ironic, now that you have a farm of living bodies to inhabit,” he comments.  “You could have felt the pleasures of the flesh with him.”

“He always preferred it when I was cold and still,” she replies wryly.  “I’m afraid my _inner warmth_ was lost on him once he knew my secret.”

“You cold-hearted bitch,” Nydroth compliments her.  She laughs with delight.  

“Come, Nydroth, let’s find some solitude together.”  She takes his arm and the two retire to an alcove, snatching up a jug of wine on the way, and they spend several hours reminiscing about old times.  They go back centuries, to before Nydroth, at least, was undead.  In fact, they go back further with each other than they do with Dzaram.

_Ahh, the old days,_ Delilah thinks.  _I was much more afraid then.  I was worried, always worried, that Dexter would hunt me down.  At least until the incident with the dragon.  

I should have known better.  I forgot about Farenth._

***

_*Late spring and early summer, 97 O.L.G., Forinthia*_

After her narrow escape from extinction at the hands of Dexter, Malford, Lochenvare and their friends, Delilah kept a low profile for months.  She had few physical needs, though she did thirst for life energy.  But she could not live on the run, sleeping in ditches and consigning herself to mud and filth.  Delilah, as always, needed to be able to costume herself in the appropriate clothes, to apply makeup, to perfume the odor of decay that had started to rise from her body.  Therefore she had to have money, and some contacts with civilization.  She made those contacts with a combination of the utmost care and a remarkable brashness.

On one occasion she overcame a small merchant wagon, slaying the driver and merchants and stealing clothes, gold and jewels from their bodies.  This worked so well that she determined to do it again.  Thus she met Billy.

Billy and his bodyguards were terrified as she burst out, conjuring spiders and worse, and their morale quickly broke.  They surrendered and threw themselves on the mercies of Delilah.  She bound and abused them, and to her amusement, she saw that their leader- a male half-elf- became aroused while she assaulted him.  She played with him for some time before demanding his name.  

“Billy,” he gasped as she slapped his face.  

She was having too much fun to simply slay him.  He seemed to enjoy her sadistic attentions in a most unwholesome way.  He even tried to satisfy her own twisted desires- impossible, now, as it turned out.   But his enthusiastic attempts were endearing enough to keep him alive.  

Then, a few days into their bizarre ‘relationship,’ Delilah became aware that Billy was the scion of the second-richest family on Dorhaus.  

Moreover, he seemed to be genuinely falling for her. 

The weeks wore on, and Delilah allowed Billy more and more freedom to test him.  He was thoroughly under her spell.  Delilah the Delightful, Delilah the Delicious, Delilah the Delirious... Delilah the Damned.  She grew to trust Billy, though warily, and finally revealed her true nature to him (having hidden it for some time with duplicity and the use of a spell she had developed, _inner warmth,_ that gave her a body temperature equal to a living human’s).  He was neither appalled nor heartbroken.  In fact, Billy had some very peculiar proclivities, and Delilah was perfectly suited for them.  He seemed to be a genuine necrophiliac, and when they lay together, his favorite thing was for her to ‘shut off’ and lay there, cold and dead, unmoving.  She was happy to oblige him; clearly, he was the ticket to a potentially very good, easy life.  The money, the access to society, the potential for a distant, isolated lair- all those things appealed greatly to Delilah.  

So she and Billy traveled towards his home in the very capitol of Forinthia, the Halls of Light.  Her sense of irony was greatly aroused by this.  To lair in the center of the Light itself!  Word had reached her that Dexter and his friends were back on Dorhaus; she had no enemies that she was aware of that could reach her on Forinthia.  

On the outskirts of the Halls of Light, in a small, isolated peasant’s hut, she met Nydroth.  The necromancer was known even then as “Grisly”, though the countless experiments and bizarre crossbreeds he would later make were yet to come.  Delilah recognized in the mad necromancer’s demeanor a certain arcane tendency.  A few minutes of conversation confirmed it, and also informed her that Nydroth was brilliant.  He had a strong focus on necromancy- perhaps helpful to a being in her state- and a sharp mind.  Inquiring about his more mundane talents, Delilah convinced Billy to hire him as an architect.

But disaster loomed not far ahead.

***

_*8/2/371 O.L.G., the astral fortress Hiktakka Getsch*_

“I wonder whatever happened to Billy,” Delilah says softly.

Nydroth shrugs.  “He died, I’m sure.  He was only a half-elf.”

She smiles absently.  “Very true.  I can’t help but wonder what might have happened if it wasn’t for the dragon.”

Nydroth chuckles.  “Well, he probably would have employed _me_ longer.”

“Ah, but then you might not have joined Dzaram’s cabal.”

He nods.  “Speaking of which, I believe Zazou is about to perform a song.”

The two rise, wine still in hand- not that either of them feel alcohol anymore- and step back into the gathering as the Yellow Bard begins to strum his lute.

_*Next Time:*_ The tale of the first dragon encountered in Cydra!


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## omrob (Jun 17, 2005)

*More way kewl shiz from the J*

Read this the other day, and now after the 2nd post I gotta give it a thumbs up. 

I like the style of current discussions triggering reminisces. I take it most of the posts will be in this format? 

I think you should put NC-17 in your sig for this one. 

That b**ch be Crazy!


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## the Jester (Jun 17, 2005)

omrob said:
			
		

> Read this the other day, and now after the 2nd post I gotta give it a thumbs up.




Hey, thanks! 



			
				omrob said:
			
		

> I like the style of current discussions triggering reminisces. I take it most of the posts will be in this format?




Probably, at least for Delilah's part.  My intent is to explore the 'villains' of Cydra (quite a relative term, I know), especially the pcs, in this thread: Delilah, Jerakai, Nydroth, etc.  I hope to show most of their 'on-camera' moments and maybe fill in some backstory for their off-camera time that has had an effect on other pcs.



			
				omrob said:
			
		

> I think you should put NC-17 in your sig for this one.




Beat ya to it! 

You know, of course, that Delilah was played by Celeste...


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## hippiejedi2 (Jun 18, 2005)

Very kool J. Just read the 2 posts. Keep em comin.


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## the Jester (Jun 20, 2005)

*Enter Mabrack!*

_*8/2/371 O.L.G., the astral fortress Hiktakka Getsch*_

“Did you get a chance to talk to Mabrack?” Nydroth asks Delilah the Damned.

She smiles.  “Only very briefly.”

“Had you seen him in the intervening time?”

“Never,” she replies.  “He had left his isle for some time by the time you all came and rescued me.”

“And now he fights for Chaos,” the necromancer muses.  He shakes his head.  “He would be a great addition to our cabal.”

“He has too many compunctions and qualms,” a new voice interjects.

Delilah and Nydroth turn and greet their master: Dzaram, the Lich of Forinthia.  To all appearances he is an unremarkable human.* He is short of stature, with well-cropped black hair that is impeccably groomed.  He is clad in a shirt of green silk and trousers of a darker, coarser material, both without ornamentation.  Rings stud his fingers.  A thick black belt holds the center together.  A black cloak hangs from his back.  His eyes appear to be blue. 

_How is it that he looks alive?_ Nydroth wonders for the billionth time.  He himself is a lich, taught the secret formula for the elixir by Dzaram himself; but the master has never revealed that secret to his apprentices.  And despite his incredible power, Nydroth never for a moment doubts that Dzaram is, indeed, the master.

“But surely,” Delilah suggests, “if we could turn him to evil... perhaps infect him with vampirism or...”

“No,” Dzaram says firmly.  “It would be a terrible and tragic mistake.  It would undermine our unity.  He is as constant a supporter of Chaos as exists.  He has died for it, and would again.  We would never have an easy time keeping him among us.”  Dzaram quirks a small smile.  “Also, he has many influential friends.  Remember, he is of the Delphinate now.”

Delilah leans back with a soft sigh and a pout.  “As always, you are right, Dzaram.”

He sits by them.  “You have met him before, have you not, Delilah?” he asks.  

She nods in response.  “It was not far before my encounter with the dragon,” she says.  “In fact, my meeting with him led me directly to the dragon.”

Dzaram gestures, and a platter of fried larvae floats over to them.  He plucks one from it and begins delicately chewing.  “Tell me,” he commands.

***

_*Late summer, 97 O.L.G., through early 98 O.L.G.*_

Delilah, of course, could not resist the curiosity when she heard tales of an isle rising from the sea.  Several of the merchant ships belonging to Billy’s family had seen a new isle in a well-charted area where no isle should have been.  Billy, himself very curious about the isle’s nature and commercial potential, was easily persuaded to send Delilah, Grisly and Billy’s bodyguard Kevin to the isle.

The amazing amount of resources at Billy's disposal made taking a ship towards the isle easy.  From about two miles away, they dropped into a small boat and sailed towards the small island.  It was rocky, with many barnacles, muscles and other sea creatures evident on its surface.  Other areas were already growing grass and sapling trees of respectable size.  A long sandy beach offered easy access to the isle- and a large structure of some sort came into view near the far end of the beach.

“Aha,” Delilah said dryly.

Delilah, Nydroth and Kevin headed ashore, dragging their boat up the beach and concealing it among the rocks.  Then they proceeded toward the structure.  

That is when the dog came outside.  

And it was _enormous._

A friendly-looking yellow dog, wagging its powerful tail and just waiting to knock something over, bounded towards them.  The incongruous thing was its immense size- it was probably 12’ high at the shoulder.  Delilah looked on in shock as it ran towards them, tongue lolling, until it stopped right in front of Nydroth- 

And licked him.

The great tongue knocked the filthy necromancer down, his vulture rising from his shoulders with a caw of displeasure.  Nydroth found the front of his body suddenly soaked with dog saliva.  “Aaagh!” he cried, disgusted.

A loud whistle from the structure caught Delilah’s attention, and she whirled towards it, preparing to cast _conjure spider_.  But she stopped in near-awe as a humungous, 25’ tall giant with sea-green hair and light blue skin stepped forth, a staff in hand.  He called out a few words in a tongue she did not understand, but it became instantly clear what he said as the dog bounded away towards him. 

Then, in Forinthian, he called out, “Greeting!  I am Mabrack the storm giant!  Please, tell me who you are.”

“I am Delilah the Delicious,” the conjuress replied with a curtsy, raising the hem of her robes.  She gave him a languid smile.

“I am called Grisly,” the necromancer said shortly. 

Kevin, too, introduced himself, and after a few wary moments Mabrack offered his hospitality to Delilah’s band.  “Come in and have something to eat and drink.  I’ll cut you something small and pour you a few drops!” 

Once inside the ‘structure’- merely the giant’s house- it became more than clear that Mabrack was a student of the arcane.  When Nydroth and Delilah inquired about it, Mabrack admitted that he had raised the isle himself, with magic, and with more magic (and the aid of friends) he was rapidly growing a surface ecosystem into place. 

Soon the conversation turned in a different direction, however.  Mabrack seemed to know many arcane secrets- including the location of something called a ‘sea gate’.  

“It’s a place in the sea, very hard to detect, that sends you through to another place,” he explained.  “Sometimes they lead a far distance- thousands of miles or even more.”

Their interest was piqued.  He offered to take them to a sea gate at some point if they so desired.

***

_*8/2/371 O.L.G., the astral fortress Hiktakka Getsch*_

Dzaram interjects.  “Did he tell you how he could detect the sea gates?”

Delilah nods.  “He had a spell, called _reveal sea gate_.  It was of the fifth sphere of power.”

“Impressive.”  Dzaram nods.  “Tell me your impressions of him, then versus at the conference.”

Delilah thinks for a moment.  Then, slowly, she says, “He seems less cocky and sure of himself now.  Back then he was pretty devil-may-care- I mean, he raised an island up!  That attracts attention.  When I talked to him at the conference he seemed warier, too- probably because of our reputations.”  She smiles sweetly.

”But fundamentally the same?” Dzaram asks.  She nods.

The Lich of Forinthia looks pensive for a moment.  He is mulling the cost versus benefit of slaying Mabrack and feeding him to Ominous’ metal mouth.  But the Delphinate factor makes him very reluctant to act directly.  Not that he _couldn’t_ defeat them, just that it would be very, very difficult.

Nothing in his demeanor reflects his thoughts.  “Continue,” he says, motioning for Delilah to speak on.  

_*Next Time:*_ Delilah goes through a sea gate!

*In fact, he looks a great deal like the singer Paul Simon in about 1988 or thereabouts.


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## the Jester (Jun 27, 2005)

Just a note before today's forthcoming update: in Cydra, dragons are worshipped as gods.  There are only a few of them out there, and in general, if there is a dragon withing a few thousand miles, you know about it.  

At the point in the campaign of Delilah's early exploits, the following dragons were 'known' to the pcs:

_Brespicacious_ the amethyst dragon (on Valonia)
_Ferax_ the red dragon (Strogass, extremely old and dangerous)
_Lithos_ the black dragon (Dorhaus, been asleep and unseen for several hundred years)
_Armaud_ the copper dragon (the Parrot Isles)
_Cirrus_ the cloud dragon (a cloud castle somewhere)
_Gnarichlor_ the green dragon (far to the north somewhere- eventually revealed as Azar)

There was also another dragon in the campaign that was masquerading as a human.  (If I told you who it might be a spoiler for the Early Years stuff.)

Edit: there was even, now that I think about it, what amounted to a 2e prestige class, the dragon priest.


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## the Jester (Jun 27, 2005)

*The Tale of Delilah and the Dragon*

_*8/3/371 O.L.G., the astral fortress of Hiktakka Getsch*_

Together, Delilah, Grisly, Zazou and Dzaram watch as the githzerai assault is repelled.  They do not take part in the battle; it would be unnecessary, and might reveal more than they wish.  The githyanki do not need help; they are brutally effective.  Their sorcerers fling angry magic unique to their race, or shared with them by Dzaram; their warriors parry and slash the githzerai monks’ attack.  Ominous himself takes part in the slaughter with relish, the gnashing orichalcum teeth in his torso chewing through and tearing apart githzerai after githzerai.

“Impressive, isn’t he?” Dzaram comments.

Zazou shudders.  Dzaram smiles kindly at the Yellow Bard, but his eyes are cold.  “I’ll never forget what I owe you,” Zazou says softly.  _That could have been me._  His stomach, as always, is churning.  _At least I don’t have those horrible teeth there anymore,_ he moans to himself. 

Ominous laughs loudly as he tears another of the githzerai apart.  

Nydroth remarks, “I have always wanted to see what would happen if I crossed something that had the mouth with another creature.  Would the resulting cross breed have the mouth?  Would it remain orichalcum?”

“You raise an interesting question,” Dzaram admits, “but it is not worth risking Ominous for such an experiment.”

“Oh, I would never suggest that- but should there ever be another, less useful, recipient of the mouth...”

Zazou shudders again, knowing that that, too, could have been him: crossed with some sort of disgusting monster and fused into a single creature.  Grisly earned his nickname centuries ago.  “Less useful” indeed!  Zazou rubs a yellow hand across his face.  As he often has over the last century, he wonders what he is doing with these undead monsters.

But then he glances again at Ominous, and remembers the only hope of escaping the mouth that he had ever had, and he sighs.  As always, when he grows morose, realizing just how much worse things could be helps a lot.  Dzaram and Nydroth rescued him from an incredibly awful fate.  Granted, they did it for their own reasons, transferring the mouth to Ominous, but still- they saved him.  And they have saved his life more than a dozen times over since!  And think of the sights he has seen at their side- things no one else he has ever met could even imagine!  From the stilled underwater city of the clockwork horrors to the reverberating Vibrant Clouds in the deep ether, he has seen and done things that he never even imagined at the side of these undead monsters.  Now his thoughts are heavy with irony.  He can tell he is falling into a sullen mood; but moodiness is something he allows himself.  

“Come, we’ve seen enough; the githzerai are routed.”  Dzaram nods in satisfaction.  “Let us return to the sitting room and finish our earlier discussion.”

A few moments later the cabal sits around a table while _unseen servants_ bring out a selection of beverages.  “I’ve always wondered, Dzaram,” Delilah says, “why you rescued me.”

The Lich of Forinthia gestures at Nydroth.  “Part of it was his recommendation,” Dzaram responds.  “I was seeking to establish a cabal of undead spellcasters.  As you know, many of my plans are long-term.”  This, Delilah thinks to herself, is an understatement of the first degree.  Dzaram’s plots stretch for generations and for thousands of years.  She does not comprehend his goals in the slightest; but Dzaram has an incredible amount of money, and has been accumulating it for eons for some purpose of his own.  She has been involved in some of his more incredible plans- the Blood of Dexter operation that resulted in Prayzose, for instance.  And she just doesn’t get it.  What is clear is that he is on Forinthia’s side, regardless of appearances.  Despite having kidnapped one Emperor and arranged the death of another, Dzaram has Forinthia’s interests in mind in everything he does. 

It is a puzzle to Delilah, but one she does not worry over.  He tells her what he needs and wishes her to know.

After a moment’s introspection, she returns to her tale.  

***

_*1/19/98 O.L.G., 2 p.m., at sea*_

Delilah and Mabrack the storm giant sailed through the sea gate revealed as a crackling energy field atop the water by Mabrack’s spell, and suddenly they were in the midst of an icy sea.  There were floes of floating ice everywhere around them.

Mabrack grinned and gestured all around.  “Quite a dramatic difference, eh?”

Delilah was amazed.  The sun was off in one direction, significantly canted from the center of the sky.  “How far away are we?”

“A long ways,” the giant replied.

***

Had Delilah been alive, the cold would have bitten her harshly.  As it was, she dressed in sheer silks of white and indigo.  She and Mabrack explored the icy seas for a few days before finding a large iceberg with caves hewn in it.  The ice caves of the berg were too small for Mabrack, so he stayed in the giant boat upon which they were traveling while Delilah began exploring.  She met a friendly talking owl, named Cooheero.  Cooheero asked for her help in finding something- Delilah cannot remember what it was after all this time- and told her that there was a bear within the caves.  Realizing that befriending the owl might lead to a great deal of information about the surrounding areas, Delilah agreed.  Forewarned against the bear, she moved in and slew it.  It wore a chain around its neck, allowing it to stretch only so far away from its chamber; clearly, Delilah thought, something must have set it as a guard.  

Further in the caves there was a branching.  One of the passages headed upward at a 30 degree slope.  Delilah headed that way.  Soon the passage leveled out and curved around- 

A great wingtip was thrust from the ice, almost 5’ high.  Delilah halted and stared in amazement.  It was scaly and the dead white color of a cave fish.  A shadow in the ice extended below, but was lost in the frozen depths.  _What the hell is this?_ she thought.  The word _dragon_ was echoing in the back of her mind.  _Surely not..._

Deciding to leave it alone- prudence had saved her life more than once before- Delilah the Damned continued along, encountering and destroying several frozen undead.  Fortunately, one of her spells was _burning hands,_ which she used to good effect against the ice-encrusted monsters.  

Deeper still she went, back into the heart of the iceberg, where she fought a strange man with an eye patch who shot a ray of frost from one eye.  His pet winter wolf was more of a challenge than he was, however, and although she was wounded, Delilah managed to overcome them both. 

That was the end of the upper passage, however; and so Delilah returned to the lower area after resting and recovering spells.  When she returned, she found the lower passage led to a large chamber.  Frozen in the wall was a huge shape.  _This must be where the wingtip goes,_ Delilah thought.  

There were no other obvious exits.  It seemed to Delilah that she had explored everywhere.  In retrospect, her next move was foolish.  She had not even checked for secret passages in many places yet.  Prudence had always served her well- prudence and planning.  When she acted on impulse, disaster struck.

Delilah returned to the upper passage, climbing the slope until it leveled out into a passageway.  This she followed until she returned to the exposed wingtip.  She studied it for a moment and did, in retrospect, the dumbest thing of her life.

She cast _burning hands_ on it.  

A sheet of red-orange flames washed out, melting a small piece of the ice surrounding the wingtip and blistering some of the flesh.  Immediately Delilah was thrown from her feet as the iceberg _heaved_.  She scrambled up, crying out in horror.  _What was I thinking?_ she screamed at herself.  The wingtip was starting to flex.  Cracks were spreading on the ice.  There was a rumbling that threw Delilah down again.

Frantically, she cast _fly_ on herself and began to zip back along the passage, but that word was echoing in her mind again.  _Dragon!!_

A great bellowing roar echoed behind her.  A massive chunk of ice struck her across the leg as she fled, almost knocking her out of control.  She careened along, fleeing to where the corridors branched.  

And she could see it, massive, white smashed free of the wall of ice holding it prisoner.  And it saw _her_, and let out a blast of freezing cold, sufficient to slay most normal humans.

Delilah, being undead, didn’t much care about the cold, and just flew as fast as she could.  With another enormously angry roar, the dragon tore free of the ice completely, and the iceberg began to collapse.  Delilah the Damned sped out just in time.  She plunged into the water, hoping to lose the dragon in the frothing murk.  Mabrack stood in the prow of his boat, concerned by the huge chunks of ice crashing all around him.  

The dragon emerged, and Mabrack’s jaw dropped.  He cast a _lightning bolt_ that crackled into the dragon, but it only roared and dove into the frigid water, overturning the giant’s vessel.  Mabrack gave a cry and pitched into the water.  

Delilah used her _fly_ as best she could underwater, but it wasn’t enough.  The dragon swam forward faster than she could flee and struck her with both claws, then bit her.  Delilah screamed and played dead.

It was a desperate chance.  She knew she couldn’t outrun it; she knew that she could not hope to defeat it.  Another volley of attacks like that and she would be no more.  She couldn’t fight it- there was no chance- it was a _god._  She knew her only chance was to use her greatest weapon- her mind.  Being undead, she could ‘turn off’.  She had done it for Billy on numerous occasions.  Now she did it in the frantic hope that it would fool the dragon.

With a triumphant roar, the dragon slashed her with a claw again.  Despairingly, Delilah knew then that her gambit would fail.

But she was wrong.  

It breathed again, and this time it didn’t matter that she was not hurt by the blast of cold.  The water around her turned to ice.  She felt the ice shudder as the dragon dealt it one final blow with its claw.  Then she was frozen and free, floating away as part of the icy debris upon the cold sea.  It was an icy tomb she would remain in for fifty years.

_*Next Time:*_ The rescue of Delilah!


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## Seance (Jun 28, 2005)

Mabrack did his best to combat the dragon for a few rounds while Delilah tried to flee. He polymorphed into a eagle (or in his case a Rock I think) and attacked a little but was horriably wounded by the dragons natural attacks and had to telaport away. I thought Delilah turned herself off and awoke on the seafloor..in the darkness. She kept searching until she detected some light and when she found some...she uhhh went to sleep...for a hundred or so years.


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## the Jester (Jun 28, 2005)

Seance said:
			
		

> I thought Delilah turned herself off and awoke on the seafloor..in the darkness.




Nope, frozen in ice.   Until rescued... a long time later.


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## omrob (Jun 30, 2005)

*Wow...Mabrack has a way longer history than I knew about*

SO do you have notes? or is this memory? if so damn!!! 

how long ago was this in realtime?


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## the Jester (Jun 30, 2005)

omrob said:
			
		

> SO do you have notes? or is this memory? if so damn!!!
> 
> how long ago was this in realtime?




Game 50, on 3/20/94. 

I have some notes- nothing approaching 'modern Cydra' notetaking- but some, yes.


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## the Jester (Jul 1, 2005)

*The Rescue of Delilah*

_*8/3/371 O.L.G., the astral fortress of Hiktakka Getsch*_


“It was Nydroth who first told me of you, before he was a lich himself, before he could create undead.”  Dzaram’s tone is neutral, but if Nydroth were still alive, he would blush.  It was not inexperience that prevented him; it was a wyrd laid by a priest of Galador.  The lesson there, of course, is that necromancers should never accept such things from priests of gods who despise the undead.  Nydroth does not need to be told this; he had to sit through it for decades.  

At least it led to his experiments with life forms.

Delilah steeples her fingers and looks at Grisly.  “I will never forget that you scried me out and came for me.”

“Without Lord Dzaram,” Nydroth rasps, “I could not have reached you.  Only his knowledge of sea gates allowed us to traverse the exceptional distances involved.”

She sighs.  “And I will never forget that, either.  I owe you both my very existence.”  She bats her eyelashes at them.  Nydroth grins his rictus grin, but Dzaram merely nods.

And it is true.  She never will forget it- never.  

***

It seemed like forever.  She was entombed for the gods know how long, and though she did not need to eat or breathe, she could not sleep.  She could turn herself off- but the danger was that, if found, she would not know it.  If she were not careful, she could awaken to find herself buried, or worse, be burned to ash without ever knowing that she had been freed of the ice.  

Therefore, for vast stretches of time like eternity, she stayed conscious.  Her eyes were frozen open; the block of ice around her held her absolutely motionless.  She was likely still floating, but how could she possibly tell?  It was impossible, and interminable, going on and on without end, without a break.  There was nothing to see but the frozen water all around her.  The translucent ice allowed her to see a myriad of cracks and lines within the structure of the ice itself, but it was far from clear.  There was no outside to look at, not even empty water: there was only ice.  

Unable to breathe, unable to move, unable to speak and thus hear her own voice, Delilah was utterly isolated.  There was an occasional sound, one a week or so, as her icy sledge smashed into something, or as some bit of ice cracked or shifted; but other than that, Delilah had no sensory input at all.  Nothing to see or hear, nothing to smell or taste, nothing except the omnipresent ice.

Did she go mad?  From a scholarly point of view, she has always wondered.  As an undead, she should be immune to madness, but it is more than clear that the undead state of mind is not the same as a normal, healthy state of mind at all.  Many of the living would say that Dzaram, Delilah and Nydroth are all mad.  Well, perhaps it is a matter of perspective; but then, isn’t madness just a different point of view anyway?

In the end, it did not matter; because, one day, suddenly, the ice around Delilah _disintegrated,_ and she collapsed onto the dry floor of _Dzaram’s boat of excellent seamanship._  She was in one of her periods of awareness, and she was so shocked to be free of the ice that for several moments she could not move.  She could not believe it.  

The boat was gently rocking on the water.  Slowly she looked up- and beheld the dirty and matted visage of Nydroth.  Nydroth- and someone she did not recognize.

”Delilah?” Nydroth queried.  “Are you all right?”

Overwhelmed, Delilah could not respond.  She had thought she might be freed some day by strangers, but a _rescue,_ perpetrated by an old ally- an old _friend,_ even-

Had she been able, Delilah would have wept.

“You have been lost for a long time,” the other figure said gently.  “We have saved you.”

***

The other figure, of course, was Dzaram, and it had been somewhere over fifty years since Delilah had moved of her own volition.  She devoured life again, seeking out Billy- but much time had passed.  Things with him would never be the same.  If she had only not been gone so long-

She was shocked by how much time had changed him.  She offered him immortality, of a sort.  He refused.  She wanted things to be like they had.  They could not.  They quarreled, but Delilah did not kill him.  She owed him that much.  

And she threw herself wholeheartedly into Dzaram’s cabal.  Herself, Nydroth, Dzaram.  Nydroth and she were so much less powerful than the Lich of Forinthia- she could not understand what he wanted from them.  But slowly, as their powers grew, she began to understand.

Potential.

They had far more potential than most wizards more formidable than them.  Even the so-called ‘greats’ of their time had no ambition, no _vision_ to follow through on.  They might have power and competence, but they had no _imagination._ 

Delilah and Nydroth had imagination.  Oh yes they did.

The spells she created, she tended to create with an eye towards making certain nobody else would cast them.  Material components that were difficult to obtain without being evil were a favorite.  _Oozing lilacs_ was a favorite, requiring the regurgitated semen of a murdered lover.  _Dexter’s debilitation_ was designed to oppose psionic contact; Dexter, though long dead by this time, was the obvious inspiration for it.

Nydroth, meanwhile, experimented with life forms.  His innovations were fantastic.  He even managed to discover a transcription of the original notes regarding the creation of the owlbear (as well as a more obscure monster, the gorilla bear). 

It took him decades, but even without ever creating undead, Grisly became a name amongst necromancers.  He created new breed after new breed, using two new spells of his own creation, _Nydroth’s Grisly Crossbreed_ and _Nydroth’s Dark Impregnation_.  Soon enough, the quickling/troll cross became the bodyguard of choice.  

It was not long, however, before Nydroth made a terrible mistake.  

***

_*10/12/217 O.L.G., 11 a.m., a hidden workroom on Pesh*_

Nydroth stepped into his workroom, muttering to himself as the vermin in his robes squirmed and crawled over his body.  He froze at he looked at the cage.  

Empty.

“Impossible,” Grisly the necromancer growled.  He shuffled forward.  

Yes, it was empty.  

Immediately Grisly locked the chamber and strode off to find Delilah.  There was no need to inform Dzaram; no need at all.  

At least, not yet.

Nydroth cursed under his breath.  _How did it get out?  A simple cage should have sufficed, and it was undamaged... clearly the subject did not break free, as might be expected from something half-troll in nature._

The answer was simple but not obvious.  The creature that Nydroth had kept in the cage was- to all appearances- a cross between a giant spider and a troll.  Unfortunately, when Nydroth had captured the spider, he had unwittingly captured not a giant spider- but a _phase_ spider.

Thus, he, Delilah and the group of allies they rounded up found and recaptured the beast, but it was only the first example of Nydroth’s creations getting out of hand.  A phasing, regenerating, poisonous beast was no laughing matter.  Neither, later, was a paralyzing, rusting poisonous monster.  Neither, later still, was a spellcasting, flying, super-fast archer fey.  And the list goes on.

Nydroth was not careless- he was overly ambitious.  Yet, despite the occasional inconvenience, Dzaram never chastised him for that.

It was not long before they met Jerakai Ilmixie.*

***

“Ah, Jerakai,” sighs Delilah fondly.

“He earned his dismissal,” Dzaram states flatly.  Delilah says nothing.

“He was certainly a good ally to have, though,” Nydroth says after a moment.  “Why, with that rod and that flying carpet...”

“Ilmixies are always trouble,” Dzaram says.  “Believe me.  The old Baron makes it too hard for them to be anything else.”

“We didn’t even have a name for his kind back then,” Delilah remarks.

“Scholarship always advances,” Dzaram responds, his voice- as always- neutral.

“Now we call them tieflings.  It makes me wonder if their kind could be summoned.”

“A new topic,” remarks Nydroth, “for research.”

Delilah smiles sweetly.

_*Next Time:*_ Delilah begins her body collecting and we meet Jerakai Ilmixie for the first time!

*For those of you familiar with it via my other story hours, this is the Jerakai who created the spell _Jerakai’s embrace,_ among others.


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## the Jester (Jul 2, 2005)

_*8/10/371 O.L.G.*_

_So cold.  It is so cold..._

Fear pulses through Delilah.

_Ice!  It is the ice!  I am still in the ice!  My rescue was a hallucination, nothing more- all that time I thought I was free I was merely dreaming.  Oh, Bleak, and what a good dream it was!  To move freely, to see the time after Dexter’s death- ah, Dexter, I pray my existence outlasts yours!  I pray that, someday, someone frees me from this terrible prison!_

All around her the frozen block mocks her silently.  _I wish I could escape back to my dream,_ she thinks despairingly.  _Anything to escape this crushing boredom, this terrible helplessness.  Maybe if I can fall asleep again... I can dream again.  Oh, thank Bleak that at least I figured out how to _dream_ again._

As she thinks this, she realizes, _No, that was only part of the dream.  That happened after my rescue.  That-_  She stops.  _But then how could I have been dreaming in the first place?_  Confusion shakes her.  Something is terribly wrong.  She can only dream in a living body, and she has never possessed anyone- not yet, since she has never been rescued.  And yet-

Suddenly it comes to her: _I am dreaming now._

Delilah wakes up sweating.  She smiles, enjoying the sensation of fear and any dream, even the nightmare.  

Shakily, she gets to her feet.  She glides to the vanity and stares at the hair of the body she is wearing.  A lock of blonde hair, tangled with sweat, dangles before her face.  Her eyes are haunted.  Her skin is a deep nut brown, tinted with the slightest hint of green.  That indicates that the woman who Delilah wears is of Peshan lineage, with some trace of the pre-human Peshta blood in her.  Most Peshans find it very attractive.  

Delilah steps out of her sleeping gown.  Nude, she directs an _unseen servant_ to draw her a bath.  She stares at the mirror as she waits for it to fill the tub- she will heat it, easily enough, herself.  The spicy smell of Pesh comes in through the window.  During the day, the sound of Forinthian occupation comes in as well, but that does not concern Delilah.  She is waiting for some extremely exotic herbs, found only in the Spicewoods at the southern tip of the island.  They are necessary for a binding she is planning on attempting soon.  _Dzaram is nothing if not ambitious,_ she thinks wryly.  _Even when he thinks small, he thinks big._

Her mind turns briefly to the microverse- that realm so small that it is naked to the humanoid eye.  A realm so tiny that even a flea is too big to perceive it.  The very concept of it is proof enough of Dzaram’s genius, but the brilliant deductions he made about the microverses of the _other planes_... Well.  There’s plenty of use there, that is for sure.

The tub is still only half full.  Annoyed, Delilah casts another _unseen servant_ to hurry the process along.  

Her mind turns to the day that she and Nydroth had hit upon her body-wearing scheme.  A small smile crosses her lips.  Catching a herd of expendable, _magic jar_-able women was easy.  Dzaram’s astral lair was the perfect place to keep them- caged, with no need for food or drink.  They could be left until needed, just as Delilah had been left in the ice until Dzaram’s need called her forth.

Interestingly enough, she realizes, she has been involved with Dexter and every generation of his progeny.  She battled against him; she saved her son from assassination by a chaos elemental.  She helped kidnap his granddaughter, and took some part in all four other generations’ lives.  And now- Prayzose.

Delilah _cannot believe_ Dzaram’s ambitions, his gall, his inscrutability.  She _believes,_ but is not certain, that he could persuade or demand that Prayzose obey him in many things.  But she is also _absolutely certain_ that Prayzose could annihilate Dzaram and his entire cabal with relative ease.  He is to Dexter (as Delilah fought him) as the sun is to a torch.

She muses back onto her meeting with Thurlist, the son of Dexter.  Even then Dzaram had known exactly how things would eventually play out.  

***

_*12/4/217 O.L.G., at sea*_

“Jantoo” was her name on this voyage.  Delilah smiled to herself.  She was wearing a man’s body.  He was supposedly an “adventurer.”  He was traveling to Bordis from Tirchond.  Jantoo had found several of his fellow passengers interesting.  One was a tabaxi named Maybell Nontrophia.  She was something of a jester. Another was a gnome who did not say much about his own background.  His name was Dwindle.*  Another was a fighter calling himself Nydian the Valiant, though he seemed to talk bigger than the wear on his armor and the quality of his weapons would support.

And then there was Jerakai.

Jerakai Ilmixie was a beautiful half-elf, unaware at the time of his demonic heritage.  But he had that vicious brilliance that so characterized him and a natural flair for magic long before sorcerers were known.**  He had a dazzling smile and slightly sharp canines, and Delilah’s instincts buzzed heavily in his presence.  He was _someone to watch._  Maybe even someone worth recruiting into her own sphere.  

By the end of the day, she would be convinced to introduce him to Dzaram. 

As the ship sailed along, a strange dark shape under the water came into view.  Roughly spherical, it looked around 50’ in diameter.  

“What the hell is that?” Jerakai wondered aloud, pointing it out to the other passengers.  They scrutinized it for a few moments but could not ascertain its nature.  That is when, suddenly, a beauteous mermaid surfaced.

“Oh please, good surface people, in the name of Dexter, you must help me!”

_That name doesn’t compel good will from me,_ Delilah snorted inwardly.  But the fighter spoke up.

“What do you need help with?” he called.  

“Who are you?” Jerakai asked the mermaid.

“My- my name is Princess Miriamelle Lorraine,” she replies.  “I know so little about what is going on- I am a priestess of the Sea Queen, and she wishes to save a powerful agent of Dexter on a mission of utmost import!”

“Well, I am Jerakai Ilmixie, and I don’t breathe water,” the half-elf replies with a dashing smile.  

“I can take care of that,” the mermaid said.  “I am a priestess of the Sea Queen.  I can grant water breathing to you all.”

“All right,” Jantoo said, lending weight to Nydian’s position.  

Maybell moved to the edge of the ship’s deck and looked down miserably.  “I hate water,” she groaned.

“Very well, then,” Jerakai shrugged. 

_*Next Time:*_ The Geode of Chaos!***  


*Though Delilah never knew it, Dwindle was one of the Nyx, Malford’s elite spies.  He was actually played by Malford’s player, too!   He knew who she was, but she didn’t know who he was.  (Malford the Magnificent features heavily in my Early Years and To War Against Felenga story hours.)

**Jerakai was a custom class in 2e that was a lot like a sorcerer is now.  

***Technically, this is the first act of the Great War of Ethics.


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## Knightfall (Jul 7, 2005)

the Jester said:
			
		

> _*Next Time:*_ The Geode of Chaos!***
> 
> ***Technically, this is the first act of the Great War of Ethics.




Cool.


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## the Jester (Jul 14, 2005)

*The Geode of Chaos*

_*8/15/371 O.L.G.*_

Delilah studies the battle depicted in _Dzaram’s military sandbox._  The small model soldiers move on their own, representing the battle they wish to see- in this case, a very interesting conflict happening in a far northern region.  

The horrors are rising.

“This is why,” Dzaram says, “we do not blindly ally ourselves with Law.  Because sometimes the interests we do support are not benefited by it.”

“You mean Forinthia,” Nydroth says.  

Dzaram nods.  “The clockwork horrors will impose Law wherever they go, but it is a form of Law that is antithetical to Forinthia.  We would oppose them if it were to come to that.”

Delilah wants, very badly, to pry out of Dzaram an understanding of his goals and motives, but she knows all too well that he is very guarded about such things.  He will neither answer nor be pleased by such questions.  _Why do you support Forinthia in your strange way?_ she wonders.  _How far back does your influence go?_

“In the broader view,” Nydroth muses, “we are responsible for this entire Great War of Ethics.”  

“We are but one of the influences that converged,” Dzaram responds.  

“Without us, there would be no Prayzose,” Nydroth states.

Dzaram shakes his head.  ”The Great War of Ethics began long before that.  Our breeding of Prayzose was a response to the threat Na’Rat posed to Dexter’s son.”

“The assassination attempt,” Delilah breathes.  “Where I met Jerakai.”

“Yes,” nods Dzaram.  

They watch the lines of the battle in the sandbox in silence for another few minutes.  

“We’ve not spoken much of the real causes of the Great War,” Delilah says after a while.  

Dzaram’s gaze remains fixed on the sand box.  The miniature warriors representing the elves are being broken and driven back.  The horrors are running rampant over the field.  “Na’Rat, the Chaos-Bringer, woke up.  That’s the real beginning.  Na’Rat is an ancient god, from a prehuman species that lived on Pesh.  What little archeologists and religious scholars know of Na’Rat is limited, but he- or she, or it- was known as the Chaos-Bringer for a reason.  Na’Rat was a very forward, aggressive sort of deity, and over the centuries his cult has been involved in starting wars, destabilizing economies and so on.  Well, he was forgotten for a long time. But right around the year 100 several of his obelisks began to be unearthed.  They seem to produce an unearthly calling that attracts the sort that would follow Na’Rat if they only knew of it.”

_How old are you, Dzaram?_ wonders Delilah.

“It took a long time before Na’Rat could do anything actively; it had to acquire a certain amount of energy from the worship of its new followers.  Once it could, though, it came to an arrangement with certain other chaotic powers and, through their followers, dispatched the assassins that Delilah foiled.”

“But surely it hasn’t been a continuous conflict since then,” Nydroth protests.

“Perhaps not one that you have constantly seen manifested on Cydra- but even then, how many Forinthia-Strogass Wars have there been over the last hundred and sixty years?”  Dzaram slowly shakes his head.  “This conflict is not new; it is _pervasive._  The thing that is new about this phase of the conflict is the _scale._  It has built nearly to the point of being another Alignment Wars.”*

“But that was the beginning?  The assassination attempt?”  Delilah chuckles.  “At the time, who would have thought it would turn out to be such a large thing!”

_*12/4/217 O.L.G., at sea*_

Perhaps Jantoo/Delilah had underestimated a couple of her fellow travelers.  Two more stepped up to offer aid to the mermaid, two individuals who had previously not spoken up much during the voyage.  One named himself Dalibrius the Evoker; the other, Azunia the Adventurer.  Jantoo, smiling, introduced himself to them as Jantoo the Adventurer as well. 
Thus, the party consisted of Miriamelle Lorraine, Jantoo/Delilah, Jerakai Ilmixie, Azunia the Adventurer, Dalibrius the Evoker, Maybell Nontrophia, Dwindle and Nydian (called “the Valiant”).

Granted the ability to survive below the waves by Miriamelle Lorraine, the impromptu party swam below, following her to one of the oddest things any of them has ever seen:  a geode some 50’ in diameter, floating in the water.  A hole in either side allowed entrance. Nydian the Valiant took the point, with the others coming in not far behind him.  As they entered, they immediately found themselves beset by a great octopus!  Its tentacles lashed out, grabbing at them, trying to catch and then devour the party, but they managed to fight it off and then slay it.  During the battle, Delilah noted with interest that Dalibrius seemed to have developed at least one new spell, called _bolts of Dalibrius._ 

A pair of passages led out of the first chamber, the walls all of crystal.  The party chose one and swam down it through the octopus bits floating in the water, swimming through a chamber and past a strange looking spike of violet crystal.  Nervously, our heroes avoided it.  When they passed into the next chamber, they found that it must be the opposite entrance into the geode.  Unfortunately, they also found a band of angry locathah.

A blur of combat ensued.  The locathah were much tougher than the typical specimen of their type;** the battle was fierce, but Jerakai slew one of them outright from behind and the other two soon fell as well, despite the spellcasting of two of them.  One tried to escape with the aid of a _sanctuary_ spell near the end of the battle, but Delilah blasted him to oblivion.  

Soon the party found another passage, but this one led down.  It was guarded by a red slaad, but our heroes rapidly overcame it.  Delilah found this very interesting, as did Jerakai, and they compared notes over the slaad’s corpse.  _More and more, this lad impresses me,_ she thought, _and he’s beautiful.  He would make a fine addition to my collection of bodies to wear._

The party swam down into the bowels of the geode.  Crystals were everywhere.  As they entered the lower chamber, they gasped.

Imprisoned, stuck within the growing crystals, was an angel.  His arms were stretched out above and to the sides of his head, and his hands were encased in crystals that grew from the ceiling.  From the waist down he was also completely encased in crystals that were growing from the floor.  Surrounding him were a half dozen drowned ones- evil, waterlogged sea zombies.  The party burst into action, Dwindle and Jerakai trying to sneak into backstab position*** and then falling back on spells.  Maybell and Nydian struck with thrusting weapons, and soon the water was full of a greasy mass of disgusting particles.  The drowned ones struck back at our heroes, swinging with a variety of weapons (a hook, a belaying pin, a harpoon, etc).  Princess Miriamelle Lorraine dropped with a cry, blood flowing from a nasty wound to the head, but before long the drowned ones were destroyed. 

With a moan, the angel fluttered open his eyes.  He gasped, “Please, can you free me?  I am on a mission of grave importance.”

“Who are you?” demanded Jerakai.  “I think you need to answer a few questions before-“

Dalibrius gestured and spoke a few mystical syllables.  There was a high-pitched squeal and the crystal imprisoning the angel _shattered_. Jerakai shot him a venomous look.  That moment was the beginning of a life-long enmity.

“Thank you, my friend!” the angel exclaimed.  He took a deep breath and tried to swim, but staggered.  He shook his head.  “I am too weak,” he groaned.

“Who are you?  What is your mission?  Maybe we can help,” Maybell said.

“I am called Nuvien, and I am an angel of Galador.  There is something terrible coming- something terrible!  An assassin is coming for one of the passengers on the ship. I was dispatched to intercept it, but I was trapped by certain... intervention.”  The angel sagged against the wall of the geode.  “My imprisonment has drained me badly,” he lamented.

“Assassins, hmm?”  Jerakai smiled.  _He_ was an assassin.  If someone tried to do some ‘work’ and he wasn’t a Grey Brother, Jerakai was obligated to step in and explain the way things work to them.  If someone showed up who _was_ a Grey Brother, Jerakai might end up wanting to stop anyone from interfering with the attempt.

“Then let us return to the ship,” Dalibrius declared.  He tends to speak in dramatic tones.  Jerakai found it grating; Jantoo found it entertaining.

“Who are they coming to assassinate?” asked Nydian the Valiant.

The angel peered at them as if reading their souls, then sighed.  It was obvious that he had no choice; if they were to take the threat seriously he must tell them the truth.

“The son of Dexter.”

_*Next Time:*_ The Son of Dexter!

*The Alignment Wars, which happened long, long ago, is when the evil subraces of dwarves and elves were driven beneath the earth.  It was a terrible conflict between good and evil, and in the end good was triumphant.  Evil was driven forth, and for a time good lived in harmony with neutral creatures.  Eventually, of course, evil returned, sly and subtle, worming its way back into the hearts of folk of all types.

**This was second edition, and I was already advancing my monsters.   Two of the four locathah were special- one was a 5th-level priest with a net, and one was a 2nd-level fighter with a 17 str.  Another was a two-weapon fighting double-dagger fighter 2, and the last was a cleric 2/fighter 3 with a spear. 

***In second edition you could backstab undead.


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## the Jester (Jul 14, 2005)

Note that the party conveniently ignored the spike of chaos-laden crystal.  :\


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## the Jester (Jul 15, 2005)

*The Son of the Son of the Light*

_*8/15/371 O.L.G.*_

“That ship’s journey was the beginning of many things,” muses Delilah.  

“Indeed.”  Dzaram nods.  Nydroth scowls.

The three of them brood together for a few minutes, each lost in their thoughts of Jerakai Ilmixie.  Their was a time when he was one of the core members of the cabal- a long time.  Until he made one mistake too many, and one too bold; and though it was his familiar, Mordechai, that actually _did it,_ he was responsible for his familiar.

Delilah purses her lips.  “In a way, Jerakai was a battleground himself, wasn’t he?”

“Yes.”  Dzaram’s cold eyes fix on her.  “Very perceptive.  His personal tendency towards Law was at war with his demonic heritage, even before he knew the truth of his lineage.”

“He always had too many voices in his head,” remarks Nydroth. 

”That rod,” acknowledges Delilah.  “And Mordechai.”

“A cruel gesture, by his grandfather- giving him a quasit familiar to try to tempt him to fall to Chaos.”  Dzaram’s face is unreadable.  “He staved off the psychic advances for a very long time.  He was... impressive.”

“Very talented,” murmurs Nydroth.

“Yet he could never defeat Dalibrius,” chuckles Delilah.

“Now _that_ fellow had a unique style of verbal components in his spells,” Nydroth comments.

Delilah sighs.  “That silly ship ride started a lot of things, didn’t it?

***

_*12/4/217 O.L.G., within the Geode of Chaos*_

Casually, Jerakai picked an angel feather from the floor.  _That would look good in my hair,_ he thought with a smirk.

“Please,” groaned the angel.  “You must help!  I am too weak...”

“Who is the son of Dexter?” demanded Dalibrius.  “We will protect him.”

“We will?” Jerakai asked scornfully.

_I like him,_ Delilah decided.  _He’s a keeper._ 

“His name,” the angel continued, “is Thurlist.  He is traveling with his wife and daughter... he is a half-elf.  He is in grave danger!”

“A half-elf, eh?” Jantoo smirked.  _Well, it’s good to know what his taste is women is like,_ Delilah thought behind the mask of the body she was wearing.  

“Please,” the angel Nuvien begged.  “There is not much time!”

***

When they emerged from the water and returned to the ship, they sought out Thurlist.  A large group of water-logged adventurer types bursting in to his cabin was enough to make him more than nervous.  “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.  “What do you want?”

“We know who you are, Thurlist,” Jantoo said soothingly.  

The half-elf stiffened.  “What do you mean?  I am nobody special!”

“Oh, but you are,” ‘he’ murmured.  “You are the son of the son of the Light.  You are very special- and you are in grave danger.”

“Are you here to bring me harm?” Thurlist demanded.

“No- we are here to protect you,” Dalibrius answered.  

“Then what threatens me?”

“Assassins,” replied Jerakai. 

“Do you mean someone on the boat?”  The half-elf went even paler than he normally was.

“We don’t know,” Jantoo admitted.  “But an angel implored us to aid you.”

“An angel!”

“Yes, I have one of his feathers here in my hair,” Jerakai said, pulling it forth and displaying it with a dazzling smile.

Unhappily, Thurlist allowed the party to guard him and his wife and daughter.  When he stomped up on deck to get some air, the attack came.  Rising from the water is a morphing, multicolored mass of pure chaos, it rolled onto the ship’s deck and started coming directly for the son of Dexter.  

The party reacted quickly.  Their weapons carved out chunks of its flowing substance as easily as they would flesh; Jantoo subtly conjured two arrows of fire to blast it with, figuring ‘he’ could simply deny having done it after the fact and give the credit to Jerakai.  Thought the monstrous chaos elemental battered several of them, they destroyed it.  

“Thank you!” exclaimed Thurlist.  “I had no idea... no idea at all!”

“We were glad to be of service, sir,” replied Dwindle.  A few minutes later, when nobody else was really paying attention- including Delilah- the gnome took Thurlist aside for a few minutes.  “I have a suggestion for you,” he murmured.  “I know from the tales of Dexter’s life that he was always pursued by evil men and demons seeking to destroy or corrupt him.  Now that someone knows who you are- and clearly, the assassination attempt means _someone_ does- you are unlikely to find peace.

“Yet there is a city, a city I am from, on Dorhaus.  It is called Var.  The Baron of Var is one of Dexter’s Twelve Companions, Malford.  I am certain that he would offer you sanctuary.”

“Thank you,” Thurlist murmured in reply.  “I... will think on your words.”

Jantoo, meanwhile, took a moment to chat with Jerakai.  

”You’re very impressive,” Jantoo/Delilah said.

“We all did our part,” Jerakai shrugged.  He glances over at the others and his eyes harden as they pass over Dalibrius.

“I may have a proposition for you, if you’re not squeamish,” Jantoo said.

“Squeamish!”  Jerakai laughed.  “Whatever you’re offering, it sounds intriguing!”

***

_*8/17/371 O.L.G.*_

“They are broken,” Dzaram shakes his head.  “The elves of this region are neither numerous nor especially powerful, but I had hoped they might hold out for more than two days.”  

The sandbox is almost empty of elven figures.  The horrors have overrun everything.  

“It’s a pity they aren’t alive,” Nydroth remarks grumpily.  “I could engineer a plague.”

Dzaram shakes his hand dismissively.  “They are far from Forinthia.  Unless they reach a sea gate or find another method of instant travel, they are not yet a direct threat to us.  This is, after all, over thirty thousand miles from Forinthia.”

Delilah chuckles.  “You could be more forthcoming, you know.  If we knew more, we could give you better advice.”

“I could be,” Dzaram says.  “Come, we will transit back to the Astral.”

Delilah shakes her head.  _Worth a try once in a while,_ she thinks wryly.  

_*Next Time:*_ When this thread returns it will become Jerakai’s Story!  We will get to know Jerakai Ilmixie a little bit, and the natural response to him is- Cydra’s first superhero, the Masked Avenger!!

But this may not come for a while.


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## hippiejedi2 (Jul 15, 2005)

Hi Jester

I love the reminiscent style of the updates, how it ties in the past to the present. Dzharam seems kind of nice for a Demilich, its not all "take over/destroy the world b/c I am evil muwahahah", except that he is, but in a manner probably to subtle and clever for anyone to notice. 

Will Jerikai's story get its own thread or will this thread shift to Jerikai? Will there be more Delilah, Dzharam, and Nydroth? Jerikai is a bad guy, right? Is Dalibrius the superhero? When you say Jerikai's story "may not come for a while" I hope you mean by "may not"=immediatly, "come"=commence, and "for a while"=now.


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## the Jester (Jul 16, 2005)

This thread will morph through the stories of a number of villainous pcs (though not all the characters that appear are pcs; neither Dzaram nor Ominous are pcs, but Delilah, Jerakai, Nydroth and Zazou (though I'd hardly call him a villain) are or were pcs). 

It's going to prolly be a while til I get back to this one, though if Seance wants to, he's welcome to tell some of Jerakai's tales here himself... 

I'm gradually writing up my entire campaign via these story hours.  It's soo cool to do this.  This topic deserves a thread of its own.


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## DM-Rocco (Jul 22, 2005)

the Jester said:
			
		

> Hmm, should have mentioned this in the opening post- BEWARE! This thread is all about villains and will explore some areas of their psyches that might be disturbing. Call them 'mature' or 'vile,' those events will be there, as they were in the game.
> 
> This thread is not recommended for young kids or the easily offended, in other words.




I'm offended, stop this maddness  

Just kidding.  You do realize that by saying, mature, get out, you just attracted the young and impressionable 

I only read a bit, didn't have time for the whole thing, but I like stories of villians, keep going.


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## the Jester (Jul 24, 2005)

DM-Rocco said:
			
		

> I only read a bit, didn't have time for the whole thing, but I like stories of villians, keep going.




Hey, glad you're enjoying it!  We've come to the point where Delilah's tale and Jerakai's tale meet, so I need to do the earlier parts of his story before I get back to hers.  I'll get to it eventually.


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## Funeris (Jul 25, 2005)

Ahhh...nicely written.  I haven't tried your other SHs yet, Jester.  But having read this villainous thread...i may just have to.  Always fun to hear about the exploits of the anti-heros.  Keep it up....

And hey, if you ever have a free moment or so....start a SH thread about Dzaram...I'd love to know his history   that is...if it wouldn't spoil your other SHs.

~Fune


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