# Cydra: the Early Years



## the Jester

This thread will be irregular, to say the least. 

I'll be updating it from time to time with little bits of story from earlier in my campaign.  Similar to the infamous "Defenders of Daybreak: the Early Years" SH, it prolly won't be a very complete narrative, certainly will leave out many details, likely will get a lot of the specifics at least partially wrong, and will no doubt be updated only infrequently.

That said, I'll shortly be telling the story of the first adventure in my current campaign world- the first adventure of Malford, who some of you may know from one of my other story hour threads, and of Dexter, the major religion's Jesus figure.

But first, a little background on just _how_ the campaign began...

I had a long-running campaign world that I'd been dming since about 1981 that came to a screeching halt in 1993 when Tharizdun was awoken and ate Nature.  The old campaign was set in the World of Greyhawk, but by the end it was a couple of thousand years past the GH most people play in, and there were all sorts of cataclysmic changes to the world.

When the game ended- the pcs failed in their bold attempt to wake Nature up so she could defend herself- it was largely the luck of the dice, but the pcs could have done _so much more_ to improve their odds, given themselves reroll chances, etc.  Sadly, they did not, and they all died along with everything else in the multiverse.

Or so it appeared. 

It wasn't until about a decade later, real time, that the connection between my old campaign world and Cydra, the new one, became apparent.  Maybe I'll get to that story eventually- I certainly hope so, it bears directly on my current game and the Story Hours in progress!  

In any event, not too long after my Greyhawk game died, the players demanded another one.  So I quickly sketched a map of the central island (Forinthia), decided to try monotheism instead of polytheism in a campaign, and had the players roll up characters.

Then I threw a cliche at them, gave it a twist, and the game was on, and it hasn't stopped for more than a couple of months ever since.  We're playing game # 527 this coming weekend; the first one was played on October 4th, 1993.  That's an average of more than one per week the whole time.  And I'm happy to note that as time goes on the layers keep getting deeper and deeper, and that I'm close to realizing a campaign that lasts longer than my old one did (two more years to go!!).

Anyhow, on with the story...


----------



## Welverin

*Cool, can't hardly wait!*



			
				the Jester said:
			
		

> *That said, I'll shortly be telling the story of the first adventure in my current campaign world- the first adventure of Malford, who some of you may know from one of my other story hour threads, and of Dexter, the major religion's Jesus figure.*




And Lester? I'd love to see what he did to deserve being blamed for everything that goes wrong.

p.s. you need to get together with wulf and teach him how to update on a semi regular basis.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Woohoo! Another fun thread to read!


----------



## Welverin

Wait a second! More comments that updates, who does this remind you of?


----------



## the Jester

*Mynar!*

The cliche was that the party of adventurers met at a bar.

The twist is how it happened.

So there was this tavern, scattered with a light afternoon's business on the 17th day of the 1st month of the year 95 of Our Lord Galador; and suddenly this wizard-looking guy stood up at the bar with a wild look in his eyes, screamed, _"MYNAR!!"_, and cast a _fireball_ into the room.

The ball detonated with a whoomp, incinerating a number of surprised drinkers and setting the building alight.  There was a general cry and panicked farmers and merchants began rushing for the door.

Several of the survivors of the initial blast moved into action against the man, drawing weapons and rushing forward.  He screamed madly and threw an orb of spinning color at a sly-looking gnome but missed; then he cast another spell and disappeared.  Arrows shot through where he'd been a moment ago uselessly.  The gnome and a half-elf threw mad thrusts with their blades at empty space, each wielding two weapons.  The wizard became visible again as three missiles sprang from his fingers, and there were grunts and cries as the half-elf, a young lad with horrible acne and the axe-man were hit  In an instant the man was down.  But flames were roaring, spreading along the bar.  "Let's get out of here!" cried the half-elf, and most of them made for the door.

Two of them made for the cashbox first.

Outside, smoke poured from the building.  The aroma of roasting meat wafted on the smoke.  Flames licked upward along one outside wall and spat out several of the windows.

"Well, that was fun," coughed one of the men who had defeated the flame-caster as he dragged the corpse of the wizard out of the tavern.  "I'm Galiger Light.  Pleased to meet you."  He'd wielded an axe in the combat.  He looked like a hard man, with a handsome but brutal face.  He wore black studded leather.

"I'm Vito," said the half-elf, sheathing his longsword and shortsword.  "Malford," the gnome chimed in, "the Magnificent."  He was still mentally counting his share of the cashbox in his head.  "Dexter Nadly," the youth with the bad face said.  "Mordan Kain," said the female elven archer.

"We should find out what that was all about," said Vito.

The group agreed, and it was shortly thereafter that they met the wife- no, the _widow-_ of the man they'd killed.  She was Dinagar's widow; they never learned her name.  She wanted to know what was going on herself; her husband was clearly witnessed by dozens as guilty of burning the tavern down, and he was a good man.

"A good, Galador-fearing man?" emphasized Galiger.  There may have been a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Yes, of course, the widow told them, and in fact he worked for a company that itself worked for the Church.  "Interesting," mused the wily gnome Malford.

Inquiries at a sage's office revealed that Mynar's an island somewhere far removed to the north- not even on any maps the characters can find.  It's _far away._*

Inquiries of the Church turn up only polite unhelpfulness.  Soon it's plain that there's something being covered up by the righteous Church of Galador, and Galiger thinks it's time to have a talk about religion with his new compatriots.  After all, he is a priest of Bleak, and if they're amenable, he'd love to cause the Galadorians some pain...


*Note that my initial conception of the infinite ocean of Cydra was that it would be a flat plane of infinite expanse and depth, although this has subsequently changed; but since that's the common man's belief that'll do for now.  It's actually the inside surface of an enormous air bubble some 780,000 miles in diameter.


Our next update will have, among other things, the resolution of the Mynar mystery and the first death of a pc.  The update above roughly covers the first session of this campaign world; as stated previously, I may have some of the details wrong.  In any event, our party at this point consists of:

Galiger Light, cleric of Bleak 1 (CE)
Vido, half-elf ranger/mage 1/1 (CG)
Dexter Nadly, psionicist 1 (NE)
Malford the Magnificent, gnome illusionist/thief 1/1 (CN)
Mordan Kain, elf bard 1 (CN)

I hope this early years thread is enjoyable- it will prolly skip around a lot over the last five hundred-odd games...


----------



## the Jester

*The Mynar Mystery*

"Galador sucks," Galiger Light sneers.

The party is assembled in a room upstairs at a tavern.  "Look at this weird Mynar thing!  It's some sort of cover-up; I'm sure they're ultimately responsible."  He looks at the group.  The youth, Dexter, is looking at him attentively, the others less so but still with interest.  

"I mean, come on!  It's obvious," he goes on, completely glossing over inconveniences like evidence or the truth.  "Anyone can see it.  It's all about Bleak.  Bleak's the way to go." 

Talking about Bleak like this, of course, would get one crucified or tortured by the Inquisition if it were found out.

Bleak is the devil-figure in the Galadorian faith.  If you're not a priest, saying the sacred name of Galador will get you whipped.  The people are pretty well ground down beneath a powerful church with an empire that backs it up- Forinthia.  (This was, in fact, the entire amount of prep I did for the first couple of games- just a quick map and a concept, plus spheres for Galador and Bleak.)

In any event, Galiger ranted and raved for a few more minutes as it became evident that nobody in the little group was exactly a good Galadorian.  And Dexter- he seemed to have a lot of promise!

After railing against the church for a while, Galiger proceeds to ply the party with booze.  That evening, Dexter displays interest in Bleak when approached individually, and seems to be pretty much a convert.  After all, he's only a lad; just sixteen (? or fifteen?)  He hasn't much experience in the world; but, he tells Galiger, his parents were killed by Forinthian soldiers.  He'll work counter to their purposes, all right.  And he has certain... facilities with his mind...

Later, the group searches Dinagar's study thoroughly (in secret, without his widow's permission).  They turn up an interesting note on the subject of 'Mynar', dated seven days ago (1/10/95 O.L.G.):



> _Mynar think mynar mynar is driving mynar mynar.  I mynar mynar but of mynar.  Mynar island has sucked mynar mynar, blackened mynar.  How mynar mynar that mynar mynar obsessed mynar mynar?_




After discussing this missive, they decide that Dinagar was definitely totally crazy, but that this 'Mynar' place is the key.  And it seems as though the Church holds the knowledge they seek.  Perhaps, muses Vito, Dexter's powers could...?

That night, there's a 'scuffle' between a Galadorian cleric and some of our (rather villainous) heroes, and soon there's a dead cleric on the ground.  Galiger happily strips him of his armor and the bard takes his potion.  Enjoying a rather nefarious level of success so far, the party follows the clues back (combined from Dinagar's papers, Dexter's mind powers and others) and soon finds the truth when they learn about the blackroot grass connection.

"An island in chains," sneered Galiger.  "Wow, that's great."

It turned out that blackroot grass, a powerful narcotic, was being funnelled to far-off Mynar to keep the populace from revolting.  The wizard Dinagar had been investigating, and in order to keep him from learning too much, the main villain of the piece, Auron, drove him mad with magical manipulation.  Auron couldn't afford to be found out because, although he was acting with the Church's wink-and-nod-we'll-look-the-other-way, they didn't know that _his_ supplier was Drondan, a cleric of Bleak.  

The fact that he was fighting another priest of Bleak didn't give Galiger pause at all; when the battle came down, Malford moved in for the backstab, with Morden firing her bow at the wizard Auran, who fired back with a _dancing wand of rusting_ and an ill-placed _fireball._  Drondand spent a little too much time casting _prayer_ before Vito and Galiger started laying the smack down; he then foolishly _aided_ himself before starting to fight with his battleaxe.  By then it was almost too late; though Auran lasted a moment longer, Drondand was soon standing alone.  But he seemed unbeatable, with almost impenetrable armor*, and he soon laid half the party low with his deadly axe. 

Things were looking ugly, and Dexter cried out in frustration, making the mistake that would haunt him for the rest of his life, and, especially, after. 

"Bleak!" he screamed, his teenager's voice breaking, "If you save us here, _I will give you my soul!!!"_

And he swung his quarterstaff, rolled a natural twenty, and pulped Drondand's head.  Holding his staff tightly in both hands, Dexter stared unbelievingly at the corpse of the cleric.

"HAIL BLEAK!" shrieked Galiger, claiming Drondand's axe.

So everything seemed resolved; after a few days of healing, all that remained was a final report to the widow and to the authorities, which Galiger figured he could use to embarrass them, and the party's mission would be happily complete, with them able to go their separate ways if they chose- though Galiger wanted Dexter to come with him, very badly.

And that's when it all went wrong.

At the wrong place, at the wrong time, Morden mentioned the Galadorian cleric they'd killed.  In front of other, less antisocial types.

The sage bolted instantly from the room, probably the only thing that saved his life.  Malford wasted not an instant, casting _sleep_ and dropping everyone in the area (the rest of the party was behind him).  Then he quickly slit the throats of both the merchant and Morden Kain.  "Stupid!" he said softly through gritted teeth.  He was at his evilest.  These were the only two true murders that Malford, later God-King of West Dorhaus, ever did.

The party beat a retreat out of town, but the word was out: they were bad guys.  Game 2 already had our villains (definitely not heroes) with a price on their heads.  


*AC-2 in 2nd edition terms; against 1st-level pcs... well, they had a time trying to hit him.


_*Next Time:*_ We'll see- perhaps I'll do the next adventure chronologically, or should I try to do a later arc?  (Such as the Fuligin arc, the clockwork horrors arc, the Firestorm Peak arc, etc.)  I dunno, but eventually I'll post something in here again...


----------



## Welverin

*Re: The Mynar Mystery*



			
				the Jester said:
			
		

> *But he seemed unbeatable, with almost impenetrable armor**




This smells of an annotation, did you actually intend to include one or is the asterisk out of place?



> *Next Time: We'll see- perhaps I'll do the next adventure chronologically, or should I try to do a later arc?*




Next adventure chronologically. I hereby formally request that you post updates of games in the order they happen without skipping things when possible.


----------



## the Jester

Whoops!  Stuck my footnote in there...

Note that the npc cleric's axe was a battleaxe +2, which Galiger claimed as a cleric of Bleak.


----------



## the Jester

*Lendore*

The party (minus Morden, whom Malford had murdered) headed down the coast to Port Lofrax.  Upon reaching said Port, the group managed to acquire a couple of new friends.

Lyr was a harpoon-throwing evil priest of the old religion of Forinthia, a savage faith that encouraged the eating of the hearts of worthy foes.  She was attractive in a severe sort of way, and she and Galiger just about instantly hated each other.  After all, they served different gods.

Galiger really liked the other new recruit, however.  Chanticleer Gildar-Ynarlsland was her name, and she was a sexy elf chick in armor and bearing a sword.  Deadly in a fight, Chanti was a devoted Bleakist and would soon prove a good help to the group's morale both by serving as their ship's tail and by composing sea chanties to Bleak, but both of those things are somewhat yet to come.  

While in the inn at which they rented a room, the party happened upon an employment opportunity.  A local wizard named Valkor the Water-Wizard hired them to go to a network of elven coral caves to gain a spell from their wizard for Valkor.  Unfortunately, it would seem that the elves have not been responding to recent messages.  Their fate must be ascertained, and the spell- _control water_- gained at all costs.  Our heroes set out to hire a ship, but hadn't enough money to do one yet (and Valkor was unwilling to pay them up front).  So Dexter came up with a plan.

When Godsday (the day of mandated worship by good Galadorians) rolled around, the villainous pcs whose antics we're following went to church so as not to attract attention.  Galiger, a little drunk already, mouthed off a tiny bit at the start, but quieted down so as not to miss Dexter at work.

Lendore, the priest giving the sermon, was extolling the virtues of Galador and the service of the Light when Dexter spoke into his mind.

_"My priest!"_ Dexter cried telepathically.  _"I am Galador, and I come to lay a charge on you!  You must take a vessel to sea, and take a group of unlikely pilgrims with you!"_  Dexter rambled on at length, thoroughly bamboozling Lendore, the cleric, and our heroes had their ride for the first trip to the Coral Caves.

On the way there, which took several days, at Galiger's urgings Dexter tormented Lendore with his telepathic powers, telling him he'd failed his god, urging him to suicide and finally convincing him to kill himself!  This was despite Dexter's having found Lendore to be an unusually tolerant Galadorian.  Still, had Dexter never fallen into so deep a pit of evil he never could have risen as far as he later would.  And so one night Lendore took himself to the ship's edge and cast himself into the sea, and no-one even noticed til dawn rose hours later.



_*Next Time:*_ A foray into the Coral Caves!  A couple more pcs, including the first Merellin!  And things start to get ugly for Dexter!


----------



## Dakkareth

I *really* like this style and the story hour. Nothing like seeing the reasons behind today's fundamental truths live


----------



## the Jester

The party's first foray into the Coral Caves was awkward and, frankly, the first pivotal point of the campaign, as it led directly to Dexter's capture by the Inquisition.

Upon weighing anchor at about the location of the caves, allegedly inhabited by sea elves, the party consumed some of the _potions of water breathing_ that Valkor had provided them with.  "If this takes more than one or two trips down, we won't have enough potions," Vido remarked, and in the water they all went, accompanied by two of Drake's men, an elf named Oarin and Sh!Larn, a merellin*.  Oarin was a thief and a scoundral, but the idea of having someone else to back up Malford's trapfinding skills appealed.  Sh!Larn was a fighter/bard, but more important, he was a merellin.  He could introduce them to the aquatic elves; he might even know some of them.  

The ocean was warm; swimming above a large coral formation, the party saw a number of fish, including a shark in the distance, a shipwreck, and finally the entrance to the caves.  They entered heedless of danger, and in the very first chamber they ran into a cadre of bloated, half-rotten corpses- drowned ones!  The water was full of particles of greasy flesh, a slickness that sickened everyone just to look at it.  Instantly the zombies swarmed to the attack, faster than their land-bound counterparts, and one of them sank a harpoon into Oarin's chest, tearing viciously and collapsing both his lungs.  He never even had a chance to act.**

Having no experience underwater (other than the merellin, of course, who bashed into the sea zombies rather successfully with his blunt nose), it took our heroes a few pivotal moments to realize that their staves and longswords were useless; only piercing weapons could help them here!  A lesson learned at cost, for the meathooks and rancid claws of the sea zombies were taking their toll on the party.

Barely able to fight through the chamber without losing a man, the party beat a retreat after destroying the drowned ones, most of which were dead aquatic elves.  "I think we'd better tell Valkor about this," Chanticleer said.  She tossed her head and her golden locks floated demurely around her face.  "We may not be able to get this spell for him if all the elves are dead, and we need more potions."  The rest of the party agreed, so they returned to Captain Drake's vessel and thence back to Port Lofrax.  

Dexter, being too clever for his own good, went to a Church of Galador to try to seek healing.  The irony certainly appealed to him, especially after the death of Lendore, which he perhaps felt the tiniest bit of remorse over.  Unfortunately for him, the Church was by now onto him, and while he was there he was duped into coming into the back and seized.  Hurled into a cold, damp cell, the poor lad found himself about to face the consequences of his actions....



*Merellin are essentially dolphinweres- cetaceans that can change into a humanoid form.

**This was actually the first session of dnd this player ever played, and he's been totally hooked ever since.

_*Next Time:*_ Chanti starts composing sea chanties to Bleak while Dexter suffers at the hands of the Inquisition!  Eek!


----------



## the Jester

Come to think of it, there was another cleric tricked psychically by Dex before the Galadorians caught on.  I think, if I recall right, Dexter told him to go on a crusade into Bleak's Maw, which is a huge volcano that has some sort of hazy connection to Bleak.

Bleak's Maw comes up a lot later with Dexter, too.

This is a fun story hour to work on, I should email the link to Vic (Dexter's old player).


----------



## the Jester

*Chanti's chanties*

It's at somewhere around here in the story that Chanticleer started a tradition of writing a new sea chantie every game in devotion to Bleak.  Without having an antipaladin class, she was a powerful evil fighter devoted to a dark god.  Here's a sample of the chanties:

_I've spent all my life on the cold briny sea
And many adventures have happened to me
Yet no matter what challenge or treasure I seek
Through all of my trials I'm protected by Bleak.
Bleak! Bleak!
Defeat all my foes!
Bleak! Bleak!
Assuage my woes!
Bleak! Bleak! 
On earth and on sea
You are my favorite deity!_

Naturally, I kept these sea chanties, though one or two may be missing.  They're a hoot.  Nevertheless, here's another.

_In these recent trying times 
When despair has reached its peak
Misfortunes have assailed me
And tried to make me weak
Yet even when it's to the point
That it seems I'm up  creek
Despair will never get to me
Cause I've kept my faith in Bleak.
Keep the faith!
Keep the faith!
His name I'll always shriek 
Keep teh faith!
Keep the faith!
Shout in the name of Bleak!_

Here, I'll post the third one too- more will come later, no doubt...

_In my days of adventuring
I travelled so far
My sword clashed with minions
Of that accursed Galador-
Now when I'm old and tired
And my limbs are all sore
At least I'll still have my memories
From those days of yore.
Thanks be to Bleak!
Thanks be to Bleak!
His awesome power makes all others seem weak!
More than once he's made Galador
Turn the other cheek!
That's why I've given my life up
To Bleak!_

A hoot, I say.  And the player would lead the other players in singing them.


----------



## the Jester

*In the Hands of the Inquisition*

Dexter was terrified.  He was just a kid, after all, a lad of sixteen at the time; he'd never even kissed a girl.  He'd fallen in with a profoundly bad influence and done some truly horrible things, and now- in the Inquisition's tiny cell- he was afraid he was going to pay the price.  Worst of all, _he'd given himself to Bleak._  Would they know?  

It seemed so.  They dragged him from his cell, kicked him to... to the _chamber_... and branded his forehead, with a great sweltering *B* rune, for Bleak.  Then they burned the palms of both of his hands with hot pokers.  Then, roughly, they returned him to his cell, where there was water and a little bread.

Could he make a break for it?  Even as he thought about it, the odds seemed dismal.  Even if he could break free from the cell somehow- not at all a sure prospect- the Inquisitors would surely catch him, and then he'd be put to the question for sure.  The thought of the devices they'd shown him, explained the uses of to him on his way to his cell, made him quail.  No, an escape attempt would only make it worse.  Oh, Bleak!

His thoughts were interrupted after a long while when a confessor came in, offering to take his confession.  She was beautiful, and to the uncertain Dexter she was a weapon aimed at the biggest chink in his already uncertain armor.  

"What's going to happen to me?" he pleaded.  The brand on his head felt like it was burning up.

"That depends," said the Confessor, Sheila.  "If you confess to your sins, perhaps Galador will forgive you."  

Not hopeful sounding at all.  What about his friends?  Might they mount a rescue attempt?  Not likely, yet... 

Even as Dexter prayed for his friends to aid him, the rest of the party was singing sea chanties on the way back to the Coral Caves on Captain Drake's ship.  No help was coming to him; Dexter was in the clutches of the worst people he, in his situation, could have come to.  He was hopeless and despondant as he sank towards sleep.  In the morning they would come for him, and take him back to the... the chamber, where all the devices awaited... shivering, cold in his shift, he lay on the stone floor and finally slept.

And dreamed...

_Forgive them, my Son, for they know not what they do, came the voice from the brilliant light; and was it Galador?  _Galador?_ Dexter asked, but there was no answer, just the searing, pure light..._

Was it a fever dream?  Was it real?  Dexter didn't know, but it terrified him.

In the morning, Dexter confessed to everything.  He told of the priest of Bleak who had influenced him, claiming not to know his name; cried that he'd fallen in with bad company.  Sheila nodded and took notes and promised to seek intercession for him, but warned him that she could promise nothing.

So it was that Dexter was given a coarse robe and was taken upon a stage, where he was made to publicly confess his crimes and recant against Bleak.  He swore to follow the Light henceforth, and they sat him in a chair and heated a metal brand and placed an X over the B rune on his forehead.  Dexter howled but the Inquisitor showed no mercy, driving the brand heavily into Dexter's forehead.  When finally he pulled it away, he growled, "You're lucky Hendrick the Witch-Hunter isn't here."

Dexter changed alignment on the spot from NE to N.  He didn't know for sure, but he assumed that they'd know if he broke his word... so he didn't.  And, based on Sheila's recommendation, they let him go with a stern warning- namely, burnt head and hands, with a branding that would definitely scar.


Meanwhile, things were getting interesting with the others.  They were approaching the Coral Caves, and after some discussion Malford and Galiger had decided to become pirates.  They needed money for a ship- a knarr seemed to be about right for their needs, at least initially.  That would take a decent investment. 

So they returned to the Coral Caves...

*Next Time:* Back in the Coral Caves!  The beginnings of the gnome on a rope phenomenon (though with a dwarf).


----------



## the Jester

I started a Rogues' Gallery thread for this story hour here.


----------



## the Jester

Edited the post where the party first enters the caves to introduce a couple of new players...


----------



## the Jester

*The Beginning of A Proud Tradition: Gnome on a Rope!*

When our ‘heroes’ (villains, more like, but the needs of narrative must win out) descended to the Coral Caves a second time, minus Dexter, were joined by two of Drake’s men again (although Sh!Larn declined to join them this time).  One, a dwarf who fancied himself a dread pirate, was named Roberts.  His massive forearms were tattooed with anchors; he was immensely strong.* The other was another elf, this one a mage of some small skill named Urick.  The entire group quaffed _water breathing_ potions and descended over the side of the ship, swimming back to the caves below.

Through the chamber where they’d slain the drowned ones our heroes descended.  There were two passages out of it; after a small amount of discussion, Roberts said, “I’ll scout ahead using my infravision.  Here, tie this rope to me; if there’s trouble I’ll tug on it.”  So saying, he sealed his fate.  Roberts went on ahead alone, never even noted the dangers inherent in the strangleweed in the next chamber and was promptly constricted to death by it while he was surprised; he never even had a chance to roll for initiative.  Thus began the long tradition now known as Gnome On A Rope in my campaign.

A few impatient minutes later the rest of the party tugged on the rope, but to no avail.  It was completely taut, and it wasn’t moving at all.  Lyr and Urick scouted ahead after Roberts, but as soon as they saw his fate they turned back and rejoined the party.  “Strangleweed,” Lyr reported.  “We’d better go the other way.”

The others agreed, and on their way they went- the other way, that is.  They encountered a weird psionic octopoid creature, but slew it before it could do more than activate its _biofeedback_ power.  Advancing past a branching passage through the coral, they found a chamber with a downward-leading path lined with jagged coral sides.  It looked like it would be difficult, to say the least, getting past it; so they continued along their forward-leading path.  This took them shortly into another chamber, where they killed a giant crab and crowed that dinner would be good tonight.  More tunnels, leading ahead and below, and the group continued forward into a chamber full of horribly stale water, toxic to breathe, with many grimy-looking particles afloat in it. 

The next chamber was a larder.

Floating within it they found a number of corpses, some of which had been gnawed at.  There were an aquatic elf, a dolphin, two sahuagin and a merellin.  Lyr poked about but since they were already dead she couldn’t very well sacrifice one to eat its heart or anything, so she left them be.  

One more chamber completed their exploration of this corner of the Coral Caves.  It held what appeared to be a display of coral shaping artistry, with magnificently beautiful growths carefully shaped almost like a bonsai tree.  “Hmm,” Galiger said, “useless.  Maybe we should go back to the entrance and rethink our approach.” 

“There are other chambers we haven’t yet investigated,” Lyr pointed out, and he gave her a dirty look.  The group swam back to the entry chamber where they’d lost Oarin to gather their wits, and immediately Chanti cried a warning, pointing at the entrance.

A fish-like creature was swimming in- no, dolphin-like.  It turned out to be another merellin, and as the group had already seen how helpful those cetacean-folk could be, they quickly made alliance, swimming to the surface to talk.  This one was Fliperandrax (Flipper for short), a priestess of the Sea Queen.  Once again Galiger found himself grateful to be in non-Galadorian religious company. 

“But what are you doing here?” Chanti inquired.

“I’m looking for my brother,” Flipper told them, and immediately the rest of the group thought of the larder.  Shortly they showed the merellin corpse to Flipper, who was clearly shaken by the site.  It was indeed her brother, and she vowed vengeance in his name.  

“Then let’s go,” cried Malford.  “Down below!”

“Wait!” Chanti called.  “Before we go, let us sing a sea chanty!”  And they did, singing one of the chanties that Chanticleer had written.  Then it was back down with them...

*Dexter’s player’s new character, strength (rolled in front of me) 18 (00).


_*Next Time: *_ The Conclusion of the Coral Caves!


----------



## the Jester

*The Sea Hag!*

From the larder where they’d shown Flipper her brother’s body, our heroes (ah, what irony) descended into a series of three chambers shaped into the coral.  Two were merely empty, but one held small cages.  Another passage led them into a large chamber with another series of drowned ones, five in number!  Furious battle was joined in the greasy water.  Lyr’s harpoon proved deadly and true, Vido fought with two blades in a deadly whirlwind, and Malford stabbed with shortsword and dagger.  Chanti, too, proved efficacious, and Flipper butted her long nose furiously at the sea zombies.  Soon they were destroyed, and a quick search turned up a blocked exit. 

About an hour of hard labor later, the party had excavated enough rocks from the coral passage that they reached another branch of the tunnel.  This led to a long ascent to an area with a bubble of air in the top part of the chamber, along with shackles set in the wall near it.  “Interesting,” remarked Lyr.  Galiger scoffed at her but studied the shackles with interest.  Flipper refilled her lungs.

The party went on, there being two more exits from the chamber with the bubble.  As they moved out, a weird creature that seemed made from the coral itself attacked, surprising them!  Again there was battle; the creature swung jagged coral appendages at them, tearing their flesh.  Chanti closed corps a corps with it, stabbing viciously, and Flipper smashed it from behind.  Galiger stabbed at it with his spear, his axe having already proved useless underwater.  The monster roared bubbles and struck Chanti, who stumbled and fell unconscious, floating helplessly.  With a cry, Galiger struck a final blow and the monster fell dead, his spear in its midsection.  “No one kills a follower of Bleak!” he cried angrily.  A brief discussion ensued, and the party returned to Captain Drake’s vessel to heal and recuperate.  Flipper was the only cleric with healing spells, so she did her best, but everyone was scraped and bruised or worse.  So she worked mosty to bring Chanti around.

The next day, the party descended again.  They investigated the other exit from the bubble chamber and found a chest of corroded iron, within which were 10,000 silvers, a ruby, a sapphire (which Malford badly misappraised as worth only half its value) and an opal- a total value of about 3000 gp!  “This is probably enough to buy our ship,” Malford remarks, and the whole group perks up at the thought.  They’ll be pirates!  Arr!

Still, they’d seen no sign of the spell they were after.  Returning to the tunnel they’d excavated, Vido pointed out that, within the coral, it was still full of rocks below them.  They began excavating and found that it did indeed descend further.  Heartened, our heroes started pulling yet more rocks out, and in about another hour of hard work, they came to the bottom.  On each side is another blocked passage.  Groaning in frustration, the party started on first one- which led to the bloated corpse of a sea elf surrounded by instruments of torture (which Galiger and Lyr snatched up greedily).  Then they got to work clearing the next passage, and as they did so, they discovered the killer of the sea elves.  

Her name was Vellis, and she was a sea hag.  The very sight of her was so ghastly that the party quailed and weakened, and she screeched out at them, clawing with her black nails, gouging the face of Vido badly.  The ranger/mage cried out, falling back, the strength fleeing from his limbs, and Chanti, Flipper, Malford and Galiger all likewise flet their strength leave them.  They battled Vellis weakly, but she slapped them about like fish.  A minor wound from Malford’s dagger angered her; another, worse blow, from Lyr’s harpoon, and she was furious.  But she was outnumbered.  Even taking Malford and the still-wounded Chanti down, she couldn’t withstand the party- especially Lyr, unweakened, and her deadly harpoon.  Piercing again and again, the cannibal-priestess screamed in grim triumph as she savagely thrust a final time and drove her barbed harpoon completely through Vellis, then drew forth a dagger and frenziedly pulled her heart from her body and consumed it, crowing in triumph.

A little investigation found a number of lootworthy items on the sea hag, including a sealed scroll tube- hopefully containing the scroll they needed!- a ring of worked whalebone set with a white pearl, another ring, this one of shark’s teeth set with a loop of gold, and a dagger of weird silvery iron.  (This, Malford told them with his alchemist’s knowledge, was _silveriron_- a special magical alloy of cold iron and silver, worked together without heat.)  Within a whalebone chest they found close to another thousand gold and 33 pp, as well as a key which they took (but never subsequently found the hidden chamber which it opened, alas).

Then back up to Captain Drake’s boat they went.  They dried the scroll tube thoroughly, and opening it up found it did indeed have the scroll their employer sought.  Drake happily took them back to port.  Chanticleer noticed a wanted poster and raised an eyebrow; the party had a decent price on their heads already.  They finished their business with Valkor, received their payment and then decided to vacate Forinthia; things were getting too hot for them.  

“Where shall we go?” Galiger asked.  Together, the group poured over a map.  Forinthia, naturally, was in the center, as was fitting for the center of the world.  To the west, there were a couple of reasonably-sized isles, Balramamous and Winwillow; to the east, another, Aerisa.  Nothing was north for thousands of miles.  South was Gorel, an isle full of elves subverted by the Forinthian Empire.

Malford suggests, “What about Gorel?  Probably the elves there are no friends to Forinthia; I’ll bet we can hide out there fairly easily.”  The group agreed, and a discrete meeting with Captain Drake allowed them to come to terms.  Soon they were sailing south....



_*Next Time:*_ The party officially becomes pirates!


----------



## the Jester

By now we're in the middle of game #7 (titled _the Sea Hag_).  Here's a rundown of the pcs...

Malford (gnome thief/illusionist 3/2) -CN
Galiger (human cleric of Bleak 2) -CE
Vido (half-elf ranger/mage 1/1) -CG
Lyr (cleric of the Sea, Sky & Land 2) -NE
Chanticleer (elf fighter 1) -CN
Flipper (merellin cleric of the Sea Queen 1) -CN

I'll post some goodies on here before too long, like Galiger's old logs, more of Chanti's sea chanties (the next one involves an adventure that they haven't yet reached), old notes, etc.  All as they come up in the story, of course.

Hope you're enjoying this!


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

I know I am, Jester.

It's interesting to note that even at this point you've got a mix of levels.


----------



## Technik4

Yeah, I have to agree. Malford is house! Already 2nd level illusionist? I may just be rusty on 2e (1e?) mechanics, but I remember wizards took a while to level up.

Keep it rockin'! It seemed really odd, btw, that level 1 characters took on a fireball wielding invoker and won.

Technik


----------



## the Jester

Technik4 said:
			
		

> It seemed really odd, btw, that level 1 characters took on a fireball wielding invoker and won.
> 
> Technik




Well, the _fireball_ blasted the majority of the tavern, killing most of the people who weren't at the bar; the pcs were the people who _were_ at the bar.  

Tallarn, I find it interesting that there's a level disparity too- I forgot how quickly that happened.  Malford advanced quickly because he got a lot of bonus xp for roleplaying, successful thievery, etc.  Also, Chanti and Flipper didn't start out in the first game like most of the others, and until 3e I started _everyone_ at first level.


----------



## Technik4

bump...bump....bump.....BUMP!


----------



## the Jester

OK, OK... I get the message! LOL!  

Updates coming in all three threads by the end of the week, prolly sooner- now that I'm (reasonably) settled in my new place I'll be back to my usual million-updates-per-month...


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Dammit! I was all excited when I saw three thread updates arrive in my inbox! 

*cracks whip*

Get on with it, Jester!


----------



## Technik4

Just trying to make it easier to update Jester  Glad everything worked out with your trip (?), can't wait to see how Cydra is doing, past, present, and somewhere else in the present.

Technik


----------



## the Jester

*Just A Quick Teaser Here, Too...*

(Interestingly, the current update in To War Against Felenga is predominantly a behind the curtains look at how my old Greyhawk campaign ended and was reborn (eventually, sort of) as Cydra.

Just thought I'd mention that...)

Our villainous heroes go to Gorel. 

Gorel is a jungle isle subjugated by the Forinthians (who isn't?) and mostly inhabited by elves.  Within an hour of being dropped off by Captain Drake our heroes had definitely picked up on the fact that non-elves weren't really welcome there, and Vito reported that there were two main elvish peoples on the island.

"There are the Gorlistar," he told the others, "who are in this village, for instance.  They're the more civilized coastal wood elves.  Then there are the Grugach, who are rumored to be savages that cannibalize other elves."

"Hm," Lyr said, interested.

Of course, to become pirates- which seemed to be the group's main ambition at that moment- they needed a boat.  So they set out to purchase a knarr, big enough and seaworthy enough for their pirating plans and small enough and riverworthy enough for an easy getaway and a hideout, once they found one.

"We can check upstream and inland," Galiger suggested.

The next few days were spent finding a boat and arranging to purchase it.  Cheerily, they decided to christen it the _Sea Hag_ after their first major adversary (the wizard in the bar hardly seems to count).  Then it's upriver to explore around and look for a good spot to hide and perhaps some more coin to help hire on crew and buy supplies.

Meanwhile, a lonely Dexter was en route to Gorel himself, being shipped away by the Church of Galador to somewhere as out of the way as possible.  To a rendezvous with destiny.

_*Next Time:*_ What did happen next, anyway...?  Oh yeah!  More pcs die!!


----------



## the Jester

*Up the River (Without a Paddle)*

The party hires three sailors to help sail their knarr inland up the local river; after purchasing the boat, three is about all they can afford.  They decide to try to avoid hiring the local elves, since they're really snotty.  Then they waver, as Lyr brings up the fact that the locals know the territory.

They end up hiring one of the elves.  His name is Urlah; he's a crack shot with a bow, which is one of the deciding factors.  There's also a wanted gnome named Jorallivan, quick on his feet and a member of the weird old faith that espouses the eating of the hearts of defeated opponents.  This is Lyr's religion, the cannabix faith, and one of the deciding factors in their hiring of Jorallivan.  Galliger scowls at him; he thinks everyone should follow Bleak.  Chanti scowls with him.  The third sailor is a human named Plarentes; he's old and foul, bald, with a pegleg, eyepatch and parrot.  As soon as they see him, they hire him.  Clearly he's got what a band of pirates wants.

Finally, they hire on a halfling cook named Bilbo.  He's an avowed athiest, so Galiger immediately sets out to convert him.

Malford, of course, is captain by acclamation; exactly how everyone agreed so easily to this is uncertain, but it went without a hitch.  He appoints Galiger his first officer.  They decide to leave in the morning; that evening, by luck, they fall into a job to retrieve a staff for a local Forinthian wizard from some scrags.  And so, the next morning, the _Sea Hag_ heads upstream.  

By late afternoon they've long since left the friendlier coastal elvish territory behind and thick jungle is bushed all along the river.  Insects buzz overhead; it's humid and hot.  The water flows sluggishly against their rowing.  Vido smokes a lot of weed, passing it around the party and the sailors.  "This place is beautiful," he sighs, a huge smile plastered below his bloodshot eyes.

Then a green, scaly clawed arm emerges from the water, scrabbling for purchase on the side of the knarr.  "Trolls!" cries the sharp-eyed Vido, whipping out his swords, and springs to the attack.  

More green hands are coming up, bulky forms striking into the knarr, trying to board the vessel.  Lyr hurls her harpoon, sticking one brutally in the gut, and Galiger whips his axe into another, but the press is getting nasty- there are at least three river trolls, maybe more!  

Malford cries out as something happens to him.  He feels some of his magic tear from his mind!  _I'm on that,_ he thinks, springing to the prow to seek the source of the strange attack.  "Attack!" he cries, and the party and their hirelings rally.  Then then gnome captain quaffs a _potion of water breathing_ and dives from the deck of the _Sea Hag_ into the river to engage the scrags on their own turf.

The battle is fierce, but our heroes are victorious without serious casualties.  They retrieve the staff and get a reasonable amount of money (each of them walks away with 208 gp and 389 sp).  Better yet, Malford succeeds in obtaining the device that stole one of his spells.  It's a strange metal claw; he claims it and determines to study it and master its secrets.  

While in town returning the wizard's staff the group runs across Dexter.  "Dex!" cries the Dread Pirate Malford.  "What happened to you?" -for he can see the hideous scarring on Dexter's forehead, relic of when the Inquisition branded him.  Dexter tells his tale, very subdued in tone, and Galiger's face darkens.  

"So you turned to the Light," he sneers.  "Just remember who you already gave your _soul_ to!  Galador can't save you, and if you don't turn back to the Darkness you're surely doomed!"  He stalks off, as angry as he's ever been.  After all, Dex was his first convert; that he should turn to Galador so easily chafes hard.  

Nonetheless, Dex is welcomed back by Malford; and though Chanti and Galiger keep shooting evil looks his way and making snide remarks, there doesn't seem to be any violence imminent.  So it is that out heroes decide to head back upriver after Malford and Vido learn a spell or two from the wizard they aided, and thence try to seek the legendary Old Man Rhumy, an ancient elf said to be over 25,000 years old who lives with tigers.  Lyr first has a birthday party, getting the party roaring drunk and, with Vido's aid, extremely high.

Then it's upriver again...

_*Next Time:*_ Okay, so it'll be a couple more updates, but pc deaths are just around the corner!  Next time, our heroes are Captured By Grugach!

By the way, we're at game 9 by this point in the story hour...


----------



## the Jester

*Captured by Grugach*

(I'm going to try very hard to remember to use the past tense in this story hour, since it's not 'current' at all- not even close!  This update was almost exactly ten years ago, real time- we played it out on November 1st, 1993.  Quite a while back.  In game terms, this was the year 97 O.L.G., and game 'present' is 368 O.L.G.  _Past tense._  Right, then.)


_"Bleak! Bleak! 
On earth and on sea
You are my favorite deity!"_

With a cheer, the party finished singing along with Chanti's sea chanty.  Most of the _Sea Hag's_ crew had sung along, but a few abstained.  Galiger took mental notes on who these were; he was planning some sacrifices.  The knarr glided through the water almost silently, then abruptly fell victim to a barrage of wild gnome darts.  A fierce battle broke out, ended by our heroes' flight down the river, shaken and bleeding from the gnomish assault.  "We should maybe try something a little less obvious," remarked Urick, the wizard the group had picked up during the Coral Caves adventure.  Flipper nods in agreement.

So the group decided to try their luck at finding a hiding spot by marching through the jungles along the river searching for a good hideout from which to conduct piracy.  They left their crew and the ship in Doraps, the town they'd sailed upriver from, paying the crew a couple of months wages in advance and promising more if they served faithfully.

So it was that our heroes, five days out, fell into a grugach trap and were caged by the wild elves.  Unfortunate, really, but that damn _entangle_ and a bit of overwhelming wild elf numbers, and there you have it.  Disarmed, bound, thrown in tough bamboo cages and thence ignored, our heroes pondered a dismal fate- after all, the grugach were cannibals at that time.  Or at least, that was the rumor.  (Still is, really.)

"It's fortunate that I'm here," Malford grinned, searching out a few long splinters of wood to use as probes.  Then he waited until dark.  When at last all the grugach in the area were asleep he set to work on the lock.  

Chanti cracked her knuckles.  "I'd like to kill all of them," she whispered.

"I just want to get out of here," Urick said.

"Gotcha!"  Malford smirked as the lock disengaged.  Very quietly they swung the cage open and crept out, then started moving away from the grugach village.  They made it less than a mile before pursuit began.  Horns sounded behind them, answered by more somewhere to the left of them...

The party rushed as quickly as they could back towards Doraps, wild elves wild in pursuite behind them.  They ran through most of the night, sometimes having to stop to hack their way through thickets and find ways around bogs.

Then, as if things couldn't get worse, with the grugach hot on their heels, the party ran into gnomes.  Who knows- could even be the same gnomes that attacked their boat, wild-looking with dark hair usually in dreadlocks.  But instead of things getting worse, they got better- the gnomes too were adversaries of the grugach!  (Man, do those elves like anyone?)

There was no battle; the grugach remained at bay while the more charismatic members of the group (especially Malford) talked the gnomes into allowing the party to seek refuge with them until the grugach let them be.  "The grugach do not like anyone who isn't grugach," says one of the wild gnomes, nodding sagely.  "They eat you."  He extends his hand.  "I am Gepp."  They talk late into the night, and when they leave in the morning Gepp joins them...


_*Next Time:*_ Death comes knocking!


----------



## the Jester

*The Death of ...*

The party moved on, desperate to reach Doraps and (hopefully) their ship.  They were still two days away.  Vido had just moved to the river to see if he could fish something up, and indeed he did.

Before he even had a chance to react* Vido's being dragged into the water.  Something rushed up at him, some kind of water spider!  His left arm gropes for a weapon but its fangs are already in his chest, pumping lethal venom into him.  He starts convulsing, his vision growing dim as he sees the others attacking, trying to save him...

Everything goes black for Vido.

The others lash out in anger and dismay.  They were only a moment away, but the great spider that is dragging their dead friend into the water got the drop on Vido...  Arrows, spells from Urick, more; the creature falters and dies, but another is darting from the water!  The battle rages for a few brief moments more, and the spider darts in at prey of its own, finding Flipper and sinking its fangs into her leg.  She twists away, staggering, falls to her knees; another of the party has fallen!

The spider dies, pierced by Lyr's harpoon.  With a groan, the remaining members of the party look on the ruin of two of their friends.  Almost, they despair; but then they rally, Lyr and Malford both restoring the determination of the others.  Urick shudders as Vido's chest and Flipper's leg purple and swell even in death, as if the poison could reach into the afterlife.  


*In all fairness, I figured the various pcs would go off to the river by themselves at intervals (nature calls, whatever) and rolled randomly to see who it was going to encounter.  Then I told Vido to roll for surprise.  He was surprised; it attacked, hit, he failed his save... never even got to act.



_*Next Time:*_ To Yafall!


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Having had a 12th level fighter go from 110hp to 15hp in one surprise round today, I fully sympathise with the nastiness of a good ambush.


----------



## the Jester

*Journey to Yafall*

Man, if only I had a scanner at home.  I always forget to take maps in to work to scan 'em so I can attach them here... I really want to try to post a map of Gorel and Yafall with this next update!  Sigh... well, we'll see.  Maybe I can manage to bring it in with me when I go to work today...

In any event:

Yafall is nestled just off the coast of Gorel.  It's small, and there was no official 'state' or anything there.  At the time, as now, over two and a half centuries later, Yafall was officially a part of the Forinthian province of Gorel, but it was mostly lawless and lightly inhabited at most.  

It seemed, to our poor heroes, battered and depleted after their battle, like a place to search for a hideout that might not lead them directly into the hands of genocidal cannibalistic elves.  So, after hiring on a sufficient crew- strongly desiring to be able to fight off an ambush by a war party of grugach or something similar- the party set sail for Yafall.

The new crew members included a strange human named Rajah and Sh'larn Eloh'myr, one of the merellin the party had met previously on Captain Drake's vessel at the Coral Caves.  As the party sailed, they gradually gathered a few interesting things about Rajah- namely, that he was raised by tigers and that someone was trying to capture him.  

Then the party reached Yafall and took the _Sea Hag_ up a river.  The river led them to a lake surrounded by low hills and a few cliffs.  "Maybe," Malford reasoned, "we can find a hidden cove or even a cave to use as a hideout."  Galiger nodded and barked orders to the crew; the knarr glided out across the water, staying reasonably close to the edge for easier searching.  Some areas showed beach; and, strangely enough, a vessel- a small galley- was beached on it.  Listing to one side, the vessel seemed to be empty, at least at first glance; and so our heroes obliged....


_Next Time:_ A strange boat, an ambush, and a strange disappearance!


----------



## the Jester

*Galiger's Logs*

These are Galiger's logs from the period up to the last update.  The player made up an arbitrary calendar, refusing to use the "Our Lord Galador" dating system. 

Month 2, Day 5, Year 56 BB
Fought worshipers of Galador (anyone who attacks me is a worshipper of him).  Killed a strong mage, captain hit by a lightning bolt.  No dead, many wounded.  Need sand buckets to put out fires, spikes to stop boarders.  Need to build cabins, hold religious ceremonies and such.

2/6/56 of our lord Bleak
Bought spikes, buckets and will start repairs on ship and modification.  Starting to check out town militia.  Need to repair wooden struts.  Leave to see Old Man Rhumy write more when we come back.  (Found out average size town's garrison's 40 men.)  Need brass bell.

2/18/56 in the year of the Ixithoil
Returned from a adventure up in to the forest, captured by elves escaped attacked by spiders.  Vido and Flipper have gone to see Bleak.  Need to get weapon hire crew to look for a hide out.  Will leave tomorrow.  OLD MAN RHUMY will die.

Vido was mine (sorry went a little out of hand)

2/19/56 month of Everdark
design outfitting list: 10 axes, 8 hammers, 2 large 2-man saws, 2 barrels of tar, 2 small saws, a winch, 1000' thick hemp rope.  Dexter's back. 

2/20/56 The first day of the rest of your sh*tty lives
One day before the hiring of the crew.  Armor will be done this month 2/86/56 BB.  Need ceremony to Bleak for ship morale.

2/21/56 Hiring Day
Hired 2 gnomes to man the guns.  One follower of Bleak, an elf.  Watch the human.  Indecisive boy.  Kicked the kid off the ship.  Lyr left, good.

2/22/56 in the shadow days before Bleak
Hired the chick elf.  Consider the day unsuccessful.  Lyr returned, darn.

2/23/56 
Hired halfling painter (I don't know why).  Elven sniper.  Finish buying supplies, are ready to sail, full crew and supplies for a voyage.

2 days of waiting...


----------



## Lela

I'm halfway caught up with your stuff Jester.  We'll have to see if I have time to get the other ones read.

Good stuff.  I kinda like Bleak as a deity (good name too).  And great work with the Inquisition.


----------



## the Jester

Lela said:
			
		

> I'm halfway caught up with your stuff Jester.  We'll have to see if I have time to get the other ones read.
> 
> Good stuff.  I kinda like Bleak as a deity (good name too).  And great work with the Inquisition.




I'm glad you like it!    As others have often pointed out, there's often a certain mix of light-heartedness with foulness in my games and story hours.  I attribute a lot of it to the bizarre sense of humors my group tends towards (myself included, of course).

The other swath of story hours- my old story hour, Agents of Chaos and To War Against Felenga- covers a lot of mid to high level craziness, and at the current point in To War Against Felenga the party has several 20th-level members.  My old story hour isn't exactly part of the same thread as the other two, but several characters from it make appearances.  I actually really recommend the old story hour thread a lot- it's _full_ of weird stuff going on, metal ships, and the incredibly funny but frightful tale of Captain Clambake.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Hurrah for Captain Clambake, me hearties! Arrrr!


----------



## the Jester

*The Ghost Ship pt 1*

The strange galley creaks around them as our heroes climb aboard it.  It seems deserted, at least at first glance. 

“This is creepy,” murmurs Dexter with a shiver as he looks around.  The wheel has something glowing in it, and a thick-looking metal door bars entrance to the cabin.  Rajah and Sh’Larn approach the wheel while Malford and Galiger warily eye the door.

The captain of the Sea Hag cautiously looks the door over, then turns to his first mate.  “What do you think?”

“Let’s see what’s behind it,” Galiger answers, just as a tremendous sound indicates the detonation of a trap on the wheel.  Sh’Larn has touched what he shouldn’t, and a blast of fire rips over him.  The merellin screams, staggers back, and collapses, moaning.  He’s not dead, but only by a hair.

As if that wasn’t enough, Gepp suddenly points.  “Look!  Skeletons!”  And indeed, there does seem to be a party of skeletal figures walking down the beach towards the boat.  Worse, almost as if his words were a premonition, the ship’s boats’ covers are suddenly cast aside as skeletons arise from them as well!  Caught by surprise, our heroes are engaged by nearly twenty undead, and the group on shore is at least as numerous!

Dexter screams in fear as he swings his quarterstaff at the nearest skeleton, smashing its ribs in.  _My psionics won’t help here!_ he thinks wildly.  Nearby, Malford is thinking the same of his illusions.  Rajah tries to stand guard over Sh’Larn’s unconscious form, but he’s driven back by the press of enemies.  Lyr stabs brutally with her harpoon, completely surrounded and beset by five skeletons herself, crooning an invocation of the wrath of the sea, sky and land.  Malford thrusts and dodges to her aid.  

Gepp, emulating his captain, tries to move to help Lyr, but he’s intercepted by a cadre of enemies.  They hack at him ruthlessly, stopping him from advancing and closing in around him.  Rajah smashes his fist into a skeleton, sending it to join the few that our heroes have brought down, but to his dismay he sees another of the skeletons slash with its scimitar and connect with Gepp’s head!  The gnome gurgles and falls, slain!

“We can’t take them all like this!” Captain Malford cries.  “Especially with more of them coming!  Retreat, over the side and back to the _Sea Hag!_”

A fighting retreat begins.  Rajah jumps up, kicks out and destroys another skeleton even as Lyr finally fights her way to Sh’Larn.  She grunts with effort as she pulls his pudgy body up into her arms and struggles through the melee to the edge of the vessel.  

She looks to the ground 20’ below.  Glances to her left to see the advancing skeletons.  

_I hope he survives,_ she thinks, then dumps Sh’Larn over the edge.  The merellin’s unconscious form falls limply, hitting head-first with a sickening snapping sound.  The gods Lyr worships are not kind.  She’s already turned to defend herself again as the skeletons assail her with club and- ironically- harpoon.  _Clang!_  The enemy harpoon is parried aside, then she sweeps the butt into the skeleton’s face, crashing through its skull and laying it low.  Then she’s over the side, climbing down as best she can.  Missile fire is already coming down at her escaping comrades, and the landward party of undead is hurrying to the fight as well....

“Let’s go!” shouts Malford.  “Back to the ship!”

In a quarter of an hour the survivors have returned and are grimly planning a full-scale attack on the enemy ship....


_*Next Time:*_  The first appearance of a _seagate_ in my campaign!


----------



## Lela

Ha, and this took place well before Pirates of the Carabian.  Rock on Jester.


----------



## the Jester

Lela said:
			
		

> Ha, and this took place well before Pirates of the Carabian.  Rock on Jester.




Ah, and of course it comes back eventually too...


----------



## the Jester

*Pursuing the Ghost Ship*

A bizarre bolt of silvery light arced down with a thunderous crash, blasting the water between the _Sea Hag_ and the nameless ghost ship, seemingly directed by the glowing sword in the hand of the undead commander.  It seemed they weren’t yet in range.

The crew of the _Sea Hag_ manned their battle stations, and as Chanticleer led the group in a sea chantey to Bleak, the knarr headed to cut off the undead vessel; but sadly, it had already managed to pull itself somehow from the beach and was making quick progress towards the center of the lake.  

“After them!” Galiger cried, and the crew heaved to, rowing and turning the sail til it puffed full of wind- the breeze was with them- and pursuit commenced.

But the enemy vessel, perhaps enhanced through some sort of eldritch trickery, seemed just a little faster than the _Hag._  Rajah climbed into the crow’s nest to make sure that they didn’t lose sight of their quarry, but to his chagrin, the vessel abruptly vanished.  “They’re gone!” he called down from the nest, disheartened.  

“What do you mean, gone?” Captain Malford the Magnificent shouted up at him.  Rajah shrugged, keeping an eye out, and yelled down a quick explanation.

“They just vanished... maybe turned invisible or teleported or something...?”

Swearing like only pirates can, Malford and Galiger ordered the ship to pursue, and they started sweeping through the area where the vessel disappeared.  They found no sign.  “Maybe they went invisible and put ashore again,” Galiger suggested, and added darkly, “*Nobody* messes with out crew like that!”  The captain nodded, and they ordered the crew to take them in close to the shore again.  Their plan was to search for signs of the ghost ship and a hideout simultaneously.

“If we’re lucky, we’ll find _their_ hideout and take it over,” commented one of the crew wryly.  His name was Farenth; if only our heroes had a clue as to the amount of heartbreak and death he was going to eventually cause them, they would have killed him, hacked him to pieces and cast him overboard right then and there.  But alas, there’s no sign of his treachery yet.

For now, the ship advanced along the perimeter of the lake.  Carefully, our heroes watched for any sign of enemies, plunder or hideouts.  Several hours passed at a crawl before a sharp-eyed crewman manning the fore ballista (his name was Toby) pointed at the cliff face they were passing.  “Look, a cave!”  Indeed, a jagged opening, around 30’ wide, faced them.  

“I wonder if it narrows,” commented Malford, and ordered the sail furled.  Moving by oar alone, the knarr slowly swung about and headed in.  The group passed a passage off to one side and gradually crossed a hundred yards of slowly-widening cave.  At its end the long tunnel opened up into a vast chamber almost 200’ across and about 120’ wide, with a small beach at the far end.  

“Keep your eyes open,” Malford warned, just before a sea serpent reared from the water and attacked, letting out an ear-splitting roar.  Its neck was as thick as a man’s chest, and it snapped down, trying to snatch a tasty morsel from the deck of the _Sea Hag._

Unfortunately for the beast, its target wasn’t about to let herself get eaten.  Chanti poked its nose with her sword as it came at her, and it squealed and drew back, then sneezed.  Sizzling gobs of blood spattered out.  Screaming, the monster spat a long streamer of acid!

Rajah leapt, smashing Chanti aside, and the acid didn’t kill her.  She screamed as the stringy, phlegmy acid brushed across her arm and leg, burning her horribly.  But then Rajah’s weight was off her as he sprang, catlike, onto the monster, clinging to its neck and savaging it with his bare hands*!  He looked almost tigerlike in his fury as he tore at the monster.  

Plarenth and Urlah, two of the hired crew, swung the aft ballista towards the thing and let fly!  The shaft struck the monster square in the body, and it shrieked again.  Lyr’s harpoon flew towards it, as did a spattering of spells from Urick and Malford.  It weakened, and with a scream, Rajah plunged his hand into its eye!  A final spasm signalled the monster’s death, and it fell with a loud splash back into the water.  Rajah swam back to the ship....

*Rajah practiced _the Way of the Tiger,_ a 1e-style martial art that we worked up from the original _Oriental Adventures._  He was, after all, raised by tigers.


_*Next Time:*_ Building a lair!


----------



## Lela

> Rajah practiced _the Way of the Tiger,_ a 1e-style martial art that we worked up from the original _Oriental Adventures._ He was, after all, raised by tigers.



Well, that's interesting. . .


----------



## the Jester

Lela said:
			
		

> Well, that's interesting. . .




Rajah's history, including his _true_ identity, become clear eventually.  

He was conceived of as a Tarzan-like figure, except insert tigers where Tarzan had apes.  And, of course, I filled the rest in for the player- after all, all he knew was that people were chasing him...


----------



## Lela

Always fun to throw a backstory on a PC and spring it on the player.  Sometimes, of course, it's necisary if you want him to have existed _at all_ before the campaign took over.  Oi.


----------



## the Jester

Obviously, I haven't updated this is a while, and this isn't an update either. 

This is just sort of an organizational move for my own future reference (and I suppose a bit of a tease ), so I can figure out more easily what happened when and such.



*CYDRA I* (Redding- 95-100 O.L.G.)

_The Pirate Adventures_

001 Mynar
002 Mynar II
003 ? (missing notes)
004 Lendore
005 Coral Caves
006 Coral Caves II
007 The Sea Hag
008 Up the River
009 Dexter's Return
010 Captured by Grugach
011 to Yafall
012 Lair
013 Goblins!
014 Back to Shorult 
015 the Aquan Pyramid
016 Betrayal!

--split parties

017 the Aquan Pyramid II
018 the Parrot Isles
019 Aerisa
020 the Aquan Pyramid III
021 Pesh
022 Piracy
023 Mabrack's Isle
024 the Isle of Gloom
025 Captured!
026 the Monestary of Galador
027 the Stone Block
028 Beginning the Journey to Thule
029 Chanti's Quest
030 the Temple of Elemental Evil
031 Kerm (Chanti's Quest II)
032 Blind Faith
033 Enter: Rajah!
034 the Underdark (Chanti's Quest III)
035 Baron of Var
036 Uldinor
037 the Abyss
038 Bandits
039 Farenth's Game I
040 Farenth's Game II
041 Farenth's Game III
042 Farenth's Game (finale)

----Delilah solo
----Dex and friends

043 Enter Billy
044 Dispensing Justice
045 Enter Nydroth/Untitled
046 To the Giant's Isle/Untitled
047 Gargantuan
048 (no title; incomplete notes)
049 Through the Sea Gate
050 Turning Points
051 When It Rains It Pours
052 (no title, Vrruth)
053 (no title, Vrruth and Grisly)
054 Faux Faerie
055 (no title, pink dragon)
056 the Pink Dragon
057 Ghosts!
058 the Rising Isle
059 Into Faerie
060 (no title, ? one-shot?)
061 On Undemin
062 The Stolen Book
063 the Artifact
064 Therena Does Some Searching
065 Murder Most Foul!
066 (no title, Zsadly)
067 Post-Murder
068 A Mystery 
069 Malford's Capture
070 (no title, Vrruth & Klaus with Zsadly)
071 To Littleport
072 the Hand of Vecna
073 To Strogass
074 the Face of Cirrus
075 (no title, 3 groups at once)
076 On the Run
077 Enter Hendrick
078 Vampire
079 Into the Hill
080 the Hill of Skulls
081 Aeromancer
082 the Hill of Skulls II
083 the Death of Vrruth
084 the Hill of Skulls III
085 the Hill of Skulls IV
086 Damn Gypsies!
087 the Hill of Skulls V
088 (skipped in numbering?)
089 the Hill of Skulls VI
090 Pandos' Mount
091 (no title; Rajah solo)
092 the Ostensible Galadorians
093 the Purple Worm
094 the Fair
095 (no title, Rajah, Pandos, etc)
096 A Message
097 A Spellbook
098 Vast Fortune (written in by Matt)
099 the Bear Cave
100 In Darkness
101 Temple Politics
102 the Undercrypts of Ubos
103 (no title, Matt/Katie/Jeff? weird group)
104 Out of the Undercrypts of Ubos
105 the Coming of Heleshnatic
106 Into Philadon's Lair
107 A Party Assembles
108 Into Pilladon's Lair II
109 Into Ketzia
110 the Faeries _(come out in 215 O.L.G.)_
111 Klaus Alone
112 (no title, Gundon and Jordan end up at the moment of Solurnustice etc)
113 Bad Man of the Woods
114 Bad Man of the Woods II
115 Attempted Murder
116 Attempted Murder II
117 Attempted Murder III
118 Billy Learns of the Tarrasque
119 Grandfather's Bones
120 Grandfather's Bones II
121 Grandfather's Bones III
122 Therighast Joins the Party
123 Servant of the Dragon
124 Servant of the Dragon II
125 Dzaram
126 Malford
127 Malford II
128 the Wyrm's Bayou
129 the Wyrm's Bayou II
130 the Wyrm's Bayou III
131 Gnarichlor
132 Commando Raid (Gnarichlor Interlude)
133 the Dragon

_Silver College adventures of Lucidemacs and Siglenisten (Davis- 217-222 O.L.G.)_

134 Prologue
135 Nydroth's Glyph
136 Stolen Goods
137 Stolen Goods II
138 Stolen Goods III
139 Stolen Goods IV
140 Enter Amebas
141 Ragage Gimrol
142 the Princess & the Priest
143 Blackroot Grass
144 Blackroot Grass II
145 Into the Spicewood
146 Into the Spicewood II
147 Creation
148 Into the Spicewood III
149 Into the Spicewood IV
150 Into the Spicewood V
151 Geode of Chaos
152 The Son
153 Too Many Chefs
154 the Smuggler
155 the Uprising of Dyshim
156 the Uprising of Dyshim II
157 (no title, bizarre group meets thru Aestherite and heads to Strogass)
158 Maybell's Story
159 Into the Grey Waste
160 the Party
161 Halls of the Hammerhead Clan
162 Halls of the Hammerhead Clan II
163 Halls of the Hammerhead Clan III
164 Halls of the Hammerhead Clan IV
165 Halls of the Hammerhead Clan V
166 Halls of the Hammerhead Clan VI
167 the Ethros
168 Maybell Cameo
169 Campaign of Terror
170 Campaign of Terror II
171 Campaign of Terror III 
172 Campaign of Terror IV
173 Campaign of Terror V
174 Campaign of Terror VI 
175 Campaign of Terror VII
176 Against the Tarrasques
177 Battle's End
178 Battle's End II
179 Elcruche Enters the Picture
180 A Different Scale
181 Broken Leg
182 Vulker's Problem
183 the Hammerhead Crypts
184 the Hammerhead Crypts II
185 Mourlan Comes
186 Approaching Army
187 Wounded Eagle
188 the Battle of Mount Culthuwasis
189 Return to Aris
190 Peasantry and Priests
191 the Iceburg
192 the Iceburg II
193 To Forinthia
194 the Three Towns
195 the Belmax Agenda
196 the Belmax Agenda II
197 the Belmax Agenda III
198 Rumblings & Portents
199 From Halls of Light to Bleak's Maw
200 Child of Light, Child of Darkness
201 A Little History
202 the Tomb of Pandos
203 the Tomb of Pandos II
204 Fingers of Fire
205 Closing the Earthgate
206 Jobs
207 A Beast From Nydroth's Menagerie
208 the Village of Hommlet
209 the Village of Hommlet II
210 the Village of Hommlet III
211 the Village of Hommlet IV
212 Voyage to Nulb
213 the Temple of Elemental Evil [technically, this is II since the title was used earlier, but I'm not counting it since it's a century earlier]
214 the Temple of Elemental Evil II
215 the Temple of Elemental Evil III
216 Town Interlude
217 the Temple of Elemental Evil IV
218 Crisis in Var
219 Return to the Temple of Elemental Evil [note: this was in 2e, before the module of the same name came out; no connection]
220 Return to the Temple of Elemental Evil II
221 Return to the Temple of Elemental Evil III
222 Return to the Temple of Elemental Evil (Note From a Friend)
223 Return to the Temple of Elemental Evil V
224 Return to the Temple of Elemental Evil VI (the Scaffold)
225 Return to the Temple of Elemental Evil VII
226 Return to the Temple of Elemental Evil VIII
227 Return to the Temple of Elemental Evil IX
228 the Isle of Vuivui
229 Decisions
230 Zsadly's Word
231 (? skipped numbering?)
232 In a New Land
233 Var Interlude
234 Sirens of the Gulf
235 Travel
236 the Clockwork Horrors
237 Return to the Temple of Elemental Evil X
238 Return to the Temple of Elemental Evil XI
239 A Look at the Future
240 the Emerald Mage
241 the Elemental Nodes
242 Reunion
243 the Elemental Nodes II
244 the Elemental Nodes III
245 the Elemental Nodes IV
246 Strange & Ominous Happenings
247 It's Hard to Exist
248 After the Fall
249 the Exorcism
250 Son of Light vs. Son of Darkness
251 Liwisti, the Faerie
252 General Zadrost
253 A Fae Warning
254 A Glimpse of the Future
255 Dinner at Thimbleton's
256 Froth
257 the Shardkeeper
258 Dangerous Journeys
259 Obstacles
260 In Deadly Battle
261 A Few Answers (and a Few Questions)
262 Reprisals
263 Old Business
264 Gates Awry
265 the Passage of Flame
266 Mucus
267 Ill Waters
268 Tunnels of the Firestone
269 Horror of the Plasman
270 the Shape of the Plan
271 A Few Nasties
272 Shipwrecks & Sea Monsters
273 Bloody Mary
274 "I WARNED YOU!!"
275 the Battle for Var
276 Landfall 
277 Mystery On the Moon
278 To the Nodes
279 To Collapse the Nodes

_numbering change due to shift in time/campaign_

----> back in time- Oerth, Fuligin, etc.

+01 Back In Time [1e rules, Oerth]
+02 Knights of Remorse [1e, Oerth]

280 the Masked Avenger [took place in regular continuity, 222 O.L.G.]

+03 the Zypher Connection [1e, Oerth/Zypher]
+04 the Eyes of Boccob [1e, Oerth]
+05 Scanliana [1e, Oerth/Scanliana]
+06 Scanliana II [1e, Scanliana/Oerth]
+07 Attack of the Face Dancers [2e, Oerth]
+08 Seer Bartock [2e, Oerth]
+09 the Knights of Sanctuary [2e, Oerth]
+10 Offers [2e, Oerth]
+11 the Diamond Sword [2e, Oerth]
+12 the Diamond Sword II [2e, Oerth]
+13 the Grey Isle [2e, Clannath]
+14 Heir of Firedawn [2e, Oerth]
+15 Felenga- the Dark One [2e, Oerth]
+16 Felenga- the Dark One II [2e, Oerth]
+17 Felenga- the Dark One III [2e, Oerth]
+18 In Final Battle [2e, Oerth]
+19 Return [Oerth-> Darkhold-> Cydra]

_Note:_ potential misnumbering again- shouldn't the next one by 300?  Alas...


*CYDRA III* (Davis- 345-347 O.L.G.)

Our heroes return to the future.

299 Deep Green Evil
300 Old Friends, New Friends


(link) Cydra: the Early Years
(link) Delilah's Tale


----------



## the Jester

301 Dorhaus- the Cracked Land
302 Fissure of Steam
303 the Ruins of Morval
304 (missing entry, numbering error?)
305 Broken Var
306 Broken Var II
307 After Fuligin
308 Var's Ruins
309 Counsel
310 Allies
311 Against the Devils
312 Violence & Treasure
313 Sunsi and the Black Turtles
314 Out of the Blue...
315 Dangerous Times
316 In the Delphinate
317 Trouble Comes Knockin'
318 Monkey Business
319 Undead Menace
320 Undead Menace II
321 Moving Ahead 
322 the Isle of Winds
323 Rivals
324 Isle of the Turtles
325 Behold the Enemy
326 In Lester's Head
327 to the Magnificent Desert
328 Flat of the Blade
329 Into the Desert
330 Quest for the Maze Master
331 Going Home
332 Stone's Wedding
333 To Platinum Peak

334-340 _notes not in binder, need to track down_

341 Secret of the Horrors V
342 Secret of the Horrors VI
343 Secret of the Horrors VII
344 Secret of the Horrors VIII
345 Secret of the Horrors IX
346 Secret of the Horrors X
347 Secret of the Horrors XI
348 Secret of the Horrors XII
349 Drelvin's Spanking
350 the Wedding of Malford
351 the Diabolite Horror
352 the Infernal Gate
353 the Infernal Gate II
354 Lift Off
355 Horror Island
356 Horror Island II
357 Visits & Temples
358 Mob
359 Treasure Maps
360 Debts Come Due
361 Into the Sky

362-368 _notes not in binder, track down_

369 the Clockwork Academy VIII
370 the Clockwork Academy IX (Epilogue)
371 Aresuwil
372 the Elves of Delphi
373 the Private Valley
374 Dwaen Comes to Town
375 Darkest Before the Dawn
376 Treasure Map
377 Master Control

*CYDRA IV* (Davis- 3e- 360 O.L.G.)

378 News of Our Heroes' Fortunes Spreads...
379 A Dark and Stormy Knight
380 Festival at Kondin Hall
381 Heart of Stone
382 the Tunnels Beneath
383 Backbiter's Maze
384 Backbiter's Maze II
385 Through the Valley
386 ter of a Day
387 Wrath of Ilmixie
388 Tiefling's Tale
389 Spawn of Semuanya
390 New Lofrax
391 Scattered
392 Kobold Menace
393 Frenzy in the Forest
394 Smoke Over the Forge
395 Dwarven Delve
396 Dwarven Delve?
397 Irongird Valley
398 Temple of the Eyes
399 Revenge of the Backbiters
400 the Sunpowder Plot
401 City of Trouble
402 Zodiak
403 On the Trail
404 Easy Money
405 News From Back North
406 the Contested Tomb
407 the Return of Zodiak
408 From Silver to Steel
409 the Tower of Teeth
409 Big Bad Bug _(note: misnumbered, drat!)_
410 the Curse of Cromwell
411 the Courtship of Borlad
412 WifeQuest
413 the Troglodyte Warrens
414 the Third Leader
415 Return to Hammerhead
416 prologue to Firestorm Peak: the Glass Gates
417 the Gates of Firestorm Peak
418 Inside the Glass Gates
419 Skin-Pets
420 Mushroom Madness
421 Mushroom Madness II
422 Mushroom Madness III
423 Hallucinatory Festival
424 Corruption of the Form
425 Corruption of the Mood
426 Beyond the Living Wall
427 the Vast Gate
428 the Crystal Components
429 to the Hatching Cave
430 A Lot of Eggs
431 the Battle for the Hatching Cave
432 the Inescapable Adjudicator
433 Transsexuals & Boots
434 More Chaos Than You Can Shake A Stick At (or, Guns & -Butter)
435 Cracks in Eggs
436 Sun Vs. Moon
437 Mounted- to the Moon
438 Pyramid of the Reptilliads
439 Towers of Shadow
440 Time to Put the Dragon in Dungeons & Dragons
441 A Different Country
442 Political Rewards
443 the Moist Master

_split parties, orcs and politics_

444 Werfolia
445 Ormrs
446 Three Rounds in the Ring
447 the Caves of Truesilver
448 Threat of Kobolds
449 the Light Lends a Hand
450 Hidden Treasures
451 Downriver Towards Shazrok
452 Velwin- Gone
453 the Lake of Eyes
454 the South King's Tomb
455 Edges of Ruin
456 a Stranger
457 the Outlying Ruins
458 the Secret of Old Man Rhumy _(spelling error in title: "Rheumy")_
459 Strike at Sinjen
460 That Which is Stolen
461 After Athlabach
462 Happy Hunting Grounds
463 Left to Live
464 Return to Shazrock
465 Beneath Sith's House
466 Beneath Sith's House II
467 Beneath Sith's House III
468 Return to the Temple of Elemental Evil [this time it's the module]
469 Beneath the Moathouse
470 Return (of a Classic Monster)
471 the Crater Ridge Mines
472 Return to the Crater Ridge Mines
473 Evil Days A-Coming
474 the Champion of Elemental Evil
475 Anvar
476 Return to the Earthgate

_My Old Story Hour starts here_

477 Trouble With the Earthgate
478 to the Clay Halls
479 the Black Soil of Addenfort
480 Trapped in Faerieland
481 the City of Var
482 On the Ass-Tral Plane
483 Revenge of Gith'Rashimon
484 In the Serpent's Tail
485 Aboard the Steelship
486 the Orca's Penis-Ring
487 Dangers in the Gloom
488 Sacred Sands
489 Poppin, Dorla
490 Poppin Politics
491 In the Domain of Juiblex
492 Old Friends Return
493 Return of the Wraith

_A series of one-shots and mini-campaigns during my travels_

494 Deep in the Jungle
495 Down in the Mound
496 Ruins on Forinthia
497 Small Gods
498 the Skull of Jerakai _featuring GoldenEagle and his lovely wife_
499 Hunt for the Yellow Shocker Lizard _featuring diaglo and Olgar Shiverstone_




*CYDRA V* (Davis- 3e- 367-368 O.L.G.)

_Agents of Chaos starts here and leads directly into both To War Against Felenga and the Politics of Tirchond_

500 Five Years Later...
501 the Formian Infestation
502 Finishing the Formians
503 Deep in Bile Mountain
504 Deeper in Bile Mountain
505 Return to Pesh City
506 Old Friends, New Enemies
507 Warnings
508 To Breach the Resonating Fields
509 the Crux Crystal
510 the Gathering Fleet
511 Against Chemnu
512 (missing notes)
512 Fandral's Errand
513 Into the Plane of Time
514 the Battle of Pesh
515 Unfortunate Enemies
516 Mabrack's Castle
517 Negotiations
518 Felenga's Rebuttal
519 An Unexpected Visitation
520 Them Bones
521 the Knights of Crush
522 the Book of Olaf
523 the Simulacrum Wars 
524 Into the Far Realm
525 Meanwhile, On Tirchond...
526 the Auction of Shadows
527 Becoming a Target
528 Child of Dekrasode
529 Hunting Felenga


*CYRDA VI* _(Davis- 3.5- 368-371 O.L.G.)_

_Of Sound Mind the Halfling Way here_

530 Aftershocks
531 Bad Dreams in Bellhold
532 Of Sound Mind
533 In the Old Mines
534 the True Enemy
535 Back to the Gathering
536 Ogres & Other Things
537 In the Ogre's Crypt
538 Beneath the Ogre's Crypt
539 Jam Session 
540 Pursuing Felenga
541 Battle Against the Balor (and worse)
542 Into the Tomb of Horrors
543 Jam Session II
544 "The Face of the Fiend Does More Than Devour"
545 the City That Waits
546 the Vestige
547 Perched on the Edge of the Void 
548 Return to the Tomb of Horrors
549 Against the Vestige
550 What Lies in the City That Waits? 
551 Diamond Hunt
552 The City That Waits II
553 The Darkweaver
554 The Phantom Flyer
555 The Fortress of Conclusion
556 The Fortress of Conclusion II
557 Conclusions
558 An Emissary from the Crimsonkindl
559 Jam Session III: Enter the Yips 
560 Secret Ingredients
561 A Look at Some Catastrophic Geology
562 The Neversun Chasm
563 The Neversun Chasm II
564 A Taste of Bile
565 Dark Journey
566 Return to Bile Mountain
567 Return to Bile Mountain II
568 Return to Bile Mountain III: Deceptions
569 King of Bile, Queen of Guts
570 The Gruesome Wedding
571 The Asylum of Advanced Mental Treatment
572 A Bottle of Wine
573 A Bottle of Wine II
574 From the Ashes
575 Trials and Tribulations
576 Wrangling Loonies
577 Evaluations
578 Bugbears in the Ruins
579 Mass Murderer
580 To Leave Strogass
581 To Leave Strogass II: Dam Beavers
582 To Leave Strogass III: More Dam Beavers
583 Lost in the Lofta
584 Out from the Crack
585 Search for the Spices
586 Islands Without a Boat
587 Prophecy of the Worms
588 About That Worm...
589 Islands Without a Boat II
590 The Bastion of Law
591 The Ruins of Ostraghan
592 Islands Without a Boat III
593 R.I.P. Drelvin
594 Back in the Ruins of Ostraghan
595 Halflings-  Yeah!
596 The Mine in the Mountains
597 The Mind in the Mine
598 To Blendorag
599 The Depths of Thixil Testa
600 Return to Blendorag
601 The Black Confessional
602 The Return of Lester!!
603 Worms
604 Chapel of the Worms 
605 Angels and Assassins
606 Many Assassins 
607 To Aid the Urds
608 Many Assassins II
609 Into the Void
610 The Ancestors' Idol
611 The Set Up
612 The Set Up II
613 Storming Hell _(crossover with Ruben's Erath campaign)_
614 Among the Islands
615 Dyshim
616 Dyshim II
617 To Cure Beau's Bllindness
618 In the Pit of the Healing Springs
619 The Weird
620 Dovishtal and Fort Kintax
621 Dyshim's Underdark
622 Back in the Underdark
623 Return to Sritivara
624 Escape from Hell
625 Odds and Ends
626 Stabilizing Dyshim
627 The Bloody Fist
628 The Bloody Fist II
629 Trouble at Sea
630 The Conference of Spellcasters
631 The War Wagon
632 Vuivui Today
633 Demon Hunt
634 Showdown with Seclaidra
635 Showdown with Seclaidra II
636 The War Wagon II
637 Return to Methwo
638 Journey to Zacradose
639 Strike Against the Sea Devils
640 To Rescue a Mermaid
641 Ruined Keep of the Small Folk
642 The Harvest Festival of 271 A.F.
643 The Ruins of Castle Laagos
644 The Ruins of Castle Laagos II
645 Money for the Mallard
646 Money for the Mallard II
647 Money for the Mallard III
648 Goblin Gorge
649 Goblin Gorge II
650 Supply Run
651 Goblin Gorge III: Into the Cyst
652 the Elf Ruins
653 the Elf Ruins II
654 The Tydonian Attack!
655 Kamenda City
656 Kamenda City II
657 It's a Nice Day for a Whitewater Wedding
658 The Wedding & the Cemetery Trap
659 To Rescue Cara
660 To Rescue Cara II
661 The Battle of Kamenda
662 Name of the Elf
663 In the Dipper
664 End of the Battle
665 Secret Communications
666 The Ghost Tower of Inverness
667 The Warm Up
668 The Warm Up II
669 Revolutionaries
670 Worm Killing
671 Back to the Bile
672 Revolutionaries II
673 Revenge on Bile Mountain
674 Revenge on Bile Mountain II
675 Revenge on Bile Mountain III
676 Revenge on Bile Mountain IV
677 Against Lord Obliviax
678 Revenge on Bile Mountain V
679 Revenge on Bile Mountain VI
680 Revenge on Bile Mountain VII
681 Ambush in Bile Mountain!
682 Ambush in Bile Mountain! II
683 Against "King" Stackler
684 The Trial of Stackler
685 The Trial of Stackler II
686 Prelude to the Bastion of Law
687 The Guiding of Zacradose
688 Assault on the Bastion of Law
689 Delve into the Double City*
690 Dwarven Dungeon Delve!*
691 Delving Deep*
692 Deeper into the Dungeon*
693 The Dwarven Depths*
694 Diggin' Around in the Depths*
695 The Mustard Sargasso
696 The Mustard Sargasso II
697 The Mustard Sargasso III
698 Back to Strogass
699 Dark Ones in the Delve*
700 In the Night



(link) The Jester's Old Story Hour
(link) Agents of Chaos
(link) The Politics of Tirchond
(link) To War Against Felenga
(link) Of Sound Mind the Halfling Way
(link) Great Conflicts
(link) Three Kingdoms and Empire
(link) Year 271 Campaign


----------



## Lela

It's like the table of contents for me.  Boring until I get to that point in the story.  Then it means everything.  *hint hint*


----------



## the Jester

701 Dark Denial in the Delve of the Dwarves!*
702 Deadly Delve into the Dwarven Deep*
703 The Sunken Temple of the Jerren
704 The Sunken Temple of the Jerren II
705 The Sunken Temple of the Jerren III
706 Against the Arrows of Law
707 Against the Arrows of Law II
708 The Sunken Temple of the Jerren IV
709 Time: NOT on Your Side
710 On the Quest for the Promised Land
711 On the Quest for the Promised Land II
712 Duel with a Dragon
713 Against the Arrows of Law III
714 On the Quest for the Promised Land III
715 Through the Lofta Forest
716 Against the Arrows of Law IV
717 The Final Showdown
718 Payin' the Rent
719 The Final Showdown II
720 After the Great Conflict
721 Squirrel Town
722 In the Age of Madness
723 In the Ghost Tower
724 Across the Mad Land
725 South Forinthian Bandits
726 Across the Mad Land II
727 Across the Mad Land III
728 The Abandoned Village
729 The Abandoned Village II
730 Tasloi
731 The Last Little While in Town
732 The Ruined Capitol I
733 The Ruined Capitol II
734 A Hint of Doom
735 Closing the Distance I
736 Closing the Distance II
737 Closing the Distance III
738 The Shadow Train
739 To Rescue Belmondo
740 The Maze of Grass
741 Confrontation with Voorsikthss
742 The Slopes of Firestorm Peak
743 Return to Firestorm Peak
744 Return to Firestorm Peak II
745 A Revealing Mudslide
746 To the Vast Gate
747 The Ashen Palace of Bleak
748 Setting the Agenda
749 The Horde of Dekrasode
750 What's the Secret Ingredient?
751 The Holstein Factor
752 The Ashen Palace of Bleak II
753 Where is Aunty Flapjacks?
754 Back to the Beginning
755 Back to the Beginning II
756 Back to the Beginning III
757 The Ashen Palace of Bleak III
758 Up the Slither-Ramp
759 Operation Peachtree
760 Father's Legacy
761 What's Eating Benjy Peachtree?
762 Breakfast with Alcar
763 Epic Interludes
764 Epic Interludes II
765 Father's Legacy II
766 Cats, Chaos Worms & Cannibals
767 A Foray into Entropy
768 A Look Around Darkhold
769 Into the Elsir Vale
770 The Painting
771 The Cornbread Run
772 Towards Drellin's Ferry
773 The Cornbread Run II
774 Into the Promised Land
775 Garbage Plot
776 Into the Promised Land II
777 Into the Promised Land III
778 The Final Steps to the Promised Land
779 Drellin's Ferry
780 Beyond Bile Mountain
781 Reconnaissance
782 Beyond Bile Mountain II: Inversion of the TaintedLands
783 Beyond Bile Mountain III: The Ooze Caverns
784 Beyond Bile Mountain IV: The Calling Out
785 To Kill a Manticore
786 Beyond Bile Mountain V: The Hammer Falls!
787 Beyond Bile Mountain VI: The Second Wave
788 Beyond Bile Mountain VII: Enter the Bile Lords
789 Putting Together the Pieces
790 Beyond Bile Mountain VIII: Cometh the King
791 Beyond Bile Mountain IX: King & Queen
792 Old Warklegnaw
793 Beyond Bile Mountain X: To Kill a King... of Bile!
794 Denoument


*CYDRA VII* _4e- Years 2509 S.C. and on_


795 Enemy at the Gates
796 Ahead of the Horde
797 The Fall of Civilization
798 To the Ruins of Rhest
799 To the Xvart Tunnels
800 To the Ruins of Rhest II
801 Into the Mountain
802 The Dangerous Zone
803 Lights in the Darkness
804 Last Chance
805 Beneath the Mountains
806 Along the Darkflow
807 Svirfs
808 Xvaangensleff
809 Return to the Surface World
810 The City of Fandelose
811 Into Fandelose
812 The Argos Affair
813 The Argos Affair II
814 The Argos Affair III
815 Above the Black Gorge
816 Return to the Black Gorge
817 Grandfather's Legacy
818 Grandfather's Legacy II
819 The Keys to Peace & War
820 The Keys to War & Peace
821 The Keys to War & Peace II
822 The Cathedral of War
823 Into the Feywild
824 Total War
825 Man the Walls!!
826 Man the Walls!! II
827 Sappers & Miners
828 Attack from Behind!
829 Celebration
830 Morl's Retreat
831 Morl's Retreat II
832 Morl's Retreat III
833 Baphomet's Warrens
834 The Morkoth of Baphomet
835 On Leave
836 (Still) On Leave
837 After the Goblins!!
838 (Still) On Leave II
839 Find the Rose
840 To Varelose
841 Find the Rose
842 The Tower of Krezjarl
843 Ornithopters
844 The Slaves of Northshore
845 The Death Knight and the Goblin
846 Sigil Sequences
847 In the Undercollege
848 In the Undercollege II
849 In the Undercollege III
850 In the Undercollege IV
851 In the Undercollege V
852 In the Undercollege VI
853 The Door into Time
854 In the Undercollege VII
855 Going Beholder Hunting
856 Going Beholder Hunting II
857 In the Undercollege VIII
858 Cardinal Fell
859 "DO NOT ENTER"
860 Bargains
861 Into Arawn's Lair
862 Overland (Eastern Provinces)
863 Round Two
864 The Earth Tumors
865 "Dude, Where's My Cow?"
866 The Governor's Tower
867 Dim Depths of the Earthquake Rift
868 The Marid's Quest
869 The Marid's Quest II
870 Southwestern Aara
871 The Ruins of Thrushton
872 The Ruins of Thrushton II
873 The Metal Tunnels
874 To Rescue Shifty
875 The Black Brambles
876 To Defend Overland
877 Back to the Goblin Rift
878 Return to the Dim Depths of the Earthquake Rift
879 Return to the Dim Depths of the Earthquake Rift II 
880 Return to the Dim Depths of the Earthquake Rift III 
881 Return to the Dim Depths of the Earthquake Rift IV 
882 The Tower of Deryndradin
883 In Pursuit of Quah-Nomag
884 In Pursuit of Quah-Nomag II
885 Happenings Around Overland
886 Reclaiming Woodcut
887 A Plague of Serpents
888 A Plague of Serpents II 
889 Dawn's Final Rest
890 A Plague of Serpents III
891 Around Town
892 The Garden of Graves
893 The Garden of Graves II
894 The Garden of Graves III
895 The Garden of Graves IV
896 The Garden of Graves V
897 The Garden of Graves VI
898 The Garden of Graves VII: the Hag Snatch
899 The Garden of Graves VIII: the Ivy Heart
900 The Garden of Graves IX: Denoument
901 The Trip South
902 To the Delphinate
903 The Delphinate of Makos
904 Tscire Nobi
905 Tscire Nobi II (_mislabeled in notes as "Tscire Nobi"_)
906 Tscire Nobi III (_mislabeled in notes as "Tscire Nobi II"_)
907 The Fight for Moonstair
908 The Fight for Moonstair II
909 King of the Trollhaunt Warrens
910 King of the Trollhaunt Warrens II
911 A Graphological Analysis of Doggerel


(Missing Notes 912-913)


914 Wrath of Skalmad II
915 King of the Trollhaunt Warrens III
916 King of the Trollhaunt Warrens IV
917 The Stone Cauldron
918 The Stone Cauldron II
919 Bloody Mary
920 After the Debacle
921 In the Feywild
922 Demon Queen's Enclave
923 Demon Queen's Enclave II
924 Demon Queen's Enclave III
925 Demon Queen's Enclave IV
926 Demon Queen's Enclave V
927 Demon Queen's Enclave VI
928 Demon Queen's Enclave VII
929 Deadhold
930 Deadhold II
931 Deadhold III
932 Deadhold IV
933 Deadhold V
934 Vs. Zirithian
935 Denoument with the Keeper
936 The Bile Mountain Casino and Resort
937 The Bile Mountain Casino and Resort II
938 The Bile Mountain Casino and Resort III
939 The Bile Mountain Casino and Resort IV
940 The Epic Stair
941 The Mountain of Ultimate Winter
942 The Stimidir Region
943 Gorilla City
944 The Gate into Time
945 To Rescue Doctor Bolivar
946 Assault on Icerazer Palace
947 Return to Gorilla City
948 Return to Gorilla City II
949 Return to Gorilla CIty III
950 Assault on New Scanliana
951 To the Engineering Pits
952 In the Engineering Pits
953 In the Engineering Pits II
954 In the Engineering Pits III
955 Golem Armor
956 Fray
957 In the Temple of Elemental Good
958 In the Temple of Elemental Good II
959 Orbius Style
960 Research the Easy Way
961 Moar Research
962 To the Golem Circle
963 Descent into the Deep
964 Descent into the Deep II
965 Descent into the Deep III
966 Descent into the Deep IV: the Clash
967 Descent into the Deep V: Heads
968 Descent into the Deep VI: Friends, My Enemies
969 Descent into the Deep VII: The Twisted Spire
970 Descent into the Deep VIII: Gargash, the Living Torture Den
971 Strike on the Moon
972 Vs. Fray
973 To Claim the Delphinate
974 Return to the Dim Depths of the Earthquake Rift _(should be V)_
975 Return to the Dim Depths of the Earthquake Rift II _(should be VI)_
976 Return to the Dim Depths of the Earthquake Rift III _(should be VII)_
977 Return to the Dim Depths of the Earthquake Rift IV _(should be VIII)_
978 Die, Grandma, Die!!!
979 Return to the Dim Depths of the Earthquake Rift V _(should be IX)_
980 Plan of Attack
981 Strike on the Moon II
982 After the Ransom
983 Strike on the Moon III
984 To Reign in Hell
985 To Reign in Hell II
986 After the Ransom II
987 The Lost Scout
988 To Reign in Hell III
989 To Reign in Hell IV
990 Moving On
991 March to the Delphinate
992 The Delphinate Civil War
993 Into Fandelose
994 The Delphinate Civil War II
995 Meetup at Bean Juice
996 Into Marble Hall
997 The Elevator Room
998 Retreat & Resupply
999 Back in the City
1000 Return to the Black Temple
1001 Meanwhile, Back in Fandelose...
1002 Trapped Deep/Master Lo
1003 End of the Civil War
1004 Gathering Swords
1005 Trapped Deep/Master Lo II
1006 Ascending
1007 Conquering Strogass
1008 What Happened?
1009 After the Hacker
1010 After the Hacker II
1011 Conquering Strogass II
1012 Conquering Strogass III
1013 The Heart Stealers
1014 Manning the Boat
1015 The Tomb of Perx
1016 (Untitled)
1017 The Gnoll Hole
1018 The Dreadful Truth
1019 Not Back Down the Gnoll Hole
1020 F*cked by a Goat (Scrote)
1021 The Corpse of Tenebrous
1022 The Return of Orcus
1023 The Third Patrol
1024 The Flame on the Mountain
1025 Horde of the Barghest
1026 Horde of the Barghest II
1027 Not the Dwarven Entrance Anymore
1028 Where the Hell Am I?
1029 On the Laughing Level 
1030 On the Laughing Level II
1031 The Butterfly Orcs
1032 Fire at the Olive Oil
1033 Day Jobs
1034 Back into Marble Hall
1035 Night of the Dead
1036 The Storm
1037 The Storm II
1038 The Force in the Woods
1039 Enemy Outpost
1040 Return to the Marble Hall
1041 Return to the Marble Hall II
1042 The daVoi-Hungus Liberation
1043 Back to the City
1044 To Level Three
1045 Back Up!
1046 Wintertime Dungeoneering
1047 Back Up! II
1048 Wintertime Dungeoneering II
1049 Beneath Marble Hall
1050 Where's My Son??
1051 Where's My Son?? II
1052 Bad Luck!
1053 Journey to Platinum Peak
1054 Journey to Platinum Peak II
1055 Hidden Grove
1056 Another Attempt at Journeying to Platinum Peak
1057 To the Winter Court
1058 Another Attempt at Journeying to Platinum Peak II
1059 To the Winter Court II
1060 Another Attempt to Reach Platinum Peak III _Mislabeled_
1061 Attack on Red Bank
1062 Jack of Garnet
1063 Inside Platinum Peak
1064 Inside Platinum Peak II
1065 Inside Platinum Peak III
1066 Mid-Winter
1067 The Well of Demons
1068 Call of the Circle
1069 The Well of Demons II
1070 Year's End
1071 New Year's Party!!
1072 The Well of Demons III
1073 Guardians at the Well of Demons
1074 Finding Refugees
1075 Leaving Platinum Peak

_(Notes Missing for 1076- likely misnumbered and 1077 is next game.)_

1077 To the West!
1078 The Golden Gorgers
1079 Return to the Megadungeon
1080 The Spiral of Doom
1081 Big John Gets Married
1082 Traitor's Tower
1083 Escape from Froth's Funhouse
1084 Road Work
1085 Traitor's Tower II
1086 Return to Hampoop
1087 (Untitled)
1088 Intoxicated by Pleasure
1089 The Halfling Gardens
1090 The City on the Coast
1091 Intoxicated by Pleasure II
1092 Comes the Fist
1093 The City on the Coast II
1094 Comes the Fist II
1095 Comes the Fist III
1096 Bling's Little Problem
1097 The City on the Coast III
1098 Trouble in the Cerulean Tower
1099 Trouble in the Cerulean Tower II
1100 Trouble in the Cerulean Tower III
1101 The City on the Coast IV


*These games were for a pickup game that, on reflection, should prolly not have been put in the binder as a part of the campaign, although technically they are.  They are unlikely to be chronicled in a story hour, so here is a short synopsis of what it's all about:

*The Dwarven Pickup Game Synopsis*
A dwarven community, while mining its mountain, breaks into an older series of tunnels.  These appear to be a legendary area where a dwarf thanedom and goblin city were hollowing the same mountain and broke into one anothers' territories.  This led to the mutual annihilation of the two cultures.  Upon the discovery of the ruins, several unsavory groups of adventurers ventured within them, fighting many goblins, some vermin, dark creepers and other, weird things.  

There was never a real plot or anything- it was strictly designed to be mindless dungeon delving.

(link) Of Sound Mind the Halfling Way
(link) Great Conflicts
(link) Three Kingdoms and Empire
(link) Year 271 Campaign
(link) Empires of Chaos
(link) The Fall of Civilization
(link) Adventures in the Eastern Provinces
(link) The Final City


----------



## the Jester

1102 Raise the Alarms!
1103 To the Coast
1104 How Can We Help?
1105 At the Gym
1106 Moon Cult
1107 From the Dead
1108 Triumph
1109 Taco Truck Tragedy
1110 The Girdle of Gnomely Might!
1111 To the North
1112 Ysgard
1113 Journey to the Forest of Illusions
1114 Fire!
1115 The Spiral of Doom
1116 Deep in Marble Hall
1117 Shaft of Darkness
1118 The Deck of Many Things
1119 Momma Mystery
1120 Into the Windswept Depths
1121 My Mother is a Werewolf
1122 Into the Megadungeon - in Pursuit of Hungus
1123 Joining Forces
1124 The Frozen Halls of Glacius
1125 Exploring the Ice Waste Tunnels
1126 Into the Windswept Depths II
1127 Return to Bandit's Rook
1128 Giants at Red Bank
1129 An Unexpected Dragon
1130 Come Autumn
1131 Put Out the Lights
1132 The Barrow of Jasper Fitzroy
1133 Bastard of the Sword
1134 Return to the Garden
1135 Bastard of the Sword II
1135 Fight for the Staff
1136 Burnt Down
1137 Dwarf Disaster
1138 Dwarf Disaster II
1139 Return to the Bronze Halls of Baphomet
1140 Dwarf Disaster
1141 Down the Spiral
1142 Return to the Bronze Halls of Baphomet II
1143 Bling's News
144 The Everchanging Caverns of Madness
1145 Towards the Coast
1146 Wild Hunted 
1147 Andrew is Dead
1148 Wild Hunted II
1149 The Everchanging Caverns of Madness II
1150 In Kane's Domain
1151 Night of the Hunt
1152 To Lake Bellurnus
1153 The Tomb of the Sword Emperor
1154 In the Hunting Caverns
1155 The Alchemist's Fire
1156 The Tomb of the Sword Emperor II
1157 Replacements
1158 Replacements II
1159 Tomb of the Sword Emperor III
1160 A New Goblin Threat
1161 Temple of the Ape
1162 Tomb of the Sword Emperor IV
1163 The Sword of Thrush
1164 (Untitled)
1165 The Sword of Thrush II
1166 Hold 54
1167 Hold 54 II
1168 (Untitled)
1169 The Sphinx
1170 Bloodworms
1171 (Untitled)
1172 Ants at the Breach
1173 The Astonishing Ant-Man
1174 The Astonishing Ant-Man II
1175 Purge
1176 The Haunted Mill
1177 The Day That Penelope Became Party Leader
1178 The Haunted Mill II
1179 A Way In
1180 A Way Out
1181 Seeking an Orc Alliance
1182 Black Move
1183 A Way Out II
1184 Minions of the Cognoscenti
1185 Through the Marble Hall
1186 Who Shall Rule?
1187 Incursion of the Fuligin Tower
1188 Incursion of the Fuligin Tower II
1189 House of the Alienist
1190 Incursion of the Fuligin Tower III
1191 Incursion of the Fuligin Tower IV
1192 House of the Alienist II
1193 Giant Hunt
1194 In the Larder
1195 The Duchy of Hiddenglen


_(Missing Notes for 1196- possible numbering error)_


1197 After the Ant-Man!
1198 After the Ant-Man! II
1199 Burning Mountain Ho!
1200 Expedition to the Barrier Peaks, aka Burning Mountain
1201 The Haunted Mill III
1202 Expedition to the Barrier Peaks, aka Burning Mountain II
1203 God of the Pugglywugs
1204 A Dirty Job
1205 Expedition to the Barrier Peaks, aka Burning Mountain III
1206 Expedition to the Barrier Peaks, aka Burning Mountain IV
1207 Expedition to the Barrier Peaks, aka Burning Mountain V
1208 The Drazzles
1209 Expedition to the Barrier Peaks, aka Burning Mountain VI
1210 Escape from Burning Mountain
1211 From the Moon
1212 The West March
1213 The West March II
1214 To the South March
1215 Team Delta
1216 Where Are We?
1217 The West March III
1218 Troll Bridge
1219 Ingots
1220 To the Shrine of the Phoenix
1221 To the Shrine of the Phoenix II
1222 To the Shrine of the Phoenix III
1223 Jugurtha
1224 Ingots II
1225 To the Shrine of the Phoenix IV
1226 To the Shrine of the Phoenix V
1227 To the Shrine of the Phoenix VI
1228 Tommy's Garden
1229 Return to the Temple of Elemental Good
1230 Ingots III
1230 At the Riverbank _(Note misnumbering)_
1231 No Time for Downtime
1232 Anagrams
1233 Temple of the Moon
1234 Union
1235 The Changing War
1236 Union II/Opal Mining
1237 (Untitled)
1238 The Cursed Mine of Clan Brightstone
1239 The Cursed Mine of Clan Brightstone II
1240 The White Tongue Tribe
1241 King of the Wererats
1242 The Cursed Mine of Clan Brightstone III
1243 King of the Wererats II
1244 The Cursed Mine of Clan Brightstone IV
1245 The White Tongue Tribe II
1246 The Cursed Mine of Clan Brightstone V
1247 Death House
1248 The Red Bank Food & Festival
1249 The Xvaangenslef Highway
1250 The Cursed Mine of Clan Brightstone VI
1251 Hungus Alert!
1252 The Hungus Trap
1253 Tales to Astonish
1254 Scarlet News
1255 Death House II
1256 Quest for Adamantine
1257 Tales to Astonish II
1258 Fisted!
1259 Death House III
1260 Quest for Adamantine II
1261 Enter Barovia
1262 Fisted! II
1263 Tales to Astonish III
1264 Quest for Adamantine III
1265 Fisted! III
1266 Secrets of the Ant-Man
1267 The Shield Mine
1268 The Hidden Fist
1269 Secrets of the Ant-Man II
1270 Secrets of the Ant-Man III
1271 Bury the Dead
1272 The Shield Mine II
1273 Escape Attempt
1274 Fist Maneuvers
1275 Meanwhile, at the Brewery...
1276 The Shield Mine III
1277 The Coming of Kane
1278 The Fixer-Upper
1279 Returning the Bones
1280 Strange Alliances
1281 The Shield Mine IV
1282 Heshwat's Last Throw
1283 Kovian's Coffee Commandos
1284 Betrayal in the Shield Mine
1285 The Wizard of Wines
1286 Betrayal at the Shield Mine II
1287 The Delphinate of Death
1288 The Knights of Beanstone
1289 The Knights of Beanstone II
1290 Betrayal at the Shield Mine III
1291 Betrayal at the Shield Mine IV
1292 Against the Dracolich
1293 30 Days Exclusive
1294 Trapped in the Wizard of Wines
1295 30 Days Exclusive II
1296 Attack of the Dracolich
1297 30 Days Exclusive III
1298 The Delphinate of Death II
1299 30 Days Exclusive IV
1300 Ravens' Revenge
1301 A New Adventure?
1302 Temple of Elemental Everything
1303 30 Days Exclusive V
1304 30 Days Exclusive VI
1305 Bloodsand Arena
1306 Return to the Temple of Elemental Evil (This Time It's the Module) II
1307 Return to the Temple of Elemental Evil (This Time It's the Module) III
1308 Return to the Temple of Elemental Evil (This Time It's the Module) IV
1309 Blackscale Territory
1310 An Unsettling Whiff of Bile
1311 In the Crater Ridge Mines
1312 South in the Swamps
1313 The Outer Fane
1314 Open for Business Again
1315 The Return of Chomper!
1316 Down Stairs
1317 Bargro's Tribe
1318 The Gnolls of the Laughing Level
1319 Delving Hard
1320 Into the Black Spike
1321 Sign of the Dracolisk
1322 Delving Hard II
1323 Argynvostholt
1324 Looking for Loot
1325 Stalked by the Vril Beast
1326 Into the Black Spike II
1327 Need to Resupply
1328 Trouble at the Mill
1329 Karn's Birthday
1330 Lorbrit's Tower
1331 Enter: House Kelfingon
1332 Lorbrit's Tower II
1333 Lorbrit's Fall
1334 The Tabernacle of Utter Darkness
1335 Lorbrit's Fall II
1336 Return to the Temple of Elemental Evil (This Time It's the Module) V
1337 Lorbrit's Fall III
1338 Song of Danger
1339 Lorbrit's Fall IV
1340 The Excavated Temple 
1341 Lorbrit's Fall V
1342 Lorbrit's Fall VI
1343 Drums in the Dark
1344 Zer Bolar
1345 The Excavated Temple II
1346 Zer Bolar II
1347 Voice of the Oracle
1348 Raise the Standard
1349 The _David daVoi_
1350 Elemental Evil Incarnate
1351 Elemental Evil Incarnate II
1352 Kill the Demon
1353 Into the Air
1354 Funeral for a Father
1355 The Stone of a Thousand Songs
1356 A Mind is a Terrible Thing to Waste
1357* The Stone of a Thousand Songs II
1358* A Mind is a Terrible Thing to Waste II
1359* Steading of the Hill Giant Chief
1360* Steading of the Hill Giant Chief II
1361* The Stone of a Thousand Songs III
1362* Steading of the Hill Giant Chief III
1363* Steading of the Hill Giant Chief IV
1364* I Wish...
1365* Against the Giants
1366* Glacial Rift of the Frost Giant Jarl
1367* Crab Cookout
1368 Glacial Rift of the Frost Giant Jarl
1369 Anchor Aweigh
1370 Cease and Desist


*1357 through 1367 were initiailly badly misnumbered as 1356 (repeating the number) through 1359, then 1357 through 1363 (repeating several numbers again)... How I did this, I don't know. But now it has been corrected in my notes. 

(link) The Fall of Civilization
(link) Adventures in the Eastern Provinces
(link) The Final City





			
				Lela said:
			
		

> It's like the table of contents for me.  Boring until I get to that point in the story.  Then it means everything.  *hint hint*




It's going to help me break off various chunks of story to tell in interesting blocks... it'll take _forever_ to write all of it up!


----------



## Lela

548 sessions or updates?

 Either way, wow!


----------



## the Jester

Lela said:
			
		

> 548 sessions or updates?




sessions...

EDIT: Index of my story hours:

(link) Cydra: the Early Years
(link) Delilah's Tale
(link) The Jester's Old Story Hour
(link) Agents of Chaos
(link) The Politics of Tirchond
(link) To War Against Felenga
(link) Of Sound Mind the Halfling Way
(link) Great Conflicts
(link) Three Kingdoms and Empire
(link) Year 271 Campaign
(link) Empires of Chaos
(link) The Fall of Civilization
(link) Adventures in the Eastern Provinces
(link) The Final City


----------



## Lela

Somehow I don't think I'll worry about you running out of material.  Lifespan, yes.  Material, no.


----------



## the Jester

hehe... you got that right.   That's why I'm trying to organize my notes a little better.


----------



## the Jester

*Building a Lair*

All right, enough with the teasing! 

Upon investigating the cavern the lake serpent lived in, our heroes found a side passage, a natural staircase that was inaccessible except via small boat or swimming, that wound up and up until it emerged on a 600 yard by 150 yard ledge most of the way up the mountain on the opposite side from the lake itself.  Realizing that it would be hidden from casual view, the group of would-be pirates set out to do a thorough investigation of the area.  After a few hours it was obvious that this was the place.  

So they set out to build a proper lair. 

Galliger immediately started drawing up plans for a huge chapel to Bleak, as well as a barracks for the men and a few other necessary buildings.  Reluctantly he put a temple to Lyr's barbaric gods on the map as well, but she protested that the size should be equal to the temple of Bleak.  Galliger sneered, but relented at Captain Malford's command.

The construction would take time, over six months total.  At first the party stayed around to supervise, and at a few points there were minor goblin raids; but it was nothing that the crew couldn't handle.  During the building time our heroes decided to vacation in Shorult (one of the towns of Gorel) while the men finished up the work.  

While is Shorult, Malford joined the thieves' guild, hoping to build a relationship with someone he could fence goods that were taken from pirated vessels to; the price was a mere 10% cut of anything the group took in.  

Upon the command team's return to the lair, they were gratified to find eveything done.  A pair of temples, barracks, a prison- there were a total of seven buildings.*  Most turned out very well.  Galliger immediately held a service to Bleak, and Lyr set out to capture some goblins and their kin and eat their hearts.  "Bring them to me alive," she thundered at the hunting party the group dispatched, and she even experimented with eating the hearts of apes.  Would they be sentient enough to serve as a proper sacrifice for the Dreadful Gods?  

Yes, they were.

She felt her strength grow as she devoured the steaming heart freshly ripped from the ape's chest, and as hot blood trickled down her chin she grinned.  That fool Galliger- he'd never know _real_ power, not as long as he limited himself to following Galador's shadow.

One day, a foraging party- sent out to gather food- came back badly wounded, reporting that the goblins were acting up again, and Malford decided that they'd had enough.  "I think it's time we taught them a lesson," he said, and the group assembled and took the Sea Hag out to seek out the goblin lair...

*If I can find the old map of the pirates' lair, I'll try to be more specific here.



_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes assail a goblin lair!


----------



## the Jester

oops, double post


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Yo ho, me hearties, yo ho!


----------



## the Jester

*The Goblin Caves*

It was at about this time, if memory serves, that Farenth started plotting against our heroes.  

Farenth was another Bleakist- but one that Galliger viewed with suspicion.  Naturally; after all, having a chaotic evil religion leads to a lot of church politics, and that’s a euphemism for advancement through assassination.

He wasn’t doing anything active just yet; but while our heroes were on vacation in Shorult he’d started making inroads with a few of the crew.  Subtly turning their loyalty to him personally, or at least trying to.  And always speaking out against Dexter.  Dexter, the traitor- but still here, and if the cap’n says he’s okay, then he’s okay, but if Galliger’s right about anything it’s about that stupid kid.

Yes, Farenth despised Dexter.  The boy symbolized hope for redemption, in a way; he’d given his soul to Bleak, after all, and still turned back to the Light.  Talk about a bad example, and an infuriating one!  And that damned scar, that hideous B rune crossed out on his head- oh, that was always a slap in the face to a Bleakist.  A reminder of just how little freedom they had, of just how close the Inquisition always was.

But anyway, our heroes were raiding some goblins, once again leaving Farenth to sow subtle seeds.

Finding the caves was easy; they’d already been spotted by the crew.  So Malford, Rajah, Galliger, Haart, Lyr, Urick and Dexter journeyed away from the boat, leaving a few crewmen to guard it; and they moved up the hillside and over the shoulder, then descended through a gully and across a streambed gone nearly dry.  The cave came into view, and the group moved up and near the entrance.  There was a nice approach, so they took it openly, and in moments they’d engaged a half-dozen goblins.  The humanoids dropped instantly to Urick’s _sleep_ spell, then were killed efficiently.  The group moved in further, slaughtering a group of females- Dex hung back from that one- and taking one prisoner.  

“Do we need to know anything from them?  Let’s just kill her,” Galliger sneered.

“Hm, perhaps you’re right,” Malford said.  “But just to be sure, does anyone speak goblin?”

“I speak dolphin,” Urick offered.

“Very well.”  Malford turned his back as Lyr and Galliger lunged for the kill.

A few more scattered groups of goblins fell quickly to our heroes; most weren’t heavily armed, bearing little more than knives or scimitars.  Then the little expedition came to a stumbling block: a quartet of hobgoblins.  Both better armed and naturally tougher and smarter than the goblins, the hobgoblins put up a decent fight before being slain.  

“Looks like they were guarding this door,” said Lyr, opening it brazenly.

With a roar, the ogre let the manticore off the leash.

*Next Time:* Clearly, nobody just wants to be friends here.


----------



## Lela

Hmmmm, plotting against our lovable Dexter.  Evil.


----------



## the Jester

Plotting against everyone, really, and Farenth has to be one of the most frightfully effective villains I've run.

On another note, if any particular sections of the campaign seem especially interesting to anyone, let me know- I'm happy to do chunks here and there out of order.  After all, if I try to tell all the tales in order I'll never get to a lot of the best ones!


----------



## the Jester

*The Ogre and the Manticore*

Spikes filled the air, whizzing past- and into- our heroes.  Rajah gave a great roar of pain as a spike stuck him in the arm, and Haart gasped as one deflected from his shield.  Malford dodged to the side; Dexter took one in the chest.  

Lyr threw her harpoon and the party surged forward to meet the threat.

The ogre was a brute; he held a gigantic mace in his hands and struck with bone-crushing force, bringing it crashing down on Galliger, stunning him from the force of the blow.  The manticore leapt out to tear and rend at our heroes.

Rajah displayed his unbelievable fighting style, not for the first time, but to noteworthy results.  He struck out with his hands and feet like they were claws, leaping at the ogre with superhuman ability.*  Startled by such an unorthodox attack, the ogre faltered back for a moment and Haart, heartened by the ogre’s momentary pause, darted forward and punctuated the moment- and the ogre’s belly- with his longsword.

“I’ve shot my wad!**” Urick cried frantically, throwing daggers ineffectually.  Then a blow from the manticore’s vicious claw struck him across the face and he went down in a spray of scarlet.

Then the ogre fell as Rajah’s mighty kick snapped its neck.  Whirling, the wild-haired man sprang at the manticore, heedless of the danger!  Now able to concentrate their forces on a single target, our heroes surrounded it, jabbing, punching and slashing at it.  Another wound opened on its side as Haart scored a telling blow with his sword; then the manticore sprang forward onto him, like a cat wrestling its prey!  Haart gave a horrible cry as the man-like face of the creature opened its mouth to reveal a jagged nest of sword-like teeth; and then it bit down on Haart’s face!  There was a terrible crunch as bone shattered, and then a horribly clear _tearing_ sound.  A whistling scream stopped almost as soon as it started and the manticore dropped the gnome like a sack.

“Haart!” screamed Lyr.  “NOOOO!”

His face was a wreck- his lower jaw was ripped away entirely.  It was impossible to tell whether he was still alive in the moment, with all the blood covering him and a raging manticore still to be dealt with- but it didn’t look good.

The rest of the party kept working at the monster, baiting it and striking.  Rajah tried to step in but had to retreat before its spiked tail.  Then, suddenly, Malford stepped out of nowhere from the shadows and thrust his sword through its back, felling it in an instant with a backstab!

Quickly Lyr moved to tend Urick’s wounds, restoring him to consciousness, and Dexter gingerly approached Haart.  

“He’s still alive!” the lad exclaimed.  “Someone, quick!  Haart’s still alive!”

***

Slowly, Haart opened his eyes.  He ached all over, and something... something felt funny about his face.  Galliger was looking over him.

“What happened?” Haart said, only it... it didn’t work.  It came out more like... “Hrrr... uhhhhr...”

“Hey, he’s awake!” Galliger said cheerily.

“Hhhh!  Hhhh!” Haart gasped in horror.  _He had no tongue!_  Fearfully, he reached up to feel his face.

If he could have screamed, he would have.



*Among his psionic abilities- Rajah was a 2e-style psionicist- was _catfall_, and he had a great leaping martial arts move iirc.  

**In earlier editions, a 1st-level mage only got one spell per day.  That was the _sleep_ he used on the goblins at the entrance.  (Of course, I may have all the details of the battle completely wrong- I dunno, it’s been ten years or thereabouts.  Hard to remember.  I have to reconstruct a lot from my notes... some games have very spotty notes, too.)

_*Next Time:*_ Well, chronologically speaking, the next adventures our heroes embark on is the Aquan Pyramid.  We’ll see if that’s the tale I tell next, though- I may skip ahead.  We’ll see- what would you prefer?


----------



## Lela

the Jester said:
			
		

> “I’ve shot my wad!**”



 *blink blink*  That's some _Sleep_ spell.


----------



## the Jester

*To the Aquan Pyramid*

The trip to Shorult from the lair is about 140 miles; it’s a 35-hour journey by way of the _Sea Hag,_ and really, how else are our heroes going to travel?  As usual, on the way they pass Chanticleer around.  (They are pirates, after all, and she is the self-appointed ship’s tail.  Though- granted- there hasn’t really been much piracy yet.)  Their lair needs supplies and they’re low on money; and, even more important, the group’s getting _bored._  It’s time to go pirating- _unless something better comes along,_ Malford thinks.

Haart, naturally, is morose, but it’s hard to read his expression now that he’s missing the lower half of his face.  He has grown grotesque to look upon; his face really is a mess.  Galliger snickers every time he sees it; Lyr just sees it as a sign of the gods’ capriciousness.  

As the vessel sails towards the town, Dexter has a strange dream in which he sees an ancient text- he gets the impression that it’s the very first copy of the Galadron- falling into vague evil hands, and he sees the famous witch-hunter Hendrick in the pirates’ lair.  When 

Upon reaching Shorult our heroes set about provisioning, drinking and buying supplies.  Dexter wanders the streets thoughtfully on his own, increasingly bitter at the treatment the others are giving him, especially Galliger.  _I thought he was my friend,_ Dex thinks bitterly.  _But since I turned to the Light, he’s been so hateful to me!  Doesn’t he understand- I had no choice, they tortured me!  They would have _killed_ me!  And I’m sure they have a way to monitor me- they’ll know if I go back on it.!_

Struggling with his own inner demons, the young Dexter spends a lot of time by himself.

The elves of Gorel- for Shorult is one of the coastal towns of Gorel- are clearly not happy to have a strong Forinthian presence garrisoning their island.  The Law of the Light is strictly enforced; at one point Chanti purses her lips and glares angrily as an elf is whipped for speaking the name of Galador.  Our heroes don’t like it, especially being- again, except for Dexter and perhaps Rajah- avowed enemies of the Light.  Finding that there’s a new Galadorian temple being built in town, our heroes scout the scene and consider some sabotage; but being easily distracted by elfin wine, they never quite get to it.

While they drink in a local human bar, an interested party catches site of Rajah.  Taking care not to be noticed, he simply observes, drinking his beer.  Elcruche will want to hear about this; it’s about time they picked up the scent again!

After a few nights in Shorult, Malford tells the group that he’s found an intriguing opportunity.  “I was contacted by a merchant named Esel,” he tells the others, “who would like to hire us for an interesting-sounding job.  Seems there’s this pyramid that only emerges from the water every seventeen years for a few weeks, and he’s interested in obtaining historical artifacts from it.”  He glances around.  “It’s not piracy, but I think that it might be even more lucrative.  It’s a good way to start.”

So they set sail for the Aquan Pyramid, and in its honor Chanti composes a new sea chantey:

_A magical pyramid
On a cold, briny sea
Full o’ treasure lay in wait
For my companions an’ me

So we adventured forth
Into treacherous depths
Burt thanks to my faith
My confidence never left

Our success was inevitable
Due to this I doth speak
Twas the fact that we were favored
By our beloved god Bleak.

Thanks to Bleak, Bleak, Bleak
(clap, clap, clap, clap)
I give my thanks to Bleak
For he’ll protect my always
In all the adventures I’ll seek!_

With the exception of Dexter, everyone claps along.  Galliger seems both proud of Chanti and eager to use her to slake his lust, and as always she’s willing to accommodate him.  He is her priest, after all.  

And Captain Malford frowns to himself.  How long will someone like Galliger be content to be first mate if he starts to have a dedicated following?

So Malford begins a little project to split Chanti from Galliger.  Secretly, when she’s alone, he uses a combination of _phantasmal force_ and _audible glamer_* to send her a ‘visitation’ from Bleak... and to tell her that Galliger is straying from the path and must be watched.

Meanwhile, as they traveled towards the Pyramid, another vessel, colored to match the water and with a very specialized, low-profile hull, sleekly pulled from a hidden cove not far out of Shorult.  Elcruche and his cronies were in pursuit of their target, still and always.

*That’s _silent image_ and _ghost sound_ these days, or at least roughly so.

_*Next Time:*_ (Probably, anyway)- the Aquan Pyramid!


----------



## Horacio

And Horacio get hooked by another story hour... 
I'm a true addict


----------



## the Jester

Good to have you aboard, Horacio! 

Watch out though- this one's _2nd_ edition!


----------



## Lela

Wow, Dexter is a great tragic character.  Tortured into rightousness.  Forced to be good.

I wonder if he even knows if he wants to be good or evil.  And that's the best part.


----------



## vykyng

*Bah!*

All the foolish (not to mention evil) characters live forever while the worthy ones die from failing a hunting check or mysteriously 'disappearing'.  

Sorry, had to rant there.  

btw, how did that incompetent boob Felenga survive?  And what of Fulgin?  Does he still 'live'?


----------



## the Jester

vykyng said:
			
		

> All the foolish (not to mention evil) characters live forever while the worthy ones die from failing a hunting check or mysteriously 'disappearing'.
> 
> Sorry, had to rant there.
> 
> btw, how did that incompetent boob Felenga survive?  And what of Fulgin?  Does he still 'live'?




Folks, meet Rajah's player.  Er, and Vido's, too- that's the hunting check.  

As for how Felenga and Fuligin- well, I'll try to email you the details... they won't make much sense to the readers here without some context.

Note, however, that Malford is still alive.


----------



## the Jester

All right, Jeff, I'll put this behind spoiler tags for everyone who doesn't want to know the secrets too soon (and haven't read about the backstory elsewhere, where bits of it are recounted)... click and drag to reveal the answers to all your questions.



Spoiler



Fuligin, of course, was in Darkhold.  Cydra, as it turned out, was sort of a simulation of a world engineered by the Master of Darkness and powered by the three deities who'd been empowered in Darkhold (Froth, Zelman and Garnet).  Zelman managed to sneak his staff out and thereby seek aid (from pcs, naturally).  They went to Darkhold- found the entrance via Zelman's staff- and Lester accidentally freed Fuligin, who wreaked havoc on Cydra and singlehandedly summoned enough evil outsiders that he depopulated Dorhaus of almost everything that wasn't evil, whether it was man, animal or plant.  "Kill it!" was his command.  Our heroes went back in time with the aid of the surviving Face Dancers and the Master of Darkhold to gather the necessary components to create a new Nature to replace the one that Tharizdun devoured.  It was only at the moment of Nature's original genesis that Tharizdun could be bound.

Nature was not yet entirely extinguished; a few smoldering cinders were all that remained of the multiverse, guarded by the Angels of the Apocalypse.  I'll tell you the rest later, I have to go back to work.


----------



## the Jester

To continue:



Spoiler



The pcs- along with Scytale- ran the gauntlet, but the Angels of the Apocalypse and Tharizdun were alerted.  They (the pcs) fought their way through various time periods, gathering up a number of necessary items, such as a huge chunk of Scanliana as it was exploded, and beat their way past Felenga, only failing to attain the Diamond Sword of Raldese.  They made it back to Darkhold, where the Master engineered a new Genesis of Nature and succeeding in binding Tharizdun again.  This cut Fuligin off from the source of most of his power and drove him near-catatonic, so that when the pcs attacked him again they found him defeatable.

While our heroes were time-hopping through Oerth, Boccob became aware of them and did the math.  History began changing.  The Face Dancers became aware of the pcs as well and messed with them.  In the end, they inadvertently brough Boccob, Carella, Tade (who didn't die in this alternate history) and some other deities through- they're now in Cydra.

Felenga, meanwhile, had dispatched by Tharizdun to try to follow the pcs.  Of course, he was too smart to enter Darkhold- until a tunnel was opened by a combination of the Champion of Elemental Evil and the four Princes of Elemental Evil.  This 'tunnel' through time and dimension allowed Felenga entry into Cydra from the end of the previous multiverse.

And that's it in a nutshell.


----------



## the Jester

*Into the Aquan Pyramid*

_Note for the curious:_ We played this game session on Nov. 21, 1993.  The game ran from 11/16/95 O.L.G. to 11/20/95 O.L.G., some of which was covered in the last update.



The Aquan Pyramid thrust from the sea, coming to a point some 180’ above the waterline.  The north face bore eroded glyphs whose meaning was lost on our heroes.  

“Let’s go,” said Malford.

They found an entrance about 130’ up.  The pyramid was wet and covered in barnacles and sea growths; it wasn’t an easy climb, but it was far from impossible.  The entrance was a four foot diameter circular hall, requiring our heroes to crouch as they moved in to a chamber no larger than 10’x15’.  Here the ceiling rose to a comfortable level.  Water was everywhere; a starfish was on the floor, and wet gravel and a couple of dead fish as well.  The walls had faded murals painted in them, obscured by time but apparently showing some sort of magnificent castle.  Two doors led out.

Our heroes began exploring by opening the south door.

There were a lot of shellfish attached to the floors and walls; water was everywhere, and it seemed that silt and sand had managed to intrude a surprising distance into the place.  A large throne was along the far wall.  As our heroes fiddled with things, Chanti uncovered a hidden switch built into one of the throne’s armrests, and the wall behind it swung away, revealing a secret passage.  Cautiously, the party moved down the revealed hallway.  At the end of it- 

Four gargoyles sprang at the party.  None of whom, as of yet, had magic weapons.*

The battle was vicious- though the party’s weapons bounced off, a combination of Bleak’s _cause wounds_ spells (via Galliger), Malford and Urick’s mage spells, Lyr’s _magic stone_ and Rajah’s tremendous _roar,_ which stuns the gargoyles for an instant, finally managed to carry the day.  Our heroes were battered and bruised but eager to continue on.  A search after the battle turned up a fair amount of coin and a gem, as well as a longsword.

“It’s magic,” Malford told them after a moment.  

“Good!” Chanti grinned.  “I need a magic sword!”

Haart tried to protest but only gurgled.  Everyone ignored him, except Dexter, who gulped as he tried not to vomit at the hideously maimed gnome’s visage.  Chanticleer took the sword.

They looked around for another exit.  At first they didn’t see one; then, after a search for secret doors, they found another hidden passage.  This one led to a room holding a staircase leading down.

Dexter hesitated.  “If we go far enough down...”  

Captain Malford nodded.  “We might hit water.”

The group silently contemplated this idea for a moment, then began their descent.  Upon reaching the stairs’ termination about 20’ down in the next level, they found themselves in a grey-white chamber, glistening with moisture.  The ceiling rose to a high peak 20’ above them.  The walls were covered in the muck of the sea, green and slimy.  Other than the steps they’d come down, there was nothing in the room- no furnishings, no ornamentation, no exits.

“Secret doors?” Lyr said.

The party searched around and, sure enough, after clearing some of the muck away they found a cleverly hidden secret door in the room’s southwest corner.  Haart made a choked gurgling sound, but nobody could tell what he meant.  The group of adventurers popped open the secret door and found themselves looking into a corridor running to the east and west; almost immediately to the right of the secret door the hall turned right and headed out of sight around the corner.  

Our heroes stepped through into the corridor.  Looked both ways.  Went left.  As they moved warily forward, Malford was examining the walls and floor for traps and the others searched as well- and, 10’ from a northward turn in the passage, our heroes found another secret door.  

“Good thing we were searching,” Rajah commented.

The party opened this secret door and found themselves looking into another chamber with sea silt and similar things in it.  Scuttling towards them came a coral-colored arachnid, either crab or spider; but a single blow from Chanti with her new sword skewers it.  “I wonder if we can eat it,” Lyr says hungrily.  Chanti puts her boot on the thing and pulls her blade from it.

“Stairs,” Malford pronounces, gesturing grandly at the spiral stairs before them.  There are also two doors.  After a momentary debate, they elect to start on the left and work their way over- a tendency that the players will continue for many characters.  The door is locked, but Malford is able to persuade it and it opens to a relatively clean chamber.  Four figures stand stationary for an instant after the door opens, held is stasis, but then they’re moving!  Opening the door has awakened them!

And the battle is joined, as four elite guardians begin their battle against the intruders.



*Remember, back in 2e they required a +1 or better weapon to hit.  There was none of this ‘power through the damage reduction’ stuff- you just _couldn’t._ hurt them with nonmagical weapons, period.


_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes, who are a party of eight 1st-4th level pcs, fight a deadly quartet of  7th-8th level bad guys!!


----------



## the Jester

Posted the stats for those four guys in the Early Years Rogues' Gallery thread.


----------



## the Jester

*Deep in the Aquan Pyramid*

Battle was joined brutally, with no quarter to be offered or given.

A tall, imposing man with a human skull at his belt, Dreadsum grinned at our heroes.  His teeth were filed to points.

From a bag at his side he drew forth a handful of sticks.  He whispered something to them, then casts them down to the ground- and a handful of _snakes_ started slithering towards our heroes.

Lyr recognized the symbol on his chest.  She bore it as well.  She must oppose a member of her own faith!  But the idea did not disturb her- not at all.  Hefting her harpoon, she hurled it at him.  Survival of the fit, after all.  Malford slipped back around the corner to hide for a backstab while Rajah and Haart leapt forward.  

The enemy were not idle.  

Urmads, a disheveled-looking man with unkempt hair, cast a _shield_ before him.  A metal orb was already orbiting him protectively.  Colgurd sprand forward to engage the charging party members and singlehandedly brought them to a screeching halt.  Steel rings off steel as he dueled Haart while Rajah nimbly dodged aside.  

Then the last of the four, a half-elf named Galor, unleashed a _lightning bolt,_ which careened through the party, blasting several of our heroes badly, but none fatally.

Colgurd staggered as a single mighty blow to the chest almost killed him.*  Then he dropped as Rajah leaped on top of him like a tiger, clawing and tearing at him.  Rising from his defeated foe, Rajah turned to Galor- who was the sudden victim of Malford’s backstab!  “Aargh!” the half-elf screamed, staggering.

The snakes were swarming forward, but Chanti cleaved through them like they were paper.  Galliger slashed forward with his axe, crying, “Oh, yeah, I’m afraid of your stupid religion.  Yeah, let me show you just how afraid you make me.  Here you go.”  With that he hacked into Dreadsum.  The two of them smashed at each other, Lyr moving in to snap at him as well with her whip.  Finally, with a sneer, Galliger managed to drop him.

Dexter exercised his mental powers to try to confuse and disable Galor, who had brought a series of _mirror images_ into being around himself.  A blast of _magic missiles_ from Urmads only succeeded in attracting Rajah’s attention, and moving like a tiger, the man struck out.  In mere moments, the wild mage had gone down.  

Now the odds were better: even elite, the two remaining guardians were only two.  And indeed, in a few more moments, our heroes prevailed.  

“Damn,” Malford crowed, “that was good!  Those guys were tough- I wonder if they have any magic stuff?”  With that, he happily cast _detect magic_.  With a whoop of delight, the captain of the band of ruffians we’re referring to as our heroes scooped up the skull from Dreadsum’s belt, the orb that had orbited Urmads, a dagger from Galor and three potions.  “We’ll divide the loot later,” he declared, stuffing everything into a bag for the time being.  

Haart gurgled inexplicably.

Back to the stairs and down, then; our heroes descended cheerily but warily. (Chanti was already composing another sea chantey in her head.)  But they descended into an abrupt and total blackness, despite their light sources.

Galliger, as a cleric of Bleak, could see in such darkness- even when caused by magic.**  In fact, he was quite comfortable there, and he briefly considered attacking Lyr while she was at a disadvantage, but he decided against it.  After all, he was pretty wounded after that fight.  He scowled.  The only thing that Galador’s clerics had that he wished for himself was... the ability to heal.

Well, to the Abyss with them.  He could heal over time, or with the aid of some fool that he tricked.  Like when he and Dexter had tricked that one cleric of the Light... He scowled again.  Dexter was a sore spot for him.  _My first convert, and he turns to the Light!  How _dare_ he!  I’ll sacrifice him for that, cut out his stinking heart!_

Galliger, as we can see, was full of darkness and hate.  Such is a priest of Bleak.

His reverie was interrupted when he notices shadows flitting towards the group.  He tittered and shouted, “Oh no- undead!  It would be a shame if they were drawn to followers of the Light!”  And he pointed exaggeratedly at Dex in the darkness. 

The shadows, alas, were drawn to _life._  They attacked everyone in a terrible swarm.

Again, battle was joined; and again our heroes fought for their lives.  There were as many shadows as there were members of the party; and with only Chanti’s magic sword and the newfound magic dagger able to hit them, our heroes looked to be in trouble at first.

But Chanticleer was not to be underestimated; her prowess with the sword was extraordinary.  And Malford, Dex and Urick had their own magical abilities with which to combat the shadows.  Though our heroes’ strength was drained a bit at a time, the shadows started to fall one by one.  It is the party that emerged victorious; the last shadow falls before the first of the party.  But the group, for the most part, could barely hold themselves upright with their loads.  

“We’d better retreat for now,” groaned Malford.  

The party slowly tromped up the stairs and through the second level of the pyramid.  Back to the top, feet dragging.  “Galador’s balls, this is a long climb,” groaned Galliger.  Finally, they reached the _Sea Hag_.  After going back aboard, the group unloaded themselves and started to settle in to rest.  

“We’re going back to Shorult,” Malford announced.  “We need a little time, and now that we’ve gotten a little loot, we should identify it and split it up.  Plus, we could probably stand to take on some supplies, now that we have a decent idea of what kind of environment we’re going to be in.”  He clambered laboriously back up on deck and started barking orders.  

_Good,_ thought Dexter.  He’s burning in anger.  _I can’t stand this anymore.  Galliger’s making me furious- he doesn’t understand, I did what I had to, I had no choice!_ 

Just then, Galliger said, “Hey Dex.”

“What?” snapped Dexter.

Galliger smiled at him.  “Just don’t forget that you gave your soul to Bleak already.  Go ahead and worship Galador all you want.  But just remember that Bleak owns you.  And never forget, whenever you pray to the Light, exactly who gets you when you die.”  He gave Dexter a huge toothy smile.  “Good night.”  And with that, he left to go to his quarters.

Dex, cold to his bones, thought, _He’s right._


*39 hp in one shot.  I believe this must have been a critical hit.

**Granted power of priests of Bleak.  I had no generic clerics in 2e; everyone was a specialty priest.

_*Next Time:*_ Betrayal!  Which pc will attack which other pc???


----------



## Lela

I remember that blasted Damage Reduction stuff.  It was especially annoying in Balder's Gate II when you had to fight the Pit Fiend.  I swear, you'd think a Balor would be able to hit that guy.  But _nooo_, his super powerful claws couldn't hurt the Devil.  Naturally, though, the Pit Fiend could hurt him.

 I'm so glad they changed that for 3rd and adjusted it more for 3.5.


----------



## the Jester

the Jester said:
			
		

> Which pc will attack which other pc???




Oh come on, at least take a guess!


----------



## Lela

Well, Dexter will definitally be involved.  A man can only take so much.


----------



## Horacio

My vote is on Dexter too...


----------



## the Jester

*Betrayal!*

“I need some new spells,” announced Malford.  “The three of us are going to get some once we get back to Shorult.”

He, Dexter and Galiger were in his cabin a few hours out of Shorult.

“Why us?” sneered Galiger.

“Because I’m the captain and I said so,” snapped Malford, clearly in a bit of a foul temper.  Softening his tone, he added, “Because we each have certain talents germane to the operation.”

Galiger nodded reluctantly, then glared at Dexter.  “I you mess this up, I’ll kill you, kid,” he said with a smile.

***

Shorult- an elven tree town.  With a population small enough that crime was unusual.  But hey, how are you gonna get what you need if you don’t take it?  By the time it was noticed, Malford hoped, they’d be gone anyway.  A few days, maybe half a week at most, and they’d be gone.  

A little information gathering to track down a local wizard, followed by the application of the three pirates’ unique abilities- Dexter’s mind-influencing powers, Malford’s knowledge of magic and ability to get around traps, and Galiger’s ability to influence undead guardians- led quickly to a murdered wizard and a pilfered spellbook.  

“Well, I guess I won’t kill you yet,” Galiger said half-jokingly to Dexter as they walked through the streets of town.

“That’s it!” Dexter cried.  He swung around, face crimson, and exploded into psionic fury on Galiger, blasting his memories and experiences away in a _mindwipe!_  Galiger shrieked and staggered as his powers, his mental faculties, his very _experiences_ started to melt away!

Savagely, Dexter continued his psionic attack.  “Dexter, Galiger, stop!” Malford shouted, but to no avail.  Galiger howled and brought a field of _darkness_ into being around all of them.

_Got to stop them,_ Malford thought wildly.  He tumbled back out of the _darkness_ and snapped off the words to a _sleep_ spell.

Within the darkness, the sound of falling bodies.

_Now what?_ Malford wondered grimly.

***

With a slow groan, Galiger opened his eyes.

He was in an alley, off the main street.  Folded atop his chest was a note.  A raging void was throbbing in his brain, where he could sense the _absence_ of things in his mind, things that were there just hours ago.  The absence of spells he once could cast...

His eyes stinging with tears, he read the letter, then cast it aside.  Vicious anger burned in his heart and he stormed back to the _Sea Hag._

“Where are the Captain and Dexter?” asked Lyr, perceiving something to be the matter from Galiger’s mien.

“Shut up, bitch,” growled Galiger.  He stormed into his cabin. 

Urick and Lyr exchanged a glance. 

A few moments later Galiger emerged, struggling to close a robe over his body, which had flask after flask of oil strapped to it. 

“What...?” Chanti gasped.

”The Captain and Dexter have betrayed us,” Galiger shouted at the crew.  “They won’t be back.  The ship should leave as soon as possible!  Get out of Shorult in case they turn us in!”

“What?”

“I’m going to burn down the Church of Galador,” finished Galiger.  “Hopefully I’ll be back.  Be ready to cast off soon.  If I’m not back in an hour I didn’t make it and get out of here.”

Galiger stomped off.  

Chanti let out a low whistle.

“What the hell just happened?” Urick wondered in amazement.

***

As the sun went down the sky in the west turned orange and then pink, and so did the sky in the east; but to the east it was the smoke rising from the ruin of the Galadorian temple.  How many lives were lost in the conflagration?  Who knows- but not more than one in ten was a native elf of Gorel; the rest were almost all humans of Forinthia.

And, of course, one human cleric of Bleak, his remains at the center of the entire thing, dozens of flasks of oil exploded all over his body.

Chanticleer’s voice rose over the sound of the waves in a newly-composed chantey:

_I once knew a priest named Galiger,
A heroic one was he;
He fought followers of Galador,
Wherever they may be.

Yet a traitor stabbed him in the back,
And made his soul turn deepest black,
But before he died he did attack
A temple in the name of Bleak!

Galiger, the servant of Bleak- 
He never turned the other cheek!
The name of Bleak he’d always shriek!
His tale of which I’ll forever speak!
And in trying times, when I feel weak
I’ll remember Galiger,
The faithful servant of Bleak._

As the _Sea Hag_ left the isle of Gorel behind again, heading (for lack of a better destination) back to the Aquan Pyramid, the pillar of smoke rose into the sky, lit from below by the inferno that was Galiger’s last action.  Standing on deck, looking back, Lyr and Urick watched in silence for quite some time.  

“What do you think really happened?” wondered Urick.

”I don’t know.”

“We’re directionless now.” 

“I know.”

“We don’t even have a captain,” Urick complained.

”I know.  We’ll have to decide on one, and on what to do with ourselves.”

“We’re pirates.”  

“We’ve hardly pirated.”

Lyr sighed.  “We’ll figure it out.”

They sailed into the sunset.


----------



## Lela

the Jester said:
			
		

> “What the hell just happened?” Urick wondered in amazement.



  My sentiments exacly.  What the heck was in that note?


----------



## the Jester

Lela said:
			
		

> My sentiments exacly.  What the heck was in that note?




I've been looking- if I can find it, I'll post it verbatim.


----------



## Lela

It's not a rush.  It's kinda suspensful.


----------



## the Jester

So let's see....

Here is a rough breakdown of the major untold 'story arcs' to be told from the earlier games... also largely for my organizational benefit. 


Farenth's Game
The Bad Man of the Woods
The Hill of Skulls
The Dragon
The College Years
Resurrection
Far Lands
The Epic of Fuligin
Gaea's Mantle
Against the Horrors
The Gates of Firestorm Peak
The Hatching Cave
Orcs and Stuff
Anvarquest


----------



## the Jester

*Now Begin the Tales of the Pirates*

Now begin the tales of the pirates.  

We'll not call them our heroes any longer; that appellation we'll save for another group that will coalesce presently.  

Now we shall call them the pirates.  

Aboard the _Sea Hag,_ sailing back to the Aquan Pyramid, closely pursued- though they knew it not, yet- by Elcruche and his cronies, the pirates' first agenda was to elect a captain.

"Not me," Urick said emphatically.  Haart only gurgled. 

"I, uh, want to keep a low profile," Rajah muttered. 

Not the ship's tail, no way.  That left, pretty much, Lyr.  So Lyr it was- harpoon in hand, evil grin raked across her bloodstained lips.  A fitting captain for a bloodthirsty crew.

"What are we going to do about Dexter?" Chanti demanded.

"Nothing," Lyr answers.  "We're going to steer clear of him for now.  He's trouble."

"Nothing?  But captain-!" Farenth, whose ultimate role has not yet revealed itself, exclaims.

*"I SAID WE'RE STEERING CLEAR!!"* Captain Lyr shouted.  "As Captain, when I make a decision, I expect it to _not be questioned!_"

"Aye, cap'n," Farenth muttered, cowering back.  "I apologize."  Black hate burned in the Bleakist's heart.

Back to the Aquan Pyramid, and the pirates ascended again to the entrance atop the structure, leaving most of the hirelings back in the _Hag_.  A new hire, Coric Left, was brought along for extra muscle.  Starfish, dried out by the sun, clung to the outside of the massive edifice.  The whole had a weird, otherworldly look to it, emphasized by the wet silt and things of the sea lying about the interior.

Down, down the party went, back to the room where they had vanquished the shadows.  A single passage led from it ending, some 15’ outside of the room, in a door.

“I got it,” Coric said arrogantly, swinging the door open and triggering a rather amusing trap.  The door slammed down on him, pinning him to the ground.  “Urk!” he cried, struggling to get free.

Beyond the door, tentacles writhed.  There was a violent flurry of motion as what must have been two dozen weapons whip around and then blood was flying everywhere!

“Takos!” cries Rajah as a sword slashed open his arm.  

There were four of them- octopus-like, yet clearly capable of surviving outside of the water.  Each held seven weapons and reserved a single tentacle to anchor itself.  Axes, spears, tridents, daggers, swords, clubs, even a net were brought to bear against the pirates!  

The sounds of Urick casting spells were followed by the blossom of a _burning hands_ spell.  One of the tentacled monstrosities skittered back for a moment, changing from yellow to red in color, then slithered back at the elven wizard.  Rajah helped lever the door from Coric’s body and the half-elf hireling struggled up and drew his sword.  He and Rajah leapt into the fray together!

A spear shaft splintered against Haart’s parry, then the jawless gnome sprang in and delivered a lethal blow to one of the takos.  Though Urick was laid low by a swing of a club, the other takos fell swiftly as well, and the pirates bandaged the wizard and set his body safely off to the side for the moment.

“I bet the other doors are trapped,” Coric said, still smarting from the door.  “Which way are we going?”

Lyr indicated a door on the opposite side of the room; the chamber had several exits.  Coric knelt before it, carefully inspected it, and set to work with a grin.  In a few moments, he declared it disabled.

“Open it, then,” Lyr commanded. 

Through the door was another chamber, carved with bas-reliefs.

“Some kind of island scenery,” commented Rajah.

“Hey, another door,” Coric said.  “Come on, I’ll lead.”  Lyr frowned in annoyance.  Subversive behavior already! 

Behind the door was a hallway that led about 15’ before opening up into a chamber holding an eight-foot diameter hot pink anemone.

“Whoa,” breathed Rajah.  

Haart gurgled and shook his head in frustration.

The anemone’s tentacles waved lazily in the air for a moment- then reached out to touch Rajah, almost caressingly.  He screamed and spasmed, jerking back.  

_”It wants to steal our minds!”_ he cried.

The party drew and attacked.  The brain anemone never even had a chance; it started to plead for mercy telepathically, but Lyr stabbed it viciously with her harpoon and cut off its mental cries.  

_”Nobody_ messes with us,” she snarled savagely.

Another door, another hallway, another room.  This time, Coric didn’t find the trap in time, and Lyr fell as a section of the floor twisted sideways.  She landed ten feet below on a bed of spikes, giving a pained yelp.  “Dammit!” she roared as the others dropped a rope down.

Coric snickered.

Another door led to an L shaped hallway.  Taking the shorter branch, the group found themselves in a room with a strange raised pedestal, about 7’ square, made of marble.  Atop it was some sort of skeleton with a long copper spike driven through the sternum.

“Hmm.  Nobody touch it,” Lyr commanded.

Bypassing the pedestal, the group opened another door and found themselves looking into a room containing a huge pool of mud at least 30’ long and 10’ wide. 

And moving. 

Slowly, figures rose from the mud, one after another, hurling chunks of oozing wet earth at the party.  Five, ten, fifteen, finally twenty mud creatures pulled themselves out and joined the attack!  But Lyr, Rajah, Coric and Haart were not to be underestimated.  Harpoon and fist, sword and shield, they stood fast and laid low the stumbling mudlings coming at them.  In but a few moments it was over, but by this time the villains were all fairly wounded.

”All right, it’s time to rest,” Lyr declared.  “We’ll set watches.  Rajah, go grab Urick; I don’t want him in another room while we’re holed up.”  The man springs away to go do his captain’s bidding.  Soon the group has made a little camp in the cleaner parts of the mud room, and as Haart takes up the first watch the others drift into the realms of sleep.

Meanwhile, outside the Pyramid, the _Sea Hag_ has had a problem, and his name is Elcruche.  

“Are they all securely bound?” the half-elf asks.  He wears his blonde hair long and loose.  He wears a white shirt with long, loose sleeves; a grey vest over it; and a cloak on his back.

“Yes, sir,” Brandon, the expedition’s priest, answered.

“Good.  And the target is inside the Pyramid?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Let’s go,” Elcruche said, pulling on his gauntlets.


_*Next Time:*_ Rajah’s pursuers catch up to the pirates!


----------



## Lela

Hmmmm, new heros?


----------



## the Jester

*Elcruche vs. Rajah (round 1)*

Moving carefully, Elcruche followed the party’s tracks.  They were close.  He could almost smell the whelp.

‘Rajah,’ indeed.

The thief Roger returned to the group, stepping from the shadows.  They’re resting, he signed to Elcruche in the secret sign language of the WIS.

Elcruche likewise used the sign language to disperse his troops.  Then he motioned to the cleric, Brandon, who grinned wickedly and stepped up behind him as the half-elf leader of Rajah’s pursuers stepped out to address the villains who’s story we’ve been following.

“Surrender!” Elcruche called, his voice clear.  “And we will treat you well!  We only want the one you call Rajah!”


A room away, the pirates stirred and startred into wakefulness.  Haart, on watch, grunted and gurgled in distress; he didn’t see anything!  But now- now there’s a half-elf in what looks like elfin chain and a human in dark plate and mail, leading a group of soldiers towards them!

“The crew!” Lyr cried.  “What have you done to them?”

“They are yet safe,” Elcruche said calmly.  “Do not make us slay you.  Give us the boy.”

Rajah’s eyes were wide with fear.  These were the men who tried to capture him- why, he did not know.  Was it because he was raised by tigers?  More pertinent- would these pirates hand him over??  His eyes darted to Lyr, calculating the odds that he could take her if she did, then to Haart, wondering if he could count on his aid in this fight.

“Screw you,” said Lyr sharply.  “Rajah’s a valuable member of my pirate crew.”

Elcruche’s gauntlets tensed as he pulled forth his blade.  “So be it.”

The fight was awkwardly one-sided.  The pirates were not rested or prepared; they were short spells and powers.  They put up a good fight, but it was immediately obvious that they were outclassed.  Elcruche leapt forward to prick Rajah in the leg as his soldiers surged forward.  Haart gurgled as he put up his best defense, trying to hew through Elcruche’s elite Wotan Intelligence Service troops.  He dropped one, then another, while Rajah backpedaled.

“You won’t escape me again, boy,” Elcruche said coldly, a smile on his lips.  

“I’ve learned some new tricks,” Rajah replied, and suddenly a _dimension door_ opened behind him.  Before Elcruche could react, Rajah dove back through it!  Taking advantage of a momentary confusion on the part of Rajah’s hunters, most of the party followed suit, except for Haart, who gave his life in a last stand to hold off Elcruche and his cronies from the _dimdoor.*_  Then the door closed as Haart died in a hail of blows.


*This may not be exactly how this happened in-game; it's been eleven years, fer goshsakes!   Anyway, Haart died either in this fight or by drowning immediately after (you'll see next time ).

_*Next Time:*_ Where did Rajah take the party??


----------



## Lela

Hmmm, I'm going with Rajah taking them somewhere near water.

Was _Dimension Door_ more than an Instantanious spell in 2nd edition?


----------



## the Jester

It was psionic... he could hold it open, I think as long as he concentrated on it or something?  (Prolly the rest of the party dashed through first or something?  Or maybe a rules gaffe on my part...)

Hm, you make me wanna dig out my 2e PsiHB.


----------



## the Jester

*Escape from Elcruche!*

Elcruche let his lip curl up in a half-smile.  

“He got away again,” Brandon said, his penchant for pointing out the obvious once again serving him well.  

Elcruche turned away angrily.  “Back to the ship!  We’ll keep an eye out for their exit.  They don’t have anywhere to go.”

“Unless they’ve already gotten back to their boat,” Brandon pointed out.

“You saw how they fight.”  Elcruche sneers.

***

_Splash!_

Rajah was in the sea!  Turning, tossing waves were spinning him...

_Air!_  Then: _Did the others make it?_

Treading water, shaking his long hair from his eyes, Rajah looked around.  The boat, over _there,_ had clearly been taken.  The ship that his pursuers piloted was near the _Sea Hag;_ it was obvious that the pirate vessel had been boarded and, barring a miracle, taken.  His friends were around him in the water- all except Haart...

_Oh, no,_ thought Rajah- _His armor!  Even if he did make it through the dimension door, he’ll sink like a stone!_  But there was no time to worry about that right now; the fact that Elcruche would be coming out of the pyramid and after him in just a few minutes was what he had to worry about.  What could he do?  Could they retake the _Sea Hag?_  Even if they could, they’d get destroyed by Elcruche’s ship.  Rajah frowned as he desperately turned over his options.

A dolphin popped its head up above the water.  

Lyr cried out, “A good omen!”  Then a sleek, greyish-silver skinned humanoid head broke the surface as well- a merellin.

“Hello,” he called, with laughter in his voice.  “I am Akakathan Dundian!  Who are you folks, and why are you swimming here?”

“I’m Lyr,” cried the captain of the pirates.  “Can you help us?  Very bad people have taken over our ship and are after us!  Can you help us escape?”

“Perhaps,” the merellin replied.  “Why are these bad people after you?”

“That’s a very good question.”  Lyr looked hard at Rajah.

”I don’t know!” he protested.  “They’ve been after me for a while, but I don’t know why!  I don’t know anything about how all this stuff works!  Sometimes I just want to go back to the jungle with the tigers!”  His voice was full of frustration.

One of the dolphins spoke in a high, squealing staccato and Akakathan responded in kind; then the merellin announced, “We will help you.”

***

Elcruche reached the top of the pyramid without incident.  He saw no sign of the whelp anywhere.  Frowning, he posted four men at the entrance in case ‘Rajah’ was still inside the Aquan Pyramid; then he returned to his ship.  The lookout told him that nobody’s emerged from the pyramid other than his team.

“Unfortunate,” Brandon smirked.  “The Emperor will not appreciate your failure.”

Elcruche shrugged.  “I have not failed, I simply have not succeeded yet.”

“The Emperor may not see it that way.  He is not always known for being... forgiving.”

“The Emperor does not forgive disloyalty,” Elcruche says frankly.  “My loyalty is absolute and unwavering.  He knows this and has absolute confidence on me.  The _unfortunate_ thing,” he continues coldly, “would be for him to suspect that someone was not fully supporting my mandated mission.  Especially someone who, by law, should be executed for matters of religion alone.”  He stares Brandon in the eye.  “Do not think you can put me at a disadvantage, Bleakist.  I am a trusted officer of Imperial Wotan, while you are a mercenary allowed to serve in exchange for your continued survival.  The Emperor is wise enough to know the difference.  You are a blunt tool with few uses, for you have no subtlety.  I can go anywhere and do anything, given the time and the tools, for I am versatile.  Do not overestimate yourself.”

Brandon bites back his reply.  “Yes, sir,” he answers with a smirk.

“Now remove yourself from my sight.”

“Yes, sir.”

***

It’s a long journey to Undemin, especially by dolphin, but it’s the closes isle with reasonable amounts of habitation.  The party is deposited on smaller islets for rest periods, while their dolphin and merellin escorts fish for them all.  

“We are very grateful,” Urick says sincerely.

The dolphins chatter at the group.

“When we get a new ship,” Lyr says, “we’re going to name it after your leader.”

The head dolphin grins.  She chortles.  

“Her name is Twikwakikikak,” Akakathan tells them.

Undemin finally comes, and Akakathan- moved by the growing camaraderie he’s felt with the group- asks if he might join them for a time.  “Sure!” Lyr cries.  “We’ll need some replacements for the crew we lost.”

“We need to return to Yafall and let the crew know what happened, too,” Urick points out.  

And so they set out to restore their fortunes, which were looking so good but suddenly went so poorly.  They learn more of Rajah’s tale- he remembers nothing of his very early youth; only the jungle and the tigers that raised him, and occasionally a glimpse of a mysterious figure, half-elf and half-tiger and incalculably old.

“About two years ago some people found me,” he told the party, “and they tried to take me into civilization.  But then _that_ group appeared- they wanted to cage me, I don’t know why.  I’ve been on the run from them ever since.”

Lyr scowls.  “Sounds like something to put on your ‘need to know’ list.”

“No kidding.”


_*Next Time:*_ The pirates go to the fabled Isle of Courage!


----------



## the Jester

*A New Ship*

Our heroes set sail in their new vessel, the _Twikwakikikak._   They had hired on a skeleton crew, and now they planned to recover whatever remains of their lair and their band of pirates.

_I hope we do better this time around,_ Lyr thought glumly.  _Our first journey with me as captain and we lose the ship... curse it!_

The hideout was still there, and the men were still there as well, in good spirits for the most part.  They had done well by themselves over the winter, and Lyr was heartened that they’d kept the faith without word from their captain.  The news of Malford and Dexter’s betrayal, Galliger’s death and the subsequent loss of the ship set the whole group to murmuring among themselves, and within the day of the group’s return the half-elf Coric started subtly trying to raise support among the crew for a mutiny.  Lyr had already begun plans for a new expedition.

“We’re going to get as far from known waters as we can,” she told Urick privately.  “We’re getting away from Rajah’s chasers, from any kind of further attacks from Dexter, from all of it.  We’re going to go to Pesh, maybe even further east.”

Urick nodded.  “There may be some interesting things to look at along the way,” he said laconically.  “The Isle of Courage, perhaps.”

“What’s that?”  Lyr cocked her head in interest.

“It’s said that monsters appear out of thin air there,” the elven wizard informed her.  “Very mysterious- nobody’s ever figured out how it works.  Sometimes they vanish, too.  There isn’t much in the way of civilization there; it’s too dangerous to live somewhere where an umber hulk might appear in the kitchen.”

“Hm, might be a good opportunity to kill something, find a little treasure, raise some morale,” Captain Lyr mused.  _And eat some hearts,_ she added inwardly.

So it was that the _Twikwakikikak_ sailed for Pesh by way of the Isle of Courage.  The Isle, a reasonably large chunk of rock covered with a thin soil that allowed only the hardiest shrubs and grasses to thrive, was caught in a gloomy, think fog that obscured the land beyond about sixty yards.  Weak sunlight made the grasses glisten as if covered in dew.  

Lyr, Urick and Akakathan went exploring for a few miles.  Urick, tired of running out of spells all the time, came loaded with flasks of volatile oil.  “I wonder if we’ll see any of these monsters that appear out of nowhere,” the elven mage commented.

They followed a series of ripples in the landscape up to a small plateau.  Stubby oaks seemed to be barely surviving on this bitter isle.  The fog had closed in a bit, cutting visibility to about a hundred feet.  Still, the alert win the battle, and the pirates were certainly on the look out; thus, they noticed the lumbering ogre emerging from the mist before it noticed them, and without speaking they immediately agreed that an attack was in order. While Urick scrambled into the branches of a stunted oak Lyr readied her harpoon and Akakathan prepared his sword. 

The ogre first noticed them when Lyr’s harpoon suddenly landed in his meaty pectoral with a _chuk_.  The ogre yelped and roared, swiveling his low-browed head to look at the adventurers, then charging forward.  A _magic missile_ zipped in from the tree, blasting the ogre, and Lyr (wielding an axe, now) and the merellin danced around it, slashing and slicing.

The ogre roared, swinging its huge club, and knocked Lyr aside.  It turned and roared again, ready to strike Akakathan down, when hot flaming oil splattered all over its face from above.  The monster gave out a high screech, batting at the flames, as Lyr and Akakathan scrambled back out of the way.  In the branches about ten feet above the ground, Urick lit another flask and determinedly threw it, catching the ogre in the torso and legs!  Flames licked hungrily at the bestial creature as it spun comically and patted at itself, trying to extinguish the sticky flames.

Then- disaster!  With a howl of despair, the ogre reached up and grabbed a mighty handful of Urick’s chest, pulling the elf down and crushing him to its fiery body.  Urick’s eyes widened in fear and his last breath hissed out as he realized what was about to happen.

The flasks of oil, strapped all over his body, ignited, and in seconds he was a blazing inferno.  Thankfully, he didn’t survive more than a few seconds.  Nor did the ogre, of course.

Lyr sank to her knees.  Another of her men, gone.  Her face was fierce with anger and remorse.  Damn it!  It’s the price of leadership, feeling like this.

Shortly, she and Akakathan took what remains they could for burial at sea.



_*Next Time:*_ Vosh the Centaur!


----------



## Lela

YAY VOSH!!!!!!!!!

I realy hope that's a PC.


----------



## the Jester

*Enter Vosh the Centaur*

Vosh the Centaur, green haired and happy in the sunlight, regarded the strangers as they approached him.  Their faces were streaked with grief.

His was full of wonder.  He had come to be not so long ago, and... existence!  Sunlight!  Feeling!  It was all new.  All his experiences were new and fresh, and he greeted everything with child-like wonder.

The party of pirates made his acquaintance.  Vosh the druid.  He healed a few wounds for them; which, of course, brought to mind the fact that they didn’t have a healer, really.  

The next step was obvious; Vosh was invited to join the crew.  _Sailing?_  Traveling somewhere else?  He’d never even thought of such a thing before!  He was overjoyed at the opportunity.  Though it required a few days to build him a cabin- he was larger than a human or elven crew member, after all- the _Twikwakikikak_ soon departed the Isle of Courage, course set for Pesh.  

The halfling cook, Bilbo, approached Lyr quietly a few days along the way.  Clutching at her arm, Bilbo fearfully took her into her cabin.  

“What is it?” Captain Lyr demanded.

“It’s Farenth,” the cook whispered.  “He wanted me to poison you!”

Grimly, Lyr gathered Rajah, Coric and Vosh.  Then he sent Urlah, one of their pirates, to get Farenth.  When he arrived, he started at the wall of hostile faces before him.

“Yes, captain?” he asked.

“You tried to persuade Bilbo to poison me,” she said without preamble.

Farenth hesitated.  _She’s going to kill me,_ he thought.  _Bitch.  Well, we’ll just have to see if I can talk my way out of this- I certainly can’t fight my way out.  And there’s no point in lying- clearly I was wrong when I thought I had that little halfling worm intimidated.  Well, well.  Another score to settle.  Now, what can I say to keep her from killing me?_  He nodded in answer to Lyr’s statement.  “For the good of the ship.”

Lyr looked at him in surprise.  “The good of the ship!  You don’t poison the captain for the good of the ship!  Explain yourself!”

_The fool’s going to let me off alive,_ Farenth realized immediately, _if only I can give her a good enough reason.  Her faith is weak.  She should kill me and eat my heart.  Well, well- maybe I’ll have the chance to kill her and eat hers instead!_  Aloud, he said, “Surely you agree that the circumstances surrounding the death of Galiger, if not Malford as well, were very suspicious.  We should have tracked down Dexter and killed him, and found out what happened.  Failing that- well.  There’s an old Peshan saying: to find the killer of the king, see who inherits the crown.”  He frowned.  “If I was wrong, I apologize.  I-“

“Oh, what a crock!” Coric scoffed.  “We should kill him right now.”  He drew his sword with a hissing sound.

“No,” Lyr commanded.  “We’ll put him off at the next island we stop on, but we’re not going to kill him.  He was trying to work for the good of the ship, even if he was misguided.  I can’t kill him for trying to look out for the ship.”

Coric snarled and slammed his sword back into its scabbard.  He stalked out without another word.

“As for you,” Lyr said to Farenth, “get to your cabin.  Stay there.  I’ll tell you when you can come out.”

With a nod, Farenth turned and left.  _Fool!_ he exulted.  _I will see you all dead!_

If only he knew how close to right he was.

They reached Pesh after a few weeks and set to a variety of tasks.  The first was pushing Farenth off the boat almost but not quite violently.  He nearly ran down the gangplank.

Coric Left purchased a supply of yaksha wood, strong and supple, for construction into a bow built to his strength.  Vosh purchased some golden clippers.  Lyr got the magic skull fully identified at last, learning its charges.  The group set aside a few days to wander into the Spicewoods in the hopes of finding something interesting going on, and though they saw a panoply of spices, herbs, flowers and trees, they saw no trouble on the first two days of the trip.  The heady smell of the Spicewoods hung in the air like a mix of nutmeg, honey and cinnamon.

The third day, as they crossed a small glen surrounded by cinnamon trees, they stumbled into a trio of weird snake-men.  A quick and lethal battle ensued, with Coric, Vosh and Lyr triumphing quickly and efficiently.  They profited from the fight, and using the money the yuan ti had they were able to finish outfitting and resupplying the ship as well as pay handsome bonuses to the men.

Lyr was determined to travel far to the east.  “Strogass,” she said.  “Ultimately.  It will take us a while to get there, though.  But I’ve managed to purchase maps here that show the way.  There’s a big reach of empty territory, but there are also a lot of satellite islands around Strogass.”  She pointed her finger at an island on the map.  “That’s our next stop.  Apolex.  We’ll leave in three more days, once the final supplies arrive and are lashed in to the hold.”

Coric is the last one with any Peshan business; he does a job for the guildmaster thief of Pesh City, retrieving an onyx egg from a safe.  Then the ship sets sail for Apolex.


_*Next Time:*_ Piracy!


----------



## the Jester

*Piracy and Disaster!*

En route to Apolex the pirates performed their first act of blatant, out and out piracy.  They attacked a merchant vessel in cold blood and overwhelmed it in short order, helping themselves to a sizable heap of booty in trade goods and coin.  Unfortunately, their attack so damaged the vessel that they could not successfully steal that as well.  Most of her crew they put to death (and in several instances, Lyr ate some hearts).  However, one of the crewmen, named Paynim, elected to join the pirates in return for his life.

Which was just as well; they needed all the hands they could get aboard to stave off the attack that came a few days later.

Perhaps they were drawn by the blood clinging to the _Twikwakikikak’s_ hull; perhaps they’d been following for quite some time.  Either way, as dusk descended on the ship the sharks started to be in evidence; and just before midnight the devil men of the deep started clambering stealthily aboard the ship.

Sahuagin, scourge of the sea; enemies of the Sea Queen, followers of Sekolah, the Great Shark; the single greatest danger to land-dwellers who ventured away from the safety of their isles and continents.  

The battle erupted suddenly, when Vosh spotted one of the sea devils hauling itself over the rail and onto the deck.  The centaur shouted an alarm and lunged forward, his hooves smashing the sahuagin back and over the side.  The men came to a state of alertness with the uncanny speed of sailors, staggering out on deck shaking the sleep from their eyes.

What ensued was a terrible bloodbath.  Chanticleer hewed about her with her sword, dark blood coating her from head to foot, a growing pile of sahuagin around her and several of the crew guarding her back.  Akakathan and Lyr stood back to back as well, jabbing with their harpoons.  The crew fought in knots, trying to force the devil men of the deep back over the side, but it was too late to keep the deck free of them, and there were too many!  

The deck grew slippery with blood as elf, human and sahuagin alike fell into death’s clutches.  Finally, the last sahuagin was slain, and Lyr looked around at what remained of her crew.  

Not much, truly.

Only a few had survived.  Barely a skeleton crew.

In her cabin, Lyr poured over what maps of the region she had.  “There,” she murmured, “we’ll stop in Dyshim.”  She frowned.  _If only I had any idea of what it’s like!  But in any event, we need crew badly, now- another attack like that could destroy us._

Meanwhile, on deck, Coric Left thought, _This is just perfect!  After this debacle, the crew’s bound to be ready to get rid of Captain Lyr!  And it’s my perfect opportunity to step in and take over!_  His gaze lingered on the villainous Chanticleer, wondering if she could be counted on for aid.

Chanti was singing her newest composition:

_”I fight in the service of the bold priests of Bleak
To purge all the light from the land
From the nethermost desert to the snow-covered peaks
In the name of the Dark One I’ll stand!!

Bleak! Bleak! Bleak! Bleak!
The meek shall shriek when they hear him speak!
The weak are freaked by his mystique!
Yea, he’s dark and he’s wicked, he’s evil and mean,
He’s one hell of a devilish and cold-blooded fiend!

The name of my Master will cover the earth
And enslave everyone he can find
He’ll rid the dimension of laughter and mirth
And rape your soul and you heart and your mind!!

Bleak! Bleak! Bleak! Bleak!
The meek shall shriek when they hear him speak!
The weak are freaked by his mystique!
Yea, he’s dark and he’s wicked, he’s evil and mean,
He’s one hell of a devilish and cold-blooded fiend!”_

Then she sighed, missing Galiger terribly.


_*Next Time:*_ Mutiny!!


----------



## Lela

> *Next Time:* Mutiny!!




See, now we're talking pirates.


----------



## the Jester

*Mutiny on the Twikwakikikak!*

“She’s incompetent,” Coric Left murmured softly.  “We need to replace her.”

“She’ll never step down,” Vosh said, dangerous steel in his voice.  “Are you suggesting a mutiny?”

“Of course not- I’m not suggesting anything.”  Coric spoke easily, smoothly.  He was at his best that night.  “I’m just saying that she’s leading us towards disaster.  We should be chasing Dexter, not running away from him.  After all,” he added manipulatively, “he basically killed the previous captain and first mate.”  Leaving Vosh to chew that one over, Coric moved away to see if he could seduce any of the other crew members into joining him.  

Vosh, upon chewing over Coric’s understated proposition, decided that he didn’t like the way it tasted.  For one thing, Lyr was _Captain._  For another, truth to tell, he’d already fallen for her.  The thought of her being killed made his heart flutter.  So instead of joining Coric, Vosh warned Lyr of his suspicions.

This proved to be a good idea; that night Coric struck, and only the increased vigilance that Lyr had surreptitiously ordered of her companions allowed her to avoid assassination.  A small battle between Coric and his two supporters and the rest of the remaining crewmen ensued, ending only when Coric and his last fellow mutineer had been slain and cast overboard. 

“I’m glad I got suspicious,” Vosh commented.  Inwardly, he was highly relieved that they’d managed to save Lyr.  

The ship, almost bereft of crew, sailed onward.  Another week and they reached a savage port on Dyshim. 

“We have to be careful, but we have to get more crew,” Lyr declared.  “We’re out of Forinthian waters now- this is Strogassian territory.  Watch yourself- they’re Bleakists, so- although certain of us will fit right in- we can’t really trust them.”  She paused.

“And they aren’t known for their friendliness.”

The pirates disembarked.  

_*Next Time:*_ Rajah’s pursuers catch up to him!


----------



## Lela

Aw, the whole throwing half your crew in the ocean trick.  Gotta love that.


----------



## the Jester

*Rajah's Relentless Pursuers*

It was while they were in Dyshim that the pirates whose adventures we’ve been following fell into their second Elcruche-instigated ambush.  This time things were uglier, and they took Rajah.  The pirates fought fiercely but couldn’t withstand the assault of Elcruche’s trained WIS troops.  

The pirates, beat back but not willing to admit defeat, raced back to the _Twikwakikikak_ to pursue Elcruche’s ship, but the vessel that the half-elf was commanding moved with unbelievable speed, dwindling to a speck in minutes.  

“How do they do that?” Lyr demanded.  “I want that ship!”

On board Elcruche’s ship, Rajah learned the answer to this one once he became conscious.  “It’s called a sea helm,” Elcruche told him.  His expression was sardonic.  He tied his long thick hair back with a leather thong.  “Don’t try to escape, ‘Rajah-‘ you’re thousands of miles from land.  Your little _dimension door_ trick will just get you eaten by sharks.”

“Why are you people after me??” demanded Rajah.

”Orders,” Elcruche said.  “But don’t worry.  We’re not going to kill you.  And as long as you don’t try anything, we’ll even make you comfortable.”

Rajah learned that sea helms are a magical means of vastly increasing the speed of waterborne craft.  “We can move about a hundred miles an hour,” Elcruche smirked.  Rajah also learned that the ship had traversed a seagate somewhere between Dyshim and- wherever it was.

On his way to- what? Prison? Execution?- Rajah faded out of the pirates’ knowledge; but most of them- those who survived to the end of Farenth’s game, when it came- would meet him again.

The pirates, unable to rescue their friend, took on new crew and sailed further east, heading for Strogass, mythical realm of evil, home of the Dark Emperor and the worship of Bleak.  And, as Lyr kept saying, as far from Dexter as they could get.


_*Next Time:*_ I’m not sure what tale I’ll tell next.  I have three basic threads to follow here- Rajah, the pirates, and Dexter and Malford; and one of my old players (hi Aaron) emailed me and asked me to write about some of his old pcs, so we’ll see... the next bit it _yet to be determined._  For, after all, they’re all ultimately related.


----------



## Lela

I vote Dexter.


----------



## the Jester

*Dexter and Malford*

_About five months earlier..._


Malford and Dexter laid low in town.  They could smell the smoke from the burning temple of Galador, and Malford was full of dread wondering what had happened.

Dexter was extremely angry, but also somewhat contrite.  Should he have done it?  Should he have _mindwiped_ Galiger?  Well, he certainly had it coming!

But he found himself wondering, _Is that how a Galadorian should act?_

They kept their heads down for a few days.  When they cautiously checked, sending an urchin to scout the docks, they found that the _Twikwakikikak_ had sailed.  Malford thought sadly, _There goes my ship._

Ah, well.  His career in piracy could have ended worse, with him walking a plank above a chud pot surrounded by sharks.

Dexter and Malford murdered another mage for his book of spells, but afterward both were filled with remorse enough that they agreed not to do it again.  The two of them seemed to have swung in a new moral direction.  A few days passed while they waited for a vessel to sail to the west; it seemed as likely a direction as any.  

“Look,” Malford said, gesturing at the maps opened before him and Dexter in the inn they were renting a room from.  “The Parrot Isles.  They say there’s a dragon that lives there- Arnaud the Copper.  That might be interesting.”

Aimlessly, Dex agreed.  After all, he had no idea whatsoever of what to do.  

“Besides,” Malford added, “from the Parrot Isles we can go to Forinthia or even to Dorhaus, if we want to head farther west.”

“What’s past there?”  Dex pointed at the edge of the map.

“Who knows?  That’s a far ways.”

***

It was from that last wizard that Dexter got his famous _staff of combat._  A few other trifles, as well, including an amulet that would let a caster change one of his spells for a _protection from evil._  Of course, neither of them could use it (Dexter being a psionicist and Malford an illusionist; abjuration, at the time, was forbidden to all such wizards), so Dex held it for sale.

The trip the two made to the Parrot Isles lasted most of a month, aboard a ship called the _flying fish._  Their time there was mostly spent in a fruitless attempt to spy on the dragon; Polly, Malford’s parrot, overflew the Dragon’s Isle but saw nothing worth noting.  Disgruntled, Malford and Dexter decided to leave on the Flying Fish once it was finished in the isles (it was mostly taking on a cargo of wild kocho).  But first, Malford knew of one thing perhaps worth taking from the Parrot Isles.

“There’s this tree,” he told Dexter.  “It’s called the Tree of Rulva.  It’s a palm tree, enshrined by the local tribesmen.  The coconut milk grants fertility, and sometimes communion with Galador.  It very rarely fruits, but rumor has it that there’s a coconut up there now!”

His plan was obvious.  “There’s a guardian, but you can use your mind tricks to lure him away long enough for me to scramble up the tree, then I can get the coconut and we can escape!”

And indeed, it proved to be that easy.  The man guarding the tree was not the brightest star in the firmament, and his deception is easily accomplished by Dexter’s telepathic powers.  Then Malford clambered up the tree, cut loose the single coconut above, and slithered back down, escaping into the shadows.


_*Next Time:*_ Remember Sheila the Confessor, the hot young lass that took Dexter’s confession for the Inquisition?


----------



## Lela

What in the world is the _Staff of Combat_?


----------



## the Jester

Lela said:
			
		

> What in the world is the _Staff of Combat_?





In the 2e days, it was like this:

_*Staff of Combat:*_ Crits on a natural 19-20; +2 to hit; +2 to crit severity.

In 3.5 parlance, I guess it would be something like-

_*Staff of Combat:*_ Quarterstaff +2/+2; crit (both heads) is 19-20/x3.

At the time I used my own (very ruthless) critical hit system; the severity was rolled on 3d6, so even a small adjustment often made a big difference (what with bell curves and all).


----------



## Knightfall

Just finished reading all four pages. I'm looking forward to reading more about Dexter and Malford.

Cheers!

KF72


----------



## the Jester

*Return to Forinthia*

Returning to Forinthia, specifically to the port city of Frodrand, Dex and Malford couldn’t help but be nervous.  What if someone tried to collect on the reward on them (for their entire group had had prices on their heads for months)?  What if someone recognized them?

They were not quite as infamous as all that, Dexter pointed out, and Forinthia was a big place.  Moreover, Malford was skilled in the arts of disguise; so before they disembarked, the gnome used his craft to give each of them a new face.

Malford and Dexter sought a room in a harder, shifty part of town; then Malford easily made contact with the local thieves’ guild.  He’d be a fool to attempt anything without paying his dues, after all.  His contact, a halfling named Morrin, greasily took Malford’s bribes and expedited the process, so soon our gnome was cheerfully picking pockets in the common room.

Malford also made a point of joining a library.  For a 100 gp fee he got access to it for a year.  _It’s well worth it,_ he thought.

Dexter meanwhile made contact with his confessor.

She would not turn him in to the authorities, he knew; for he came to her under the curtain of the confessional, to tell her how he was doing.  He was honest and frank, and she exhorted him to better behavior and set him a penance.  The real penance was her disappointment, however.  It stung.  He wanted to _please_ her...

And there were the dreams.  

Vague, he couldn’t usually remember much about them; but Dexter had been dreaming of the searing power of the Light, Galador.  Galador was indeed much on his mind lately.

Depressed, young Dexter returned to the inn they were staying at, rubbing at the terrible scars on his forehead as he walked.  He needed to leave Forinthia; he did not think the island would be kind to him. 

Taking ship again, this time for fabulous far-off Pesh, Malford and Dexter made an acquaintance: Lochenvar, a terse human warrior wielding a mighty axe.  Malford considered that Dexter probably could use some more human company, so the two invited Lochenvar to join them as a companion.

The ship held several other passengers of interest: Lochenvar’s older brother Chekov, a halfling sneak named Setson, and a merchant named Chad, of interest only because of the terrible cargo he was transporting in the hold below.  

Within a great crate lay a monstrous construct of orichalcum.  It was the size of a man, no bigger, but of fearsome aspect.  Ram-headed, gleaming copper in color, the thing lay as if in wait for a signal.  

Until, as our protagonists were far out to sea, it began to stir.


_*Next Time:*_ A construct berserk in the hold of a ship at sea!  Hope the boys can swim!!!


----------



## Lela

You know, I really like Dexter.  You bring out his personality so well Jester.  I'm impressed, especially considering how long it's been.


----------



## the Jester

Hehe... I was just thinking how funny it would be if I looked in on Dexter's old character sheet and was like, "Oh wow, I'm sorry, he was actually Lawful Evil at first, and he has a half-elf...!"


----------



## the Jester

We don’t get to see them now, but rest assured that they’re involved.

Those orichalcum objects- the bowl.  The knife.  The candleholder.  The bell.  The book.

We’ll see them in the future, more than once; probably yet again.

For now, we need concern ourselves only with the golem.  Within its crate, it lay as if in a deep sleep.  Boxed up, hidden behind a wooden crate, the thing would stand almost seven feet if held erect; and clearly- terrifyingly, to the greedy merchant foolish enough to attempt its transport- it was articulated.  You could (were you brave enough to touch it) move its arms and legs as if it were some clever toy made for a giant’s baby.

Its fierce ram head, its strongly muscled body- these served as warnings to any foolish enough to trifle with it.  It seemed, somehow, to radiate menace

In the depths of night, as its fingers began to twitch, as the Orichalcum Devourer began to stir from its harmless sleep, it was a single impulse that drove it.  Someone had used the bell, book and candle.  Someone had made the sacrifice- a sacrifice we’ll get to see people make, in time; but not yet.  

It caused this terrible thing to wake.

The wooden crate, nailed shut but iron nails as long as a troll’s finger, burst apart with only a moment’s work.  The Orichalcum Devourer smashed its way free; and then it moved swiftly, never hesitating for even an instant.  It climbed the stairs from the hold, ramming a fist through sailor standing above before he had a moment to act. 

Then the Orichalcum Devourer moved to the forecastle and started slamming its terrible metal fists into it, smashing a hole in the wall almost instantly.  

As sleepy sailors (and the passengers) woke, the Orichalcum Devourer smashed its feet through the deck, then smashed a hole in the ship’s hull from within the hold- below the waterline.  

Ocean began to pour into the ship’s belly.

Screams as the Orichalcum seemed to move randomly, tearing walls to bits, allowing more and more of the sea outside to violate the ship; and soon it was listing badly.  

Our heroes- can we call these guys that?  Maybe not quite yet- Malford, Dex and Lochenvar convened on deck.  Around them, all was chaos.  The sky was black, pricked with the flames of the stars.  There was no moon, but the sound of the sea was everywhere. 

“We’re about to be shipwrecked, aren’t we?” Dexter groaned.

“Unless we can stop that thing,” Lochenvar grunted.

“We’re about to be shipwrecked,” Malford agreed.

The Orichalcum Devourer came up on deck.

“Crap,” said Malford.

There was a sudden jar of clashing colors as he let out a _color spray,_ but neither it, nor Dexter’s psychic assault seemed to have any effect on the golem.  Instead it rushed to the mainmast.  In a moment it had grasped it in a terrible hug, and before the group’s terrified eyes it ripped the mast down.  It fell into the deck with a thundering crash.  Splinters of wood danced into the air.

Suddenly the ship gave a great shudder and an audible groan.

“Oh no!” cried Dexter. 

Suddenly water was everywhere.


_*Next Time:*_ What will happen to our heroes?  (All right, we’ll start calling them that...)


----------



## Lela

> *Next Time:* What will happen to our heroes?



 Um, they're going to be shipwrecked.  What part of that did you miss?


----------



## the Jester

*Aerisa*

Unfortunately for our heroes, there was nothing they could do but cling to the wreckage and hope that they ended up somewhere that there was land.

Lochenvar called out for his brother for about an hour, but there was no sign of him so he saved his breath after that.  He did not weep; he seemed a stoic individual.  The group was, however, joined by the halfling Stetson, seemingly a reasonably strong swimmer and lucky enough to have survived the confusion just before the sinking of the _Flying Fish._

“I hope your brother made it,” Malford called to Lochenvar, but the man didn’t even acknowledge him.

They rode the currents for a time.  _We were close to Aerisa,_ Malford thought.  _The currents there tend to sweep much ashore.  It is a hope..._

When night fell our heroes felt a certain measure of fear.  It was no more likely that a shark would attack them now than before, but somehow the ability to see what was out there was crucial to their bravery.  Even Malford’s infravision was useless, with the oceans being warm enough to mask almost anything.

_At least we won’t freeze,_ the gnome thought sardonically.

***

In the morning they washed ashore, exhausted.  The four of them found a stream nearby, drank thirstily, then ate a few fruits from some nearby trees and collapsed into sleep.

It was late afternoon when they woke.  A group of elves had quietly built a fire a hundred yards away; two of the elves were watching for the group to wake, and when they did at last the elves immediately offered them food, drink, new clothing, and other comforts.

“You were shipwrecked, yes?”

Dexter nodded, chewing hungrily on a fish on a stick that had been pulled from the fire for him.

“Well, you are on Aerisa.  It is a small isle, and simple; we have little, but we need little.  You will find life here to be easy and carefree, at least until the next ship arrives and you can find passage... wherever you’re going.”

“Um,” Dexter said around a mouthful of fish, “how often do ships lay in here?”

The elf shrugged eloquently.  “Occasionally.  Not regularly.  Perhaps four times a year.”

_I’m going to be stuck here for months, and I hate elves,_ Dexter groaned inwardly.  _Great.  Stuck with a bunch of arrogant pointy-eared..._  He sighed.  _I guess I’ll have to make the most of it._

But as the group was escorted to an elven village, Dexter found himself mellowing towards these elves.  The conceit of Forinthian elves that he’d met knew almost no bounds, but not so with these.  Though Galadorian, they were neither proselytizing nor judgmental.   

They were, in fact, downright pleasant.

Unable to hold his resentment of them, Dexter found his attitude shifting in subtle ways.  Galiger surely would not have approved.  Dex felt a momentary pang- they were friends, once- but pushed it roughly aside.  Malford was still his friend- his best friend.  He didn’t need Galiger anyway- he was a bad influence.

Dexter tries to recall the dream he had last night, but it’s so foggy- but he knows that this time wasn’t like the others.  He did not dream of the Light last night.  There were no glories of Heaven.

There was utter darkness, black and evil, shot through with spasms of chaos.  

It was from Bleak.  Hi, son, gotcher soul don’t you know.

Just makin’ sure you haven’t forgotten. 

No, indeed- Dexter can’t forget that.  No indeed.



_*Next Time:*_ Another reminder!


----------



## Lela

Can you give me a (brief) refresher on Bleak and Galador (sp?)?  How do they feel about elves?

I'm getting that Dexter if feeling guilty for liking the elves (as if it would offend Galador).


----------



## the Jester

Lela said:
			
		

> Can you give me a (brief) refresher on Bleak and Galador (sp?)?  How do they feel about elves?
> 
> I'm getting that Dexter if feeling guilty for liking the elves (as if it would offend Galador).




Hm, this is really two questions.  

As to Galador and Bleak:

Galador is the center of a vast and powerful monotheistic religion that, at the time of this thread, dominates everywhere the pcs have ever been.  He's the one who ignited the sun a million years ago (which orbits Forinthia, natch).

Bleak is the devil figure of the religion.  At this point in the campaign, if you're not a Galadorian, the Galadorians consider you to be a Bleakist.  There's an A or a B, but there's no such thing as C or None of the above.  Think of this period of Galadorianism as being the worst cliches of an overbearingly controlling monotheistic society.

Forinthia is the center of Galador's religion.  It's primarily human and dwarven in racial makeup (though there are numbers of others as well).  The humans and dwarves (but especially the humans) have conquered a vast amount of surrounding territory (often the culture does the conquering, bringing capitalist systems to mercantile cultures and taking over with a combo of religious indoctrination, military efforts, and intermarriage over a generation or two).

Until they went to Aerisa, the pcs had seen elves on Forinthia, who were snooty Galadorians or sullen anti-Galadorians who kept it to themselves (in either case rubbing the pcs the wrong way), and on Gorel.  The elves of Gorel are, of course, possessed of anywhere from genocidal hatred of outsiders to only a near-genocidal hatred of outsiders.

The elves of Aerisa were my attempt to show the players that not _all_ elves in the world were a buncha snots.  Keep in mind that this is still in the very early days of the campaign world- the above update takes place mostly in game 19.  The world had only existed, in real time, for 2 months and 2 days!  So there were a lot of things I was fleshing out as I went.  (The campaign started with a rough map of Forinthia and a few notes when the players demanded I run a game a few weeks after my old campaign world was eaten by Tharizdun.)


----------



## the Jester

*Another Reminder*

For the record, at this point the pcs in this group are:

_Dexter Nadly_- human psionicist 4; align N.
_Malford the Magnificent_- gnome thief/illusionist 5/4; align CN.
_Lochenvare_- human fighter 1; align NE.
_Able Steel_ (see below)- I believe human; fighter 1; align N.

Keep in mind that this is 2e, so Malford is more like a 5th level pc than a 9th level pc.

Regardless...



Lochenvare grunted as he pushed through the foliage.  The jungle was thick and humid, and he was sweating fairly profusely.  The muscles on his back glistened as he hacked a bush savagely with the machete he had purchased from the elves earlier, and said bush got right out of their way.

Since they had time to kill, our heroes had searched out what sign of adventure they could.  As it turned out, one of the few things Aerisa boasted was a host of old overgrown ruins.  Though there were doubtless several areas of ruins at various levels of overgrowth, our heroes could only easily discern the location of one, so it was towards that one that our heroes headed.

They had also, in the elven villages, picked up another companion- Able Steel.  Now, truth to tell, the memories are a lil rusty here, and Able only lasted two games, _and_ I don’t have his old character sheet in my ‘body bag’ file.  So I’m not sure- I might be makin’ this stuff up.  If any of my old players recalls this- Able was one of the only Cydran pcs played by Bo- I’d love some input and correction of the record.  

Anyway, if memory serves (hah!), Able Steel was a human warrior the group picked up, who, like them, had been shipwrecked and survived only through the clever vagaries of fate and that self-same current that had swept Dexter, Malford, Lochenvare and Setson ashore.  Now, as they were all adventurers, they were waiting for the next ship out- so it seemed logical that they should all check out the ruins together.

The ruins, when the party finally arrived at them, were surrounded by a crumbling wall on a little more than half of their perimeter.  Elsewhere, the stones of the wall had tumbled or been removed past the point of their serving as an effective barrier.  Within the wall there were a number of smaller buildings and a pair of larger ones; and as our heroes examined the interior, they were attacked by a pair of huge hungry lizards as long as Lochenvare was tall.  But the lizards could not stand before the furious power of our heroes, especially now that they contained a pair of fighters; and in a few short moments, the lizards lay dismembered or disemboweled on the flagstones of the ruins’ courtyard.

Searching out the ruins- with Malford watching for traps, and Dexter feeling a growing presentiment of danger- the party found a secret panel concealing a small vault.  As Malford opened it, however, a terrible thing appeared without warning in a sudden burst of black radiance!

It was humanoid, with two legs, but it looked _supple,_ like a snake; and where a man would have arms it had snakes.  Four long whipping snakes, fangs dripping caustic venom, struck out at our heroes!  In an instant it had bitten Lochenvare and he dropped, spasming and frothing at the mouth, unable to move.

Worst of all was the thing’s head.  It wore Dexter’s visage like a mask.

“I come for you, _Son of the Light,_” the snake-demon hissed.  “In the name of BLEAK!!  He will _have_ you!!”

Dexter swung his new staff, catching the thing in the head.  He shouted in anger as he did so, and both Able and Malford pressed in.  They battled fiercely against the thing for a few moments, and then Dex laid it low.  

He was shaking.  

He leaned his staff against the wall and pressed his head against the crumbling surface as well.  The cool stone contrasted bitterly with the burning heat of the scars on his forehead.  

“Lochenvare’s alive,” Malford announced.  “He’s just paralyzed...”  He glanced at Dexter’s face and shut up.

***

The secret vault held a gold box that contained a ring and a bag of 66 red coins.  The bag of coins and the ring were both magical.

They diced, and Lochenvare took the ring.  The coins went to Dexter.  

They immediately laid their curse upon him, though it was not to be recognized for quite some time.

***

When the ship arrived, they were overjoyed.  When it left, they were on board.  Already Dexter had tried to weasel out of paying for his food.


_*Next Time:*_ Back to Forinthia, and thence- where?


----------



## Lela

I kinda like the dicing method.  That's kinda fun.  And if my players didn't already have a tendency to claim anything that had any kind of aura before the others even knew it existed, I'd go for it myself!


----------



## Malford/Sheva

*testing*

grrr I posted a huge post and it didnt post it...moo


----------



## Malford/Sheva

*4th try is a charm? :/*

Wow first of all I have to say that this is a blast fromt he past...reading this is kinda like reliving 10 years ago.

I will help out and try to remember what happened as you go along.

Some small ammendments:

When we went back to question the widow of Dinagar, Morden Kein let it slip that we (me) had pilfered dinagars diarys against the widows wishes. The widow called her guards.  I think Malfords first move was to throw a dagger at Morden Kein cussing her out for being so stupid. It missed her thudding into the wall near her head. Guards rushed in, Malford cast a sleep spell that dropped the widow, a guard maybe, and Morden Kein (who failed her 90% elf resistance to sleep/charm, which I remember at the time suprised me greatly) In a tooth and nail fight to get out alive Malford cast a burning hands on the guards and set the curtains on fire. After besting the remaining guard Malford scrambled out of the burning building leaving behind the magically sleeping occupants to meet their fiery fate...So I guess he murdered them, but he didnt slit their throats..hehe

Also on the Parrot Isles, The sentinal guarding the magic coconut tree was tough and had a bunch of ward spells on him. While Dextor was distracting the guard. Malford shot the coconut out of the tree and had Polly his parrot familiar snatch it. (What is the air speed velocity of a parrot carrying a coconut?)

In retrospect reading these posts I have to agree with Jeff that alot of the best characters died premature...omg Craig's poor gnomes!! But it was a high fatality world no clerical necromancy available, down right vicious critical hits (As you readers have only got a taste of yet...chuckle) ,and just some plain ol sheer stupidity. All caused many a good man to go down before his prime. Just thinking about poor Vido makes me giggle "Why couldn't the spider have bit me in the arm, instead of the torso, cause then at least I could have maybe choped my arm off to stop the poison."

One thing that I think you have touched apon but should elaborate was that Dextor had a 6 charisma. In the begining he was a oily, pockmarked, overweight teenager. He had major major self-esteem issues. He hated himself, he hated his family, he hated his powers that made him different from everyone else, and most of all he hated the fact they he had a destiny that he could not control. Oh and my personal fav...HE HAD A BIG X'd OUT B BRANDED ON HIS FORHEAD, that he would try to cover up with bandanas and such. Dextor was Malford's salvation from the dark to the light, and what was originally pity was replaced with admiration.

I love what you have done so far keep it up, and I will try to chime in from time to time.


Paul A.K.A  Malford the Magnificent


----------



## the Jester

Back on Forinthia, Dexter, Malford Able and Lochenvare made friends with a fellow calling himself Ed.  He was another gifted fighter, so our heroes were glad to have him in their group.  The party then consisted of~ 

Malford the Magnificent (CN thief/illusionist 5/4)
Dexter Nadly (N psionicist 4)
Lochenvare (NE fighter 1)
Able Steel (N fighter 1)
Oedipus “Ed” Tyrannosaurus Rex (CN fighter 1)

While on Forinthia, our heroes visited both Port Lofrax and Frodrand.  Malford and Dexter had friends in both places; in Port Lofrax, he spent an evening with his confessor, Sheila.  She was _so beautiful-_ even though she would never be his, her beauty alone soothed many of Dexter’s savage moral pains.

In Frodrand they visited Valkor, the water-wizard who had hired them to investigate the Coral Caves.  They had a pleasant evening sipping liquor with him, with Malford now more of a peer to the other mage. 

Then, on the road back to Port Lofrax, where they were to meet Captain Drake to discuss the possibility of further adventures together, they were ambushed by a bounty hunter.  

Despite Dexter’s capture and release by the Inquisition, there was still a considerable price on Malford’s head.  When the attack came- a flurry of daggers from behind a screen of rocks- and two of the party’s three fighters went down with a series of spasms, our heroes were forced to respond with an all-out charge.

The bounty hunter was slim and quick, springing away from the group’s weapons with remarkable dexterity, then throwing another envenomed dagger.  This one caught Dexter in the shoulder, but he tore it free before the paralyzing poison took effect.  

Then Lochenvare charged forward, there was a sick wet crunching sound, and the bounty hunter dropped, headless, to the ground.

“There ya go,” Lochenvare grunted. 

The others were paralyzed but not dead.  In a few hours they were as good as new- barring the wounds they bore- and they moved on, hoping their last adversary didn’t have any friends.  He had, however, worn magic leather armor; and though it was too big for Malford to wear, the group could take it and sell it...

From Forinthia our heroes set sail, after persuading Captain Drake, for the Isle of Gloom, a small misty isle that had supposedly migrated outward from the Isles of Mist.  “It’s a dangerous place,” Drake warned; “There’s no telling what will be there... only that it won’t likely be friendly.”

The journey was interrupted one morning when the lookout spotted something odd.  Drake himself ascended to the crow’s nest to look and returned to the deck frowning.  “There’s an island there that isn’t on my charts,” he grunted, and stomped in to pour over his maps.  “Must be a new one!” he exclaimed.

“Time to take a look?” Lochenvare grinned.



_*Next Time:*_ The giant’s isle!


----------



## the Jester

*The Isle of Gloom*

Indeed, it was a new isle, risen from the depths through the magical devices of a powerful storm giant mage named Mabrack. 

Mabrack, if perhaps not exactly warm to his visitors, was not precisely cool to them either, and after Malford brought up the fact that he, too, was a wizard, and that regardless of their respective sizes, the spell formulae they had were worth discussing and, perhaps, a little trading back and forth.

They stayed only long enough for the spell trading to occur; Mabrack did not especially desire their presence, and as he seemed to be fairly well in charge of the isle there didn’t look to be profit to be had by mucking about with it.  (Clearly, our heroes weren’t about to try to fight the giant!)

So the ship sailed further on, to the Isle of Gloom.  A small skiff took the party to shore, and our heroes disembarked and set up a camp at the head of the beach.

That night they were attacked by a half-dozen sahuagin.  

The devil men of the deep were deadly foes, emerging from the waves and the dark night without warning.  They struck down the two crewmen with the party before our heroes were able to drive them off, slaying four of the six of the sahuagin.

Cursing their ill luck (already), the party moved their camp a little ways away from the beach, up into a hilly area overgrown with tall grasses.  In the morning, they set out to explore a little, and they met a native human named Ingen Jager.* Jager was a simple-looking fellow, with a large straw hat and simple robes. 

“What are you doing here?” Lochenvare asked.

“I seek solitude and a place for meditation,” Jager responded.  “There are few distractions here.”

Malford piped up.  “What about all the monsters there are legends about?”

“Those are the few distractions,” Ingen admitted.  “In fact, my meditations have been sorely tried lately by the trumpet beasts.”

“The what?”

Propitiously, just at that moment, a distant sound came to our heroes- very loud, but distant enough to be only distracting.  It resembled the sound a broad-chested, very loud person with absolutely no skill might make using a trumpet.

“Those,” said Ingen Jager.  A look of annoyance briefly crossed his mien.  

“Well,” suggested the ever-amicable Malford, “perhaps we could help you with your problem, and in return you could show us around the isle.  We’re adventurers; we’re looking for monsters to slay and loot to take!”

“Perhaps you’d care to join us?” offered Dexter.

Jager shrugged.  “For the moment; at least long enough to slay the trumpet beasts.  But I am an ascetic, you understand; I have no desire for fame or money.”

“Great!” Ed exclaimed.**  “More for us!”

***

The trumpet beasts turned out to be horse-sized beasts with powerful claws and a protruding nasal horn that flared open to remarkable extremes.  The party engaged three of them, and found them to be tough opponents.  They had savage claws and a deadly bite; but in the end our heroes prevailed, as they usually but not always have.  The trumpet beasts lain low, Jager sighed happily and immediately offered to escort the group to a lair he knew about.

”There are trogs there,” he told them.  “Perhaps worse, leading them.  This is not a kind island.”

Naturally, the party agreed, and headed immediately towards the lair.  Just inside was a minotaur skeleton, which they defeated (mostly through Dexter’s _staff of combat_).  Then, as they made their way inward, wave after wave of stench hit them- a smell like rotten fish mixed with vomit.  

_Trog-stink,_ thought Lochenvare.  He flexed his knuckles around his sword as they moved in, and soon an avalanche of troglodytes poured in at the group!

Gasping for breath in the foulness, our heroes cut them down in moments.  Jager proved a capable combatant with his bare hands and feet.  They searched the stinking corpses and found a few coins.  Then they continued along, blundering into a troll.

The battle that ensued wasn’t pretty; not at all.  Lochenvare dealt a few terrible blows to the troll, so it ripped his right foot off.  As he fell, Able Steel and Ed rushed in, flanking the monster and hacking savagely at it.  Malford hit it with an arrow of acid, and as it fell he finished it off with a _burning hands_.  

The troll wore a crystal pendant, so at least there was some loot. 

As they returned to the surface, Ingen Jager said, “You know, maybe I will join you after all.  That was fun.”


*A guest player’s pc.  He was one of the old-time players from my game back in the day, you know, starting with 1e before Unearthed Arcana and ending in the early 2e days.  He was only around for a couple of games.  There are lots of those...

**I just realized that there’s also an Ed in my halfling story hour.  Remember, this one is Oedipus.  Maybe I should just call him Oed or something to avoid confusion... but he went by “Ed,” so I try to honor it... hm.


_*Next Time:*_  The Secret Origin of Rajah!


----------



## the Jester

For my own clarity I post this now-

Dex et al- 5/19/96 O.L.G.

Lyr et al- 5/9/96 O.L.G.

Rajah- 5/9/96 O.L.G.

I might have to start dating my entries to help keep it all straight and maybe resolve a few dating issues I have goin' on... 

It's amazing how much writing the story hour helps tidy up my campaign's loose bits.


----------



## the Jester

*The Secret Origin of Rajah*

“This time there will be no escape,” Elcruche told Rajah cruelly.  He flipped his long mane of golden hair back over his impeccable uniform.  “If we have to, we’ll cripple you.  Don’t make it come to that.”

How could he, a man raised by tigers, be important enough for all this?  The question filled Rajah with dread.  His entire world would soon be spinning out of control.  The answers were not far ahead.

And Elcruche- did he know why he pursued his prey?  Rajah wasn’t sure, and Elcruche wasn’t telling.  His crew was very professional- very dangerous.

There would be no escape here.

A week into their journey Rajah was up on deck when suddenly the sky flashed from clear to overcast.  It was not as if clouds had suddenly rolled in, but rather as if they were suddenly _somewhere else_, as indeed they were.  Elcruche had piloted them through a seagate.

Another few weeks, during which Rajah was well-treated but always watched and given no chance to flee the ship, and he was shackled in orichalcum bonds and thereafter kept below decks.  Two days later he felt the ship pull into a port.  Elcruche and his men  hooded Rajah and took him off-ship in the dead of night, quickly escorting him to a gaol.

There Rajah was left isolated in a cell for a time.  The bars were orichalcum; he quickly found that he could not _dimension door_ beyond them, so he sat to await his fate.

_Where am I?_ he wondered tiredly.

At the end of the hallway, a door opened up.  A figure walked through, shutting it quietly behind him, then approached the cell Rajah was within.

The man was dark-skinned, with thin white hair tied back in a pony tail.  He wore some sort of military uniform- medal after medal hung from his breast.  He held a finger to his lips, urging Rajah to remain silent.  And he held a ring of keys.

“Please ask no questions yet, my lord,” the man whispered as he began inserting the keys into the lock on Rajah’s cell one by one, searching for the correct one.  “There is no time.  I am General Rygarh, and I’m here to rescue you.”  A key clicked, turning the lock over, and the cell door swung wide.  

“Come,” General Rygarh murmured.  “I will take you to a safe place, with friends.”

Rajah had little choice, so he followed Rygarh to the door he had entered through.  Quietly, the general cracked open the door and then slipped out, motioning for Rajah to follow.  He did, and found another man, with a long black moustache and a shaved head, waiting for them.

The man fell to one knee and bowed.  “My lord,” he choked out softly.

”There is no time, Unso,” Rygarh reprimanded him in a low voice.  “We must away.”

Unso rose, nodding, and shuffled a card out of a deck.  “Grab hold of my hand,” he muttered, holding it out to Rajah; he did as he was bid.  Rygarh put a hand on Unso’s shoulder.  The card Unso was holding was starting to shimmer and dance with an iridescent rainbow of color- the picture on the face of the card, a small cottage before a stand of trees, seemed to gather depth-
“Step forward,” Unso instructed, and all three did so; and then suddenly they were _there,_ before the cottage.

“Quickly, within,” Rygarh urged, and Rajah obeyed. 

***

Dorhaus was a large continent to the west of Forinthia.  Geographically, it is split down its north-south axis by the Bendrock Mountains, a long and strong chain of mountains that has long served as a political divider as well.  The southern parts of Dorhaus were mostly split between two great nations- the Kingdom of Thule, on the western side, and Imperial Wotan to the east.  The two nations were old adversaries; though currently at peace, it couldn’t last forever.  

The Emperor of Wotan was Tovan IV.  He had inherited from his older brother, whom it was whispered he had murdered.  Indeed, the last empress and all other potential dangers to Tovan’s claim to the throne had also been murdered.  

“The last empress had to die because she had just borne the Emperor a son,” General Rygarh told Rajah.  “Tovan knew that if her child were to live, his throne could never be safe.  So he had some of his most trusted agents sabotage and sink the ship she was sailing on, near Gorel.”

He paused.  Took a deep breath.

“We have reason to believe that _you_ are the rightful Emperor of Wotan.”



_*Next Time:*_ Well, what the heck does Rajah do now?  What does Rygarh want of him?  And what are those cool cards Unso has??


----------



## Lela

Dang.  No preasure Rajah.


----------



## Knightfall

I'm really liking this split storyline. So were you and your players playing all these encounters? Was what happened to Rajah roelplayed or is it just you fleshing out what ahppened to him, after the fact.

Cheers!

KF72


----------



## the Jester

Knightfall1972 said:
			
		

> ...so were you and your players playing all these encounters? Was what happened to Rajah roelplayed or is it just you fleshing out what ahppened to him, after the fact.





Yeah, we played it out.  It was a bit of a surprise for Jeff (Rajah's player), but there were a few clues dropped in advance (not enough to tell the whole tale, of course, but things like it being the Wotan Intelligence Service after him, etc.)


----------



## the Jester

Over the next few days, Rajah learned a lot.

Everything from his given name- of _course_ it wasn’t Rajah- to all about Unso’s cards, called trumps.  From stories of his Uncle Tovan, Emperor Tovan IV of Wotan, called Kinslayer by his enemies, to stories of the ancient rivalry between Imperial Wotan and the Kingdom of Thule to the west, across the Bendrock Mountains.

“That is why,” General Rygarh told him, “you must go there.  You will be safe... with friends.  Friends who are _enemies_ of the Emperor.”

“And you?”

“I must stay here as long as I can.  The Emperor is already suspicious of me; I must remain here to allay suspicion as long as is possible, and to slow pursuit as much as I can.”

Rajah saw instantly that this would mean the general’s demise.  “Rygarh...” he began, but the general shook his head.  

“What must be, must be,” he said firmly.

***

Rajah was assigned a quartet of bodyguards, including the halfling thief Werilith, a half-elven woman named Shendros who was skilled with both sword and spell, and two human men, Daniel and Proctor.  Daniel was a fighter; Proctor, who stayed always by Rajah’s side, an abjurer.

“Here,” Unso said the morning that the group was to depart.  “You must travel in stealth, move quietly and quickly.  If you become separated, these may assist you.”  The old man handed Rajah a packet of elegantly-painted cards.  “These are trumps that I have painted for you.”

Rajah fanned the deck.  Himself, his four bodyguards, Unso and Rygarh...

“You see, my lord?” Rygarh quirked a smile.  “All is not lost.  I may escape our enemies.”

Rajah glanced for the first time at the small box on Rygarh’s belt- the perfect size for a deck of cards.

“Good journey!” cried Rygarh.  “Let nothing interfere with your destiny!”

Rajah nodded and his little group set forth.


_*Next Time:*_  Who knows which thread I’ll pick up?  They all twine back together soon as they become entangled in Farenth’s game.  Perhaps we ought to look in on him...?  

We’ll see.


----------



## Lela

Dangit, I don't remember what those cards do.


----------



## the Jester

Lela said:
			
		

> Dangit, I don't remember what those cards do.




They feature fairly heavily in the high-level story hour (To War Against Felenga) and its predecessor (Agents of Chaos).

Trumps allow a person to make mental contact with the person or place on the trump.  If you get a strong enough contact, you can actually physically touch the person or place or even step through to them.  They're stolen directly from Roger Zelazny's _Chronicles of Amber_- excellent reading, especially the first series.


----------



## the Jester

*Farenth*

Ah, Farenth- now _there’s_ a topic.

As Galador and Bleak each started trying to pull Dexter’s strings in one way or another, Farenth, a lowly cleric of Darkness, sailed with him for a time, then was kicked off the vessel.  During this time, he grew to hate Dexter with a burning passion.  He hated Malford.  He hated Lyr, and Chanti, and Galliger; and by the time he was put ashore, he swore revenge against them all.

Farenth was dark-haired, with a trimmed beard and moustache.  His eyes held the kind of crazy light that usually means you should get the hell away from this guy right now.  When the party first met him, he was of average build; but as his obsession with his former shipmates grew, he ate less and less and became more and more gaunt and ruined.  A heavy diet of narcotics, spicy fermented drinks and psychedelic grubs began to twist the already-twisted man further and further from anything like conventional thought.

Farenth spent a number of months in planning.  The darkness carried him away on wings of evil; as the place he stayed in spun around his hallucinating eyes, he realized that Dexter was his antithesis- where Farenth had come from a life of good and privilege only to sink into the depths of depravity, Dexter had risen from the abysmal state he was in when Galliger was influencing him to a state of grace.  So what if Bleak got his soul when he died, so long as he lived?

Farenth began styling himself the Son of Darkness- the Child of Bleak.  It started as a metaphor, but spiraled quickly out of control in his crazed mind, and one night soon he believed that he had been visited by Bleak.  Perhaps he had; who can say what a visitation by one’s god will look like?  Regardless, Farenth somehow emerged from this terrible night, during which various objects had been destroyed and cast about the room violently (perhaps in his raving psychotic state he’d done it himself- again, who knows), and Farenth somehow had garnered a great deal of information concerning our heroes. 

He realized now that the only way to truly do justice to his hatred for Malford, Dexter, Chant, Lyr, and the rest would be to get them to kill one another.

He began to move the pieces into place.

Chanti, Lyr and the rest of the pirates (those were the two he _really_ hated) could be lured in if they thought they could kill Dexter.  Farenth was sure of that.  Chanticleer could be counted on to see to it; she wanted his blood, even if the others might not.  Make it look easy and they will come.

As to luring Dexter and Malford- that would be a little more difficult.  But Farenth put his evil mind to work on it and soon came up with a plan. 

He would kidnap the confessor.


_*Next Time:*_ Again, who knows which thread I’ll follow next time... but now you start to see the big picture!


----------



## Lela

> He would kidnap the confessor.



*Closes mouth*


----------



## the Jester

*Strogass*

*Current Lineup, Team Pirates*

_Vosh- centaur druid 3; N
Lyr- cleric 5; LE
Chanticleer Gildar-Ynarlslaand- fighter 5; CN
Akakathan- merellin bard 2/priest 2; NG_


“Land ho!”

The _Twikwakikikak_ comes alive with activity.  Captain Lyr ascends to the crow’s nest, using Chanti’s spyglass to gaze at the huge continent coming into view.

Strogass.

If Forinthia is the center of the worship of Galador, Strogass is its negative image, its opposite pole.  That is the legendary home of all chaos and evil, of all darkness; there is the wellspring of Bleak’s power on Cydra.  

And it’s _damn_ far from Dexter. 

***

Sailing along the coast the pirates spot a series of small towns, then what must be termed a city.  This, it turns out, is Bratamond. 

The people are pale of skin, with dark hair that tends to thin stringy strands.  Their eyes are dark and their clothes tend to dark colors and reds.  When the pirates disembark and wander about, they quickly realize that Strogass is a place where the strong rule through their fists.  They pass several beatings as they wander the city, listening to the odd local language.  It’s easy enough to find a merchant that speaks Forinthian, but speaking it draws attention.  

“Strangers,” an obsequious little halfling says to them in thick Forinthian.  “Could you spare a moment?”

Lyr nods imperiously.  “Speak!” she barks.  “And we already have a cook!”

“Oh, I have a job too- I am a manservant for a great and powerful wizard.  But, ah, that job has left me somewhat unprepared for my current dilemma.”

Akakathan snickers.  “Manservant,” he guffaws.

It develops that Weevil (the halfling) had lost a spellbook of his master’s while gambling on a sure hand of cards.  “Now he’s going to flay me if I don’t get it back!” Weevil whines.

“Well, that’s what you get for gambling with someone else’s spellbooks,” Vosh comments dryly.  

“Please, I’ll pay you!  And I’ll help you talk to the local merchants and such!”

After some discussion, the group agrees.  Beating up the sailor who won the book is a difficult task for a halfling manservant, but less than nothing to an experienced band of adventurers.  A few broken ribs and loosened teeth are enough to persuade the sailor (a swarthy fellow with a massive tattoo of a serpent across his left shoulder) to give the book up, and then our heroes have a translator for a few hours. 

The ship is outfitted with new material and goods to replace the supplies expended on the long journey.  New sailcloth, new rope, new timber.  More food, fresh water, whiskey.  Paint, sand, fishing line... the list goes on and on.  Weevil shows signs of regret for his offer to serve as an intermediary with the merchants after only an hour, but Lyr keeps him doggedly at it til sunset.

Finally, before they release him, they ask him about local areas of adventure.

“Well,” he responds, “there’s an old abandoned monastery that was home to an order of monks of Galador a long time ago...”

“A monastery of Galador?” Lyr exclaims.  “What a perfect Strogassian dungeon!”  With a smile, she asks, “Where is it?”


_*Next Time:*_ The Monastery of Galador!


----------



## Lela

Now we see a reverse dungeon delve.  This should be interesting.


----------



## the Jester

Lela said:
			
		

> Now we see a reverse dungeon delve.  This should be interesting.




The halflings in my Of Sound Mind SH are also on Strogass, though in the northeast rather than the south; but still!  You might see something like this again- or even, perhaps, this very place, should that party ever go this direction!

Of course, the halflings are almost 300 years after Lyr, Vosh, et. al.


----------



## the Jester

*The Monastery of Galador*

Six centuries before, a sect of Strogassian Galadorian monks sought to establish a monastery in service to the Light.  They acted quietly, turned all would-be visitors away, and carefully kept up the appearance that they were nonreligious.  But after a century and a half, they were found out.  The provincial governor of the time dispatched a large troop of undead and men and slaughtered the monks, despoiling the serenity of the area forever.  He then cursed the grounds in the name of Bleak.

Now a certain villainous party approached the plateau on which the ruins sat.  In the lead were Chanticleer Gilder-Ynarlslend, hero of Bleak, the centaur druid Vosh, and Lyr, harpoon-wielding priestess of the Sea, Sky and Land.  Straggling behind them came Akakathan, grumbling about the harsh dry air.  The merellin would stop occasionally to dribble a little water from his waterskin onto his forehead and neck.  

The party stopped a few hundred yards away.  “Vosh, go take a look for entrances.  Don’t get too close,” commanded Lyr.  The green-haired centaur nodded and galloped off, circumnavigated the outer wall at a distance of some forty yards, then returned.

“Looks like the wall’s crumbled in two places,” he reported.  “Two easy entrances- one of them looks to be the remains of the old gate.”

“Let’s take the back way,” said Lyr, and the group approached carefully.  The wall was made of hewn stone blocks fitted together carefully and mortared into place.  The entrance the captain chose was along the north wall, near one corner, and a small hole showed clear signs of assault from a catapult.  Clambering over a pile of rubble, the pirates made their way down into the corner of a weed-choked yard.  All around them were headstones.

“Careful,” Lyr murmured.  “We don’t want to wake any restless dead.”

“Galador’s too _weak_ to use the undead,” scoffed Chanti, kicking over a headstone.

Almost immediately the ground began convulsing.  Forms started clawing their way out of the bushes, some up from under the dirt of the graves.  In moments the adventurers were surrounded and battling for their lives!  The stinking, putrid undead were covered in filth and grime, and as they dug at their living foes with dirty claws they infected the wounds with terrible disease (although the party would not realize this until the morning).  Most wore the remains of priestly robes and Galadorian holy symbols.  More and more rose up, shambling forward to quickly engage the party.

But the pirates were quite capable of defending themselves.  After an initial moment of panic, Lyr rallied her troops.  “Form up!” she cried, thrusting mightily with her harpoon.  It crashed into the ribcage of the undead priest and she released it as she cast _flame blade._  The brilliant shaft of divine fire flashed all around her as she hacked left and right.  Vosh’s terrible hooves crashed down on first one heucuva, then another.  He knocked them back like toys.  Akakathan sang out, hoping he could help his friends, and Chanti’s blade was a veritable blur as she chopped mercilessly, grinning at the soiled holy symbols.  As she chopped one down, she exulted, “These were _priests!_”

Soon the battle was over, and though wounded, the pirates were intact.  Counting skulls, they determined that they’d faced fifteen opponents- not too bad, for a group of four!

“Still, we’re pretty beat up,” Lyr acknowledged, “so we’d best rest and heal before we try going back in.”

The others agreed, and the party withdrew about a half mile.  Chanti nervously set up a perimeter and kept glancing in the direction of the ruin as if expecting something to come after them.

Occasionally, though, instead of looking north towards the monastery, she would look long and hard to the west, towards Dexter, and her heart would burn with hate.  

Somehow, she knew, Strogass would bring them back together.  And she would _kill_ him.

_*Next Time:*_ Heucuva disease sets in!


----------



## the Jester

*Vosh In Love*

Sore joints, aching muscles, rebellious stomachs.  Akakathan, Chanti and Lyr groaned as disease set in.

The battle with the heucuva had its aftereffects.

_This isn’t good,_ worried Vosh.  He glanced at Lyr.  She was so beautiful- and dying!                                                                                                                                                       Clearly, this disease was beyond his limited powers, and his natural passions rose to the forefront.  Centaurs are creatures of hot blood.  He would not allow his friends to die!  He would not!  

Especially not Lyr.

Thundering off, Vosh rode to find help.  If he couldn’t save them, he would find someone else who could.  He rode hard to the south, towards the city of Bratamond, where the _Twikwakikikak_ lies at anchor.  Nobody on board will be able to help, but it’s a _city._  Vosh was sure there would be someone.  

‘Someone’ there was.  Vosh returned to his companions, nearly a full day later, exhausted and without having slept, carrying an apothecary on his broad back.  The old gnome dismounted and swiftly set to work, using potions and herbs to aid the others, whose illness was beginning to cause them delirium.

Vosh let out a ragged breath as he bit into an apple, brushing a lock of green hair from before his eyes.  _I’ve done all I can,_ he thinks dully.  _Now it’s up to him._  Another ragged sigh, and he wandered into the shade of a nearby tree to get some rest.

The apothecary was successful; and Vosh, once it became clear that the others were on their way to a full recovery, carried the gnome home with many heartfelt thanks.  When he returned again to the others, they were nearly ready to get back to work.

When the sun rose the following morning, it was time to return to the Monestary.

Vosh was filled with joy.  He had saved his love!  He smiled happily to himself.  He had fallen head over heels in love with his captain; and whether she cared for him or not, he would do anything to protect and serve her.

***

The group moved cautiously through the tumbled stones of the graveyard.  The corpses of the heucuva moldered all around them.  Chanti gave a head a kick as she walked by, sneering.  They passed a well and approached the main building of the monastery.  From their vantage, they could see choked fields of weeds overgrowing grain and vegetable lines both north and south of the building.  Behind it- to the west, opposite the cemetery- was some sort of pond.

Chanticleer approached the front doors boldly, her sword naked in one hand.  She threw the door open with the other.  Immediately a brilliant light spilled out at them, as bright as the light of the sun.  Squinting, frowning, Chanti took a step forward.  

To either side of the doors were two stone pillars carved with sun symbols.  Each glowed with _continual light._   A hole in the ceiling of the place had created a pile of rubble in one area; the rest of the room, though fairly intact, was empty.  

The group moved into the chamber.  There were a number of different possible routes from the entry chamber- a wide passage, an archway and two doors.  Lyr moved to one of the doors and threw it wide.  A hallway, with a room immediately to the left as well; she stepped up and glanced into the room.  It was some sort of kitchen, with more exits, including what looked like a trap door leading down.

Lyr turned and gestured for Chanti to take the lead.  “Let’s explore the rest of the hallway first,” she commanded, and Chanti moved down the hall.  The others fell in behind her- Lyr, then Vosh, then Akakathan.  

The hallway zigged and zagged, and soon there were many doors, most to empty meditation cells, to either side.  Occasionally, a room would be partially collapsed, but the monastery was surprisingly intact.  

Then, as the pirates hit a T intersection, turning right, Akakathan cocked his head.  “Do you hear something?” he asked, hesitantly.  “Squeaking?”

“Probably bats,” Chanti said dismissively, just as she stepped into what was obviously once a training room.  Two corpses lay on the floor.  Chanti’s eyes widened for an instant.

And then the stirges came, like a cloud of flying knives, descending from their roosts on the ceiling.  The party was unprepared for the huge swarm of bloodsuckers.  Chanti screamed as she cut left and right, ahead and behind, and stirges stuck to her like burrs.  Lyr screamed as half a dozen landed on her and sunk their proboscises into her, sucking her life and starting to bloat like cat-sized mosquitoes.  Akakathan stabbed wildly with his harpoon, desperately dodging the disgusting little parasites, while Vosh rushed forward, kicking out with his hooves and slashing with his scimitar.  

They fought like heroes while the filthy creatures buzzed around, alighting and draining them.  The stirges fell in droves, but there were nearly two dozen of them.  It seemed that for every one Vosh squished under his hooves, another two were flying around.  And Lyr!

She fell, four stirges still attached to her.

Vosh whinnied in consternation, screamed in fear, and dashed to her aid.

Chanti was weakening too, but still on her feet.  She saw Lyr’s predicament and tried to stagger over to her aid, but started to sink down herself.  Shaking her head, she stopped and mustered her will.  She tore another stirge from her own breast and crushed it, then rushed the rest of the way to Lyr’s side.

Akakathan speared the last two from the air with his harpoon, grimacing as he shook their corpses from his harpoon.  Then he, too, rushed towards Lyr.  Vosh began to wail.

They were too late.  Once again, their Captain was dead.


_*Next Time:*_ Who shall be the new captain?


----------



## Lela

the Jester said:
			
		

> The stirges fell in droves, but there were nearly two dozen of them.



I'm curious.  How many stirges are in a drove?  Is it like gaggles or flights?  At least 3?


----------



## the Jester

Lela said:
			
		

> I'm curious.  How many stirges are in a drove?  Is it like gaggles or flights?  At least 3?




Hmm, can't recall, I'd have to dig out my 1e books.


----------



## the Jester

*Chanti's Quest*

“Bleak has spoken,” the priest intoned solemnly.  Somewhere, someone rang a low bell.  Chanti shuddered involuntarily, in an erotic mix of fear and pleasure.  

She was in the fane of the main temple to the Black Sun in the town of Endros.  The group, demoralized after their foray into the monastery and subsequent loss of their leader, had retreated to this town; and here, Drakar the high priest, a foul-smelling dwarf with dirty fingernails laid a great honor on Chanti.

She had told him everything; of Galiger’s valiant efforts to overthrow the Light everywhere he went, of his betrayal and murder (from her perspective) by Dexter, of their ensuing flight to Strogass, of Lyr’s death.

“Your Captain Lyr was a heathen,” Drakar grunted.  “Bleak brought her here to bring _you_ here.  So that we could hear your story, and hear of this Dexter from one who has met him.”  The dwarf snarled.  “The Church of Bleak will aid you, child, as He has guided you all along.  It is _He_ who struck down your Captain, for He has no further need of a cowardly pagan.”  The dwarf’s eyes bored in on her.  “Who is Captain now?”

“I am,” she replied, “as I am the only remaining original crewman.”

He nods.  “Good.  We will aid you,” he repeated.  Then he turned and called to a back room, “Urdor!”

After a moment a squat, dark dwarf with an axe across his back and the Black Sun of Bleak emblazoned upon the breast of his vestments emerged.  “Master?” he grated.

“You will be accompanying our friends here,” commanded Drakar.  “We will be investing some significant efforts in your success,” he turned to Chanti.  “It seems advisable to attempt to aid you in what ways we can.  This is Urdor Darkwind.  He is a warrior, and a priest; he will assist you.”  Drakar rubbed his grubby paws together.  “And act as a moral and spiritual advisor.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Chanti responded, bowing low.

“More, we will send Delilah with you.  Urdor, fetch her; tell her to be ready to leave in four hours.”

Urdor hurried out.  

After a moment’s hesitation, Chanti asked, “Do you know of any way that we could protect ourselves against Dexter’s mind tricks?”

Drakar stroked his long full beard.  “Perhaps,” he said.  “Though it is nothing I can provide you, I can point you in the right direction.  There is an amulet that will protect an area from psionics.  But it was lost by its previous owner, a scholar of some note, when he was on an expedition to the Undersea beneath the Precipice.”

“The Precipice?”

Drakar smiled.  “The Eastern Precipice, more properly- an area where there is a cliff several miles high.”

“And this Undersea...”

“Is in the Underdark, beneath the Precipice.”

“And this amulet is there?”

“Perhaps.”  Drakar shrugs.  “It is a lead.  Perhaps investigation will turn it up.  In any event, that is the aid I can give you on that subject.”

At just that moment, Urdor returned, followed by a tall pale beauty of an elven woman.  She wore a violet dress whose color perfectly complemented her red hair and green eyes.  She bore neither weapons nor armor.

“Ah,” said Drakar, “Good.  This is the other assistance I can offer you- a conjurer of some skill.  Meet Delilah.”

Chanti nodded, dumbfounded.  _A cleric and a mage!_ she thought exultantly.  Things were looking up.  But why?

“Clearly,” said Drakar, “you have some idea as to your next move?”

“Dexter,” Chanti replied without hesitation.  “He must die.”  She sighed.  “But first we have to get this amulet.”  She paused.  “Unless Bleak needs something else more...?”

“Not at all,” Drakar demurred.  

***

The journey would take the group north and east.  The Church happily outfitted the group with a significant amount of gear to see them on their way; and so it was that they set forth, journeying northwards.  

Their new companions were very different.  Urdor maintained a laconic presence, barely speaking except when spoken to except to conduct the daily obsequies to Bleak.  He was a steady, stable figure, always in the same place- behind and slightly to the right of Chanti.  Delilah, on the other hand, was very dramatic, sultry, seductive, and mercurial.  She referred to herself by many titles- Delilah the Dead, Delilah the Damned, Delilah the Delicious, Delilah the Delightful.  She had a quick wit and a tendency to laugh at odd, sometimes inappropriate moments.  

Chanticleer was full of righteous energy.  She had been blessed in her quest to destroy Dexter by the priests of the Black Sun!  Food, ale, weapons, even a magic ring- she had been well equipped by them!  

If she knew what correspondence Drakar had seen, come from Farenth, she might have been able to puzzle out the trap he was setting, but she did not.

The journey was about two weeks long; along the way they were ambushed by an ankheg, which they easily dispatched (though Akakathan took a nasty burn when it spat acid upon him) and a family of four weird monsters with strange, badger-like heads; but instead of teeth, they had jagged bony ridges.  Their bodies were a strange mix of stag and lion, with cloven hooves on its feet.  Again, Chanticleer’s group of pirates managed to destroy them without too much trouble.  During these battles, it became clear that Urdor was able to hold his own in a battle, and that Delilah- standing far back- could use her conjuration magic to good effect.  In fact, she summoned a thumb-sized spider that poisoned one of their foes handily.  

Their journey took them up hill, but instead of rising and then falling again, the incline remained at a gentle rise for many days.  Many rills and small brooks ran down the slope.  Green grass and trees were abundant.  Soon enough the group reached the town of Kerm, which- according to Drakar- was near an entrance to the Underdark.  Not quite a city, the town was big enough to allow them their choice of inns, so they chose one where a bunch of scurrilous characters such as themselves could fit right in.


_*Next Time:*_ Into the Underdark!


----------



## the Jester

*Chanti's Quest, pt. 2*

We can hardly call these folks heroes.  They were villains, pirates, scoundrels and blackguards.  There was not a moral person among them, with the possible exception of the merellin Akakathan, who- by the present time in our narrative- was increasingly uneasy about his association with them.

Of course, it was too late to leave by this point; Akakathan already knew that he was with them for the duration.  But as his kind are naturally kind-hearted and generous, his own heart was growing heavier by the week.

Six days in the town of Kerm, staying at a very good inn called the Dragon Turtle Soup Kettle, left a local gnomish illusionist murdered and Delilah in possession of his staff, which was topped by a severed human hand.  She affected this proudly, along with the gnome’s gold ring and purse of fifty Imperials (the main Strogassian coin).  Then the group left town, heading for the fissure that led to the Underdark (according to the priest Drakar).

Chanticleer felt a strong, vicious sense of satisfaction at the fact that her pirates- _hers,_ now- were going to at last seek vengeance for Galiger.  _Dexter, you will pay for what you did,_ she vowed.  _I will kill you._

A journey of about ten days ensued, and near the end of it Delilah felt a sudden shifting in her perceptions.*  Suddenly she could sense the top of the staff, as if it were her own hand atop it.  Some experimentation revealed that she could use the hand to perform her spells’ somatic components.  _Intriguing,_ the quick-minded conjurer thought.  _And it took a week for me to become attuned to it.  I’d best make sure that I stay attuned, else my staff will be useless for nine days._ 

The final stretch of their march led them across a ravine and through a rock badlands.  The great Western Precipice that they were climbing thrust into the air, the ground broken and jagged.  Cliffs abounded.  The geography was astonishing.  Vosh shook his head.  Clearly, no natural process could achieve this.  The group continued to clamber upwards along a wide sharp trail that switched back and forth, sometimes at a severe slope.  

Suddenly there was a clatter of rocks to the group’s left.  They glanced in that direction and, to their horror, saw a tremendous monster emerging from behind a jagged pinnacle of rock.  It was easily 20’ long, with a reptilian body and a great fanged mouth.  Its scales gleamed bronze in the sun, and its dull eyes were focused on them.  Great wings spread from its back and it came winging towards them, hissing violently.

“Drake!” growled Urdor Darkwind, pulling out his battle axe.  

The monster flapped in among them and began tearing at them.  The villains scattered, spreading out to avoid presenting an easy target, and began fighting back with all their might.

Chanticleer engaged it in melee, her sword slipping beneath the beast’s scales and punctuating her intent to drive it off.  Urdor sliced into it with his axe, and the monster spat a blast of flame at Chanti, who weathered it with gritted teeth and kept hacking.  Delilah’s conjured spiders were skittering on the monster, biting at it, and Akakathan sang to motivate the group.  For indeed, a strong motivation was required to stand against such a horrible monster!  The drake bit and tore at Chanti and Urdor, but it was weakening; and Vosh’s smashing hooves confused and dazed it.  The party pressed the advantage, and in another minute it was over.  

Breathing hard, Chanti wiped the blood from her sword.  “I consecrate this victory to Bleak,” she declared loudly.  Urdor nodded approvingly.

The group followed the drake’s trail back, hoping they would find its lair and, if it had any, treasure.  They were quite successful.  A shallow cave filled with the monster’s shed scales and bones was also quite full of scattered treasure.  After about four hours of gathering stuff, they made a count.  In addition to roughly 4,000 gp in coins, they found three potions, a scroll, a longsword and a pair of spectacles that radiated magic, as well as a number of other items that didn’t.

“Wow, we hit the jackpot,” Vosh commented.  The others murmured an assent.

“I can _identify_ these, given time and a pearl,” Delilah offered.  

Chanti glanced at the sun.  “Let’s get to where we’re going first.  We still have a couple of hours before the sun goes down; with luck we can reach the entrance to the Underdark.”  She consulted her map.  “It looks like we’re almost there.”

And indeed, an hour later, they found themselves approaching a gash in the ground ahead, a deep rift of unknown depth and reasonable width.  At least the first portion looked to be a vertical descent.  

The sun was going down.  “Let’s make camp,” Chanti commanded.  “At first light, we’ll go down.”

Little did they know that their quest was to take them to the very Abyss itself.

_*Next Time:*_ Hmm, I think it’s time we got back to Dexter and co... just in time for Dex to become a cleric!


*Note that a Cydran week is nine days long.


----------



## the Jester

*Dexter's Choice; and, Dexter's Voice*

Dexter, Malford, Lochenvare and Ingen Jagar continued their adventures together.  Ed, for reasons of his own, decided to quit the group for a quieter life.  “Risking my life just about every day is fun for a while,” he told them, “but sooner or later my luck will come up.  I’m ducking out now, before that happens, and after I’ve made a few gold.”

Wishing him well, the others prepared to move on from the Isle of Gloom.  

Dexter spent a good deal of time by himself, thinking.  The scar on his forehead itched or burned sometimes; it was never long without a reminder of its presence.  He thought of his soul, consigned to the darkness of Bleak, and of the terrible torments he was bound to face once he died.  He contemplated his young life, and what he had so far done with it- not much good, that’s for sure.  Not much at all.  

_I’m only seventeen,_ he thought miserably.

The snake demon lunging for him returned to his thoughts.  _Son of the Light, he called me.  And he was after _me,_ specifically- not Malford, not anyone else, me, Dexter Nadly._  He shuddered.

Heaving a sigh, Dexter raised his face to the setting sun.  The sky was filled with orange and pink clouds- a gorgeous example of the beauty the sun can bring forth.  _All right,_ he said silently.  _All right.  I’ve turned from Bleak to You, and he knows it and he’s pissed.  He’s coming for me, and eventually- in the end- unless I can come up with something awfully tricky- he’s going to get me.  Galiger, some other priest, Bleak himself- somehow he’ll get me.  But not without a fight._ 

Dexter, for the first time in his young life, stood with his back completely straight and his head held high.  The warmth of the sun was invigorating him in ways he’d never been invigorated before.  He could feel it spreading through his limbs like the warmth from a stiff drink.  But instead of drunkenness, it brought him a strange lucidity.

“Galador,” he said aloud, “if this is how it’s going to be, then this is how it’s going to be.  If I have turned from Bleak to you, let me do it completely.

“I want to be your cleric.”

And bowing his head, Dexter prayed- really prayed- for the first time.

***

The change in Dexter was not immediately obvious.  He wore the same simple garb, and he still wielded the _staff of combat_ in battle.  But philosophically, he had turned a corner.  No longer would Dexter be morally wishy-washy, easily pulled from one position to another or persuaded to a new belief.  He declined requests for the use of his psionic powers, stating that he had to remain focused on other things.  Slowly, haltingly, Dexter started to speak about peace, and to declare that not all other religions were deceived followers of Bleak.  It was only a start, and he had not yet discovered that he was possessed of the Voice of God.

The group sailed to Forinthia, where Dexter would for the first time meet High Priest Spadron, the Voice of Galador on Cydra.

It was a combination of his reputation- nobody had forgotten his telepathic deception and murder of the clerics a year and a half earlier- and the heresies that he was preaching that brought him to the attention of High Priest Spadron, but it was not until he showed signs of telepathically deceiving others again that Spadron called for Dexter to be brought before him.

***

Upon disembarking in Port Lofrax, the group sought lodging, but everywhere they went Dexter protested the price.  Finally, they settled for renting rooms in a drafty, ramshackle place in the slums.  

While they were in the common room, a priest of the Light was haranguing the crowd, trying to convince them to give up whatever heathen, idolatrous or backsliding ways they might have.  He ranted on for quite some time, first arguing against Bleak, then against moral lassitude, then against druids, as they were agents of Bleak.  It was then that Dexter first spoke up on Forinthia, arguing with the other cleric, who eyed him askance.  And then Dex became aware of the Voice when he spoke.

*”Not all things that are not Galador are Bleak.”*

A gasp arose from all around him, including his own throat.  The other cleric’s jaw dropped.

It was the Voice of Galador.  

Everyone present knew, without a doubt, that the voice that had issued from Dexter’s mouth was far more than merely his voice- it was voice of their God.  The crushing weight of the voice’s nature was inescapable.  It could not be denied.  Galador spoke through Dexter.

Lochenvare shrugged and took a drink.  “Never took much with religion,” he muttered, but he was clearly shaken.  

Malford gaped at the young friend he’d taken it upon himself to protect.  _What have I gotten myself into?_ he wondered dizzily.

***

Upon hearing of the incident in the slums, the High Priest called for the immediate arrest of Dexter Nadly.  _Psionic trickery,_ he thought grimly.  _Well, we’ll see how tricky he is faced with me._


_*Next Time:*_ Dexter and High Priest Spadron meet for the first time!


----------



## the Jester

(I'm cross-posting this to all my current and recent story hour threads.) 

Well, gang, Lester's player is having a baby so he's not gonna be able to game with us nearly as often as he previously has. 

Since neither of us are made happy by this, we've been discussing playing a game by email, but it occurs to me that there's a great place to play a game via the messageboards, so I've proposed this to him. I like the idea- even if he's not big on it, I think that before too long I'm going to start a Cydra play by post for people who can't come over to my house to play.

Any of my readers interested in getting involved with this? Especially if you can post once per day or more. I'll probably be posting a recruiting thread soon, but I'll give you guys first chance to jump on the Cydra wagon.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

*SIGN ME UP!*

I've been a huge fan of your stuff for ages, and I'd love to have the chance to play in one of your games. In fact, I think with the assent of randomling, we could offer you a personal forum on randomlingshouse.com in which to store house rules, feats, classes etc etc. And the game itself, of course!

But seriously, yes, please let me create a character and go for it.


----------



## Angel of Adventure

*Jester's Cydra Post Game is in Talking the Talk*

Check it out, Tallarn.  Looks like there are 2 other people who want to play at this point.  I look forward to playing with you.  Any idea of what story threads you may want to pursue?


----------



## the Jester

Tallarn, here's the recruiting thread.  Head on over and start rollin' your character!


----------



## the Jester

*Dexter and Spadron Meet for the First Time*

Dexter was on the street when he was accosted by the Imperial Guard. 

“High Priest Spadron requests your presence,” the commander of the squadron said.

There was a moment of silence.  Dexter’s body went cold.  What was happening?  What did the High Priest want of him?

He thought on the incident with the Voice and gulped inwardly.  Aloud, he answered the Imperial soldiers with a simple, “All right.” 

Our heroes were relieved of their weapons and escorted along the wide Main Road of the city.  They wound their way among wooden houses crowded together, with an occasional stone front; many small shops, bars and churches were stuffed in with the homes.  The cobbled street led up the subtle rise that led to the great Cathedral of Port Lofrax.  Dexter’s breath caught in his throat as the rays of the sun scintillated off the stained glass windows depicting the saints, the sun, Galador’s radiant power in victory over Bleak.

Into the Cathedral of Port Lofrax the heroes went; and Dexter was led, alone, into a large ostentatious office, well-appointed with comfortable chairs and a large shelf of religious tracts and books of philosophy.  A fire crackled in the fireplace; the windows were flung wide to allow the sun in and the smoke out. 

“Your Eminence, this is the boy,” one of the guards declared in an emotionless voice. 

A dwarf rose from his seat.  He wore the white, red and gold vestments of the High Priest of Galador, and his beard was so long that he wore it as a belt.  Gold rings were upon his fingers and a holy symbol of purest gold, centered with a great sunstone that glowed from within with a _continual light._  High Priest Spadron.

“Dexter Nadly,” Spadron said flatly.

Nervously, Dexter bowed his head.  “Uh, yeah, that’s me.”  He winced; his voice sounded arrogant, but when he tried to modulate it- adding “I’m Dexter”- he sounded whiny and frightened.  He groaned inwardly.

Rage filled the High Priest’s face.  “You have admitted your previous crimes, and repented of them,” he growled.  “You have sworn to serve the Light and to follow His ways.  _And yet you are returning to your ways of trickery and mental deception!”_

“What?  No!” exclaimed Dexter.  “I’m not- I haven’t-“

“Do you think we do not _hear_ what happens in our own cities, Nadly?” cried Spadron.  “We have heard of your cruel taunting of one of our priests in the tavern!  Interfering with him as he tried to spread the word of the Light!”  His face contorted with passion.  “And you dare to stand before me and tell me that you still walk in the Light?!”

For a moment all Dexter can think of is being back in the tender grasp of the Inquisition.  “Yes,” he says at last, mastering himself.  “I haven’t lied to anyone, I haven’t tricked anyone, I haven’t even used my psionics since I returned to Forinthia!  I swear to you, I am a good man now- I’ve repented and changed my ways!”

“Then how do you explain your deception of Father Zakariah?  No, Nadly; your honeyed words do not sway me!  You were warned when you were allowed to leave before- if you returned to your evil ways, you will be punished.  Well-“

Taking a deep breath, Dexter prayed to Galador.  _Please, Galador,_ he begged, _if ever you favored me, favor me now.  If- if I can speak in Your Voice, let me do it now.  Save me from Your own Church!_

And he spoke, in the Voice of Galador.  Behind him he heard the Imperial Guards gasp.  *”I did not lie, nor did I use my psionics; the Lord truly spoke through me.”*  He let out a long, deep breath, barely believing it himself.  _It worked,_ he thought in a daze.  _I really _can_ speak in the Voice of Galador.  It worked!  Now Spadron _has_ to believe me!_

Spadron glared at Dexter, his face purpling.  “How... how _dare_ you!” he spluttered. 

And then he, too, spoke in the Voice.  *”You are a heretic and a murderer!”* 


_*Next Time:*_ Well, isn’t this a pickle!


----------



## the Jester

Tallarn said:
			
		

> *SIGN ME UP!*
> 
> I've been a huge fan of your stuff for ages, and I'd love to have the chance to play in one of your games. In fact, I think with the assent of randomling, we could offer you a personal forum on randomlingshouse.com in which to store house rules, feats, classes etc etc. And the game itself, of course!
> 
> But seriously, yes, please let me create a character and go for it.




Tallarn, if you haven't seen it, here's the thread for characters.


----------



## the Jester

*The Stone Block*

High Priest Spadron could not believe his ears.  _The Voice- coming from him, from the Nadly boy!  How is it possible?_

And yet- Spadron’s denouncement of him, spoken in the Voice as well, was clear and unequivocal.  One could not lie in the Voice.  It was infallible.  Dexter was, indeed a heretic and murderer.

And that was his answer, as well.

”Yes,” Dexter answered Spadron’s accusation heavily.  “I have practiced heresy and even Bleakism.  I have murdered, even priests of the Light.”  Eyes blazing, he raised a shaking hand to the terrible scars on his forehead.  “That is why I wear this!  The mark of Bleak, branded on me by the Inquisition- and later crossed out with hot metal as well.  I _have_ committed terrible crimes- but I have repented.  I have come into the Light.  And now-“ Dex glared at Spadron *“-now I even act as His cleric.”*

Spadron glowered from behind his beard.  He considered for a long moment.

“You will be watched,” he snapped at last.  Then, to one of the guards, he barked, “Summon Lady Keen.”

***

Dexter’s first warden was Lady Charlotte Keen, an ugly paladin whose shield bore a sword above a kocho before the sun, rising over the mountains.  Though not too clever, she was very wise, and warned of Dexter’s wiles.  She was to keep a close eye on him; to report back to Spadron by letter; and to ensure that Dexter did not perpetrate any crimes against the people of Forinthia or the Church of Galador.  A tall order, but a paladin of House Keen was certainly capable of fulfilling the task.

Reluctantly, she left her lands and friends to join the party.  Reluctantly, they let her.

***

“Thule, that’s the key,” Malford insisted.  “The king of Thule is without an heir.  _I_ can make him a potion that will help.”

“Then let’s go,” Lochenvare answered.  “I can’t stand Forinthia.  The Imperials are everywhere, gettin’ into everyone’s business.”  He snorted.  “I’m not going to church on Godsday.  Darken that.”

“Right,” Malford said.  “The capitol is called Fuzia.”

***

The Kingdom of Thule was far to the west of Forinthia.  It was on the western side of the westernmost continent in the region, Dorhaus.  The passage our heroes bought took them to the south coast, from whence they continued overland.  They traveled through heavily forested areas, thick groves of maple and oak spreading branches above thick undergrowth.  Eventually they came out on a path and followed it west and somewhat north; this lasted them for a week, including several stops in small communities, and by the end of it the forest had thinned and the ground had taken on a rolling character.  Little rills and brooks burbled between the hills and occasional frog-filled ponds dotted the landscape, yet after a few more days the party had come into a dryer area.  They crossed over a small hump of mountains, skirting the edge of a great wall that separated the open fields of two great adversarial nations (Thule and Wotan).

On the day they passed the wall, about five miles north of it, they met an interesting sight.  A pale little gnome with greasy black hair was puzzling over an artificial-looking block of stone.  Halting, the party inquired as to what was going on.

“I’m trying to move this block,” he explained, and went on to tell our heroes that there were goblins beneath.  “They raided my people,” the gnome went on, “and I wish to exact an agonizing revenge upon them.”  He gave an evil grin.

“I can understand that,” Lochenvare nodded approvingly.

Lady Charlotte glared at him.  “He’s evil,” she said.  Lochenvare smirked, out of her detection’s area.  

“Nonetheless, there are goblins down there,” Malford replied.

“Right,” said Dexter.  “And I’m sure that we can be a good influence on both this fellow and the goblins.”

Charlotte made a mental note: _consorting with evil._

***

The block was very difficult to move, but with the burly Lochenvare there to throw his back into it, as well as Lady Charlotte (who seemed possessed of nearly superhuman strength), our heroes managed.  A stinking hole was revealed, and our heroes dropped in, Lochenvare and Charlotte in the lead. 

They fell right into a goblin ambush, unfortunately for the goblins.  Moments later, cleaning their weapons off, our heroes glanced around the chamber they were in.  There were two exits.  

“I’ll check this one out,” Ingen Jager offered, and crept off to the left.

“He’s brave,” murmured Dexter. 

Lochenvare snorted.  “Yeah, but he should try using weapons instead of his hands.”

There was a noise down the hall Ingen had gone into- a sort of ‘thump- splash.’

“What was that?” wondered Lady Charlotte, drawing forth her rapier.  

And then the ogres came.


_*Next Time:*_ Ingen Jager’s fate!


----------



## Lela

Ooooo, stuck up paladin fun!


----------



## the Jester

*Ingen Stew*

Our heroes dispatched the ogres with aplomb and hurried forward, seeking Ingen Jager.  They found him, broken and half-boiled in the ogres’ stewpot.  

“He died well,” Lady Charlotte said.

Lochenvare snorted.  “Told you he needed somethin’ to fight with.”

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted.  The ogres, it seemed, had not been alone.  A sudden battle cry- _”Mynar!!!”_- came from behind the party, and even as they turned to face their new foes they realized belatedly that they were in a fair amount of trouble.  A _cone of cold_ of such blistering intensity that it almost killed several of the party!  Charlotte collapsed, as did the gnome.  

Teeth chattering from the rime of frost now covering them, the party swung about to face their attackers, and one of them sprang forward, dealing a daunting blow to Lochenvare with a cruelly-spiked flail.  Behind him, the other human made a gesture and suddenly sprouted _mirror images_.  And rushing forward, passing him by, came another troupe of goblins!

“Sleep!” Dexter _commanded_ the fellow with the images, but the robed man snarled and shook the spell off.  He began to make spellcasting gestures, and Malford watched helplessly as a volley of _magic missiles_ sprang into his young friend Dexter.  

_Five missiles,_ Malford thought grimly.  _He’s a potent spellcaster- far more potent than I._  Swiftly, he intoned the words to an _invisibility_ spell and began maneuvering into position to perform a backstab on the wizard.

Lochenvare, meanwhile, was beginning to overpower his foe.  The goblins were a distraction, but his heavy plate armor turned most of their blows.  The human was more dangerous, and Lochenvare determined to change that situation as quickly as he could.  His axe whistled into the man’s side with a sick ‘thunk,’ and he collapsed to one knee, groaning.  With a smug grin, Lochenvare brought his axe down again. 

The others dueled with the goblins, but now that Lochenvare’s attentions were free, he was certain to make short work of them.  But what about the wizard...?

Just then a burst of flame enveloped the multiple images, and the wizard yelled in pain.  Then there was a flurry of motion as Malford’s two-handed attacks pierced him again and again.  A few minutes later it was all over. 

Lochenvare grunted, surveying the carnage.  

***

After ascertaining that whatever the humans had been up to was done- surely it must have been something no good- our heroes traveled along their way.  The next morning Malford announced that they needed a day’s rest so that he could try to _identify_ the items the humans had carried that he had detected to be magical.

It turned out that they had acquired a _ring of protection from blades, a potion of flying_ and a pair of _gloves of mirror image._  Dexter took the gloves, which would serve him well for almost his entire life.


_*Next Time:*_ The first appearance of the Temple of Elemental Evil in Cydra!


----------



## the Jester

At this point, the party consists of:

Dexter Nadly (priest 2)
Lady Charlotte Keen (paladin 1)
Malford the Magnificent (thief 6/illusionist 5)
Lochenvare (fighter 3)

Plus 3 random pcs who were only there for one (or, in one case, two) games and thus have remained hitherto unmentioned:

Mikal the White (fighter/mage 1/1)
Jakal (ranger 1)
Aulkon the Weak (thief 1)
Strewn (mage 1)

Though I usually try to give passing reference to passing pcs in the story hour (witness Oedipus), these guys didn't really do _anything_ that I recall; they may have been involved in one (or possibly two?) fights at most in the next update, but I don't think any of them are ever seen again.  *shrugs*  Just thought I'd mention them here for the sake of completeness.

Also note that Dex, under 2ed rules, is dual classed and has the abilities of a 5th-level psionicist.


----------



## the Jester

*Into the Temple of Elemental Evil*

_Morning, 9/3/96 O.L.G._

Malford poked at the fire.  It was still small, but it was quickly growing.  He tossed a few more pieces of kindling on it, warming his fingers over it, thinking about breakfast.

A heavy sigh emitted from the lump of bedding that contained Dexter.  He never wanted to get up early enough to get an early start.  Malford shook his head, smiling to himself.  At least the kid was still alive.

The gnome turned to the ring in his hand, emblazoned with an odd triangle.  Not magical, yet... something about it...

Lochenvare joined him at the fire, bringing a skin of wine with him.  “Morning,” he said.  Malford nodded to him, deep in contemplation.

Finally, “I think we should go back to that stone block.”

Lochenvare looked at him in surprise.  “Why?”

Malford tossed him the ring.  “There were several of these in there, on various things- one of the ogres, those guys we thought were maybe adventurers, the lead goblin...”  He looked at Lochenvare.  “There was nothing actually happening in there.  They were part of some kind of cult, but we missed the real action.  I’m convinced of it.”

The big fighter nodded slowly.  “All right, sounds good to me.  Just as long as there’s something to kill.”

***

_Noon, 9/4/96 O.L.G._

There was a secret trap door in a room beneath the stone block that only turned up after a search that included moving the goblin bedding.  Our heroes gathered around it and Dexter threw it open while Lochenvare held himself at the ready; but what was revealed was a passage.

After a brief scouting foray by Malford that turned up no immediate sign of danger, the group dropped into the hall and began exploring- and, unknown to them, the very rings that Malford had been examining the morning before, were the keys the group needed.  One step past a certain part of the passage and they passed through an invisible portal and to a dreadful set of passages, rooms and halls beneath a ruined temple.  

Not that they knew that, of course.

Almost immediately as the group moved along they encountered a room full of guards.  These were dispatched handily, and Charlotte frowned at the strange symbols they bore.  “Evil cultists,” she muttered, distaste evident in her voice.

Lochenvare grinned.  “Whatever, as long as we get to kill ‘em.”  She grimaced at him.

The band of adventurers tore through several more rooms of guards with ease.  The bandits they faced, used to bullying peasants and halflings, were no match for a band of ogre-slaying adventurers.  Charlotte’s holy wrath terrified the guards; and the expression of lust on Lochenvare’s face as he cut through them almost broke more than one band of guards.  But whatever fear they felt of him was not enough to break the hold of the terror they felt of their masters; and the guards fought to the death.

Numerous minor wounds and cuts were on the party by this time; their major wounds had already been healed by Dexter’s relatively new clerical talents to bruises and abrasions.  Nonetheless, nearly out of spells, they retired back to the surface (again unknowingly passing through the portal) and rested up for a couple of days.  Then they descended again to do more of the same.  

They found ample evidence that this place, whatever it was, had once thrived with more activity.  Abandoned armories, occasional rotten stores of food, thick layers of dust and cobwebs- all swore to the fact that once, this place had been much more thickly inhabited.  

Then the group ran into a room hosting a pair of gnolls, led by a dazzlingly handsome man in full plate and shield embossed with a scarlet flame.  His green eyes burned with the intensity of the mad.  The room was smoky with the vapor from a dozen braziers that burned.  At one end of the chamber was a huge pit of blazing flame.  “There!” the fire cultist screamed.  “Get them!” –and the gnolls raced forward to engage our heroes.

While the party dealt with his lackeys, the evil elementalist priest- for so he was- cast a _fire shield_.   Then he turned to the great pit of fire and began raving weird nonsense-sounding syllables.  And the fire seemed to respond- a great serpent of fire started to emerge!

Our heroes by this time were ready for the cultist, however.  Malford warned the others, “Don’t hit him directly!  That _fire shield_ will burn you if you do!”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” growled Lochenvare, waving his cutlass threateningly as the elementalist drew his mace and moved in to attack.  Lochenvare parried, then grinned as a series of arrows and stones whacked the man.  

“You fools!” the elementalist raved.  “The element of fire will consume you all!”

The serpent of fire lashed out, grabbing Lochenvare.  He yelled as it drew him into its blazing coils.

“Uh-oh,” muttered Dexter, and lashed out with his _staff of combat_ despite the dangers of the _fire shield.

Clunk!

“Stoneskins,”_ groaned Malford.*

The party danced with the elementalist, throwing things, shooting arrows, casting spells (Burning hands_ probably won’t work too well against this guy,_ Malford thought ironically).

It was a difficult battle.  Lochenvare struggled to free himself from the constricting tendril of fire, and Malford managed to dispel it and free him.  Meanwhile Lady Charlotte fired her crossbow at the foe again and again while Dexter drew him on about the chamber.  

_Hmm,_ Malford thought desperately, _what if he _isn’t_ warded against fire?  His _fire shield_ looks to ward against cold- which is logical- but..._

Desperate, he sprang close to the man and cast his _burning hands_ at him.

Rubis- the elementalist in question- gave out a yell of pain.  _Gotcha!_ thought Malford.  Then, suddenly, there was a terrible explosion.  Malford threw himself flat, avoiding the worst of the blast, but Rubis was not so lucky.  He had worn a flask of _oil of fiery burning_ and it had been caught by the spell; he could not survive that.

The party backed off while his body blazed.  When it finally burned out, they searched his remains and found that a pair of potions had somehow survived (not so a few other items).  They took them and, badly wounded, retired.

On their way out, Lady Charlotte commented, “This place is evil to the core.”

Dexter nodded.  “I can’t help but have the feeling that something _bad_ is going to happen here.”

The group, still oblivious to its existence, passed through the portal once again and returned to their camp site.

Indeed, though he wouldn’t know it for another few days, Dexter was very right: something was to happen there that would change him forever.  Something terrible.


*In 2e, _stoneskin_ made you pretty well immune to a certain number of physical attacks.


_*Next Time:*_ What’s up with Rajah, anyway?


----------



## the Jester

*Beginning the Journey to Thule*

_10 am, 6/6/96 O.L.G., western Imperial Wotan_

Rajah and his four bodyguards began their dangerous journey from Wotan to Thule.

Dorhaus was a huge landmass compared to anything else in the Near-Forinthian Region.  The only thing of comparable size was Valonia, and Valonia was hardly inhabited by humankind at all.  Here, on Dorhaus, was where many of the existing human territories were.  The continent was almost squarish in shape, with a long seam of mountains that ran from its northernmost reaches down the center of the continent, splitting it roughly in two.  The eastern side was almost completely taken up by the sprawling lands of Imperial Wotan and its dependants, the Prince’s Hold, the Barony of Goldstone and so forth.  Directly across Wotan’s northern border was the Kingdom of Chorania, which, while not technically a dependant of Wotan, was too close to be anything else but a satellite.  North of Chorania was its traditional foe, the Kingdom of Bemvia.  Bemvia was, of course, was thick with Thule out of self-interest; with Wotan behind Chorania, Bemvia needed a counter-balance.

To the west of the Bendrock Mountains there were two major forces: the Kingdom of Thule- Wotan’s constant foil- and the fey folk and half-elven states.  Greater Ketzia, as the north was then known- was a place few humans dared go.  It was said that the fey folk ran through the entire north and loved nothing better than tricking humans into getting lost, stealing their babies, hunting folk, and so forth.  The half-elven lands of Moire and Morraine took up the northwest of the continent, and they were thickly tied to the Ketzians.  How thickly, no one knew.  

The journey to Thule from Wotan naturally required either travel by sea- a very dangerous proposition, with the Imperial forces on the lookout for Rajah- or a trip through the mountains.  Though dangerous as well, at least in this case the dangers were less Imperial in nature and more likely to come from native humanoids or monsters.

At least, that’s what General Rygarh had told Rajah.

The journey to the mountains took a week; then the group started to move upward.  At least there had been no sign of pursuit.

***

_3:30 pm, 6/28/96 O.L.G., the Bendrock Mountains_

Grunting, the last of Rajah’s assigned bodyguards pulled himself up onto a ledge.  

The group was breathing hard, but they were making good progress.  Rajah asked, “Where’s the border?”

Shendros, the half-elven fighter/mage assigned to Rajah, shook his head.  Wryly, he answered, “It depends on whose troops are closer.  The border between Wotan and Thule isn’t really demarcated in the mountains, and even if it was, it wouldn’t be honored much.”

Rajah pondered this for a moment.  “I don’t really know the geography here- what about the border where there aren’t mountains?  Might it be easier to pass through there?”

“It’s a wall, M’Lord,” Proctor answered.  Proctor was a human abjurer.  “Believe me, the mountains are our best way of going undetected.”

Rajah nodded.  He glanced back at the peaks they’d already navigated through and shook his head.  “Well, let’s keep going, then.”

They moved forward about another mile before the ambush.  

Suddenly there were cries in orcish, and a troop of humanoids rushing down the slope at them.  “Behind me, M’Lord!” cried Proctor, and he began calling out mystic syllables and trying to ward Rajah with his spells.  The other three bodyguards, weary but willing, drew steel.  

“Get them!” a voice roared in Forinthian, and Rajah gasped as he saw the half-elven figure on the hill.

_Elcruche!_ he thought, and then there was no more time for thought; the orcs were there.  Rajah sprang forward, ripping his thick claw-like nails along one’s face, but another, wearing the black sun of Bleak, stepped up, some sort of large cube in his hand.  The bodyguards surged forward.  Rajah tried to spring to the side. 

The orc cackled wickedly, holding the cube up, and Rajah felt a sudden moment of disorientation.  His bodyguards gasped as he vanished.  “My Lord!” shrieked Werelith, the halfling, and then grunted as one of the orcs’ scimitars nearly got through to her.  

“Run!” cried Shendros, and the bodyguards broke.  

Still chuckling, the orcish cleric turned as Rajah’s companions fled, and with a single great blow of his axe he brought Proctor down.  The abjurer groaned as he rolled on the ground.  He could feel his blood pouring all over him from his back, somewhere, and his legs didn’t seem to work.  _My Lord,_ the thought sickly, _I’ve failed you.  I’m sorry._  Then the orc’s axe finished him off.

Rajah found himself stumbling within a small featureless room.  The walls were translucent though, so he took a look around him to see if he could ascertain what had happened.  

He gasped. 

He was in the cube.

*Next Time:* Mini-Rajah!!


----------



## Knightfall

That was cool.


----------



## the Jester

*Mini-Rajah!*

_3:30 pm, 6/28/96 O.L.G., the Bendrock Mountains, Dorhaus_

Elcruche surveyed the area.  Rajah’s bodyguards had fled, except for the one that the orcish cleric had killed.  As for Rajah himself...

“Did you get him?” Elcruche demanded. 

In reply, grinning a tusky grin, the orc held up his _cube of captivity._  A tiny figure squirmed within it.  With a laugh, the orc gave the cube a shake.

***

“Ow!” Rajah cursed, tumbling head over heels.  Shaken, he regained his feet and examined himself.  He was a little bruised, but nothing worse.  He’d had worse falls from the trees back in the jungles of Gorel, but the problem wasn’t the fall- it was the ‘stuck in a cube’ part of things.

Rajah squatted on his haunches and peered through the translucent walls of the cube.  

_Hells, why not?_ he thought, and _dimension doored_ out, as far away as he could.

He stumbled, stunned and momentarily disoriented.  Then, as he regained his senses, he could hear Elcruche shouting search orders and orcish roars and grunts of anger.  Rajah smiled.  _How’s that for a burr under the saddle?_ he thought, grinning, and glanced around.

He was still small.

He’d been afraid of this.  Now a hawk, a snake, even a rat could be a deadly danger.  He would find mud puddles to be like lakes, little rises like hills, hills like mountains.  A spider web might be able to hold him!

Well, at least Elcruche and his cronies would have a hard time finding him... but so might his bodyguards.  How the hell was he going to get back together with them?

Then he slapped his forehead.  Of course. 

He shuffled out his trumps, gazed at the one depicting Shendros, concentrated.  After a few moments the image began to gather depth and the card grew cold.  Shendros’ image sprang forth before Rajah, as if he were right there.

“My Lord!” he cried.  

In the background behind her, Rajah could see his other surviving bodyguards.  Somewhere not too distant something much bigger than him was crashing through the dry brush that dotted the mountainside.  “I got away,” he said quickly.  “Pull me through to you, quick!”

***

Rajah- reduced to a height of roughly half a foot- and his bodyguards debated their next course glumly.  Obviously, the Wotanians had very good information- provided by spies, divination magic or both.  The mountains were clearly not safe, at least not until they crossed over to the Thulian-patrolled areas.  And being anywhere close to where they were now was clearly very dangerous- Elcruche himself was in the area!

The remaining bodyguards seemed both frightened and extremely respectful of Elcruche, almost in awe.  He was, they told Rajah, the head of the Wotan Intelligence Service, extremely competent, and very dangerous.  

Rajah took a deep breath.  “Well, I can move us a long way overnight,” he said, “but only to somewhere that I’ve already been.  Which means going backward, not forward; but maybe there’s someone who can help with my... size condition.”

“We may as well try,” agreed Werelith.  “But we should definitely travel into a hidden area and work our way into a town or city discretely.  There could be guards anywhere.”

***

_6/29/96 O.L.G., somewhere in the Bendrock Mountains_

The sun peeked over the horizon and Rajah’s eyes fluttered open. 

_Where are we?_ he wondered for a moment, then recalled the events of his dream.

They had set out on foot, and soon had been making their way into a plunging valley alive with trees.  Oaks and pine lorded over the scrubs and grasses, and a lush river frolicked its way through the vale’s meadows.  The group had found themselves facing perhaps the largest oak tree in the valley.  Something about it seemed feminine, and nurturing.  Rajah had felt an odd sense of peace.

In the dream, he had been his normal height; but even so, the branches had brushed across his body and he had grown, far exceeding the stature of a normal man.  There was a tittering and a strange puff of vapor...

That’s all he could remember.  But clearly, the attempt at _dream travel_ had been successful.  

Did the dream mean anything?  Rajah wasn’t sure- he hadn’t spent much time in the Dream Realm- but it had made a powerful impression on his subconscious.  He looked around him.

The group was waking up in a beautiful valley, not as idealized as in the dream, but recognizable nonetheless.  A small brook went its way through the place, with small polished stones and white sand all about its edges.  Oaks and pines did dot the valley, but it wasn’t the lush forest of their dream. 

Rajah turned his attention to the tree they had woken beneath.  It was an oak, and if not as huge and beautiful as in his dream, it still had that sense of femininity about it.  Puzzled, Rajah slowly approached it.

And a beautiful green-haired girl stepped from it, looking down at the six inch prince with a smile.

The bodyguards scrambled to their feet, but she spoke in a musical voice.  “I mean you no harm, mortals!”  She held her empty hands out and gave a gorgeous smile.  She was wearing a shift of woven leaves that allowed tantalizing glimpses of her nubile body.  “Please, do not fear me!  You slept beneath my tree, now you must at least let me look at you.”

“All right,” said Rajah.  She extended a hand to him and he climbed onto it, letting her lift him until he was level with her face- a dizzying height, to him.  

“You are not one of the fey,” she observed, “yet you are of a size with them.”

“I’m under the influence of an enchantment of some kind,” Rajah answered.  “Can you help me?”

“Perhaps,” she smiled.  “I am Thera the dryad.”  She paused.  “I have a problem as well.  Perhaps one good turn could do another?”

“Of course.  Once I’m back to my normal size, I’ll gladly-“

“Ah, but little one, if this problem could be resolved by one of my size, I wouldn’t need your help, now would I?”

Rajah nodded.  “That makes sense.  What do you need?”

“I have had a very important ring stolen,” she said with a pout.  “I would like you to retrieve it.”

“And I need to be small to do this?”

She nodded.  “It was stolen,” she explained, “by the king of rats.”



_*Next Time:*_ A six-inch Rajah the Tiger Prince against the King of Rats!


----------



## the Jester

*Tiger Prince vs. Rat King!*

The tangled tunnels of the rats were too small for a normal man to navigate, but shrunken as small as he was, Rajah had the ability to do so.  The stink of droppings was strong; tangles of dust were everywhere.

Rajah was nervous.  There could be very many rats indeed in the warren.  He doubted whether he could fight them all off; but he had a plan.  It all relied on his _animal affinity_ with tigers.

_DM Note: In 2e, _animal affinity_ let you take on a single characteristic of the animal that you had an affinity with.  It was very different from the 3e stat-booster paradigm._

As the Tiger Prince crept forward through the maze of little tunnels, he strove to keep alert.  His nostrils flared, testing the air.  His wary eyes darted back and forth.  His lips were parted just slightly, as if he were tasting the air. 

Soon movement caught his eye, and a rat as large as he was started moving through the tunnels towards him. 

Rajah took on the scent of a tiger, and the rat squealed and fled.

Smiling grimly, Rajah advanced. 

The rats fled in all directions.  How could a tiger have come here?  But the smell was unmistakable.  Even the King of Rats himself quailed at the thought of facing such an enemy.

Thus Rajah escaped the rat warren unharmed, without even a fight, and with the dryad’s ring.

_*Next Time:*_ The dryad helps Rajah!


----------



## Lela

Brilliant!!!!


----------



## Knightfall

Now that is cool roleplaying.


----------



## the Jester

*Rajah and the Quest for Largeness (or at least Medium-ness)*

_*4 p.m., 7/10/96 O.L.G., somewhere on Dorhaus*_

“My ring, my ring, my ring!”

Thera the dryad danced in a circle, her ring held tight in her hand.  She radiated joy as if she were the sun and her rays were happiness.  Rajah, from his diminutive viewpoint, couldn’t help but enjoy the sight of her bouncing breasts, and from the ground he could easily see the secret things hidden by her shift.  

“Ahem.”  He cleared his throat, sad to interrupt her but impatient to be restored to his former stature.  Of course, at his present height, his throat clearing was inaudible over the sounds of her dancing and happy cries, so he tilted back his head and let out a _roar._*

Grinning ear to ear, she did a final jig and then turned to him and scooped him up.  “Oh, thank you, thank you!” she bubbled, hugging his tiny form to her.  Although for an instant she threatened to crush him, it was with her breasts, and he would have died happy.  Damn this whole six-inch-high thing anyway!

Once he could breathe again, he asked, “What about me?”

“Oh!  Of course!  You want to be grown up again!”

“Something like that,” Rajah responded dryly.

“I can’t help you with that.”

“What!  But you said-“

“But Jovius can,” she grinned.

“And who,” Rajah growled, “is Jovius?”

“Why, he’s a dragon.”

_*Noon, 7/20/96 O.L.G., somewhere on Dorhaus*_

“Interesting,” Jovius murmured.  He grinned, and his long hollow tongue flicked out and gently poked Rajah’s chest.  “Hmmm.  Interesting indeed.  A hint of... tiger?”

Jovius was a dragon, all right- but a faerie dragon.  The fascinating creature was bigger than Rajah at present, but not by much; he and the human could look eye to eye easily.  

“Can you fix it?” Rajah demanded.  “Can you restore me to my full size?”

“Probably, but you ought to consider the advantages of being wee.  Why, you never have to worry about whether you’ll fit through a door or-“

“Whatever.  I’m a human.  I want to be human sized.”

The dragon gave an elegant shrug.  “I shall endeavor to do what I can,” he said huffily.  “But you’re making a terrible mistake.”

The faerie dragon was true to his word.  He used his native magicks to overcome the enchantment laid on Rajah by the orc’s _cube of captivity_, and soon Rajah was back to his normal stature.  Then, that night, he returned to the dryad’s tree with his power over dream.  In the morning, Thera was delighted to see him, and he spent one more night in her tree, this time engaging in the sort of passion that it really requires a fey and a mortal to achieve.**

When he woke up, he was no longer in the tree, and over two months had passed.

_*Next Time:*_ Back to the pirates, just in time for you to learn about the difference between dragons and drakes!


*This was a custom psionic power for Rajah.

**As near as I can recall, this was Rajah’s only documented sexual encounter, leading me to wonder if his modern-day descendant, the so-called Tiger Princess, might have faerie blood?


----------



## the Jester

*Into the Underdark*

_6:30 a.m., 7/30/96 O.L.G., near the Eastern Precipice, Strogass_

First light.  Chanticleer Gilder-Ynarlsland stood impatiently above Akakathan and Urdor as they tied rope off to the edge of the gash in the ground that led downward.  Soon, they hoped, they would have success in their quest for a weapon to neutralize Dexter.  

“So we killed a dragon,” enthused Vosh.  The centaur druid was clopping around impatiently.  He was not enthusiastic about being lowered in a harness to who-knows-what, but... what had to be done had to be done.

“Not really,” Urdor grunted.  “It was a drake.”

“Huh?  What’s the difference?”  Vosh blinked.

“Drakes are smaller, stupider.  Dragons are gods.”  The dwarf glanced at the centaur.  “You don’t want to try to fight a _god,_ do you?”*

“No...”

Urdor Darkwind laughed into his beard, stroking the Black Sun of Bleak that hangs around his neck reverently.

Soon the ropes were tied and the group began descending into the Underdark.  A sheer drop 30’ down to an islet in the middle of cold water... Akakathan shrugged off his armor and leapt into the water, changing into his dolphin-like form as he did so, and checked the surrounding caves.  Though it was cold, his people were used to the currents of the sea, and he managed to avoid any mishaps initially.  Soon he returned to the group, reporting the exit he’d found.  The group strung ropes across with Akakathan’s aid, and using the rope they hand-over-handed across, avoiding getting wet.  Delilah was delighted- it had been her idea.  She attacked the problem the way she attacked all problems: with her razor-sharp intellect.

She was turning that to the question of Dexter.  

The group followed a tunnel some hundreds of feet as it went from small to larger and back to small.  In some places Vosh was brushing the walls on either side; in others, the group could easily spread out in a skirmish line.  Soon it narrowed again, one part of the cave being choked off by rubble; and as they passed it, a huge creature sprang out at them!  Strangely insect-like, it had a fat wide body and huge mandibles.  And it had two large insectoid eyes- wait!  Maybe those were its eyes, instead?  Those two red ones... Whoah... And with that, the umber hulk spun Urdor and Akakathan into confusion!

The others sprang to action.  Vosh surged forward, striking with his powerful hooves, while Chanti rushed in on the monster’s other side, squinting and trying to avoid its gaze.  Delilah cast a spell and a poisonous spider appeared on the creature, biting it and delivering a searing poison.  

The monster’s huge claws proceeded to demonstrate that they were not just huge, but in fact were strong and powerful as well.  The beast stood toe-to-toe with Vosh and Chanti simultaneously, delivering a powerful gash to the flank of the horse part of Vosh’s body and biting Chanti viciously on the left breast.  She growled and stuck her sword deep into its chest in retaliation and Vosh slashed with his scimitar and continued to pummel it with his hooves.  Delilah sighed in delight and threw a dagger, but it deflected from the beast’s carapace.

Another series of blows staggered Chanti, but she gritted her teeth and cried, “Bleak favor me!!”  A strong, mighty strike hit the umber hulk in the chest again, and this time was enough.  The monster collapsed in a spray of brown blood.

After retrieving their confused fellows- who had wandered off- the party searched for treasure and then moved on.  Urdor coughed as they passed the corpse and made an obscene gesture.

_*Next Time:*_ The party meets Arvandor Illspree! 


*For those of you that ‘go way back,’ as this was in the days of 2e, think of a ‘dragon’ as a 2e dragon turned up to 11 and a ‘drake’ as a 1e dragon with animal intelligence.  There are only a few true dragons in the world at this point in the campaign’s history.


----------



## the Jester

*Drow*

_Evil Party Lineup:_
Chanticleer Gilder-Ynarlsland (Villain 5)
Akakathan Dundian (bard 3/priest of the Sea Queen 3)
Delilah (conjurer 2)
Vosh (druid 4)
Urdor Darkwind (cleric of Bleak 1/fighter 1)

*2:00 p.m., 8/1/96 O.L.G., in the Underdark under Strogass*

“So what are we hoping to find here exactly?” asked Akakathan.

Chanti was only too happy to explain.  “We’re looking for an amulet that will help protect us from Dexter’s mind tricks.”  The merellin only shrugged; he had never met this Dexter, but clearly he was an enemy of the people that Akakathan had chosen to travel with.

Then again, these same people were starting to make him increasingly nervous.  They were showing a ruthless- he’d even say _evil_- side that he hadn’t expected.  Yet if he were to speak out, he feared they would slay him.  Maybe not Vosh, but Chanti was ruthless and heedless of danger, and Urdor was a cleric of Bleak.

No choice but to go along for now.  But in the future... who could say?

The group moved through the caves and tunnels of the Underdark, not sure exactly where they were going.  Chanticleer was certain that Bleak would guide them, however, especially in this realm of darkness where his influence was strongest.  Soon the villains encountered a pair of wrinkle-skinned hairless deep gnomes calling themselves _svirfneblin_.  The gnomes, both male, wore stone-studded ring mail and held sturdy-looking picks.  They were accompanied by a pet earth elemental, which loomed above even Vosh in size.  A parlay ensued, and when Chanticleer asked whether they knew of the amulet the villains were seeking, the gnomes shook their heads. 

”But for a fee,” one of them smiled from behind his monocle, “we can take you to someone who probably _can_ help you.”

After some haggling, a reasonable price was agreed upon, and the pair of svirfneblin began guiding the party towards a powerful wild mage that dwelled beneath the surface.  “His name is Arvandor Illspree,” the monocled gnome explained.  “He may or may not be willing to help you; that part’s up to you.  You’ll most likely have to perform a service or pay handsomely for his advice.  Whatever you do, don’t offend him- wild mages are known for a mercurial temperament, and he’s _very_ powerful.”

“What race is this Illspree?” asked Delilah.

“He’s a Drow,” answered one of the deep gnomes.  He smiled wickedly.  “His name means ‘the Birth of Evil in Heaven.’”

Chanti smiled broadly.  “Good,” she chortled.

As the group traveled, Chanticleer broke out into song, singing her latest composition, and Akakathan reluctantly sang along.  

_I was lucky to meet
The great priests of Bleak,
They guided me on my quest...
‘Tis Dexter NAD-ly I seek,
In the name of Bleak,
I’ll lay him to eternal rest...

Nothing will stop us...
We shall succeed!!!
Bleak as your ally is all anyone needs!
The sluts of the light...
Forever they will bleed!
They’ll pay with their lives for their greed!!

Ohhh....
Yes, the great priests of Bleak
Shall dwell in the dark,
With the rest of the world on their knees!
And the bards of the world
Will sing in their tales
While Dexter’s ashes are scattered in the seas!

In the name of Bleak...
Bow down, fools!
Give up your soul and join our cause!
With the God of Despite,
And us, his tools!
Will shred all your foes with your teeth and your claws!_

***

*6 p.m., 8/5/96 O.L.G.*

“Far enough, surfacers,” a voice cried out from the darkness.  Its accent was sneering and threatening, yet liltingly soft at the same time, like an elvish accent gone bad.  

The two svirfneblin stepped forward.  “They come for advice from your master,” one of them called out.  “We have guided them this far that they may give him great tribute.”

There was a pause, and then four dark-skinned elves appeared from the shadows, their silver or white hair seeming totally stark against their inky skin.  Stranger still, the males wear beards- a novelty that nobody in the group has ever seen on an elf before.  One of them sneers and starts speaking in a different tongue, and there are a few moments of conversation before the dark elves gesture for the surface group to follow.

“Good luck,” one of the gnomes calls after them.  “Remember what we told you- respect!”

The party reluctantly follows their escort.into the dark.

_*Next Time:*_ Into the Abyss!


----------



## the Jester

Arvandor Illspree, whose name is Drow for _the birth of evil in heaven,_ reclines on a seat that is almost a throne.  It is constructed of black stone, with sharp spires that stab upward behind Illspree’s head.  The seat looks cruel; Arvandor Illspree within the seat seems as cruel at least, with his ringed fingers tapering to sharp painted nails and his frosty white beard curling arrogantly below his chin.  He wears robes of a dusty dark hue, a jet black cloak behind him.  His skin is jet black.  He is a Drow.

“You seek me?” he asks idly, speaking in the tongue of surface elves.  His face is relaxed, but his eyes are predatory.

“If you are indeed Arvandor Illspree, great and powerful mage, we humbly beg a moment of your most valuable time.”  Delilah gives the Drow her best smile and drops to one knee, bowing her head.  After an instant’s hesitation, the others follow suit.

Illspree seems somewhat amused, as do his dark elven companions.  There are several chuckles.  Glancing around, Urdor estimates that the party is outnumbered at least 2:1.  _And these are Drow,_ he reminds himself fearfully.  _Each of them is worth two, or more, if the legends be true.  By Bleak, I pray we do not have to face them all!_

“We seek knowledge that is hidden from us, and things we cannot find on our own.  Only a masterful puissant wizard such as yourself could possible aid us.  We seek to overthrow a great servant of the Light, and we are searching for an item to aid us in our struggle.”  Delilah looks Arvandor Illspree in the eye.  “We believe that, if anyone can help us find what we seek, it is you.”

“And what is it you seek, child?” sneers Illspree.  

Delilah bridles at his words, but remains diplomatic.  After a bare instant’s pause, she masters her tongue and responds, “We seek an amulet that can shield our minds from Dexter’s psychic powers.”

“Ahhh,” the Drow nods.  “I know of what you speak.  But why should I help you?”

“Perhaps we can do something for you in return.”

One of the Drow on the side speaks up.  _”Zila eclaveveda ti rothip’ek, mel ti Lesaonar.”_  There are a few quiet chuckles.  Illspree smiles.  

“Very well,” he intones.  “If you can retrieve the staff of Lesaonar for me, I will give you the amulet you seek.”  He smiles.  “That is, if you are willing?”

“Yes,” Chanticleer says without hesitation.  “Who is Lesaonar?”

“He is a drider, but a... special one.  You will know him by his tail.  Now, prepare yourselves!”  Arvandor Illspree rises, his teeth bared in a fierce snarl, and begins casting a spell.  But-

_He’s not doing it right,_ Delilah think.  _It’s too haphazard- he’s outside the forms in many places.  He’s playing with dangerous forces... I don’t even know if his spell will work right..._

And then she realizes, _He’s a wild mage._ 

Suddenly the air around  the party twists, and there’s a ringing sound, and suddenly everything _slides away;_ and then, just like that, the party is picking themselves up off of a blasted landscape of black and grey stones jumbled like volcanic basalts as a group of demons lurches towards them shrieking.  The sky is the color of blood, and there is no sun.

“Sweet darkness, he shifted us to the Abyss,” whispers Delilah, stunned.

_*Next Time:*_ Lookin’ for the staff of Lesaonar on the Abyss!


----------



## Knightfall

the Jester said:
			
		

> Suddenly the air around  the party twists, and there’s a ringing sound, and suddenly everything _slides away;_ and then, just like that, the party is picking themselves up off of a blasted landscape of black and grey stones jumbled like volcanic basalts as a group of demons lurches towards them shrieking.  The sky is the color of blood, and there is no sun.
> 
> “Sweet darkness, he shifted us to the Abyss,” whispers Delilah, stunned.




Heh, couldn't happen to a meaner bunch of villians!


----------



## the Jester

*In the Abyss*

_Time and date unknown, somewhere on the Abyss_

The sky screamed red down at the disoriented pirates as the demons shambled towards them.

“Oh crap!” cried Akakathan, pulling free his blade and starting to sing, and then the shambling little horrors were upon the adventurers, tearing with their claws, snapping their gaping, broken mouths.  They were pitiful, but dangerous; the souls of the departed chaotic evil people unworthy to be made into something better.  Then the demons were upon Vosh, ripping and tearing at him, and one of them clawed at his belly.  He shrieked as his entrails dropped out.  He had been gutted!  Groaning, he swung his scimitar, trying to move back, but his hooves tangled in his intestines, pulling out even more of them!

_I will be more than this after I die!_ Urdor Darkwind vowed defiantly.  The dwarf’s axe whipped out and through one of the little demons, killing it, and it dissolved into a cloud of greenish, foul-smelling gas.  The stench made Delilah first wrinkle her nose in distaste, then suddenly turn her head and vomit.  Clutching at her belly, she sank to her knees, stomach heaving.

Urdor and Akakathan moved together to strike and destroy the next one, drawing back from its vapors before they inhaled too much.  The remaining manes hurled themselves at the party, but they could not withstand the pirates’ skill with steel.  In a few minutes the battle was done, and the group took a deep breath and looked around. 

Vosh was groaning and barely conscious.  He stumbled, nearly falling.  Quickly, Urdor moved over to him and invoked the glory of Bleak, providing what healing he could.  Vosh’s guts were sealed up tight, but his belly still bore a livid wound.  “I’ll live,” the centaur gasped.   

The ground all about them was rocky and sharp.  It was certainly unfriendly, especially for Vosh.  In the distance was a large finger of rock thrusting into the sky.  As there were no other obvious landmarks, the band set out for it.  

Almost immediately they were set on by another group of manes.  The battle went very much like the first one.  In just a few minutes the last of the demons was dissolving into nauseating green gas.

Continuing to pick their way along the rocky ground, the group passed between a pair of ragged, short hills, and on the far side they found themselves facing the finger of stone.  Now that they were closer- within a hundred yards- they could make out a layer of webbing around the base of the finger.  Urdor grinned.  _If a drider is like a spider, this is a clue._

Caught in the web was a disgusting demon that seemed to be a parody of a fly, but enlarged to a gruesome eight and a half feet in length.  The gross thing was stained with fecal matter and vomit, and it stank nearly as bad as the clouds that the manes had become upon death.  As it saw the approaching adventurers, the demon began to buzz.  “Help meeezz,” it croaked.  

“Hey, look,” said Akakathan, pointing upwards. 

Crawling slowly down the side of the finger of the stone were three huge spiders.  

“Looks like you’re dinner, buddy,” the merellin cracked at the demon.

“ZZZhelp me!  I will helpzz you azzzz wellzz!”

“We seek Lesaonar,” Delilah said without preamble.  “Tell us where to find him and we may free you.”

“He izzz within the stonezzz!  Now, quickly- before zzzthe zzspiderszz get me!”

“Thanks,” Delilah said, and the party left him to his plight, allowing the spiders their meal, and moved closer to the finger.  They waited until the spiders were fully occupied, then warily sliced their way through the webs to a passage that led within the finger.  

They passed into a chamber littered with demonic corpses.  Standing over them was a beautiful, fierce-looking woman.  They eyed her warily and vice-versa; finally, Vosh said, “Hello... who are you?”

“My name is Clarissa,” she answered.  She let her gaze linger at Urdor’s symbol of Bleak.

“What are you doing here, child?” Urdor asked.  “Heh heh heh.”  He glanced at the amulet around her neck- it bore some sort of phallic symbol.

“I am looking for a way out, unholy father.  I am a fallen paladin, and I seek escape from the Abyss.”

“Really,” Vosh said.  “Well, we’re on a mission- presumably once we complete it we’ll be brought home magically.”

“I sure hope so,” Akakathan interjected.  “But, hold on here- do we trust this woman?  No offense, lady,” he added.

“None taken,” the stranger said sweetly.

“Well, she didn’t attack us on sight,” reasoned Delilah.  

“Anyway,” Vosh argued, “we’re going to have to battle some demonic force in here, and we could probably use her help.”

Akakathan shook his head.  “It’s against my better judgment, but all right.”

Clarissa nodded.  “Thank you.  You are most kind.  Perhaps I could offer you a kiss?”

“No, thanks,” Akakathan answered nervously.

The group moved deeper into the finger of stone.  Soon they happened into a huge hollow chamber, and awaiting them was Lesaonar- with a drow upper body, the thorax and abdomen and legs of a spider, and a hideous scorpion tail fairly dripping venom.  “So!” he boomed.  “Why do you come to Lesaonar?”

“We come seeking knowledge!” Delilah tried, and the drider-demon laughed.

“Liar!  You come seeking my staff!  Lesaonar is no fool!  Who sent you?  Tell me- and I will make your deaths quick and easy.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound like a very good deal,” grated Urdor, and as he sprang forward with his axe firmly in hand he heard Delilah the Damned casting a spell from behind him.  The irony made him smile as a spider the size of a child’s hand appeared, biting at Lesaonar viciously.  Their newfound friend Clarissa swung and struck with a flaming sword, inflicting terrific damage on the drider-demon.  The battle raged as the demon jabbed at the pirates with its tail and slashed viciously with a battle axe, which tore through armor with disturbing ease, leaving it rent and useless.  Urdor’s axe tasted demon blood, as did Akakathan’s rapier.

Then it was done.  With a last despairing howl, Lesaonar fell beneath the onslaught.  

The group quickly stripped him, finding a staff, a ring and his axe.  They began to glow.  “This is it!” cried Akakathan.  “Clarissa, grab on!”  He extended his hand, still not trusting her, but admitting to himself that she had kept up her end of the deal (not that that had helped the fly-demon in the web).

She grasped it just as the Abyss faded from around them.

_*Next Time:*_ Treachery at the hands of Arvandor Illspree!


----------



## Technik4

Wow, glad to see you've been keeping up Jester. I've been away from the scene for almost a year but I should have the internet again in a few weeks - I'm catching up on all your story hours. Thanks again for sharing your tales.

Technik


----------



## the Jester

Technik4 said:
			
		

> Wow, glad to see you've been keeping up Jester. I've been away from the scene for almost a year but I should have the internet again in a few weeks - I'm catching up on all your story hours. Thanks again for sharing your tales.
> 
> Technik




Hey, dude, I know I already said this in two other threads, but welcome back!  It's good to see you again! 

And thanks for the feedback...!


----------



## the Jester

*Betrayed!*

“Well, well,” Arvandor Illspree said, steepling his fingers as he regarded the triumphant group of adventurers.

“We found your staff.”  Chanticleer smiled a deadly smile as she waved it in the Drow wild mage’s direction.  “I hope it’s as useful to you as that amulet will be to us.”

This, then, would be the moment Chanti had been waiting for: the moment when the group finally acquired a weapon to shield them against Dexter’s deadly psionic powers.  The same powers that drove Galliger to his death.  

_I’ll kill him,_ Chanti thought again, as she had thought every day for months.  _I’ll rip his heart out and cast it on an altar shaped like the Black Sun, and then I’ll hurl his body into Bleak’s Maw.  Dexter is a dead man._

The Drow wizard made a negligent gesture from his high-backed seat.  Another of the ebony-skinned elves glided across the cavern floor to the group of villainous surface adventurers.  She extended a velvet-gloved hand, her pale eyes boring into Chanti.  With a chuckle, the surfacer gave the staff over, and the black-cloaked woman returned to Arvandor Illspree’s side.  She slid the staff upwards to him, her eyes never leaving the band of pirates.

“So, about that amulet,” Akakathan said nervously.

Arvandor Illspree, whose name meant ‘the Birth of Evil in Heaven,’ smiled wickedly.  “Oh, the amulet?  I had nearly forgotten.”  He turned and barked at several servants in the strange tongue of his people.  A few laughed.  The crowd stirred as a cloaked figure began moving forward, a lock of white hair spilling out of the concealing darkness of the hood.

“I hope you are not going to renege on our deal,” Chanti growled.

“Renege?  Never!”  Arvandor Illspree seemed mildly put off.  “Why, I am insulted at the very thought.”  He showed his teeth again.  “But I must confess... I _am_ changing our arrangement somewhat.”

Chanti’s hand strayed to the hilt of her sword.  Her eyes darted around.  There were _dozens_ of Drow.  _There’s no way we can take them all,_ she realized grimly, even as Delilah brushed her arm with a hand, murmuring, “Carefully, Captain.”

“We had a bargain!” Vosh protested.  

“You will still receive your precious amulet,” Illspree said disdainfully, “but first you must pass another test to prove your worth.  After all, if you’re to fight this... ‘Dexter’ with it, you must be able to survive to reach him, must you not?”  He smiled a deadly smile.  “If you can survive Thalanaz, I will give you the amulet.”

The hooded figure cast back the hood, revealing a female Drow of particularly arrogant bearing.  With a flourish she drew her shortsword.

And with a wild cry she attacked.



_*Next Time:*_ Oh dear!  Can our low-level villains deal with a tenth-level Drow fighter with an AC -6???


----------



## the Jester

Bad Guy Party Lineup:

Akakathan the Doomed (that's how he signed in that game- he was already starting to think that he was in a situation he wasn't gonna be able to extricate himself from), merellin priest/bard 4/4; NG
Urdor Darkwind, dwarf fighter/cleric 1/1; NE
Delilah the Dead, human conjurer 2; LN
Vosh, centaur druid 5; N
Chanticleer Gilder-Ynarlsland, elf villain 5; CE

Interestingly, only two of them are evil.


----------



## the Jester

*Illspree's Treachery*

She had trained since the age of 29- which is _very_ young- in the arts of a proper Drow lady: swordsmanship, sorcery, dancing and poisons.  She was only a fair spellcaster- no greater than any of her kind- and her mastery of poisons was not as great as it should have been, but she was one of the best dancers in her entire House.  Her swordsmanship, too, was remarkable; Thizul “Riposte” Briz’Kellar herself had commented on Thalanaz’ skill with a blade.

Oh, but she was good. 

In seconds Vosh was bleeding from two wounds, and even with their bard singing the pirates couldn’t seem to land a blow. 

Delilah’s spells slid off the female dark elf like water off a _wall of force,_ and she whirled away and dodged Vosh’s hooves and Urdor’s axe with ease.

Then it was another prick, this time on Urdor.  He snarled and swung, but she swayed away from the blow.  “She’s too quick!” yelled the Bleakist.

Delilah cursed silently as another spell fizzled off the deadly Drow.  “Well played, Illspree!” she called, and the wild mage smiled wickedly.  

Meanwhile, Thalanaz stabbed Urdor in the leg, Vosh in the side and Akakathan in the arm.  Vosh managed to heal some of the worst of it, and he tried to interpose himself between the vicious blade of the dark elf and Delilah, but it stabbed her as well.  Thalanaz danced away from all their countermeasures, all their spells and blows.  They hadn’t even wounded her.

“Tsk,” Arvandor Illspree shook his head.  “It appears you are not as worthy as I had thought.”  

Delilah glanced angrily in his direction, but it’s a terrible mistake.  She screamed as sudden pain ripped through her chest and out her back, and she fell, twitching and moaning, to bleed unconscious.  Vosh swung his scimitar and finally dealt a scratch to the vicious elf, but it wasn’t anywhere near enough. 

_She’s going to kill us,_ he realized with dismay.  He bit his lip.  _We can’t lay a finger on her, and she’s tearing us up- she’s too quick!  How can we equalize the odds?  Our spells can’t hurt her..._

An idea pricked him even as she stabbed him in the flank.  “Aargh!” Vosh cried in pain.  “All right, that’s it!”  He cast a spell, not at his enemy, but at the ground beneath her.  And with his remarkable skills as a sculptor*, he quickly managed to grab her feet in shoes of stone before she realized what he was doing.  

“This won’t help you,” the Drow sneered.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Vosh responded tartly.  “I don’t think you’ll be quite as tricky when you can’t move.” 

And he was right.  Suddenly, even though she could still dodge and move her body a certain amount, she was no longer nearly as difficult to strike.  In a few short moments the party had defeated her, and Arvandor Illspree looked much less smug.

“Impressive,” the wild mage admitted.  “Very well; take the amulet.  Perhaps you shall do something worthy of mention with it.”  He tossed a disc tied to a leather cord to the group.  “Now begone.”

“Gladly,” quipped Akakathan, and the group left triumphant. 

_*Next Time:*_ We’ll be looking in on some crazy crazy stuff, folks- the remnants of Farenth’s journals from this period, which were found a century later in the ruins of the Halls of Light after the Tarrasques were put down!  Since they’re an integral part of this period’s goings-on, we’ll take a look...


*Vosh had several proficiency slots in Craft (sculpting) or whatever it was in 2e.


----------



## the Jester

*Farenth's Journals, pt I*

_What follows is a partial transcriptions of an old journal alleged to be that of Farenth, the so-called Black Son of Bleak.  These journals were found sometime in the early third century O.L.G. in the ruins on Forinthia, and were studied extensively by a team of scholars under the leadership of Thimbleton, a gnomish illusionist and scholar of note._

*A note from the translator:* This journal was in terrible shape when it was recovered and it has resisted all efforts to restore it to its original, undamaged state.  Thus, there are sections missing, both in terms of areas of pages and possibly in terms of pages themselves.  Also, in translating the language used almost half a millennium ago, one must realize that many subtleties have been lost and not all terms will translate directly.  Many of Farenth’s more colorful curses, for instance, would have little impact in our modern world.  Nonetheless, without further ado- Farenth’s Journal.

_4/18/95 O.L.G._
A few days ago I hired on to a vessel called the Sea Hag.  I have been directionless for far too long, ever since I found that damn book.  I must become active again, lest I go mad from the voices I now hear.  

We are planning on establishing a hideout on Yafall.  How ironic... the captain of the Sea Hag is this little arrogant gnome named Malfourd.  His crew includes a Forinthian pagan named Lyr.  The bitch offends me, with her constant “I th.._ text burnt away_ I’m clever” attitude.  I would like to see her off the ship, at the least.  Th _burnt_ is also a young man named Gallagher who preaches the virtues of Bleak... if _burnt_ he knew.

_4/19/95_
Amazing what can happen in such a short time!  We saw and investiga _burnt_ ship manned by skeletons and commanded (?) by a skeletal warrior of _burnt_ It vanished in the end, leaving me to speculate that Lake Yafall may _burnt_ gate within its waters.  I wonder if we could find it, use it, perh _burnt_ far away...?  I wonder, too, why I have yet to offer my knowle _burnt_ captain.  I think I shall wait, but I can’t quite pin down why.  Hm _burnt_ I simply pay too much attention to the voices within.

_4/25/95_
We have begun the preliminary work necessary to establishing _burnt_ operation.  I suspect that we shall be kept quite busy for the nex... _burnt_ or months.  I have learned a lot about my companions.  I like few _burnt_ amount.

_*Note: * From here on in the burn damage is more excessive, and shall be noted with an ellipse (...).

5/1/95_ 
Began work on Gallagh... to... Damn it, I feel more akin to him every day!  I do not...

_5/3/95_
That bitch Lyr... crew today, upbraiding me for she called m... te and the officers of the crew” and promise... out either someone to watch me or the... 

Bitch.

_5/4/95_
...but I have become bitter.  Damn that book...

Thing... rk to be done, and then our base will be des... high seas.  What fun- loot, ravage and des... of innocents.  Damn this life!

_6/15..._
Lots of work to be done. 

The voices will not go away.  I want to cry.  Sometimes it makes me... I don’t know.  I do know that I act as if I were already a servant of darkness as often as not.  I know that bitterness and anger and hate fill my soul as if it were a cup of wine and I could not stop drinking from it. 

The bitch Lyr and I continue to have what Captain Malfourd refers to as a “personality conflict.”  I begin to dislike the smug little gnome, as well.

I see from my earlier entries that I have avoided, until now, talking about Dexter.  He is a convert to the Light, oddly enough in this hive of Bleak worship and paganism.  Apparently an old friend of many of the crew, he and Galligher seem to be constantly at each others’ throats.  Perhaps they will kill each other.

I wish the voices would stop.

_6/22/95_
I found a very interesting thing this afternoon down by the lakeshore: a... that appears to be magical.  I would show it to the others if not for the ... that I will NOT surrender it under any circumstances.  It is MINE.

_7/18/95_
We have begun clearing the wilderness around the hideout.  Started construct... a pagan temple for the bitch Lyr as well.

I hate them all.  The voices have told me so much, and the more time passes the more I begin to surrender myself to them.  I cannot help it.  I am so tired of resisting them all the time.  I am no longer the Farenth Whiteshield who once desired paladinhood so strongly, so long ago.  No more am I in the Light, of the Light, for the Light...

Oh father, how far I fall.

_8/1/95_
The temple to Bleak is done.  I went in to try to make friends with Gallagher- or at least an ally- but found myself scoffing, laughing at his would-be services.  The fool knows nothing.

The voices have been urging me to take his temple over, perform the right services, glorify Bleak as he deserves.  If it were only so easy... and yet, that is not what I really want.  Is it?  I am no longer very sure of what I want, or even of who I am...

_8/28/95_
I cried all night last night, for I surrendered to the voices at last.  But now I understand so much better.  I was simply holding back my destiny for all this time.

First Gallagher, Lyr and Dexter; the rest shall follow.

_9/1/95_
Last night I had a dream.  Dexter...whom I have mentioned previously in pa... saw him somehow restoring me to the man I... it, but the dream had something of the ring o... much on it, for I have no hope of it coming tr... open my soul to him and I know that something w... ever happening, God!  And every day that part of m... ot even resist it anymore.

_9/2/95_
Another dream of Dexter.  I saw him in a great hand, and he was lifted to a... mouth and devoured.  It was only then that I realized that the hand, the mout... were mine.  As I consumed him body and soul I came to realize that I too was he... in the grip of a hand, this one even larger than mine (the distortion of t... physical form being very common in dreams), and then that the hand was connected to a form that glowed with such brilliance and light that I knew it must be Galador Himself.  I quailed at His presence, and found myself propelled towards His mouth.  He destroyed me, sending me to darkness.

I take this dream to be a sign of my damnation.  I believe Galador sent it to me to tell me that all my old aspirations are not to be, that I am beyond redemption.  I woke weeping bitterly; I fear that Bilbo, the cook (a halfling), may have heard me.  He is a quiet and inoffensive creature, devoted (to a great extent) to that bitch Lyr.  I do not want my weaknesses exposed; and yet I am loathe to act against such a malleable individual.  Who knows; maybe someday I will have use of him. 

_9/17/95_
The indignities some of us must undergo!

Paris (one of the crew, an archer of impressive skill) and I were on a routine patrol when I was caught in a snare.  The archer chuckled and guffawed for a good twenty minutes before shooting the line and dumping me on the ground.  I do not think that I like him very much, or that he likes me.

The snare was primitive, probably goblin or wild gnome.  (If there are wild gnomes on Yafall; I think their culture might be confined wholly to Gorel.)

_9/29/95_
That bitch Lyr today put out a reward for apes.  Imagine that.  I asked her what she wanted them for and she said she was going to eat their hearts.  Hmph!  And they call Bleak worshipers barbaric.

_10/21/95_
We finally finished all the construction we’ve been working on for the last six months late last night.  Now the officers are going on leave.  Bastards... Oh well.  I have a feeling... doing all I can to make friends wi... ion of the bitch.

_10/23/95_
Bilbo will not be subverted... ve enough time I think I can at least set hi... poison in the food delivered to Gallagher?

_11/14/95_
They’re gone again, and I’m coninu... ve also begun to fear the power of the ship’s ta... r name is Chanti; I recently saw her in comba... r her if I should move openly against Gallag... Bleak, and if he should suffer some sort of... ould be relatively easy to turn her to my service. 

It was not so long ago that I... have changed.

_11/20/95_
How eagerly I await the return... ain and officers!

I believe that Bilbo is mine.  I... persuaded him (mostly through fear... to poison Gallager.  I told him that I had evidence that Gallagher is plotting against both Malfourd and Lyr.  The halfling is a fool.  However, if he can slip the poison in the wine (or wherever) than he is a fool that I am happy to be acquainted with.

_11/29/95_
Still waiting, and now word.  Could something have gone wrong?  Perhaps they are not to return...

I fear Bilbo may lose his nerve.  He knows too much at this point.  I would have to kill him.

WHAT AM I DOING????  WHAT HAVE I BECOME???  I must stop these things, tell Bilbo-

Tell him what?

_11/30/95_
Of course I let things remain as they were.  What can I do now?  It is too late.  If I were to tell Bilbo not to do it he would be suspicious and my options would be discovery or murder.  If I were discovered it would mean the death of me (after all, these people ARE pirates.)  That is therefore not an option.  Murder- or murder.

How have I come to this?

_12/4/95_
I do not know...

They still are not back.  Perhaps they have encountered trouble?

_12/18/95_
Still no Sea Hag.  Perhaps I will not have to choose.

_1/2/96_
I fear I am undone.  The Sea Hag is no more, nor are Dexter, Gallagher, or Malfourd with us any longer.  Apparently Dex and Malfourd attacked and killed Gallagher.  Worse still; Lyr is the new captain of the ship, and I am almost sure that Bilbo either has or soon shall tell... y plan.

_2/17/96_ 
So.  This is how my term aboard shi... ll you,” the bitch said, “for you acted to save yo... ot sail with a poisoner... You will be put off...

At least it will be Pesh.

_3/11/96_ 
Today I said farewell to my com... (But can I really blame anyone but myself?)


*Next Time:* This brings us to the point at which Farenth was put off the boat.  What will follow will be his journal entries up to the current point in the story hour and a little beyond... the spark that will begin Farenth’s game.  

_*DM’s Note:*_ I’m actually transcribing this journal from a prop I made for a much later group of pcs, so all the ‘burnt’ stuff is actually burnt away on my copy.  Alas, this was done on an old 286 almost a decade ago, and it’s crammed away in an attic hundreds of miles away, so there’s no hope at all of simply copy & pasting or anything- it’s peer past the browning of time and the blackening of artfully-applied flame to transcribe what I can, but it sure is interesting to throw a perspective in here that _didn’t exist_ until years after the fact...


----------



## the Jester

_*Continuing the journal of Farenth Whiteshield...*_

_3/13/96 O.L.G._
Well.  Isn’t Pesh a pleasant land? ...nough to make me sick.   The people all try to make friends with you; positively smothering.  All these gaudy scarves and veils, and of course all the famous Peshan perfumes... This whole island stinks of them.  It smells like unwashed body odor mixed with vinegar and honey.  Cloying and sticky; that is the best way to describe Pesh.  And to think that I used to dream of visiting this hell hole!

Sigh.  Except that it isn’t really that bad; I’m just bitter.  I want to kill them all for doing this to me!  Or am I passing the blame so I don’t have to own up to my mistakes?  Damn it, my plan would have worked!  If Dexter and Malfourd hadn’t slain Gallagher it never would have come out at all!

_3/15/96_
I’ve been staying at this inn called the Inn of the Traveler’s Spices since my arrival here at Pesh City last week.  Today the local authorities came and asked me many uncomfortable questions.  I fear that someone tipped them off to my little experience with piracy (with my dear shipmates from the Twikwakikikak).  They left me with a stern warning that they will be watching me.

Dammit, I have to leave this city quickly, before anything happens to get me in trouble with the authorities.  I do not want any problems.  I just want to settle down for a while and collect my thoughts.  I just want to have time to figure out who I am.  I don’t know anymore.

_3/19/96_
Got a job today.  I gut fish.  It is a smelly, slimy, stinking hellpit of a job.

Damn them all anyway!  If I ever run into any of them again I swear I will kill them!

No... no.  Better to let bygones be bygones.  Hard though that may be, holding a grudge will only worsen things.  I just need some time alone somewhere isolated- maybe Aerisa, maybe Gorel again.

_4/2/96_
Why me?

The local constable came to see me while I... work... and questioned me at length concerning a robbery that ha... near here.  I knew nothing of it, of course; still... out to haul me off.  Thank the sea that I had a ...th the ship I gut fish on.)  He seemed relative... played for a fool or used as a scapegoat.

_4/15/96_
I’ve turned the 55 gold piece... ka (worth about 130 gp at current rat... st have to work another five days, unti...

_4/17/96_
I left, but not as planned.  

I am on board the ship Ancient ... ishing vessel I gut on.  I just finished dumping the bodies over...

What have I done?

The constable came while we were at the docks, to arrest me for crimes I did not commit.  I tried to talk to him, to make him listen, but he wouldn’t.  Obviously, he died.  So did my employer and all his crew (save myself, of course).  It was mostly a family vessel: mom, dad, and four children, one of them too young to work.  But still present.

And over the side.

I am a murderer of children, now.  Children too young to fight back with any hope of success.

It all goes back to the piracy, doesn’t it?  It’s all their fault.

I am without direction now.  I do not know what to do.  I (obviously) must flee Pesh, most of my possessions left behind.  Of course, I now own a fishing vessel, but it will not take me far or fast.  However, perhaps it will fetch me enough money to run out on.  I think I will try to sell it when I reach Khelm. 

_4/29/96_
My old ship sold remarkably quickly, but then I was asking an almost obscenely low amount.  The question remains, what now?  I am certain the Peshan authorities are seeking me now, even as I write.  I must flee, but my options are limited in the extreme.  

I have heard, however, that there is a land devoted to Bleak somewhere to the east.  It is called Strogass.  Perhaps I shall seek it.  (As good of a course as any, I suppose.)

_5/3/96_
Today I set out for this mythical “Strogass” on board a ship I hired.  The captain said that they will only take me part-way, but that they will then provide me with a boat to allow me to journey the rest of the way.  I wonder that something devoted to darkness could survive so close to Forinthia, but I suppose I shall see soon enough.

_7/15/96_
I sighted land today.  I have yet to reach it (it is evening) but anticipate that I shall by tomorrow noon.

_7/16/96_
Land ho!  The first I’ve stepped on in over two months!

The first thing I saw as I approached was a great cliff face, running inland.  I would say that it is almost two ... high at the tip that extends into the sea.  It makes the waters around ... and dangerous, and so I had to travel somewhat north, to where the ... lower, in order to reach the shore in safety.

No signs of cities as of yet- but then, I’ve only been here an hour and a half.

_7/17/96_
Sailing north along the coast.  I expect to see a city soon enough, assuming that this is in fact Strogass- or that it is inhabited.

_7/18/96_
No city yet, but I saw a warship today.  They stopped me and asked me who I was and suchlike.  I told them the truth, and they held me prisoner for a few hours, searched my ship, etc.  Then they told me many things: where to find a city nearby, that this is indeed Strogass, and that if I am lying they will find me and kill me.  To this effect they took a lock of my hair and my best shirt.  Then they sent me on...

_7/20/96_
Glorious- the ...e of the jagged mouth of the Salmon River.  ...

I think I will ... some more formal training.

_7/21/96_
Today I suddenly rea... absolutely no idea what became of that Book I found... was it rea... ago?  Almost two and a half... I didn’t sell it or destroy it, and ...have it.  I guess that for a long time I just tried not to think about it, before I came to accept myself in darkness.  

I sought out a temple, but much to my chagrin they did not know the proper rituals any more than Gallagher did!  I think that it is I who have much to teach them, not the other way around.

_7/24/96_
I went to that temple again today to offer them my superior knowledge.  They laughed at me until I killed their high priest.  I do not quite know how it happened- anger welled up in me and he fell dead at my feet.  I suppose it must have been the power of the darkness within me- TRUE darkness.  

After savoring the pleasures the temple had to offer and beginning to teach my new underlings the true way of things, I spent a few hours in repose and meditation.  I realized that I have much to thank my old shipmates for, because without them I would never have heard of this wonderfully dark place.  They were headed here when they dropped me off.  I wonder what happened to them?  I must find out.

They hate runs strong in me for them, all of them.  Perhaps...

A plan begins to form.

Chanti, especially, would be easy to use.  After all, she is a Bleak worshipper whose master was slain by two of ...emies.  I wonder if I could set them against one another?  Chanti was ...e of the Twikwakikikak at the time of my ejection.  She must have a ... of pull with Lyr.  Hmmm....

_7/25/96 O.L.G._
To pull it off I need to:
--Find the Twikwakikikak
--Find Dexter and Malfourd
--Lure Chanti and Lyr into attacking Dexter and Malfourd
--Bait a trap for Dexter and Malfourd
If they reached Strogass I should be able to find the ship with minimal effort, as long as they were in a major port.  I must at least find their tracks.

I must plan.

_7/29/96_
I began sending my new l... today.  One of my underpriests knows a wizard of some ... us with divinations.  He must travel about a ...lly this wizard will respond to my pol... end of next month.  Regardless, I’ve oth...exter and Malfourd.  My ecclesiastical com...ikak (again assuming it ever made it to po...

I need more informa...re I can plan anything to any real extent.

_8/1/96_
I reread all the entries I have made in here since I joined the Sea Had so long ago this morning and the extent to which I have sunken sickens me.  I was once so full of virtue that I was nearly a paladin.  Now I am a twisted mockery of my former self, a mockery of all that I aspired to be.  The Book.  I do not think that anything I do can save me now and so I say: Cast it to the sea and let it swallow me up.  Let me be the way I am.  I am beyond redemption, a murderer of children, a worshiper of Bleak, an agent of darkness, vengeful, vindictive, evil, unrepentant.  

Except that I DO feel remorse!

I wish I had a way to expunge my sins, but they stain me too deeply on my soul.  I am forever lost.

_8/19/96_
The wizard Besphem attends me now. ...te impressive, but he had no choice but to aid me; after all, who on Str... would defy the Church of Bleak?

Ha.

I wish I could still laugh.

Besphem said that he has a crystal ball, and that with the help of some of Dexter or Malfourd’s personal effects he can scry them out.  Good, I have a few of Dexter’s things, still- not much, but a few things he brought on board with him that remained when he and Malfourd fled.  With these I will sow the seeds of his destruction- his and Lyr’s and M...  Especially Lyr’s.

_8/20/96_
Besphem left today to fetch hi... his tower.  I wonder if I can use him to aid me in other ways as well...

_8/30/96_
Well well...

Apparently my old mates reached Bratamond (a city south and east) over two months ago and are questing for some sort of device to protect them from Dexter’s psionic powers.  They already seek him!  Better still!  Now I have dispatched word to Bratamond that they are to be aided but subtly delayed until I am ready.  I lied to the Archpriest of the province that Bratamond lies in, saying that I am baiting a trap (true) to aid them in destroying Dexter (false).

_9/7/96_
I dreamed of Dexter again last night.  He look... He was everything I wanted to be.  He was with ...nd spoke w.....of God.  And I looked like him, and was everthi.....anted to ... opposition to all that is good.  

I have begun to wonde... are se... some entity- whether Bleak or a wizard,  or... Boo,, I d.....w.


_*Next Time:*_ That's as far as I can go with Farenth's Journal without spoilers, so we'll be gettin' back to Dexter and co.....


----------



## Knightfall

Excellent filler... that poor bastard. He's gone off his rocker, for sure.


----------



## the Jester

Just as an aside, I was just thinking that, when Farenth's Game climaxes, I'll probably switch to a different set of characters or a different period- that was a pretty campaign-shaking climax, and it makes a good ending for the first major cycle of Cydra.  Maybe time for a new thread, and put this one away for a while...?  We'll see.


----------



## the Jester

*Meanwhile, in the Temple of Elemental Evil....*

_*11 a.m, 9/9/96, on the first level of the Temple of Elemental Evil*_

Our heroes burst into the room, taking yet another set of guards by surprise.  How could these dwellers in this evil place be so disorganized?  How could they _not know_ by now that they were being attacked systematically?  How could our heroes keep succeeding in brutal frontal assaults?

Lady Charlotte’s blade sang as it deflected off the lead guard’s shield, but Malford tumbled in and thrust his shortsword into the guard’s kidneys from behind.  “Adventurers!” one of the other bad guys cried, but then he gave a last gurgling noise as Dexter’s _staff of combat_ crushed his head. 

The bodies lay in puddles of steaming blood in a few short minutes, and our heroes congratulated themselves again.  Malford was already searching the corpses.  “Look at this,” he called, snapping the string of an amulet than one of the guards had been wearing and holding it up.  “Another different symbol.”

The group crowded around to observe.  Indeed, this time the symbol was a weird diamond-shaped pendant in red.  

“I think they must have various factions,” reasoned Dexter.  “We’ve found three different symbols so far, right?  And there are definitely multiple temples down here- we’ve seen pretty much elementalist themes.  What if they don’t really like each other?”

“Then we kill them all,” Lochenvare said with a toothy grin.  

“That would explain why they don’t seem to know we’re slaughtering them,” Malford mused.  

“Well, my friends,” said Lady Charlotte, “it seems to me that instead of questioning our fortunes, we should continue smiting the villains in this evil place.”

Lochenvare gave an unpleasant laugh.  “For once, the woman and I are on the same page.”  Lady Keen gave him a frown for his trouble, but he just leered at her.

***

_*2:15 p.m.*_

Several more groups of guards, human and goblin and bugbear, have fallen to the band of heroes by the time it happened.  

Malford nodded after listening to the door before the party.  “People talking in there,” he whispered, giving Lochenvare the nod.

With a grin, the big burly fighter threw himself into the door.  It smashed to splinters as he barreled through, screaming wildly, and hewing about him.  Blood sprayed, the smell of burning flesh immediately sprang into the air as Malford’s _burning hands_ took out a pair of the axe-wielding guards, the sounds of weapons scraping out of their sheathes was met with the wet thump of Dexter’s staff braining the villains.

But though the initial onslaught dropped half the guards, the others rallied, forming a line around their leader, who pulled out an axe lovingly sharpened to a razor’s edge and commenced giving a spirited reply to the party.  He leapt forward, hacking brutally, and brushed Charlotte aside like a fly.  While the other heroes dealt with the remaining lackeys, Lochenvare roared his approval of the leader and met him, blade against blade.  The two warriors slashed and hewed at each other, until, with a single decisive blow, the axe-wielding man sheered off Lochenvare’s foot at the ankle!  With a cry, he fell bleeding and unconscious.  

“No!  Lochenvare!” screamed Malford, and rushed to his side to pour a _potion of healing_ down his throat, saving the fighter’s life.  Lady Charlotte was dragging herself up, trying to clear her head.  One of the other guards tried to take advantage of the moment and spear her, but Galador’s righteous fury filled her and she stabbed him in the lung.  That was enough for him; he collapsed, trying to breathe air but finding only blood in his lungs.

Meanwhile, Dexter rose up against the grinning axeman, spinning his staff and landing a solid blow on the man’s thigh.  He staggered, but swung again- the single blow in all of Cydra’s history to have the most repercussions.  If Dexter hadn’t jerked back at the last moment, it would have cut his head in two.  Blood and tissue sprayed everywhere, and with a horrible scream of agony, Dexter fell against the wall, clutching his face.  

“My eyes!” he screamed.

Malford leapt forward, driving his sword through the axe-wielder’s groin.  The human groaned and his axe fell to the ground with a clang as his lifeless body slipped down into an almost fetal position.  

“My eyes!” howled Dexter.  “I can’t see!!  My eyes!!”  He staggered around drunkenly, his hands clutched to his face.  Blood poured from a terrible wound all across the front of his face.  “My eyes!” he shrieked again.

“They’re over here,” groaned Lochenvare, pointing at the floor a few feet away.  “Right next to my foot.”


_*Next Time:*_ Blind faith indeed!


----------



## Knightfall

Ouch!


----------



## the Jester

*Blind Faith*

What could change a man more than being blinded?  And not easily, either- blinded with an axe across the face.  Ouch!  

Take a kid- maybe seventeen years old.  He’s got pimples, he’s had no luck with girls, never even had a whore- he’s only had one real friend that lasted, who is with him still; he’s given his soul to Bleak, but he has now pledged himself to Galador.  He speaks with the Voice of God, sometimes; and yet- 

Yet he’s just a _kid,_ confused, full of raging hormones, unsure of who he is or what he wants to do with his life.  He’s never even really thought about it.

Oh, but there’s more, isn’t there?  He isn’t just a kid, not really.  He’s a freak.  He can touch other minds, he can read thoughts and talk in your head; and because of that he is a pariah.  What kid doesn’t have secret thoughts, after all?  And what kid would want those secret thoughts plucked from his mind?  So Dexter never had friends, oh no, not until Malford.

As he lies in his bedroll convalescing, Dexter realizes that he’s going to have to do a lot of thinking in the next few days to figure out what the hell he’s doing next.  Because, Son of Galador or not, now he’s living in eternal darkness.

***

Think of it.  What could affect a culture more profoundly than someone who speaks with the undeniable Voice of God?  Someone who clearly represents the divine, yet is separate- oh, how very separate- from the established church.  Perhaps even someone who, occasionally, will battle with the established church, and will win with God’s aid.  

But who would notice, if that Voice nor preached nor heckled?  What difference could such a Voice make, always on the road, always running from hidden dungeon to remote wilderness to citadel of darkness?

And what if then, one day, after months of rumor spreading about him like wildfire, that person began to speak to the crowds?  

Dexter’s foot was now on the path.

***

_*9/12/96 O.L.G., on Dorhaus*_

The group traveled again, leaving the foul Temple of Elemental Evil behind, at least for the nonce.  Dexter rode behind Malford, virtually helpless.  The stump of Lochenvare’s leg had been kept clean and tightly wound in cloth; the doughty warrior had been leaning on a stick and had spent considerable time carving a wooden foot to serve him for the time being.  It hurt like blazes, but he could limp along with it, and his pride would not permit him to acknowledge the depths of his pain.  

After two days the group was beset by bandits along the way, but repelled them fiercely.  Lochenvare was especially savage with them; he had a lot of anger to work out right then.  Dexter groped at them blindly with his staff, wishing that he could use his mental powers to engage them but not wanting to disturb his priestly training.*  Malford shouted aid to him, but it was clear that Dexter had to spend some time learning to fight blind.

Looking over the bodies with a _detect magic,_ Malford grunted.  “There are a couple of items worth keeping,” he announced, and pulled out a magical backpack and some dust.  He kept the _backpack of infinite food_ after _identifying_ it; the _dust of sleep_ went to Lochenvare.  

Several days later they were attacked again on the road, but this time by weird flying creatures that looked like a cross between a vicious deer and a bird, with razor-sharp, steel-strong antlers and, most disturbingly, the shadow of a man.  The battle, again, was brutal, and this time Malford was gored almost to death; but Lochenvare’s skill with blades stood the group well, and soon both of the weird creatures were dead and Malford, though bleeding freely from his chest and side, was still standing.

***

_*9/17/96 O.L.G., Knurly, Dorhaus*_

The small town of Knurly proved fortuitous.  Not only did Lochenvare get a more expertly crafted prosthetic, the high priest, Dillian, proved most receptive to Dexter once he used the Voice.  After a discussion of their current goals, the party decided to continue following Malford’s plan: a journey to the city of Fuzia, the capitol of Thule, to attempt to gain an audience with the King.  The King of Thule had no heir, and Malford and Dexter had once obtained a certain magical pair of coconuts...  

High Priest Dillian gladly obtained a boat that would take the group to Fuzia, and provided them all with kocho, big vicious riding birds.  

“We leave in the morning,” announced Dexter.

That evening, Lady Charlotte went to Dillian’s church to aid the poor and the beggars.  She used her abilities to heal a few of the wounds and one of the diseases of the ragged folk there.  Then she bumped into somebody else, and while she was talking to him, Dexter and Malford showed up.

“Rajah!” Malford exclaimed.

_*Next Time:*_ Rajah joins the good guys, our heroes have an audience with the king, and the coconuts come into play!


*2e dual class rules... Dex was now a 3rd-level cleric, and needed to attain 6th level before he could use his psion abilities again without forfeiting xp.


----------



## the Jester

There are two things we should note, at this point, about Dexter.  The first is a short discussion of how he intends to cope without eyes.  The second is a word on miserliness.

Among his psionic abilities, he could establish a sight link with another creature.  He could, in other words, see through another’s eyes psychically, though blind himself; and though it might be disorienting, it would at least give him an idea of what he was facing and the terrain around him.  

But he couldn’t use his psionics.  (Remember, this is in 2nd edition.)  While he was focused on developing his clerical powers, he had to forsake all of his previously gained psionic ability, for to rely on it would be to stymie the learning and growth of his new priestly abilities.  

This terrible trial, the most terrible trial yet laid upon him, drove Dexter nearly to despair.  But he accepted it.  It was his God’s will; it _had_ to be.  He would live in the darkness even as he walked in the Light.  Dexter acquiesced.  He would cope.  He would find a way to function without his eyes.  He would develop his other senses, so that he could hear the shape of a room, so that he could smell the presence of monsters, so that he could feel the movements of the air and plot out the movements around him.  He would find other ways, too; once he grew to a sufficient height of clerical power he would be able to use his sight linking powers again.  

Malford had an idea too.  Even then the gnome was brilliant, a genius mind that burned hot with ideas and ambition.  He had a million ideas, was already preparing to research several spells of his own devising.  And one of his ideas was to try to craft a homunculus for Dexter, one that would help guide him.  It was a gamble- Malford did not know of the technique he had come up with having been tried- but it was worth a try.  All it would cost them if it failed was some time and money.

Interestingly, Dexter seemed reluctant to apply the money.

It was a pattern, not yet noted even by the sharp-witted Malford.  Dexter would now spend only the minimum amount on- well, anything.  A room for the night?  A cheap inn, the cheapest private room he could find, with a stingy dinner and only one or two cheap drinks.  He seemed to resent spending even the meagerest coin, scowling when forced to pay a bridge toll of 2 coppers.  He would even avoid buying things if he couldn’t haggle the price down sufficiently.

And now, the homunculus.  It might cost as much as a couple thousand gold pieces, but to Malford it seemed a reasonable cost for a pair of eyes that Dexter could see through.  But Dexter grumped and muttered, agreeing to pay for the cost, but unhappily.

All of this, of course, was the influence of the coins. 

Sitting in a bag tied firmly at the bottom of Dexter’s backpack, the _Sixty-six Red Coins of Greed_ exerted their pressure on the young man.  It was a subconscious influence; Dexter certainly didn’t realize it himself, not on a conscious level, nor did any of his friends and companions at that point.  The coins kneaded him, they swayed him gently as if in a dance with him as they warped his behavior.

Just a few brief notes for you there.


----------



## the Jester

*The Baron of Var*

_*9/18/96 O.L.G., 10 p.m., in the city of Fuzia, capitol of the Kingdom of Thule, Dorhaus*_

Rajah’s eyes flickered open.  He felt strange, languid, weak; like he hadn’t eaten or drank in months, yet had not suffered for it.  Now, though, he was ravenous- and could barely move.  He groaned.

“He’s awake,” came a voice, and Rajah glanced in its direction.  There was an acolyte of Galador, dressed in clean white raiment, hurrying towards him.  

“Water,” croaked Rajah.  _Where am I?_ he thought, disoriented.  The last thing he remembered was... the dryad?  He had spent the night with her... “What happened?” he gasped, as the lad brought him a clay cup of water.  Gratefully, Rajah took it and drank deeply, draining it.  He was dizzy...

“Someone found you in a fairy circle,” the young priest explained.  “Rest easy.  You’ll need a night to recover- we’ve seen these things before.  Here, have some food.”  The acolyte offered a tray of biscuits, fruit and cheese to Rajah.

“Where am I?”  Rajah started devouring biscuits immediately.

“You are in Fuzia.”

“Fuzia... this was my destination!”

“You were waylaid by the fae folk?”

“I... don’t remember what happened.”  Rajah was growing very tired, very rapidly.  He lay back.  “I think I need to sleep.”

“Of course.  You will be recovered soon.”

But Rajah was already asleep.

***

_*9/19/96 O.L.G., 11 a.m.*_

It was satisfying work, helping the beggars and the destitute.  Charlotte smiled to herself.  She had just spent all morning helping to distribute some food and meager aid to the poor.  Her next stop was back at the church, where she reported her deeds and tithed.  Rajah, by this point, was prowling about, eager to get his strength back and already much of the way there.  He overheard part of Lady Charlotte’s conversation, and the name ‘Dexter’ floated to his ear.  After that he watched and waited until Charlotte was leaving, and intercepted her at the edge of the temple’s nave, where he could speak to her without being overheard.  He told her he was an old friend of Dexter’s and Malford’s- correctly guessing that the two would still be together- and once he told her his name (which she had heard Dexter and Malford relate in their stories of their earlier adventures), she scanned him for evil and then took him to them.

“Rajah!” exclaimed Malford.  Lochenvare looked at the man who would become known as the Tiger Prince warily.  Dexter grinned and turned his head.  He wore a blindfold, covering the terrible gash that had replaced his eyes and the upper part of his nose.  

The old friends embraced and told their tales, and Rajah was introduced to the other members of the party.  His thoughts turned briefly to Lyr and her crew; he wondered how they were.

“I have an audience with the King tomorrow,” Malford told Rajah proudly.  “He doesn’t have an heir, and I have these coconuts from this magical tree of fertility in the Parrot Isles... heh heh heh.  I bet I can brew up a potion that will give him an heir, and maybe I can get a position at court as his wizard or something!”  The gnome was plainly very excited by the prospects.  He went on to say that “a king’s gratitude is more wealth than ten thousand gold pieces,” and Dexter smiled wanly.  The thought crossed his mind that his sixty-six coins were probably worth more still.

***

_*9/20/96 O.L.G., 1 p.m.*_

King Verrion was very interested in Malford’s proposal.  He was getting old; as a warrior king, he knew that there were inherent dangers in his position.  He _needed_ an heir.  

“If your potions work,” he declared, “I will reward you greatly.”

So Malford set to work.  Over the few weeks, he clarified, rarified, distilled, reduced, combined, congealed, baked, powdered, scraped and reliquified until he had accomplished his goal: two potions of fertility, that hopefully would overcome whatever >ahem< issues there were that were preventing the King and Queen from producing an heir. 

Six weeks later, Malford was summoned to a private audience with King Verrion and Queen Ahlissa.  They were sure by now; she was pregnant.  It had worked.  And King Verrion’s court mage (_damn,_ thought Malford, _he’s already got one_) had indicated through his divinations that it would be a boy.

“In thanks,” the King told Malford, “I am going to award you the Barony of Var.”

And Malford was speechless.

***

The Barony of Var was a small area, mostly composed of the plains and valley in the middle northern reaches of the Kingdom of Thule.  It butted up against the Ketzian Mountains.  The largest town, and capitol, was the city of Var.  Malford briefly considered re-naming it after himself, but wisely decided against it. 

In their first couple of months in Var, the new Baron and his companions began setting up shop in the old, decrepit castle that the last Baron (however long ago) had used.  It needed repairs, for which Malford- sorry, _Baron_ Malford- would need funding.  

The adventurers made a foray into the Ketzian Mountains, where they fought and killed a foul, super-quick faerie (Malford defeated it with a _color spray_).  They also met some ugly blue-skinned creatures that called themselves xvarts.  “These are _our_ mountains!” the little leader of the blue things squeaked.  “And by _ours,_ I mean the Fae Folk!  Believe me, you don’t want to be on bad terms with the Elf-King of Ketzia!”  After a considerable show of force by the xvarts, our heroes retreated, returning to Var, with Malford demanding loudly that the xvarts send this elf-king to speak to him.

By this time it was two months into the new year.  And it was only four days after they retreated to Var that the Elf-King arrived.


_*Next Time:*_ The Elf-King of Ketzia!  Is the new Baron of Var in big trouble?  Will all be peaceful?  Is there a problem in Faerieland?  Stay tuned and find out!


----------



## Knightfall

I'm really get a kick out this thread and Great Conflicts. They complement each other.

Cheers!

KF72


----------



## the Jester

Knightfall1972 said:
			
		

> I'm really get a kick out this thread and Great Conflicts. They complement each other.
> 
> Cheers!
> 
> KF72




Thanks! 

Pretty much the whole campaign ties together in one way or another.  Early on you have Dexter and Malford, and the whole idea of Law vs. Chaos really started at the very beginning (with Galador being very Lawful and a little Good).  You get Na'Rat even at this early stage, too.  Later, when I moved to Davis and started a new group, you have the introduction of Neutrality as a distinct force in Tirchond.  (Neutrality's finest moment yet, by the way, was when a true neutral pc drew the Balance card from a _deck of many things_ and chose to be judged rather than to change alignment.  He had several games of rigorous moral and ethical tests, which he passed with flying colors.)  Then it ties in to Dexter and Malford again around game 200 (heh heh), and somewhere towards the end of that sequence you get the introduction of the Clockwork Horrors, who tie in to Horbin and Clambake and stuff in my old story hour.  In between you have the group that went from calling itself the Swords of Assistance to the Fine Bitches because almost all the surviving pcs were female (including Sheva, Sybele, Angelfire and some others), which again tied in to the Law-Chaos conflict and into the Neutrality aspect of Tirchond.  Then you get to the Agents of Chaos storyline, which ties Horbin to the other group, and eventually to Malford again.  

Yeah- you'll see pcs (and some npcs) across multiple story hours.  The relationships between the various characters sometimes have considerable complexity beneath the surface.

Here is a list of the games, in case anyone's interested.


----------



## the Jester

*Uldinor*

_*2/4/97 O.L.G., 6 p.m., the Baron’s Castle in Var*_

The Elf-King of Ketzia arrived as dusk was beginning to blink its eyes across the horizon.  The sky had turned that strange color neither grey nor blue, with the western clouds glowing golden as evening’s setting rays caught them.  He rode in on a strange steed neither exactly garen nor exactly elk, but some dangerous-looking combination of both.  He was accompanied by a train of elves, perhaps a dozen in number.  No one saw them before they emerged from around the curve of the road on the Baron’s Road and became visible from the castle.  

Malford’s men, of course, saw to the mount and the comforts of the visiting elves without delay.  They didn’t know who they were, but a powerful veil of enchantment and illusion seemed to spring from them; and they were quite clearly Ketzisti elves, the strange elves of Ketzia, the folk of the Faerie-Land.  The Baron was summoned, and upon realizing that this was the Elf-King whom he had demanded, Malford led him to a sitting room.  

Already Malford’s ambitions were stirring.  He was a Baron, come out of nothing; was that enough for him?  Not by half.  He wanted more- bigger lands, more gold, more powerful magic.  He had that thirst for life that only adventurers have; and so he determined that this meeting, however ill-begun via the xvarts, would give him _something_ useful.  Some edge... something.

Much more, in fact, than he expected.  

The Elf-King- who never gave his name- admitted that the mountains weren’t really his, but stated that the particular section the xvarts lived in was probably theirs by right.  He didn’t seem overly concerned at the losses the party inflicted on the xvarts; he was a little put out, but he seemed willing to be eminently reasonable about it.  A good thing, too, since everyone knew what happened when the fey folk were angry: your milk would curdle, your food would spoil, animals would hate you, and so forth.  So when Malford gratefully offered to do a favor for the Elf-King in return for his concessions on the mountains and xvarts, the Elf-King immediately affirmed that there was indeed something he needed help with.

“Uldinor,” he said, his voice dripping hate.

“Who is Uldinor?” asked Malford, cocking an eyebrow.

“A summoner,” the Elf-King replied.*  “He has the secrets of the circles that allow him to summon and command fey folk, and that protect him from fey!  He can control us, and we are powerless against him!”  His fists were clenched, and his lips curled in a snarl.  “Even I dare not go against him; he has many of my folk guarding him against their will... I would not harm them, if I can avoid it.”

“Sounds tricky,” commented Lochenvare.

“Why is he doing this?  What does he have to gain?  From what I’ve heard of Faerieland, it seems like he could just get lost in it pretty easily,” Malford remarked.

The Elf-King winced.  “He could, but in the meantime many fairies would die.  Why he’s doing this...”  He stopped for a long moment, looking down.  Then, haltingly, the Elf-King continued, “One of his circles... one of the material components... is pixie wings.”

“We’ll do it,” Dexter said.  “We’ll help you.”

_*2/10/70 O.L.G., 2 p.m., Ketzia*_

Picture meadows of thousands of shades of grass, blooming with early flowers- splashes of yellow and white and blue on a green canvas.  Throw a few clouds in the sky, puffy like cotton balls.  The sky was a deep blue, the color of that one beautiful child’s eyes.  Cheery little shrubs popped up happy and healthy on every ridge and roll.  Animals flitted about- squirrels raced and mice scampered and cats played with their prey and snails slowly trekked along and butterflies spread their colors like rainbows in the sky.  There were stranger things too- ‘bunnycorns,’ as the party dubbed them, were rabbits with unicorn horns; the group saw several families of them, including adorable little babies.  

Their travel was, as the Elf-King had assured them it would be, unimpeded by the normal detrimental effects of Faerie.  The sun advanced across the sky, leaving the group day and night which might otherwise have blended into perpetual twilight; the weather was fair, when it might have grown wroth with them out of whimsy; no fiendish trees barred their path, nor riddled doors their way, nor troll-haunted bridge their road.  It seemed that the Elf-King’s good will meant quite a bit- at least, if one trusted all the stories and tales about Faerie. 

Which Malford, at the least, did.  Rajah had never heard those tales, having been brought up in the jungles of Gorel by tigers.  But he listened as Dexter and Malford excitedly told the stories.  So did Lady Charlotte, but her attitude was more parochial.  She disapproved of faerie tales and such as pagan artifices to cover the influence of Bleak, and so she noted Dexter’s telling of the tales with a reluctant sense of dismay.  After all, Charlotte had heard Dexter speak in the Voice of God... _could_ she doubt him now?  Well, clearly, the answer was yes, because she did... but...  It was very confusing.  She filed the faerie tales away for another day.

The group found Uldinor easily.  It was almost as if the land itself led them to him.  Perhaps it did.  There was a house, and it was human-sized; and it was clearly out of place.  The party had seen nothing like it yet.  

They drew off a short distance to discuss strategy.

“We don’t want to hurt any faeries if we can avoid it,” Malford said, and Dexter instantly agreed.  

“It may not be possible to avoid hurting some of them,” Rajah stated.  “If they get in our way, we have to remove them for their own good.  Some of them may not be removable unless we hurt them.  Or even kill them.”  He tossed his mane of hair.  His muscles rippled as he stretched his arms and legs, loosening up for fighting.  

“Be that as it may, we should minimize it as much as possible,” Malford insisted.

“Instead of fighting our way through there,” Rajah suggested, “we might be better off just running through each room until we find this summoner guy.”

The group greeted this with silence for a moment, then Malford giggled.  “I can just see it.  We’ll pick up a train of faeries!”  He started to laugh hysterically, and the others joined him.

When the laughter subsided, Dexter said, “Let’s do it, then.”

And they did.  The group clustered around the entrance; then Rajah threw open the door and they all sprang inside.  Malford scrambled to the next door and threw it open before the fey could respond to him, but then, anguished looks on their faces, the enslaved fairies threw themselves at our heroes.  Rajah knocked a sprite back and Dexter smacked a brownie with his _staff of combat._  Then the party was through into the next room, and Lady Charlotte was already cutting down the sprite blocking the exit.  Then through, while Malford whirled and blanketed the closest faeries in a _color spray_.  

The next door led to Uldinor.  

The man was standing, grinning, in the center of a circle, but the grin vanished instantly when he realized that his attackers _weren’t fae._  “Wait!” he cried, “don’t-“

Lady Charlotte didn’t even pause long enough to _detect evil._  She charged, followed by Rajah, who tore at the summoner like a tiger, screaming and growling.  Malford moved in and landed a backstab, and Dexter’s _staff of combat_ dealt a telling blow.  In moments it was over, and though the nixies and sprites had begun reluctantly attacking the party in a half-hearted effort to defend their master, the instant Uldinor dropped the faeries all _stopped._

The nearest nixie sighed, a great sigh of relief.

A brownie groaned, “At last...!”

And our heroes grinned.  A job well done.

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes have dinner with King Verrion of Thule! 


*Summoners are important to this part of the story, or I probably never would have even mentioned them.  A summoner was a master of circle magic, based on the summoner class from Paladium.  I don’t recall there ever being a pc summoner back when I used them, at least not in Cydra.  Anyhow, summoners used circle magic, that is, they inscribed circles and invoked their magic.  There were three types of circles- summoning circles, circles of protection and circles of power.  A summoner could invoke so many circles per week (I think?- don’t believe I still have the rules for all that).


----------



## the Jester

*Dinner with the King*

_*2/25/97 O.L.G., 7 p.m., in the dining hall of the Royal Castle in Fuzia, Thule*_

Having left his majordomo, Marcus, in charge of things at home, Baron Malford and Prince Rajah had gone to Fuzia, several hundred miles away.  Now they sat to dinner with the King of Thule.  As one of the King’s men, Malford felt obligated to relate to him the recent events involving Ketzia.  It was a neighboring state, after all, and he had made diplomatic contact- sort of- with the Elf-King.  King Verrion II of Thule, Lord of Lake Bellurnus, Protector of the Ketzian Mountains, Thane over the Bendrock, Guardian of the Western Reaches, etc., was most pleased to hear of it.  He thought that Malford might make a wonderful addition to the aristocracy indeed.  

“We’ve never had much luck with the Ketzians,” Verrion confessed.  “Please, feel free to build this relationship up.  Everyone knows that the Ketzians could be either fantastic allies or deadly enemies.  And if you could persuade him to send envoys, or even to meet with me personally... well, I would be honored to receive any such gestures.”

Not only would friendship with the Ketzians help in its own right, it would also aid the Kingdom of Thule in its diplomacy with the Duchy of Moire and the state called only Morraine, in the north.  These were two nations of mixed blood human/elves.  Generally referred to as ‘half-elves,’ the inhabitants of Moire and Morraine were usually the product not of mixing elf with human, but of mixing mixed bloods among the Moirans and Morrainians.  The elven blood in these folk was largely Ketzisti; they connected with the Ketzians like no other people possibly could.  Like the Ketzisti, they preferred an attitude of careful neutrality towards the big polarization of Dorhaus.

Picture Dorhaus for a minute.  Split along its north-south axis by the Bendrock Mountains, and along its east-west axis by the Ketzian Mountains (on the west) and the Swamp of Lithos (to the east).

In the west, south of the Ketzian Mountains, was the Kingdom of Thule, of which the Barony of Var was a vassalage.  North of the Ketzian Mountains, of course, was Ketzia itself- which remains even today, and persevered through even the worst of Fuligin’s ravages.  The northern extent of Ketzia ended, at that time, where the Bendrocks began curving gently west towards the coast.  Further north still were Moire and Morraine, with forests and smaller ranges of mountains on their borders.  

The southern portion of the eastern part of the continent, below the Swamp of Lithos, was controlled by Imperial Wotan.  This included several powerful semi-independent tributaries, such as the Barony of Goldstone, the Prince’s Hold, the County of Aara and the Duchy of Sallax.  But the current Emperor of Wotan- Tovan IV, called Kinslayer but never in his presence and never very loudly- held everything together with an iron-tight fist.  Imperial Wotan and the Kingdom of Thule were the two largest and strongest states on Dorhaus; they were natural rivals, though separated by the Bendrocks except at their southernmost extent, where a pair of forts were built at either end of the Iron Wall long ago to guard the passage against all but the most determined armies.  The interminable warfare between the two enemy states was thus limited to clashes in and around the Iron Wall or dangerous forays through the formidable chain of mountains.  

North of the Swamp of Lithos, southeast of Moire and Morraine, was a smaller kingdom called Chorania.  Being so close to Imperial Wotan, it could not escape becoming a satellite.  North of it was a state known as Bemvia, and it and Chorania were longstanding foes.  With Imperial Wotan behind Chorania- after all, the Emperor would love to annex the entire continent if he could manage it- the only way Bemvia could hold out was to become a fierce ally of Thule’s.

One of the problems in this arrangement was that it was very difficult for Thule to send reinforcements to Bemvia.  They either had to sail through the rough waters off the north of Dorhaus, which were notoriously dangerous, especially in the spring, or they had to go through a long mountain journey, during which time they were vulnerable to ambush.  There was a much easier route- going through territory that was Ketzian.  If Malford could somehow open that route...  The implications were fantastic.

So were the implications of Rajah.  _The Tiger Prince,_ King Verrion thought.  It was not inconceivable that there could one day be a friend on the throne of Wotan.  Perhaps it was unlikely; but it was at least _possible._

King Verrion II of Thule grinned to himself.  It was a good time to be King.  Yes indeed.

_*Next Time:*_  Farenth’s Game begins!


----------



## the Jester

*Farenth's Game: What Has Gone Before*

And now we get to Farenth’s Game.

Let’s have a little recap, shall we?

Originally a group of scoundrels formed a pirate crew.  Several of them were followers of Bleak, including Chanticller, the ship’s tail, and Galiger, a cleric of Bleak who spent his every moment praising the darkness and opposing the Light of Galador, Bleak’s arch-nemesis and the (more or less) monotheistic deity of the world.  (Other gods are out there, but Galadorianism dominates the known world and persecutes everything else, claiming that it is worship of Bleak wrapped in deceptive clothes.)  Most of the rest of the pirate crew was, if not evil, at least anti-Galadorian.  Dexter, a young, impressionable lad, was a ripe target for conversion to the worship of Bleak, and in a deadly battle he gave his soul to Bleak in return for victory.  But then Dexter, who had used his mental powers to murder a cleric of Galador, was captured and tortured by the Inquisition.  Forced to convert or die, the lad naturally converted to follow the Light.  He was branded and released, and returned to the crew a humbled and changed young man.  

Galiger was furious that Dexter had recanted his worship of Bleak, and especially furious that he would not cast Galador aside in turn, but Dexter was afraid that the Inquisition would know and he would not suffer himself into their hands again.  Galiger constantly baited and taunted Dexter, until finally Dexter attacked him and psionically _mindwiped_ him, reducing his mental faculties significantly.  Only the intervention of Malford, captain of the pirates, stopped the fight from turning lethal; Malford magically rendered them both unconscious, and realizing that there was no way the two could coexist peacefully, he carried Dexter away.  He felt responsible for the lad, and he felt that Galiger would be satisfied with leadership of the pirate ship.  But Galiger, enraged, killed himself in an oil-bearing assault on a church of Galador that led to an appalling fire.  

Thus Dexter and Malford fled the ship.  The other pirates, though some clamored for revenge, sailed far away to Strogass, a continent rumored to exist where Bleak ruled supreme.  Along the way, the new pirate captain, Lyr, discovered that one of the crew members, a man named Farenth, had attempted to intimidate the cook into poisoning her.  When confronted, Farenth lied smoothly and claimed that he had been acting in what he felt was the ship’s best interest.  After an intense interrogation, Lyr decided to let him live, but to put him off the ship at the next harbor, Pesh.

Farenth was also a Bleakist; though information on his background is sparse, it is clear that he once aspired to paladinhood.  And he fell, far and farthest, to the bottom of the blackest pit there is.  Farenth’s name lives in infamy, even hundreds of years later, and no doubt will continue to live on for eons.  For he was the antithesis of Dexter.

Meanwhile Dexter explored his faith, and tentatively moved towards good and lawful alignment.  And when he took up the raiment of a cleric, he discovered that he could speak in the Voice of God.  This surprised Dexter as much as it surprised anyone, and he almost immediately began running afoul of the established church.  Yet as individual priests heard him speak in the Voice, they _knew_ that Galador spoke through him.  His previous reputation as a deceiver worked strongly against him, though.  Malford and Dexter had gathered a formidable group of adventurers around them, including one of the old pirate crew, and Malford had even been made a Baron by the King of Thule.

Meanwhile, the pirates reached Strogass.  They didn’t know it, but Farenth would follow them there after he failed to redeem himself on Pesh.  He knew where Lyr had intended to go, broadly speaking, and the idea of reaching a land where he could relax into his true, evil proclivities was most appealing.  While the pirate leaders adventured, Lyr was killed; and the new captain was none other than Chanticleer, one of Bleak’s villains and the leader of the faction that wanted to hunt down and kill Dexter.  But they knew that they needed a way to defend themselves against his mental powers first, so they went on a quest for an item that took them to the Underdark and thence to the very Abyss itself.  

Farenth, meanwhile, had begun spinning his web.  He seethed with hate for all of them- Chanti, Dexter, Malford, several of the others.  He manipulated and murdered his way into position and slowly, subtly, began drawing them together.  He dispatched a letter to Dexter and Malford- it was easy enough for him to find out where they were, as news of Dexter was racing all around- and he dispatched another to Captain Lyr and her crew (not knowing that Lyr was dead and Chanti had become the new leader of the pirates).

Farenth’s plan was simple, at heart.  He would kill them all.  The beauty of it was, he would use the two groups against each other.  He would kill them all by tricking them into killing each other, and only at the end would he swoop in to get the survivors.  If they were lucky, he might honor one or two of them by sacrificing them to Bleak.

Oh yes.  Kill them all.

***

These are the pcs at the culmination of Farenth’s game, a few updates from now.

*Good Guys:*
Dexter Nadly (cleric 5)
Malford the Magnificent (thief/illusionist 6/5)
Lochenvare (fighter 5)
Rajah (psionicist 5)
Lady Charlotte (paladin 4)

*Bad Guys:*
Delilah the Damned (conjurer 3)
Vosh (centaur druid 5)
Akakathan (priest/bard 4/5)
Urdor Darkwind (fighter/priest 3/2)
Chanticleer Gilder-Ynarlsland (villain 6)

Though the good guys have a slight level advantage, you’ll see that the bad guys get a certain, erm, blessing from Bleak to help them out....


----------



## the Jester

*Farenth's Game, pt. I*

At some point- possibly already chronicled- something very important happened to Chanticleer and a few of her companions.

All of this thread up to now has been from some fairly detailed notes and game summaries, but oddly this got left out.  Did it happen after the group’s trip to the Abyss?  I don’t think so- I think it was sometime before.  But somehow, this event was never noted.  

Well, I have no date for this- just a rough idea.  Insert this parallel to our recent looks at them; squeeze it in there somewhere.  I shall merely report the events, and to a certain extent (in this case) I must leave the chronology to you.

***

The night was thick and dark.  The villains of this piece were celebrating their evil plans.  Vosh provided some interesting mushrooms, Chanti and Urdor provided the liturgy to Bleak, Akakathan- somewhat reluctantly- provided the music.  This ceremony to an evil god of the land people was more than a little uncomfortable for him, but it was already too late for him to back out of the group.

The mushrooms took hold, though Akakathan refrained from indulging in them.  Frenzied dancing ensued, and feasting and drinking; and in the midst of it all, dedicated to their Dark Lord, came an orgy, given in the name of Bleak.

“Bleak!” Chanti cried, “I am your vessel!  Fill me with your Darkness!”

They took her one by one, first Urdor and then Delilah and then even the centaur, Vosh- he almost ripped her in two, but she accepted him gladly, screaming Bleak’s name.  

The storm fell upon them, lightning and thunder, the sky black with clouds as fat drops of blood-warm rain splattered down around them.  Akakathan shivered at the greasy feeling of the drops; this was no natural rain.  

And then a stroke of black lightning struck down.  

Vosh, Delilah, Urdor and Chanticleer were writhing together beneath a tree when it came, the coup de grace, killing them all instantly and leaving them insensate for a moment.  Akakathan’s scream was drowned out by the thunder.  He rushed to the pile of bodies, but they were already stirring.  

Bleak had heard their prayers, accepted their sacrifices and touched them to aid them in their quest.  They looked the same, at least for now, but though they still breathed (out of habit) their hearts no longer beat.  In time they would learn that they had become undead, and when they did their reactions would vary.

Both Urdor and Chanticleer were overjoyed.  A mark of Bleak’s favor!  The Black Sun surely shone upon them!  So what if they were cold to the touch?  So what if men would shudder at the thought of enjoying Chanti’s charms?  They were now undead warriors of Bleak, unholy reavers of blasphemy.  Now their quest for Dexter’s blood had new impetus.  “I’m going to kill him,” Chanti murmured to herself with new assurance.

Vosh was horrified at his change.  He was _a druid!_  How could he have become undead, such a terrible blight on nature?  He wept secret tears and vowed to find a way to reverse the process.  To Vosh this was an abomination, so unnatural that it made his stomach churn.  But for now, out of friendship, he would remain with his companions. 

Delilah was the only one with mixed feelings on the subject.  To her, a believer in the power of seduction, the inability to touch, to feel like a living thing, was crushing; but the ability to exist eternally, in unchanging beauty, was like a heady wine to her.  (Later, when she began moving among the richest men of Forinthia, she found that some people, at least, liked her to be cold and still.  “Play dead,” he whispered in her ear.)  She immediately set out to develop a spell designed to aid her with seducing others into believing she was a warm living woman.  _Inner warmth_ was to be the result, but the process made her very thoughtful.  Why not make spells her rivals would have difficulty casting?  Gloating at her brilliance, Delilah the Damned began work on a spell whose material component was horrific enough that most casters would be unable to use it- especially _good_ casters.  This became her _oozing lilacs._ 

Akakathan watched it all quietly and wondered what the hell he was doing with these horrible monsters, but there was nowhere to go and no way out.

***

When the group got the letter from Farenth, they were surprised- to say the least.  It was addressed to Lyr, who was dead.  In it, Farenth claimed that he was luring Dexter and his companions to Forinthia, and inquired as to whether Lyr and her crew would care to aid him in killing them.  Chanti grinned like a demon upon reading it. 

Twenty-four hours later, the crew had been pulled together and the _Twikwakikikak_ was moving out of the harbors of Strogass and setting out for far-away Forinthia.  

_*Next Time:*_ Farenth’s Game, part II!


----------



## the Jester

*Farenth's Game, pt. II*

While Farenth was manipulating the villainous group of pcs with the promise of Dexter’s head, he was also setting the terrible events in motion that would lure Dexter and his companions- the heroic pcs, if you will.  He had already hit upon his bait for them- and he had already kidnapped Sheila the Confessor, the priestess who had assuaged Dexter’s fears and helped his pains while he was in the dungeons of the Inquisition.  She was the one, more than any other, who had turned Dexter to the Light.  Dexter could not turn from her.  Driven by a deep guilt crossed with teenaged lust, he had no choice when the letter came.  And indeed, why should a group of adventurers so puissant that they included the Son of the Light, the Baron of Var and the rightful heir to mighty Imperial Wotan fear a single pirate madman worshiper of Bleak?

Dexter was frightened for Sheila.  “He wants us to come to Forinthia to get her out of his ‘tender ministrations,’” Malford read to him (for, alas, Dexter could not read with no eyes).

Dexter could not, would not refuse. 

The party strapped on their gear and prepared to depart, but Malford was crafty and perceptive.  “I don’t like it,” he argued.  “What if he’s got a crew of his own now?”  And he brought his captain of the guard with him, along with four of his men.  

“A Bleakist?  Let’s smite him!”  Lady Charlotte was showing a taste for violence, at least if it was justified by service to the Light.  Dexter timidly tried to talk to her about it, but though she listened, his words didn’t seem to unduly influence her actions.  

From Var, the group traveled to Ostraghan, a large port city on Lake Bellurnus.  From there they rode a barge downstream to the sea, where they sought passage on a boat.  Farenth had dispatched one of his new lieutenants, a dwarven fighter named Durgin, with orders to take the group’s measure.  Farenth knew full well that Durgin wouldn’t be able to kill them, but he hoped to gain enough information about the party’s tactics and abilities to make the investment of time worthwhile.  Durgin, having traveled to Dorhaus and to the most likely city the group would leave from, hired a pack of wererats to attack the party, and they struck while the party was whiling away a few days waiting for their ship to depart.  The heroes handily dispatched the lycanthropes, though several members of the group were wounded in the engagement (including Malford’s captain of the guards, Breston).

Durgin got away aboard the same ship our heroes were on and kept watching them unobtrusively.  Soon enough they all reached Port Lofrax, on Forinthia.  As the adventurers disembarked, Durgin walked away towards Farenth’s lair.

Farenth, utterly deranged at this point, was keeping quite busy.  Between committing unspeakable acts of torture upon Sheila, he was keeping a close eye on any ships arriving from the west.  Dorhaus- and half of his targets- lay in that direction.

Kill them all.  Oh, yes.

_*Next Time:*_ Farenth’s Game concludes with a bang!  What happens when the heroic pcs meet the villainous pcs, with Farenth and his lackeys in the middle??


----------



## the Jester

*Farenth's Trap Closes*

_*4/18/97 O.L.G., 10 a.m., the harbor of Port Lofrax, Forinthia*_

_What have I gotten myself into?_ groaned Akakathan to himself. 

He stood on the prow of the _Twikwakikikak_ in the stinging spray, his heart heavy.  He could simply leave... but these people were his _friends._  And they were counting on his help.  Behind him, he heard Vosh say, “So this is Forinthia?”  The centaur’s voice was tinged with sorrow- since the foul ritual that had turned him undead, he had not recovered his good cheer.

“Yes,” came the voice of Chanticleer, full of spite and malice.  “And Dexter is here somewhere.”

***

The city was crawling with Farenth’s agents.  He was certainly well-informed of local events, and the arrival of the villains was reported to him right away.  No sign of Lyr, as yet, but there were others he knew... oh yes.  On his knees behind a dark altar, he grinned as he made his prayers to Bleak.  Everything was coming together.  His spider web was quivering as the flies landed.

When Durgin announced that Malford had arrived with nine allies, Farenth frowned slightly.  That was a lot of opposition; he could only hope the pirates would be as wise.  

Then he spoke to the doppelganger and they made their final plans.  Even if Dexter thought he won, Farenth would ensure that he would lose.  

And then, of course, one more thing to take care of- Farenth spent the majority of his savings having a _teleport_ spell put into his _ring of spell storing._  Now all was ready.

***

_*Noon, the Blue Moon tavern, Port Lofrax*_

“We’ve got to find them,” Dexter said urgently.

“It’s a trap, you know,” Lochenvare grunted. 

“It doesn’t matter.  We’ve got to save Sheila!”

“Wasn’t she involved in your torture?”

“No, she was my Confessor.  And it doesn’t matter.  We just need to stop Farenth and rescue her!”

“Whatever.”  The burly fighter shrugged and took a pull on his beer.  “So how do we find them?”

“He lured us here,” Malford explained.  “_He_ will find _us._”

***

How right Malford was.  Once Farenth’s preparations were made, his people in place, the doppelganger in the form it needed to be, he sent off one of his particularly amusing lackeys to get things started.

***

_*1:30 p.m.*_

Seth, garbed in outrageously pink studded leather armor, moved through the streets of Port Lofrax, keeping his eyes peeled for a centaur with green hair.  That would be the one that would stand out the most.  He asked street vendors near the docks, passing out a few coppers, until he had followed the pirates’ meandering trail to an inn of rough reputation.  There he sauntered up to their table and softly, in a simpering voice, murmured, “Farenth sends his regards.”

Chaticleer’s head snapped up.  “Where is he?” she asked, her voice dangerous.

“Is it him you seek- or Dexter?”

***

Meanwhile, almost simultaneously, a group of three of Farenth’s agents ambushed Dexter’s group as they were on their way to Port Lofrax’s cathedral to Galador.  Dexter hoped they might be able to help track down the missing Confessor.  

The attack was sudden and brutal.  It was led by Amar, one of Farenth’s lieutenants, but all three of the agents were sacrifices.  Farenth knew they had no real chance against the heroes; the idea was to lead them into his lair.

When the last of the three was defeated, the party interrogated the only survivor.  And he played his role perfectly- quivering in fear of his life, he told them where to find Farenth.  They moved immediately towards the address he had given- towards Farenth’s trap.

***

“We need to think about this,” Delilah repeated.  “If we’re going to attack them, we need to make sure they won’t just slaughter us.  Can we take them in a fair fight?  Maybe- we don’t know what they can do- but we shouldn’t even try.  Forget a fair fight!  Let’s be _sure_ we’ll get them!” 

“He’s in that house right now,” Seth promised. 

“We don’t want to just charge in at them,” Delilah insisted.  “We need to lay a trap and lure them out into it.”

“What do you mean?”  Chanti’s eyes were lidded; she was drugged with the feeling of vengeance, about to be delivered.  Vengeance for Galiger- vengeance for Bleak.  

“I’ve got an idea,” she explained.  “First of all, we _all_ use that _dust of disappearance_- if we lose the fight, we don’t want Dexter and his team to get it, so however much we use up is a good thing.  Then we all wait in a _rope trick_ and ready oil and acid and missiles.  When they come into range, Chanti sneaks out of the hole and prepares to engage Dexter and the rest of us drop fire on them, creating a distraction.”

“Damn,” swears Urdor Darkwind, “you’re _clever._”

“Delicious, darling,” she said sweetly.

They began passing around the dust.

_*Next Time:*_ Here we go, folks!  You’ve seen the lead-up- here comes the confrontation!


----------



## Knightfall

It's going to be a slobberknocker!


----------



## Brain

Just a bump with some encouragement to continue this one.


----------



## the Jester

Yeah- I need to check the recollections of Vic, Craig and Aaron (them being the only players still around from those days).  Don't worry, though- I haven't abandoned this thread!


----------



## the Jester

*The Trap Closes*

_*4/18/98 O.L.G., 1: 50 p.m., Port Lofrax, Forinthia*_

The stage was set.  The players were moving to the endgame.  Dexter and his companions were hustling towards the address that Farenth’s defeated minions had given them.  _Sheila!_ Dexter thought desperately.  _I won’t let him hurt you!_ 

Meanwhile, Chanticleer and her crew of pirates were moving towards the same place.  They fully expected that a fair fight would be their end; and so they had no intention of giving a fair fight.  Vosh had even wrapped himself in serpents, made friendly by his druidic powers.  They might prove an invaluable asset in battle- or sufficient distraction to allow an escape.  Realistically, he was ready for either one. 

And the prime mover of all this?  Farenth Whiteshield, fallen paladin and madman, later acclaimed as the Son of the Darkness in mockery of Dexter, paced nervously back and forth.  He glanced at the supine form of the woman strapped to the altar of the Black Sun and grinned evilly.  _Oh, I have more than one surprise for you, Dexter,_ he promised silently, and then cackled aloud. 

***

*2 p.m.*

“There’s the house,” whispered Lochenvare as the more heroic band of pcs approached the building.  

It had the sort of old, creepy house look that only big houses with far too few people living in them can have.  The house itself perched on a rise above the beach.  The yard was overgrown, choked with weeds and clods of dirt.  A week-dead cat, buzzing with flies, lay near the entrance.  The building’s paint was peeling, already half-gone, and it looked like a few more good storms would throw the whole thing down in ruins.

“It’s too quiet,” murmured Malford the Magnificent.  “Maybe I should scout it out.”

“Maybe,” Dexter grunted, “but we can’t waste too much time- who _knows_ what Farenth’s doing to her in there!”

Rajah flexed his fingers.  “No matter what he’s done to this woman,” the Tiger Prince growled, “let’s ensure that he can’t do it again.”  His grin resembled that of a great hunting cat- an apt simile, as he was raised by tigers. 

“Ex-_cuuuuuse_ me!” cried a voice.  “Did you say _Farenth?_”  

The heroes whirled, blades rasping from their scabbards.  Lochenvare brought his peryton-horned trident out.  Lady Charlotte cranked back her crossbow and surreptitiously dropped a bolt in the slot.

Traipsing from the side yard came a young human man.  He was garbed in outrageous pink-dyed leather armor.  He minced towards them coquettishly, smiling an impish smile, and said, “Farenth sends his regards!  If-“

The next word he would have spoken never emerged.  Even as he began to parlay with the group, Lady Charlotte, paladin of Galador, leveled her crossbow at him and shot him in the middle of the chest, instantly piercing his heart and killing him.  Seth fell in a gurgle of blood.

_”What are you DOING?!”_ cried Dexter.

“What?”  Charlotte seemed entirely nonplussed.  “He was working for Farenth.”  She shrugged, unconcerned.

“We don’t know that!” Malford grated.  “And even if he is- I mean was- he might be a dupe!”

“Too late now,” smirked Lochenvare, and gave Charlotte a thumbs-up.

“When this is all over, we need to talk,” snapped Dexter at Lady Charlotte, who looked profoundly confused at the others.  But then the group cautiously entered the house.  

***

_*2:09 p.m.*_

The villains sidled up to the house only minutes later.  They had taken longer to arrive than Seth had by virtue of a quick stop to thresh out their deadly _rope trick_ plan.  Now, as the house came into view, they moved very carefully indeed.

“They don’t even know me.  I’ll go see whether they’re visible,” suggested Vosh.  

“No,” Delilah said sharply.  “If we split up, we die.” 

The others nodded.  After a rapid discussion, they applied the _dust of disappearance_ and all joined hands.  Then, carefully, they edged their way up to the house.

“Ach,” commented Urdor Darkwind.

The body of Seth sprawled before the porch.  From the street it was hidden by the overgrown lawn.  “Alas,” Delilah said sadly, “poor Seth, we hardly knew him.  Yet he seemed almost one of us...”  She heaved a sigh.  “Well, to the _rope trick,_ then,” she added, and cast her spell. 

Eagerly, the villains clambered into the extradimensional space created by the conjuress.  The group began drinking what potions they had, activating magic items with lasting durations and stretching their muscles.  They were, in short, extremely ready.  They could see through a sort of dimensional window; when the heroes came out of the house, the pirates would ambush and slay them, emerging unseen from that same window, which hung in the air.  And movement would not be a problem- not with the flying ability they had gained from the potions.  Striking from an unexpected direction, unseen; they should be able to overcome any advantage Dexter and Malford and their crew might be able to seize.

Of them all, only Akakathan had second thoughts.  He was no evil mastermind, or vessel of a dark power; he had no vested interest in slaying Dexter.  He knew, though, that to abandon the group now would lead them to turn on him, to hunt him down and kill him.  Maybe _after_ they killed Dexter... He mulled his options desperately; he could not see a good one.

***

_*2:23 p.m.*_

Slowly, with Malford warily checking every inch of hallway, every door and every room for traps, the heroes crept through the house of Farenth.  Here and there they could see an occasional dark stain on the floor- quite possibly blood.  Most of the house was abandoned, with but a few ancient and brittle curtains and rotten tables to be found.  Bare shelves, a fireplace long cold- and finally, after over half an hour of searching, a narrow door leading to a claustrophobic staircase that ended at a thick, stone door. 

***

_*2:59 p.m.*_

Farenth gloated.  His heart sang with joy; his _ring of spell storing_ was going to prove the perfect tool for his revenge.  He chuckled as he saw the door to the center of his trap start to open at last. 

_But where were the pirates?_

***

_*3:04 p.m.*_

“I don’t like it.”  Vosh’s voice disturbed the stillness inside the _rope trick,_ seemingly emerging from nowhere.  “They’re taking too long.”

“You’re right.”  This was Akakathan, speaking up for the first time all day.  “Our potions won’t last forever, and when they do, we lose much of our advantage.” 

“Perhaps we should attack, then,” suggested Vosh.  “Maybe it’s time we took the fight to them, while we still have the advantage.

“No, we should stay here,” argued Delilah invisibly.  “We’ve got a great plan, if we go charging headlong we’re going to charge headlong into disaster.  

“Bah!  We’ve got the best kind of invisibility you can get, we can get away by flying, and most of us are undead!  Why, if we have trouble, we can split up and meet again underwater- they certainly can’t mount an extended pursuit _there._”  This was the dark cleric Urdor again.

“Whereas you don’t need to breathe, and I’m perfectly at home in the water.”  Akakathan, as a merellin, could shapechange into a dolphin-like form.  

“Well, the decision is really the captain’s,” Delilah said.  “Captain?  What do you think?”

Silence.

Followed by more silence.

“Chanti?” asked Vosh tentatively.

***

_*3:00 p.m.*_

Let no man say that Lochenvare showed fear that day.  With a surly grin on his face, his trident clutched in one hand, he cast open that fateful door at the bottom of the stairs.  It stuck for a moment, then gave way, and light washed in over them from torches in sconces on all four walls.  Lochenvare advanced a few paces to allow his companions in, surveying the strange dark chapel he found himself in.

“Good afternoon,” purred a voice, and Dexter gasped.

_It’s him!_ the Son of the Light thought, and reached out to his homunculus, looking through its eyes.  Blind himself, he had not yet seen what the others, stunned, were taking in.

They were in a dark chapel to Bleak.  The room itself was about 20’ high, with a central dais raised about 5’ from the floor.  Upon this dais was a festering altar of black stone, strangely warped-looking about the sides but with a flat top.  The flat portion was of sufficient size to hold manacles spaced or a man or elf; and spreadeagled naked on this slab, locked in place, lay the supine form of Sheila the Confessor, for whom Dexter had come.  His heart leapt at the thought of rescuing her.  Next to the corrupt altar of darkness stood a dark-haired man bursting with malevolent glee.  Dexter recognized him instantly as Farenth.  Draped across all the walls were great black tapestries.  Not visible to the eye but only to the touch, the Black Sun of Bleak was stitched in the center of them all.  The floor was muffled with black cloth- but despite its dark color, some stains were visible in it.  

“Farenth!” cried Dexter, “Let her go!”

“Come and get her,” Farenth retorted, rubbing his hands together.  He let loose a sinister laugh. 

“Be careful!” urged Malford, and the group started maneuvering into the chamber, spreading out to take Farenth from all sides.  Their foe leisurely plucked a dagger from the side of the altar and pointed the tip at Sheila.

The confessor, bound to the altar, let out a desperate moan.

“We seem to be at an impasse,” Farenth commented.  “If you come closer, I kill her.”  Our heroes drew up short.

“What do you want?” Dexter demanded.  Farenth shrugged and grinned at him.  

“He’s up to something!” warned Malford.  _But what?  He doesn’t look like he’s casting a spell..._

Then, suddenly, Charlotte gave out a terrible scream of pain as blood splashed down her arm and side.  Suddenly there was a great rent in her armor and she staggered back.  To her horror, she found herself unable to _lay on hands._

”What...?” Lochenvare started, and gasped as an invisible blade stabbed into the seam in his armor at the knee.  With a grunt, he staggered back and stabbed blindly with his trident.  “Watch out, there’s someone invisible!” he shouted, limping on his wounded leg.

_”Improved_ invisible,” Malford corrected, drawing both his blades.


_*Next Time:*_ Dexter’s party vs. Chanti’s party at last!  It’s on- prepare for massive amounts of death and trickery!


----------



## the Jester

An important thing to remember when considering the timeline in this story hour is that this is during the earlier, 2e era of the campaign, and so 1 round = 1 minute.


----------



## the Jester

*Farenth's Game, Finale*

Lochenvare gave another shout of pain.  Crimson welled from his back, his side; an unseen blade flicked out, cutting him again.  He whirled and jabbed at the unseen enemy with his trident, but he thrust through empty air.  Where was his enemy?

_Argh!_  Behind him!!

Grimly, Lochenvare staggered away from the stinging blade.  _I’m leaking,_ he thought faintly. 

Gloating, Chanticleer, powdered into invisibility by the _dust of disappearance,_ pressed her attack, springing at the paladin bitch again.  Her sword _clanged_ into Lady Charlotte’s armor, then sliced along Charlotte’s face.  

While Charlotte haplessly tried to fight the invisible villain, Dexter grimaced and shouted, “Farenth, let her go!  This is between us!”  Farenth smiled wickedly and kept his dagger at his prisoner’s throat. 

_He’s going to kill her,_ Dexter realized sickly.  _I have to stop him!_  Even blind, Dexter was gripped by determination.  He gripped his _staff of combat_ tight in both hands and moved forward.  “Let her go!” he cried again, activating his _gloves of mirror image._

Rajah, meanwhile, activated his _animal affinity_ to gain the powers of smell that tigers possess.  He knew that even if he couldn’t _see_ an enemy, he could _smell_ them out. 

***

_*3:06 p.m.*_

“Where’s Chanti?  Chanticleer, are you here?”  Delilah’s voice edged on panic.  _If she just ran ahead, she might spoil the whole plan!_ the conjuress thought.  A tight spasm of fear ran through her.

“She must have gone ahead,” rumbled Urdor Darkwind, cleric of Bleak.

“We have to go after her.”  That was the voice of Vosh.  All of the pirates were invisible thanks to the dust.  

“But the plan-“ protests Delilah.  Then she pauses. “She can’t take them alone, and she’s our leader.  Let’s go.”

***

_*3:08 p.m.*_

Malford cast a _burning hands_ into the air, blistering around Chanti and momentarily outlining her form.  Lochenvare and Charlotte both struck immediately, and Lochenvare landed a glancing blow.  Seeing the splatter of blood, he grinned raggedly.  “Now we’re talking!” he snarled.  “We’ve got you now!”  Rajah, too, attempted to strike, but Lochenvare blundered into his way, fouling his blow.

But Chanticleer had already bounded back, twisted to the side, and come in behind him.  Another stab in the arm to Lochenvare and the fighter was barely standing.  “A little help here, Dex!” he groaned.

Then, suddenly, an arrow of acid sliced from empty air through one of Dexter’s images.  He gave a cry of surprise, and then the sound of galloping hooves thundered into the chamber, and a cry from nowhere- _”BLEAK!!!”_- and the other invisible villains crashed into our heroes like swords against shields.  Suddenly, Malford, Charlotte and Lochenvare were all fighting for their lives, beset by the unseen enemies, while Delilah conjured a fat, venomous spider on Dexter.  Unfortunately it was just one of his _mirror images,_ and the illusion popped as the spider bit it.

Dexter turned and swung his _staff of combat,_ and it rang off of an invisible shield.  With a grunt, the blind cleric spun his staff defensively, trying to fend off the rebuttal; but Urdor’s invisible axe only cut down an image.  A few still remained.  Then Delilah hurled a vial of liquid at Dexter, and it struck the real man and shattered, spilling what looked like water on him.  But it burned!  He hissed in pain.  _Unholy water,_ he realized.  _Whoever these invisible people are, I think they’re agents of Farenth!_

Charlotte gasped as she parried another blow from the invisible Chanti, but then suddenly she stiffened in pain.  Her armor was heating up!  Vosh, invisible, had cast _heat metal_ upon her.  From behind the paladin, his deadly sharp scimitar sliced in, cutting her across the back.  She staggered, blood pouring from her, as the centaur’s hooves battered her.  Her arm weakened as she fell to one knee, shaking her head.  She tried again to lay hands upon herself, to channel the Light to heal herself.

Chanti ran her through. 

Lady Charlotte Keen fell, dead, to the ground.  The first to fall in this monumental battle.

Dexter groaned inwardly.  Malford shouted in dismay and cast a _mirror image_ to defend herself.  

Farenth watched.  _Very clever,_ he thought.  _Lyr and her companions have come in unseen.  And it looks as though they will win handily.  Well, I can’t have that- after all, they must pay as well!_  Grinning savagely, he triggered the _dispel magic_ in his ring.

It washed over the room, getting everything except for Farenth and his prisoner, and suddenly, the situation changed.  The villains were visible.  Much to Farenth’s surprise, one of the villains was only inches from him: Akakathan, bard and merellin.

“Chanticleer!” exclaimed Malford.

“Yes, _captain,_” the villain said mockingly.  “We’ve come back to give you your reward for your treason against Galliger!”

Lochenvare grinned.  “Now that we can see you, _we’re_ gonna reward _you_ for coming by.”  He stabbed at Chanti with all his strength, and only her quick reflexes and skillful parry stopped her from being skewered!  Even so, his blow tore her along the side, and blood sprayed all over.  Chanti staggered, grimacing as Dexter cast a _cure light wounds_ on Lochenvare.  Then he began to radiate light- a new prayer he had researched himself, the _radiance of Galador._  Chanti hissed; it was blinding her!

Urdor Darkwind laughed, reaching into the darkness that was his god, and _despoiled light._  The radiance flickered and died.  Dexter cried out in surprise.

“Fool boy, the darkness ever overwhelms the light,” the evil cleric mocked.  

Shaken, Dexter yelled back, “The Light shall pierce all darkness in the end!”  He uttered another invocation to Galador, another new spell he had created, and launched a series of small motes of sunlight from his chest at the Bleakist.  They impacted on Urdor Darkwind with flashes of light and power, and blew the dwarf from his feet.  He groaned, dazed.  

“Let the girl go,” Akakathan said sharply to Farenth atop the dais.  He whipped his rapier from its sheath.  “Or I’ll run you through.” 

“Oh?” Farenth’s voice was mocking.  “I’d watch my back, if I were you!  In case you hadn’t noticed, you’re busy fighting for your lives here!  Now where’s Captain Lyr, boy?”

“She’s gone- dead,” the merellin spat.  Farenth’s face darkened in anger.

Chanti and Lochenvare were locked corps a corps.  They struggled, each trying to gain the advantage, until Lochenvare smashed his gauntlet in Chanti’s face.  She staggered back, blinded for just an instant, and he threw her off of him.  As she pitched back, he jabbed forward with the peryton-horn trident.

Chanticleer shrieked.

His blow hit her between the legs, impaling her pelvis.  Blood gouted massively as she jerked and thrashed for a moment; then Chanti fell, twitching, to the floor.  Her eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling.

A great cry of despair arose from the villains.  “Captain!” cried Delilah.  

“Let’s go!” roared Lochenvare, spinning and stabbing down at Urdor Darkwind.  The dwarf raised his shield, but Lochenvare punched right through it, and Urdor felt the trident stab into his throat- then nothing more.

“Flee!” cried Delilah, instantly taking her own advice.  Vosh turned and began thundering away, but as he did Malford sank the _hook of rending_ into him, and it began squirming and tearing at him.  He and Delilah pounded up the stairs.

”Don’t let them get away!” cried Malford, casting _fly_ and zipping up the stairs after them.  Rajah tore after him.

“What about this fellow?” Lochenvare jerked a thumb at Akakathan, still faced off with Farenth.

“I don’t want to fight you!” cried the merellin to Lochenvare, then stabbed savagely at Farenth.

His blade pierced the man who had brought them to this place, but it went right through him as if he weren’t really there.  Farenth laughed mockingly, then bowed.  Then he let his _projected image_ vanish.  

“Good enough for now,” grunted the burly fighter, bounding up the stairs after the others.  

The sea was near the house, and it was to the sea that Delilah and Vosh raced.  Delilah was in the lead; Malford sighted on her and fired a _Melf’s acid arrow,_ landing solidly in her back.  She grunted and staggered, but kept running.  Vosh grimaced, his green hair whipping in the wind, and struggled forward through the sand.  The _hook of rending_ in his flank was doing terrible damage, churning of its own volition in his flesh.  He reached the surf, gasping, and grasped the hook.  If it stayed within him any longer it would be the end of him!  He grimaced, seeing Dexter, Malford, Rajah and Lochenvare rushing towards him.  But he had to get it free... he groaned.  The pain was too much!  He was fading- fading- 

As Vosh collapsed, a great wave pulled his corpse out to sea.

Delilah staggered into the water.  Behind her, Malford grimly fired his bow, landing another arrow in her.  He knew the acid from his spell would be quickly washed away underwater.  He bit his lip as the conjuress disappeared under the waves, and flew overhead warily for almost ten minutes before alighting and sighing.  “Well, either she had a way to breathe underwater, or she surfaced somewhere I didn’t see, or she’s dead,” he said.

The party returned to the house, Farenth’s nest, and Dexter immediately freed Sheila from the slab.  She was sobbing in fear.  He held her against him for a moment.  

“Charlotte’s dead,” Lochenvare growled.  “And what do we do with this guy?”  He jerked his thumb at Akakathan, who was sitting on the floor looking ill.  “Should I just kill him?”

“No,” Dexter says sharply.  “But I’m not sure what we should do with him.”

Rajah shot a hard look over at the merellin.  “To start with, we should question him.” 

“I’ll answer anything I can,” Akakathan said unhappily. 

“Where’s Farenth?” snapped Dexter.

“I’m afraid I don’t know.  That was a _projected image,_” Akakathan explained. 

“He had to be somewhere close by,” Malford said, and the group made a search of the surrounding areas; but they were too late.  Farenth was gone.  He had escaped.

***

He was not quite the only one.

Shaking in fear of Dexter, after two days Delilah the Damned finally accepted that she was the last survivor of her band.  She trudged underwater along the Forinthian coast for quite some time before she emerged; the last thing she wanted was to come out of the water near Dexter and his band!

_We should have stuck to the plan,_ she thought wryly.

The mud churned around her feet as she walked across the sea bottom.

_Well,_ she said to herself, _I think I’ve had enough of piracy for now.  I need a nice, safe place to work on spells, so I can create _Dexter’s debilitation,_ so if he comes after me I have a defense.  Some money, maybe some servants..._

Delilah, mind always racing, turned upslope.


*Well, folks, that’s the ‘first cycle’ of Cydra: the Early Years.  I don’t know yet if I’ll keep this thread going (perhaps following Dexter’s band) or switch to some other earlier adventures in a new thread, or neither, or both... I guess we’ll see!  But this closes out the first major story arc in Cydra.  I hope you enjoyed it! *


----------



## Knightfall

Clap! Clap! Clap!

Enjoyed it all very much.

KF72


----------



## the Jester

If anyone is interested in voting on the next Early Years story hour subject, I've posted a poll at my Yahoo group (called, naturally, Cydra).

Here is the group.  Feel free to poke around!


----------



## Brain

I voted.  I vote on all of them though.  

Get your voice heard people!


----------



## the Jester

Just a bump for Cydra readers who might be interested in said polls.


----------



## Sandain

I voted.  I cant recall if you ever did a timeline for the major events of your story hour?  its hard to keep track of for us non players i think.


----------



## the Jester

Sandain said:
			
		

> I voted.  I cant recall if you ever did a timeline for the major events of your story hour?  its hard to keep track of for us non players i think.




Go to page 2 of this thread and scroll down a few posts...


----------



## the Jester

Okay, I'm rapidly catching both current Story Hour threads up... once I have done so (or am within a game or so of doing so), I'm going to either start a new thread or start posting in this one again.  If I decide to follow immediately on the heels of the last update I'll prolly just keep this thread goin'... otherwise we'll just have to see.


----------



## the Jester

*New Thread*

The next 'early years' related thing is going to be Delilah's Story.  It starts with game present, then quickly flashes back to the ending sequence of this thread.

I will probably eventually resurrect this thread for the continuation of Dexter and Malford et. al.


----------



## the Jester

*The Story Continues!*

Where were we?

Oh, yeah, after the big fight...

The next thing that happened was the dispensation of justice, both high and low.  Baron Malford took care of business.  Both Vosh and Urdor, though undead, had ‘survived’ the fight, though in a state akin to unconsciousness.  Urdor had been taken and Vosh recovered from the sea.  Akakathan, too, had been taken prisoner by Dexter, Malford, Rajah, Lochenvare and their party.  

Malford’s judgment was stern.  The two undead abominations were both executed immediately.

Akakathan was a more difficult subject.  He had not attacked the party, and had in fact tried to aid Sheila the Confessor while she was a captive of Farenth’s.  Though he had traveled with the evil party, he had (he argued) been in a very untenable situation.  Both Malford and Dexter could sympathize with that.  

In the end, Malford put Akakathan effectively on probation and allowed him to live.  Humbly, the merellin put himself at the Baron’s mercy; he would remain close at hand, for the nonce, so that Malford and his men might watch him closely. 

***

_*5/1/97 O.L.G., 3 p.m., the Cathedral of Galador in Fuzia*_

Dexter walked away from the pulpit awed.  His sermon- which preached in almost direct contravention of certain elements of church doctrine- had drawn thousands.  He was shaken with the immensity of it: people were listening to him- to him! 

It was the Voice. 

He spoke with the Voice of Galador. 

It was an immense responsibility, one that Dexter did not welcome.  It was a challenge that he did not feel he could live up to.  But it was driving him to _try_- to _try_ to live up to his growing sense of integrity and morality.  

_There is no need to persecute other religions,_ he thought.  _People should be free to believe what they want.  I know it._  And the Voice had not contradicted him; when he had preached his fervent belief, the Voice had _worked._  It would not, he knew, if what he said was truly against Galador’s will.

Reports of the sermon naturally spread amongst the clergy like wildfire. 

***

It was sometime around this period that Malford hired on a court wizard- a necromancer named Therena.  Though he was later to regret it bitterly, he decided that he would bring a wizard who was adept in the schools opposite his to work for him.  As an illusionist, he had no ability with necromancy, evocation or abjurations.  She would fill in the gaps nicely!

***

_*5/22/97 O.L.G., 2 p.m., the plains of southern Thule*_

Moons are rare.  One was directly over the south of Dorhaus when this happened. 

Our heroes decided to travel to the city of Trinsian.  None of them had been there before; that was reason enough.  It was on this journey that they saw something fall from the moon.  In the distance- directly beneath the moon- something struck, and there was a huge explosion of dust and a loud crack of noise.

How could a band of adventurers resist such a tempting target?  

When they got within about two miles they could see the crater, and within a mile they could see something grey-brown within it.  And when they got closer still, they realized that it was an egg.

“Oh, my,” whispered Malford.  

“Pretty big omelet,” observed Lochenvare.

“What the hell is in that thing?” wondered Dexter.  

“Whatever it is, it’s big,” observed Therena.

Indeed it was.  The egg was nearly 80’ in diameter.  The group speculated on whether it had really fallen from the moon.  “We saw it,” insisted Malford.  Even so, most of them find it hard to credit. 

“Now we know what is on the moons,” Malford grinned.  “Herds of whatever comes from that egg!”

Naturally, the group makes camp on the egg, taking care to light a fire.

_*Next Time:*_ The gargantuan egg hatches!


----------



## the Jester

Our heroes at this stage of the game are:

Dexter Nadly (human priest 5/ex-psionicist 5) NG
Lochenvare (human fighter 5) N (Evil tendencies)
Therena (human necromancer 5) CG
Rajah (human psionicist 6) N- raised by tigers
Akkakathan (merellin priest 4/bard 5) NG
Malford the Magnificent (gnome thief/illusionist 6/6) CG

Very soon- next update, in fact- they will be joined (i.e. someone will be replaced by after dying) by:

Drelvin the Archer (elf fighter (archer kit) 1) CG


----------



## the Jester

*The Gargantuan!*

Oh gosh.  Oh gee.  How could I forget!

Sheila the Confessor, rescued from Farenth- turned out to be a doppelganger.  She attempted to kill Dexter but was foiled easily by the suspicious Lochenvar and Malford.  They disposed of her handily.  

Did Farenth still have the real Sheila?  Had he ever had her?  In fact, was the doppelganger the real one?  If not, was she dead?  

They had no real leads that they could think of.  They could come up with nowhere to begin a search.  They would never know.  Or at least- not until the Second Coming of Dexter.

Anyway, back to the gargantuan egg.

Camping on it was an interesting choice.  All right, I confess: it wasn’t the whole party that camped on the egg, it was just Therena.  She was the one who started the fire, too.  Her reasoning was, there was no reason to hold off; they couldn’t very well just leave this huge egg waiting to hatch in the middle of the Kingdom of Thule.  Sure, it might have been rash; but she had her reasons.*  

Needless to say, the egg started to hatch.  

The thing that came out of it was bizarre in appearance and incredible in size.  Lochenvare- a tall man- did not even come to the top of the huge beast’s foot.  It had a strange head like a cross between a wolf and a lizard, with tough, leathery skin.  Long floppy wings covered in egg goo hung from its back.  It was probably 100’ high. 

With a great roar, the baby gargantuan began to rampage. 

Our heroes tried to stand against it, but they could not.  It solved the question of what to do with Akakathan for them by stomping him into jelly with a single ponderous step.  The blows they rained on it seemed to hardly scratch it.  Therena, however, managed to keep out of its reach and fire _lightning bolts_ to some small effect.  Malford, too, attempted a similar strategy: _fly_ above it and hit it with whatever missiles and magic he can muster. 

It was far and away too little.  

A few blows and Lochenvare was forced to retreat, barely clinging to consciousness.  And when it flapped its huge wings it generated a massive wind that blew Malford away from it like a leaf in a gale.  Our heroes were forced to flee away from it and regroup some distance away.  They watched grimly as the monstrous baby rampaged away from them. 

Observing the monster for a while, the party noted that it seems to be going along a fairly straight path.  “It will probably end up in or around the city of Ogremoch,” mused Rajah.

“We have to intercept it,” Dexter said.  “Think of the damage it could cause!  It could kill hundreds!”

“How can we fight that thing?” sneers Lochenvare.  Then he turns more thoughtful.  “Catapults?”

Malford nods.  “In part.  What we need is to be able to hit it from a distance.  Catapults, bows, spells, all things of that nature.”

“And if we alert Ogremoch, surely they will send what defenders they can to aid us.”  Therena nods.  “It is a good plan, my lord.”

***

_*5/23/97, 4 p.m., the walls of Ogremoch*_

The city had provided what defenders it could.  But there were only a few of quality.  Malford went in with a _stoneskin_ cast upon him by a friendly mage; a warrior in plate male named Planthus agreed to stand by Lochenvare when it came time to keep it from engaging the archers on the walls.  There was a dwarven priest named Urock 

Among the archers was an elf named Drelvin.  He was not a normal part of the city’s defense; he was a traveler.  But he was willing to lend his bow to the cause.  

When the gargantuan came, the archers and spell-slingers began firing at it.  When it came closer, Lochenvare and Planthus moved along the walls to be ready to draw it away from the others.  The plan worked perfectly, and Drelvin’s first proving was right here.  His skill with a bow first entered legend with the battle against the gargantuan.

Afterwards, with the immense carcass outside the city covering several fields of farms, Malford immediately hired Drelvin on.

***

Later, back in Var, after accepting all the necessary accolades, our heroes began planning their next move.  

With Dexter being dogged by the forces of Bleak, it seemed that a worthy quest might be to get a _holy avenger_ to use against them.  Now, granted that the paladin (Charlotte) had died, but there are more paladins out there.  

In fact, the party had ascertained that the legendary pit fiend of Blendorag guarded the egg of a phoenix.  Hatching it would gain the group a _wish_.  A _holy avenger_ would be just right to overcome a pit fiend and get the best thing that Malford and Rajah, at least, could think of.  So Malford had done some research to track down a _holy avenger’s_ location.  What he had found was- a challenge.  To put it mildly.  

The _holy avenger_ was in the lair of a dragon far to the north.  

“How far?” 

“We don’t have maps of the area,” Malford elaborated.  “We can probably find some somewhere, but it’s pretty far.”

They chewed the idea over.  Rajah tried to get some help from the faerie dragon Jovius, but he wanted no part in slaying a green.  The quest is kind of at the R&D stage, if you will.

Before they get to it, Dexter faces his greatest moral trial.

_*Next Time:*_ The greatest moral trial of Dexter!

*Therena was initially an npc, but was taken over by Charlotte’s old player after she died in the big battle immediately preceding these events.


----------



## the Jester

*Dexter's Greatest Moral Crisis!*

Dexter’s greatest moral crisis ever- one that later troubled him throughout his entire life and beyond- involved a child.  

Traveling across Thule, a pilgrim, he was asked for help by a peasant family.  There was something dreadfully wrong with their baby.

She was a year old, yet somehow a terrible demon had taken possession of her.  She taunted Dexter with the fact that, long before, he had given his soul to Bleak.  He could not be saved.  He had, in effect, made a contract.  There was no escaping.

Dexter tried his best to resolve the demon’s dilemma, but he couldn’t.  The demon lied to him, claiming that he could not drive it forth without killing the child; and Dexter believed it. 

“If you do not kill me,” taunted the demon, “I will lie here by day, but at night we shall creep out and murder.”

“If you do not kill me,” it laughed, “I will twist my parents’ love into hate, and they will serve the darkness.”

“If you do not kill me,” it whispered, “I will kill all you hold dear.”

And, for the greater good, Dexter killed her.  

The demon laughed and spat blood as the _staff of combat_ crashed down and slew the child that bore it, casting it back into the Abyss.  The horrified parents could do nothing but weep.  Dexter tried to console them, then walked away without looking back.  As if he could see.

It was probably a little easier, being blind. 

_*Next Time:*_ Dexter has a strange dream!  Enter Pandos the Mute!


----------



## the Jester

As the months went by, Rajah continued working with the revolutionaries of Wotan, seeking to overthrow his uncle and gain his rightful place as Emperor of Wotan.  Using Var as a base (until he can claim his throne), he plotted with General Rygarh and Unso via trump.  

Malford’s family, including his cousin, Threepio Bargeld “the Fine”, moved to the castle.  Threepio, an envoy, was to be a short-lived (literally) party member.  He was good with words and a master of persuasion, but he could not take much punishment.  

One night in the late summer, Dexter had a terrifying dream.  In it an ancient copy of the Galadron- one of the earliest copies extant- was taken by forces of evil and darkness to a terrible place piled with heads and skulls, and it was burnt.  A relic of the Light was cast, forever, into the darkness.  

Some research indicated that there was a very old copy of the Galadron in the city of Mirsa, to the north, so our heroes began preparing to depart for the city.  Before they left, however, a stranger named Tchall Noolyn arrived.  Tchall was an elf from Ketzia, the fairy land.  He was an agent of the Elf-King, and he brought word of more trouble: Dexter’s sermon of a few months past had led to his denouncement by the church.  

“Great,” he groaned.

“Don’t worry,” said Malford, “you have my protection.”

The party- now bolstered by Drelvin, Threepio and Tchall (who called himself Cyrcess while with non-druids) set off for Mirsa, hacking through gnolls along the way.  

Then they fell victim to a terrible trick.  A faerie named Tickerwicker lured them to a rockslide ambush near where a stream tumbled through a rocky pool.  A terrible assassin imp leapt out, slashing with a razor blade and leaving Drelvin apparently dead!  The others destroyed it, between Therena’s _vampiric touch_ and Cyrcess’ backstab.  Tickerwicker then further tricked the party into swimming into where (he claimed) the imp’s lair was. 

“There’s a long tunnel,” he claimed.  “There’s an air-filled tunnel at the end.  Swim to it and you will find his treasure.”

Tchall/Cyrcess took a huge gulp of air and dove down, swimming deep down the side of the river.  He found the entrance to the tunnel; surfaced to grab more air; and then began swimming with strong kicks towards the air-filled tunnel.  His infravision helped a little, but it was hard to make out much in the cold waters of the tunnel.  

His chest began to tighten as his air started to run low, and still there was no chamber.  

Tchall reached the back of the tunnel.  It was full of water.  His chest was pounding.  

_He lied,_ he thought. 

Swimming back down the tunnel, Tchall began to see spots.  His last thought was, _He’s not a faerie._

Tchall drowned. 

Meanwhile, on dry land Therena was examining the archer’s body.  “He’s alive,” she announced, “just in some sort of coma.  The imp must have used some kind of poison on him.”

She turned just in time, as Tickerwicker came at her with a dagger.  

A brief scuffle later, and she overcame him.  But Cyrcess never returned.  With a shudder, Therena abandoned the wait after almost two hours.  _This was a bad place,_ she thought fervently.  _I bet those two creatures were working together._*

The party soon moved on.  When they finally arrived in Mirsa they found the ancient text in no danger at all.  Puzzled, Dexter sat down to pray.  

_*Next Time:*_ Some divine guidance- and Dexter’s Warden!


*Indeed they were!  A faux faerie and an assassin imp, in case you’re curious.  This was one of the most messed-up encounters I’ve ever run.


----------



## the Jester

Hahaha... the fact that these games were 11 years ago really shows sometimes.  I totally jumped the gun.  As I review my notes, I realized that there were about a game and a half left of encounters before the party reached Mirsa... some of which have repercussions that are _very_ important elements in the campaign.  Nonetheless, they _did_ reach Mirsa, and so I will leave that post as-is.  Think of the next one as filling in missing stuff from the 'recent past'.


----------



## the Jester

*Old Man Malford*

_*10/21/97 O.L.G., on the road to Mirsa, Dorhaus*_

A few things happened before the party’s aforementioned arrival in Mirsa.  There was of course the incident with the faux faerie, which we have already discussed.  The party met up with Unell Nutcrusher, a female dwarf, and helped her avenge herself on the man who had abused and assaulted her.  

The party gained a new member after word arrived that the King of Fuzia wished to speak to Dexter.  Thanks to Rajah’s trump-maker Unso, the party was able to return to Fuzia, knowing that they would be able to trump back to Unso.  

The group found the news the king delivered to them daunting.  “The Bishop of Fuzia and I both support and believe in you,” King Verrion II said uncomfortably.  “But the Church has exerted a great deal of pressure on us.  Although we aren’t going to turn you over to them, we did agree to place a warden with you.”

Rajah snorted, “That’s ridiculous.  You just have to talk to them-” (this to Dexter)  “-and they’ll turn to your side.”

“A... ‘warden’?” Dexter asked, dumbfounded.  _Rajah’s right.  When I use the Voice, I speak as Galador.  Everyone who hears me knows it!_

“Yes,” the king replied.  “Pandos the Mute.”

It made a lot more sense all of a sudden.  Pandos the Mute was a paladin who could neither speak nor hear.  Thus, he should have been immune to the effects of the Voice. 

“Very well,” Dexter nodded.  “I accept this.”

The others looked at him.  “Is that wise?” asked Rajah.

Dexter nodded.

“Are you sure?” asked Lochenvare.

Dexter nodded again, hiding a smile. 

The party trumped back to Unso.

***

_*10/28/97 O.L.G.*_

Further along in their journey they encountered a burial mound and intrepidly investigated it.  Unfortunately, they disturbed a ghost and a banshee, and the banshee wailed- immediately slaying both Unell Nutcrusher and Threepio Bargeld, Malford’s cousin!  Malford, Rajah, Therena and Dexter blasted at the undead.  Dexter’s _sunmotes_ destroyed the banshee, but the ghost’s deadly aging attack was taking its toll- on Malford.  His hair was going grey, his muscles weak.  He could feel the creak in his joints.  He couldn’t believe it.  With terrible fascination, he watched as his body shriveled up more and more as the ghost touched him.

Then the _radiance of Galador_ blazed forth from Dexter, blinding the ghost; and Rajah unleashed his psionic _roar_ at it.  It cringed, and then Pandos the Mute stepped in silently, swinging his bastard sword through its spectral body.  It writhed in agony; Therena fired a volley of _magic missiles,_ and it was gone.

Malford collapsed, wheezing.  The others stared at him.  His face was lined with wrinkles, his hair thin and white.  His suddenly knobby hands groaned with arthritis.

Suddenly he was Old Man Malford. 

_*Next Time:*_ What book?  Oh, _that_ book.


----------



## the Jester

Current Party Lineup:

Lochenvare (human fighter 5; NE; wields a trident whose head is constructed of peryton horns)
Rajah (human psionicist 6; N; focused on body-enhancing powers)
Pandos the Mute (human paladin 4; LG; deaf and mute, Warden of Dexter)
Old Man Malford (gnome thief/illusionist 7/6; CG; prematurely aged)
Dexter Naddly (human cleric of Galador 5; NG; blind, but able to speak with the Voice of God)
Therena (necromancer 6; CG; Malford's court wizard)
Drelvin the Archer (fighter 3; CG; archer kit from _Complete Elves' HB_ or whatever it was called)


----------



## the Jester

*Oh, THAT book!*

At least the loot was good, reflected Old Man Malford.  

Among other things, the party recovered a powerful pair of magical gauntlets.  Called _gauntlets of absorption,_ they would absorb any _fireballs_ or _lightning bolts_ that the wearer was caught in, turning them into a short-lived burst of physical strength.  With his limbs failing with age, Malford ended up taking them.  

***

_*10/28/97 O.L.G., 2 p.m., Mirsa*_

Pandos stood in a silent guard over Dexter- both guarding him against harm and guarding against any treachery that he might attempt.  The Church of the Light was not pleased with his recent sermon, and had they had their way, they would have inflicted far worse penalties than simply a warden.  But Pandos was a loyal son of Thule as well as of the church, and Thule supported Dexter.  The paladin would have to tread carefully to make his way between his commitments to both church and state without breaking either.

Dexter opened his eyes, his prayer done.  He turned to Pandos and spoke.  The mute read his lips.

_The book is in a private collection, not the church here._

Well, that explained at least one piece of Dexter’s dream.

***

_*6 p.m.*_

The owner of the book was named Korlach, and when the party approached him, they were shocked and disappointed to realize that the book they were trying to protect- a very old copy of the Galadron, the holy book of the Light- was gone.  They were too late.  

“Based on Korlach’s description, they were Strogassians,” said Lochenvare.

Dexter used a _thought capture_- which allowed him to pluck a strong thought from the surrounding area.  “They were going to take it back to Strogass to destroy it,” he announced.  

“To a place called the Hill of Skulls.”

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes head towards faraway Strogass!


----------



## the Jester

Let me just say that I am _incredibly_ glad that I write my story hours up in Word before posting them these days... 

My plan: one post per day (in one or more of my SH threads) until the old posts are all back in place, and then more- presumably by that time, I'll have a few new ones written and be able to leapfrog forward...


----------



## the Jester

Strogass, the Dark Continent.  Very little was known about it; it was _far_ to the east, and it was said to be a land ruled by Bleak and his servants.  That agents of Strogass should travel so far, probably about ten thousand miles, to snatch up ancient Galadorian holy writings- was unthinkable. 

Yet they had done it, and (although our heroes would not realize it for months) they had done it to draw Dexter (and his companions, but really Dexter) to the Dark Continent.  Nor had their evil plans reached their fullness.  Though nobody could have foreseen it yet, their success could summon the terrible scourged known as the Tarrasque to Forinthia.

The journey would be long and hard.  Our heroes picked up many allies along the way, strong and weak, stout and faint-hearted.  All of the heroes they could find.  For they were headed to the Hill of Skulls.

None of them knew anything about it; it was a mystery.  Yet its very name was more than ominous; it was downright threatening.  The Hill of Skulls.  _How literal is that?_ worried Dexter.

Rajah knew all too well that he was taking an awful risk in heading to Strogass.  But the risks of staying were great, too; Emperor Tovan Kinslayer, his uncle, had agents pursuing and attempting to assassinate him.  Elcruche and his cronies were never far behind the Tiger Prince.  The Wotanian agents were deadly competent and utterly fearless.  One was some sort of blue-scaled, winged, dragon-like creature.  Another was a small halfling female all in black.  An orcish shaman with a long, thick spear accompanied them, too, wearing armor of bones.  There were more, too; but those were Elcruche’s main people.  And they were no laughing matter.  

The party made for the sea and then for Forinthia.  On the way they fought a party of bounty hunters out for Rajah’s blood.  They had been lured by a bounty placed on our heroes by Elcruche.  _I’m leaving just in time; things are getting hot,_ Rajah thought, and frowned.  _I can’t let this continue.  Someday, I must confront my uncle.  This will continue until I do._

The journey to Forinthia was a long one; upon reaching the island, and the city of Port Lofrax, our heroes disembarked.  Dexter was recognized often at first, but then went about hooded.  It was too late.  Things were stirring around him, as well.  Pandos the Mute stood fast by his side, always watching his every action- always judging his behavior.  The Church was cool to Dexter, at best polite; but those who heard the Voice- ahh, those people believed.  They _heard him_ speak with the voice of Galador.  How could they not have faith?

Yet his mind would flash back, from time to time, to his confrontation with High Priest Spadron, and the shocking discovery that Spadron could use the Voice as well- and _denounced Dexter_ in it.  The Voice was no sure protection.  Especially with his past.

The party visited Valkor the water wizard, whom they had first met when he hired them to investigate the Coral Caves.  He was wryly pleased to see them, despite their relatively new notoriety.  He commiserated with Malford about his aged status.  “Some legends claim there is a fountain of youth somewhere in the Great Redwood Forest on Valonia,” he mused.  Malford and Dexter exchanged a glance.  It was on the way, but...

“Isn’t there a dragon there?” asked Drelvin.

“Oh, yes,” Valkor nodded gravely.  “Brespicacious the Amethyst.  She dwells in the Snowy Peaks.  She has taught the orcs of Valonia a thing or two in her time!”

Our heroes mulled this over.  “It’s not much of a diversion, and I’m not worth much as I am,” Malford groaned bitterly.

“Were you ever?” quipped Lochenvare with a crooked grin.

“I don’t know how much time we have, but we should stop for a look,” said Dexter.  

So they sailed on towards Valonia, on their way to the Dark Continent of Strogass.

_*Next Time: *_ Our heroes begin acquiring more allies on their quest- and they suffer... Murder Most Foul!


----------



## the Jester

Therena insisted on a stop-off in Pesh along the way, hoping to track down the descendants of someone named Jones who had worn a magical artifact called the _bracelet of eyes,_ but the attempt was fruitless.  While they were there, however, Therena was becoming more and more worried about the behavior of Lochenvare.  

_We won’t accept any new evil companions,_ she thought, _yet Baron Malford allows Lochenvare to travel with us, and he is clearly evil!  Obviously, it is possible that Dexter will redeem him- in fact, from what I have been told, he is almost teetering on the border- but his propensity for violence worries me.  It seems that, were Malford and Dexter not here to shepherd him, he would turn corrupt in a moment._  She pursed her lips.  _I must watch him closely.  If they do not see it, it is because they have been his friends for too long.  He could be a danger to them... a _grave_ danger._

So she kept her eye on the fighter.  His violent sense of humor, his mercenary attitude- both of these worried her.  And with her liege lord, Malford, now aged by the party’s encounter with the ghost and the groaning spirit, she worried about what effects Lochenvare’s evil might be able to have.  Might he not kill the baron in his sleep when he was on watch some night?  Was it not possible that he could turn on them at any moment, if he were evil?  What if Elcruche and his cronies offered him money to betray the party and turn over Rajah?

Grimly, Therena watched.  And more and more, her own paranoia, perhaps fueled by the necromantic energies that she wielded as Malford’s court wizard, began to steer her to the place where she feared Lochenvare was going.

***

_*2/15/98 O.L.G., noon, the northwest coast of Valonia*_

At last reaching the huge continent of Valonia, the party made landfall, replenished their water and food stores, and set out for the Great Redwood Forest a mile or two inland.  It was there that the rumors placed the Fountain of Youth. 

But the forest was huge.  Our heroes had no idea, until they entered it; and once within, they found themselves surrounded by giant trees that seemed to go on forever into the sky.  The light beneath their limbs was cool and dappled with amber motes of dust; ferns and the smell of loam were everywhere.  Toadstools grew from mounds of soft gentle earth.

They moved in, determining to spend a few days or weeks looking for the fountain before proceeding with Dexter’s quest for the stolen book.  As they moved along, they were met- via trump- by an abjurer named Proctor Mansack.  He was an agent of General Rygarh.  He came with a warning for Rajah: “Elcruche and his men are still after you.  They aren’t far behind you, either; they followed Therena’s trail on Pesh.  They may even know where you are now.”

“We need to _deal with them_,” Rajah growled.  “Once and for all!”

“I agree,” Lochenvare smirked.  “We should kill them and use their bodies to teach a message to the Emperor of Wotan: leave us alone, or else!”

Proctor joined them to aid in defending Rajah.  The group tromped deeper into the wild forest of ancient trees.  Here and there, as they traveled, they began to see occasional signs of elves and hadozee, gliding monkeys that laired high in the redwoods.  Soon enough a group of the monkeys launched themselves out of the treetops, gliding on great skin flaps that stretched from their wrists to their ankles and chattering and hooting angrily.  Our heroes fought them off.

“From what I’ve heard, these monkeys and the elves hate each other,” Drelvin remarked, landing an arrow between the eyes of the last of the hadozee.  “I think they may even eat one another.”

“That’s gross!” declares Therena.

_Lyr used to do that,_ Dexter thinks.  _Or at least, she ate the hearts of her enemies._  He shudders.  

With disturbing equanimity, Lochenvare says, “You do what you have to.” 

***

*4/17/98 O.L.G., 1 p.m., within the Great Redwood Forest, Valonia*

The fateful attack, made by orcs, came in the middle of the day.  Though orcs are normally nighttime creatures, the dappled light that penetrated the thick branches of the redwoods was not enough to inconvenience them, and they came charging out as arrogantly as orcs ever are.  There were a dozen of them, two of them hanging back with bows.  They were formidable mostly because of their organization and their captain (who was a far better warrior than most orcs, and significantly more skilled than even Lochenvare!).*

Therena single-handedly wiped out most of the enemy with a _fireball._  The other orc swordsmen rushed in, meeting a deadly response from Lochenvare and Proctor, while Drelvin shot one of the archers to death.  

But though the orcs spent their lives, they wounded Lochenvare fairly badly.  When he sprang forth with his peryton-horned trident to engage the orcish captain, the orc drew forth a glowing bastard sword and, after a few fierce minutes of combat, struck him unconscious!

The captain laughed and pressed the party.  Therena hit him with a _vampiric touch,_ then fled back from his swinging sword.  Drelvin fired point blank at him, and the orc screamed as the shaft lanced into his left lung.  Bloody froth flew from his mouth.  Drelvin fired again, and this time the arrow shot into his mouth and out the back of his neck.  The orc staggered back a few paces like a drunken fool, and then collapsed into a spurting pile of bloody orc-flesh.  

The last few orcish archers shouted back and forth in anger and despair and kept firing arrows at the party.  Proctor Mansack’s magical defenses helped fend off any real damage, but the barrage of missiles certainly kept our heroes focused on them.

Or most of our heroes, anyway.  Therena used the confusion of the battle to pawn her _wand of magic missiles._  The time had come, she felt, to take decisive action.  She rushed up to Lochenvare’s unconscious form and reached up to his throat, as if checking for a pulse.

She fired a _magic missile_ into the underside of the unconscious Lochenvare’s neck.

“He’s dead!” she cried.  “They killed Lochenvare!”

_*Next Time:*_  Will the party realize Therena’s duplicity?  What will she do next?  What will _they_ do next?  Stay tuned for more!!


----------



## the Jester

_Twang!_  Another of Drelvin’s arrows took the last orc in the right eye.  With a scream of agony the humanoid collapsed. 

Meanwhile, Dexter and Malford rushed over to Lochenvare.  Therena stepped away from the fighter, her heart pounding.  _I couldn’t let him go any further down the path of evil,_ she thought, and _What have I done?_

“It’s too late,” groaned Dex after a moment’s inspection of the corpse.  “He’s gone.”

Old Man Malford grimaced.  “We should bury him,” he said slowly.  

“First let’s make sure that these orcs are all dead,” Drelvin said, beginning to check the bodies.  Malford shook his head.  Drelvin’s words should have- _would_ have- come from Lochenvare.

***

_*6:45 p.m.*_

_What have I done?_ Therena thought again.  She stood somewhat apart from the others as they began to dig a grave.  They were grieving heavily.  It was almost as if the big man had actually been their friend.  Dexter’s blind face was pinched.  Malford was sitting on a stump, resting his aged back and staring off into space, his mouth pursed in grim reverie.  The sun was going down.  

Drelvin leaned on his shovel for a moment.  “We won’t be done until after dark.  Maybe we should wait until morning,” Drelvin opined as the shadows lengthened.  Malford and Dexter nodded.  Therena said nothing, brooding on her thoughts.  

She waited until the night was deep, not much helping the party with any of the normal chores of setting camp.  Then, as the rest of the group slept, the necromancer carefully penned a letter to her master, Malford, before abandoning her watch, trumping away to Var with the magic of one of the cards that Rajah had had Unso craft for the party.

***

Therena’s remaining days were short.  Fearing that the rest of the party would come after her, she sought out a wizard who knew someone that could make an _amulet of proof against detection and location_ for her.  The wizard declared that his friend would need the hair of a svirfneblin, though- and the deep gnomes were always bald.

Undeterred by the challenge, Therena descended into the earth, seeking an underground city that had once belonged to an extinct race of Dark Men.  She found it, and an undead creature called Necron with whom she did not share a language.  She fought her way through a variety of enemies, including an owlbear and a carrion crawler ghoul, but in the end, even with her bat familiar, a dog and a homunculus she could not survive the rigors of the deeps.  She died alone, on the run, in disgrace, as the others were seeking Pandos’ mount much later. 

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes are beset by pirates!  What an ironic turn of events, as they used to _be_ pirates!!


----------



## the Jester

Betrayed by one of their own, bereft of Lochenvare and Therena both, our heroes retreated to the ship that they have commissioned to take them as far east as it will.  The Great Redwood Forest had already proven dangerous; our heroes did not push their luck with two of their companions gone.  Malford cursed Therena long and loud.  “If we can find her,” he grimly said through gritted teeth, “we’ll try her and hang her.”  He shook his head.  “I can’t believe she betrayed us like that!”

Pandos the Mute sighed and made signs at him, until Malford understood the warden’s meaning: _She was a necromancer, after all._

The ship set sail from Valonia, heading along the coast towards the far, southeastern edge of the continent.  It would be there, amongst the halflings of the Glen Lands, that Captain Frakes would leave them.

But three days into their voyage, they were beset by pirates.  

The captain of the pirates was a scowling man named Bereu, whose magic armor helped him swim across the gulf between the ships, and whose _necklace of adaptation_ let him breathe underwater and thus approach unseen.  The pirate attack was swift and vicious, and two of Frakes’ crew fell to the pirate cutlasses, as did one of Malford’s men.  But our heroes, Captain Frakes, the crew and Malford’s men all acquitted themselves with valor, and soon the pirates (having little struggle for a fight to the death) were beaten off. 

“That wasn’t too bad,” Rajah said cheerfully.  Malford frowned at the bodies of the men he had lost.  

Dexter paced nervously.  “We have to hurry,” he muttered.  “We have to hurry.”  Increasingly, he was becoming more and more nervous about the fate of the book that the Strogassians had stolen.  Whatever they wanted with it was surely blasphemous or worse.  _We must hurry!_ he thought to himself again.  

The ship moved along, and all seemed well for a few more days.  Wounds healed, repairs were made.  But then disaster struck.  Elcruche and his cronies pulled their greatest coup.

***

Elcruche was a half-elf who worked for the intelligence service of Imperial Wotan, and he and his cronies had been dogging the steps of Rajah for several years now.  It wasn’t until fairly recently that Rajah had learned the truth: he was the rightful emperor of Wotan, and the currently sitting emperor, Tovan IV, had murdered Rajah’s father and the rest of his family, and tried to kill him as an infant!  Somehow the baby had survived and wound up in the wilds of Gorel, where he had been raised by tigers; and when he finally did end up coming to civilization and learned to speak, he was immediately attacked by Elcruche.  Since then Rajah had been running from them.  The party had fought them to a standstill once before.  This time, when Elcruche and his cronies made another attempt to capture Rajah for their Emperor, the party was forced to flee from their wrath.  The Tiger Prince (as Rajah was increasingly being called) himself managed to get away, but barely; and in the furious battle, Malford had leapt into the breach to give Rajah time to escape, and the gnome had dueled with Elcruche.  The half-elf agent fenced with admiral skill, and Malford found himself badly pressed.  As Elcruche’s cutlass cracked down onto the crossed shortsword and dagger of his gnomish opponent, he smiled briefly, nodding acknowledgement to Malford’s skill.  They danced back and forth over the battlefield for a minute, but then the half-elf struck Baron Malford down.  The battle ended with Old Man Malford a prisoner.

Worse yet, the Wotanian agents captured the party’s boat with its _sea helm._  This was a demoralizing blow; without it, their progress towards far-off, legendary Strogass would be diminished to a relative snail’s pace.  And having just lost Lochenvare, Therena _and_ Malford...

“There’s no way that we can catch them when they have the _sea helm,_” Dexter groaned.  His warden, Pandos the Mute, signed unhappy agreement.  Dexter’s quest- to stop the defilement and eventual burning of an ancient copy of the Galadron- had to go on, with or without Malford.   

***

Malford was taken through a _sea gate_ and thence back to Imperial Wotan, where he was taken in a curtained cab into a deep place.  His captors put him into an extraordinary subterranean prison, full of magical wards and highly-trained guardians.  “The Tiger Gaol,” Elcruche explained.  “It’s designed to hold Rajah against any escape attempt.  I’m sure it will work to keep you contained as well.”  He paused for a moment as Malford was pushed into his cell.  “If there is anything reasonable that you need, please let us know.  We plan to treat you in as civilized a manner as your behavior allows.”

“I’d like a copy of the Galadron,” Malford said. 

Elcruche cocked an eyebrow.  “Of course.  I’ll have one sent in.”

As he turned to leave, Elcruche stopped and turned back.  “Oh, and I believe the Emperor will be coming to pay you a visit.”

Malford’s Galadron arrived within the hour.  He set about reading it, wondering when the Emperor would come- and what would happen to him.

_*Next Time:*_ The party meets Wouhleeriachx, and he puts them in his mouth!


----------



## the Jester

Granted that it's been over a year and a half since the last update... but hey, here's one now! 

As always, this SH will continue irregularly as time, other (more current) story hours and the availability of my old notes permit.

***


On the coast of Valonia, Dexter and company were in ill-spirits. With their amazing vessel, with its _sea helm_, in the grasp of Rajah’s enemies, there was no obvious way to make it to far-off, legendary Strogass quickly. They were not quite marooned on Valonia, but certainly, they might as well have been; any kind of hope for speed had been lost. They could spend weeks fighting carnivorous apes and glider-apes and make no progress towards their real goals.

They spent some time in a small coastal elven community, during which time Dexter found a sympathetic and lovely elven maiden named Elmarie all too willing to soothe his cares and caress away his worries. He laid with her but a single night, but the consequences of that night would echo through the centuries.

But as the party was nearly ready to give in to despair, Drelvin noticed something out to sea a little ways. “Look, a blow hole!” he cried. “It must be a whale. Maybe it can help us.”

Certainly, consulting a whale seemed to be as good an idea as anything else that the party had. They made their way out to sea using one of the small boats remaining to them, since the loss of their ship. Drelvin, Dexter, Rulsha (one of their surviving crewmen/bodyguards and Lochenvare’s girlfriend before his murder at the hands of Therena) and Rajah rowed out to meet the whale. 

It kept its distance from them at first, wary of their intentions; but when they shouted a plea for help to it, it came closer and parlayed with them. Like most good creatures, the whale followed the faith of Galador, and when Dexter explained the nature of his quest- to prevent the destruction of certain ancient Galadorian sacred texts by agents of Bleak from Strogass- the whale (whose name was Wouhleeriachx) whistled and agreed to help them. “I wooooon’t goooo soooo far to the eeeeast,” the whale said in its odd cadence, “buuuut I have a frieeeeeeeeeeeend whooo might.”

“Really?” exclaimed Dexter. “That would be fantastic!”

“Cliiiiiimb in my mouth,” the whale offered, and it opened its huge, baleen-filled mouth.

“Uh,” Drelvin responded. 

“I doooo not eeeeeat meeeeeat,” Wouhleeriachx assured them. 

The party climbed in to the whale’s mouth.

***

Wouhleeriachx proved good to her word. She ferried them to her friend, a grey whale named Urmastirwol, who was also very sympathetic to the party’s mission. From one whale’s mouth to another, then, and our heroes were on their way- albeit by a very strange mode of transportation. Still, Urmastirwol was a tireless swimmer, awake or asleep, and friendly enough (and, interestingly, able to talk through his blow hole even while holding the party safe and dry in his mouth). 

By the time they reached Strogass, our heroes were sick of the smell of whale, but they were nonetheless grateful for the trip, and they made sure to tell Urmastirwol as much. It was only as the whale spit them out in water as shallow as he dared swim that our heroes realized that they had no way to travel all those thousands of miles home. 

_Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,_ Dexter promised himself. _If we survive our attack on this “Hill of Skulls” at all._

While Dexter was gloomy, Rajah was a little happier. _At least I am out of Elcruche’s reach,_ he thought. _I hope. I cannot imagine them coming this far for me...!_ He could not help but feel the slightest twinge of unease despite the distance separating him from his tyrannical uncle and his men.

***

Strogass was not very friendly. The land was rough, cracked, ragged and harsh. The plants were wiry, thorny, sickly and foul-smelling. The animals were dark, ill-tempered and aggressive. The air itself seemed tainted with a faint dirtiness, just enough to make it a little greyer than the air around Dorhaus or Forinthia or anywhere else our heroes have been. 

Rulsha shook her head. “It’s a shame you can’t see this, Dex,” she said. “It’s a hell of a place- no pun intended.”

“I don’t really have to see it,” Dexter answered her. “I can _feel_ it.”

They were only on Strogass for a short time when they faced their first enemies there.

Naked men with the heads of goats, entering battle in a state of obvious sexual arousal, the billymen were demons in service to Bleak. The party’s first clash with them began with only a pair of them- but they summoned more, who summoned more themselves. Quickly they multiplied in number, until our heroes were fighting for their lives against the horde of billymen. Only the most concerted efforts allowed them to throw back the assault and win victory. Then, when they sought a crack in the landscape to rest in, they were attacked by horrible centipede-like worms as big around as a dwarf and as long as a medium cottage. The worms’ mandibles proved to be fiendishly sharp, almost removing limbs in a single snip.

But our heroes managed to win through against them. Blade and spell and psionic power came together, smashing the tunnel worms to death. And then, in their lair, they found a most interesting flail, bearing the sigil of Galador, on an old dwarven corpse.

“Here?” exclaimed Rulsha doubtfully. “On Strogass?”

“Well, if you think about it, it’s more likely that we’d find it in a monster’s lair than anywhere else on Strogass,” Rajah pointed out. “And there have to be Galadorians working against Bleak here, just as there are Bleak-worshipers even on Forinthia.”

“True,” she agreed. 

“It has runes down the side,” Drelvin said, running his fingers down it. “A name. _Brainmasher._”

“I guess as long as it’s the brains of followers of Bleak,” Dexter said, but he sounded a little unsure of himself. “But it’s best to be sure.” He cast _speak with dead_ on the dwarven skeleton, and ascertained that the flail was indeed a Galadorian relic; that the dead dwarf had been named Kellius in life; and that he had been on a quest to overthrow the Hill of Skulls himself. Some more searching, including digging up some of the dirt in the tunnel worms’ lair, turned up a map! Eagerly thrusting it at Drelvin, Dexter asked the others to examine it. Drelvin brushed as much dirt from it as he could without damaging the fragile parchment- then grinned.

“It’s on here! Now we know where to go! And it isn’t even very far away!”

They took the flail, and Dex was given possession of it. He had no intention of using it at the moment, but nobody else was more likely to do so than he was, and once they _identified_ it, they could choose the best permanent recipient. But as nobody especially used the flail, and he was the only priest of Galador present... well, he was the logical choice.

***

The party continued their journey into the hills of Strogass. Behind them was a huge precipice; it looked- well, it looked like it could be miles high. Rajah shivered, staring at that. _I always land on my feet,_ he thought, _but from a fall that high... it wouldn’t matter!_ Soon the precipice and the buzzing fens at the base of it were left behind as the party entered a range of rolling dirty hills, with many areas of heavy scree and scattered boulders. 

They moved carefully, trying to avoid patrols and dodge any monstrous encounters that they could. But as they approved the valley within which- assuming the map from Kellius was accurate- a group composed mostly of dwarves stepped out from a hidden crevice of their own. 

Our heroes drew weapons and immediately dropped into fighting stances, but one of the newcomers cried out, “Peace!” He spoke Forinthian, but with a strange accent. “I know you! You are Dexter Nadly,” he continued, pointing at Dexter, “and we have been waiting for you.”

“Who are you?” demanded Dexter.

“I am Therighast, prophet and follower of the Light,” the man replied solemnly, “and we are here to help you overthrow the blasphemy that is the Hill of Skulls.”

_*Next Time:*_ Into the Hill of Skulls!


----------



## the Jester

Therighast’s group was composed of two other groups of adventurers that had fused, all bent on aiding Dexter Nadly in his quest against the Hill of Skulls.* Therighast himself was a prophet of the Light, as well as a self-described thaumaturge.** He was accompanied by a band of adventurers, including Jenner Sandstone (a dwarven cleric of the Light who looked at Dexter most disapprovingly), Belmondo the Enhanced, a dwarven “prostheticist”, Julio Titan, Avenger of the Light (a paladin), Criedieki Alakath (a merellin fighter/thief), a necromancer calling himself Grisly (whose actual name was Nydroth), Glorkien (an elven fighter/mage), Galactus Ederverlds (an elf from a very far-flung location, who could not even speak with the others of his group) and Ilyara the mage. 

Three bands of adventurers were now united. Each of them had one or more members who were moved by the Light to try to rescue the ancient holy scriptures that were to be destroyed within the Hill. 

“This place is horrible,” Jenner grunted. “A blight on the land. It is atrociously evil.”

“Well, from the name,” Dexter began, but the dwarven cleric cut him off.

”Come look, you’ll see.” He turned abruptly and began marching towards the rise that would reveal the valley in which the Hill of Skulls was supposed to lay. Dexter turned to follow sightlessly, a small frown on his face. 

“You should respect me,” he called out to Jenner, “I am the son of the Light.”

Jenner snorted. “So I have heard. But every son needs a good spanking now and then.”

Not quite sure how to respond to this gruff dwarven cleric, Dexter held his tongue. “You do recall, of course,” he said wryly, “that I have no eyes.”

Jenner halted. “Hmm. A good point. One of your companions should describe this to you.” He turned and began shouting at the rest of the party, who began straggling after the two Galadorians. “We’re still a good half mile off, but... well. You can see well enough.” He paused for a second. “Or your companions can.”

Dexter hears his friends move up and gasp at what they see. And then the stench hits him.

The Hill of Skulls stood below them, grim and foreboding. Its gruesome aspect made even the most stalwart amongst the entire massive party grow pale for a moment, for it was indeed a hill of skulls. The base of it was perhaps 300’ in diameter, and it rose to a height of about 100’. And it was skulls. Goat skulls, possibly of the demon-kind that our heroes have recently battled; human skulls everywhere; elven, dwarven, halfling, gnomish, orc, goblin, gnoll, bird, dog, cat, snake- even cow and garen skulls. Nor were they all stripped clean, especially at the base (though some meatier ones were scattered all the way up to the top). Tattered rags of skin, bloody muscle, here and there an eye; often hair, but just as often gone dry and brittle; some damaged, with brains dripping out the side of the pan or saved-in tops; some with chunks of flesh pecked out by the omnipresent vultures. 

And they flocked there, the vultures. They were everywhere, some gobbling tongues and especially the soft, tasty eyes, and some of them merely sunning themselves on the grisly hill. Rats, too- up to the size of medium-sized dogs. They did not walk in fear there, not at all. Staining the ground out to a distance of almost 50’ around the obscene place was a thin film of blood.

“Do you see any guards?” Dexter asked.

“I don’t think so,” Rajah answered. “There’s something at the top, but I think it’s a structure, or a... I can’t tell at this distance.” His nose wrinkled in disgust at the stench rising from the Hill of Skulls. “That place is foul.”

“I have to go in,” Dexter said resolutely. He began to move forward. Nobody urged him to wait; instead, they all began to follow him. The party descended the hillside into the valley that lay host to the gruesome hill before them. As they approached, they could tell that the film of blood contained millions of dead insects. Before their eyes, a vulture tried to eat a particularly tasty-looking fly from the blood- but almost immediately after it swallowed the bloody insect, it gave a feeble cry, flapped once and collapsed, dead. 

As they approached the Hill of Skulls, Dexter dropped back to Jenner. The dwarf eyed him dourly. “You are a cleric of the Light?” Dexter asked. 

Jenner nodded.

“Here,” Dexter said, and handed over the flail _Brainmasher_ to the dwarf. “I use my staff.”

Vermin scattered as the party approached the hill. The stink of the drying blood and putrefying flesh is everywhere, almost so nauseating that the heroes could not move, even at such a great distance. It made them gag; several of them retched violently, their stomachs spasming in reaction as if they were poisoned. Carefully, Dexter began to climb the sickening mound, his allies right behind him. 

At the top of the Hill of Skulls they found a platform, about 10’ across, octagonal in form. In the exact center of it was an ornate throne, decorated with a spread-winged gargoyle as a headrest, with similar, claw-like arms. The whole platform was constructed of some kind of weird, purple-black stone. From the bottom of it descended six carved, gargoyle-like legs, which were jammed into the heads and skulls below it. The platform rested about four feet above the top of the Hill.

A cowled, robed figure dressed in midnight blue velvet and black leather gloves was seated on the throne. “I am the doorway,” the figure intoned.

“What?” said Jenner suspiciously.

“The ward of entry is on the pyramid. The pentagon is between the ones warded by light and fire. The quartz is in the north...” 

“It’s a logic puzzle!” cried Rajah. “Someone write it down! Quick!”

“...the fire ward is next to the southwest. The onyx is facing the sixth one placed. The darkness ward is upon the ruby. The seventh one placed is in the east, and faces the third one placed...”

The party was desperately trying to get out parchment and quill, and also to remember pieces of what the strange figure said. 

“...the teardrop is in the west. The star is warded by ice. Three gems clockwise from the crystal is the pentagon. The gem warded by lightning is between the sphere and the first one placed. The ward of silence is upon the northwest gem. The emerald faces the ruby. The first one placed was onyx...”

Scribble, scribble. Several of our heroes began transcribing as quickly as they could. 

“...the amethyst faces the crystal and is between the garnet and the star. The ruby is just south of the diamond. The gems warded by light and fire are facing each other.The fire ward is on the cube. The rod was the seventh gem placed and is next to the spell of entrance...”

“Spell of entrance? That sounds good!” exclaimed Proctor Mansack. 

“...the ruby is next to the northwest. The star faces the first one placed. Lightning wards the eight one placed. The garnet gem is warded by force, and is just south of the emerald. The rod is next to the pentagon. The sapphire is next to the amethyst. The pyramid is just north of the emerald.”

Scribble, scribble, went the quills. But then...

“Is it over?” cried Rulsha. 

“Not yet,” Glorkien said darkly. “We still have to solve it.”

Galactus said something incomprehensible to the others in his own tongue (Elfisti).***

They surveyed the platform. Each corner of the octagon had a small crystal plate on it. “So one of these gets us in?” Drelvin asked. “What if we just try them all?” He reached out and touched one-

Suddenly his friends, the cowled figure, the platform, everyone else was gone- and he was somewhere else! Worse yet, he was on fire!

_*Next Time:*_ Drelvin- alone! 

*All of these were pcs who came together to assault the Hill to save the old book. In retrospect the Hill of Skulls adventure was a bit of a railroad, but it was such a kick-ass dungeon that I felt compelled to force the issue.   I learned a lot from that adventure.

**A thaumaturge was a lot like a sorcerer, really, only in 2e.

***Galactus’ player would roleplay this by saying “Blah blah blah” whenever he would talk.


----------



## the Jester

When the flames around him subsided, Drelvin staggered up against the wall and drank his sole healing potion. _Where are the others?_ he wondered. _Best to wait for a while. Hopefully, they’ll come after me._ 

Carefully, he looked the room over. Near the exit, he found a covered pit trap (and not the hard way!). He pushed it open, and peered down at the bottom. His infravision couldn’t ascertain much, but there were small heat sources crawling around down there, on some kind of mound...

_A body,_ he realized, _and those little things are rot grubs!_ He shivered; if he had fallen in the pit, he might not be able to get out- especially with rot grubs burrowing into his skin! 

Drelvin waited patiently. 

After a time, he took a drink. 

_The riddle mentioned wards,_ he realized. _The others are probably afraid that they will be killed if they choose wrong. I may be on my own._ 

He continued to wait. He let a good hour go by before, reluctantly, admitting to himself, _They either can’t or aren’t coming after me._ He nocked an arrow and began edging gingerly around the pit. _I have to find my way out of here,_ the archer thought. _If I don’t, eventually I will run out of food and water- or be eaten by a monster._ The thought of the billymen, with their obvious sexual lust for blood, made him shiver again. 

Around the pit he went, and then he could see down the hallway. It branched forward and right immediately. Breathing very softly, sliding forward as quietly as possible, Drelvin continued his cautious advance.

The hall opened up into a long room to his right. There were several heat sources in there, about the size and shape of large chickens, and they began to bawk at once as Drelvin moved in. They started to flap and strut towards him.

Taking no chances, Drelvin launched an arrow at one of the birds. His shaft flew true, piercing the thing’s breast; but somehow, it lived. It was only enraged. 

His fingers gripped another arrow and quickly fitted it to the string as he backpedaled, but the birds were on him. Pecking at him-

That was the last thing Drelvin felt, as the touch of the cockatrice turned him to stone.

_*Next Time:*_ But what has happened to our other heroes? Who else has been split off from the party, and how?


----------



## the Jester

Atop the horrible, stinking hill of heads and skulls, the adventurers reeled in surprise when Drelvin vanished with a blast of flame. 

“What happened to him?” asked Rajah after a moment. “We can’t leave him on his own...”

“He might have been incinerated,” Proctor Mansack replied. “We don’t know.” He turned to the cowled figure. “You there! What has happened to our friend??”

The figure began to recite its puzzle again. “I am the doorway. The ward of entry is on the pyramid. The pentagon is between the ones warded by light and fire. The quartz is in the north...” Various members of the party began to scribble down notes of its words. Between them, they would manage to fill in the blanks in their transcriptions. Unfortunately, the figure said nothing new, and gave no new clues as to the location of Drelvin. “...the pyramid is just north of the emerald.”

“He touched the wrong place,” surmised Dexter. “And did you hear what he said? The wrong entrances are warded.” He sighed heavily. “We can’t just go after him- it might get us all killed!”

“Maybe,” Rajah growled, “we can make some progress by threatening this guy here!” He turned angrily towards the cowled figure. “You hear me? You had better help us, or...”

Without a sound, Rajah vanished.

”I am the doorway. The ward of entry is on the pyramid. The pentagon is between the ones warded by light and fire...” The figure spoke its riddle again, with perfect equanimity. Rajah was nowhere in sight, and did not answer their calls. It was obvious- with their fists clenched in frustration- that there was no easy way to coax answers from the figure without likely further splitting the party.

So the party got to work on the puzzle.

They first put together the entire wording of the puzzle, piecing it together from each of their memories and hurried scribbles. Then they began using logic to put it together.

Said Jenner, “Obviously, we have several categories of things here. Ward types, for example: one is warded by ice, another by lightning, another by fire. And stone types- we have garnet, onyx, quartz, ruby and so forth. We have position- they seem to be cardinal positions, and it seems to imply that there are eight ‘slots.’”

Belmondo nodded. “And shapes. Belmondo noticed that there are different shapes- pyramid, cube, teardrop and so forth.”

“Four categories,” mused Therighast. “And we need- what? The spell of entrance?”

“Someone read off the entire puzzle,” suggested Criedieki.

Julio Titan stood up dramatically.* He cleared his throat, looked around to ensure that he had everyone’s attention, and then began to read in a clear, charismatic voice: “I am the doorway. The ward of entry is on the pyramid. The pentagon is between the ones warded by light and fire. The quartz is in the north. The fire ward is next to the southwest. The onyx is facing the sixth one placed. The darkness ward is upon the ruby. The seventh one placed is in the east, and faces the third one placed. The teardrop is in the west. The star is warded by ice. Three gems clockwise from the crystal is the pentagon. The gem warded by lightning is between the sphere and the first one placed. The ward of silence is upon the northwest gem. The emerald faces the ruby. The first one placed was onyx. The amethyst faces the crystal and is between the garnet and the star. The ruby is just south of the diamond. The gems warded by light and fire are facing each other. The fire ward is on the cube. The rod was the seventh gem placed and is next to the spell of entrance. The ruby is next to the northwest. The star faces the first one placed. Lightning wards the eight one placed. The garnet gem is warded by force, and is just south of the emerald. The rod is next to the pentagon. The sapphire is next to the amethyst. The pyramid is just north of the emerald.”

The party sat silently for a moment after that, and then began to draw a diagram. Grisly- whose real name was Nydroth- labeled it with an eight-pointed star, and labeled each point of the star with a direction.** Then they began filling in what they could. After a moment, the necromancer grunted, “There is placement order, too.”

The others nodded. Grisly’s vulture familiar let out a rasping squawk. 

“The darkness is on the ruby, and the ruby faces the emerald,” noted Glorkien.

“The fire ward is on the cube. That’s the one that Drelvin touched,” Proctor pointed out.

Therighast pointed. “It was that one,” he said. He was indicating the south point of the wooden platform that the party was gathered round. 

They continued to put together more and more information. It took a while, but eventually, they thought they had it. Nydroth cackled, and his vulture croaked a foul noise out. 

“Well,” Dexter sighed, “let’s see if we are right.” The party gathered around, and as one, they reached to the northeast.

_*Next Time:*_ Oh no! What has happened to Rajah? And what will happen to the others??


*Not his real name. 

**To those of you that have read about him in other story hours, yes, _that_ Nydroth. He did indeed adventure with Dexter for a brief time in his youth!


----------



## the Jester

Rajah appeared- where?

There was no blast of flames, no chilling wave, no bolt of lightning. He looked warily about, but it was dark. He took on the senses of a tiger and scented the air, and it was not pleasant. He could smell an underlying stench of corruption and decay: the stench of the Hill of Skulls itself, crafted of the bones and brains of countless heads, the jelly of their decaying forms pressing down on each other until, like sedimentary rocks, they formed a stronger brick and mortar than hewn stone or nailed wood could ever hope to. Mixed with the foul odor was the stink of rats and vermin. But Rajah smelled no imminent trouble.

It was absolutely dark. Rajah rummaged in his pack until he found a torch and his flint and steel. In a few more moments, he had a small amount of light, and he surveyed the room he was in. 

“Damn,” he said, or tried to. It was then that he realized that he was dumb, unable to speak. He scuffed the ground with his foot and found that he could hear; but however he shouted or cried out, he made no noise. His upper lip curled in a momentary sneer. His _mind_ was fine, and that was all that he needed. 

The reason for his exclamation was beneath and surrounding him. He stood in the center of a pentagram inscribed in the floor. It was easily 10’ in diameter, and it was the centerpiece of the room, which was a square 30’ on a side. A single passageway led out into the darkness from the room; in addition, two doors led out. 

Rajah considered the doors briefly, but it seemed more likely to lead to trouble than the hallway did. He was alone; he didn’t want trouble. He decided that he would try the hallway first, and if need be, return to the doors. He extinguished his torch and padded down the hallway as quietly as he could, continuing to use the senses of a tiger. The hall led on for quite a while- a full hundred feet before there was an opening to the left. Yet the hallway itself continued. Rajah hurried on.

Finally, another 20’ past the leftward exit, the hallway spilled into another 30’ square room. Rajah drew back in horror.

The room was _packed full_ of skeletons and zombies.

***

The rest of the party appeared in the midst of a guard room staffed by a quartet of grey-skinned, dour-looking dwarven warriors. Immediately, the dwarves in the party shouted their battle cries and attacked, for Jenner and Belmondo recognized them as _duergar_- that race of dwarves long ago driven deep underground for their evil natures. The battle lasted but a moment, for the duergar were novices compared to our heroes, and they numbered only four to our heroes’ considerably higher number. Between Jenner, Belmondo, Julio Titan, Criediki, Pandos the Mute and Dexter, the duergar didn’t stand a chance.

There were three passages out of the room that our heroes arrived in. Since they had _continual light_ coins, they could see just fine. One of the exits from the room was covered by a curtain, so naturally the party decided to investigate that one. Julio pushed the curtain aside. 

A great stone statue of a dwarf stood in the room. Julio gaped at it. And then, without moving its mouth, it spoke in a loud, grinding voice: “FRIEND OR FOE?”

“Uh, friend,” Julio answered.

“No, wait!” cried Belmondo.

“Oh crap!” Julio exclaimed, as the stone golem in the room animated and attacked. Our heroes fought it frantically, but at first none of their weapons could hurt it. But then Jenner struck it with _Brainmasher,_ the flail that the party had recovered on their way to the Hill. The blow damaged it! A web of cracks appeared where the flail impacted the golem’s knee. 

It was the only thing they had that could hurt it. The party backed Jenner up as best they could, with Dexter doing what he could to protect, and then heal, Jenner. Several of the other adventurers took mighty blows while distracting the stupid golem from the true threat. And Jenner did it- he smashed the golem to pieces. 

Afterwards, the party took a moment to catch its breath. And as they did, another group of duergar marched in on them. Another brief battle left them defeated; but then, another group of people walked in on them- and these ones looked disturbingly more competent than the duergar.

Their leader- a man with dazzling charisma that simply radiated from him, dressed in the sort of finery a wealthy ambassador would wear, who was circled by a pair of metal spheres about the size of a fist- spoke up. “Dexter Nadly, I presume,” he said politely.

***

Rajah didn’t hesitate. He lept, using his muscles and his psionics together to tumble and spring through the skeletons and zombies while they fell over one another trying to hit him. He reached one of the exits from the room- and found himself facing another room full of undead! He whirled- behind him, dozens of skeletons and zombies were closing in! Before him, dozens more!

There was only one choice. He lept up and over them, across almost the entire room towards the far exit, and when he landed he sprinted for the exit. 

Another room full of undead. 

Rajah, the Tiger Prince, groaned. Was he in some sort of dimension full of undead? He cast a glance behind him. The undead were staying in their respective rooms. Grimacing, he sprang forward once again. He smashed a skeleton that got in his way and dodged several zombie attacks on the way; and then he ran clear of the room.

He skidded to a halt. This room was different. It was larger than he could perceive, and it was full of rocks and rubble. The smell of burning was obvious. 

_Oh dear,_ thought Rajah. 

_*Next Time:*_ Trouble everywhere!


----------



## Knightfall

You know, I'd just caught up on this thread and then you post another one.   Excellent stuff, as usual, J.


----------



## the Jester

Knightfall1972 said:
			
		

> You know, I'd just caught up on this thread and then you post another one.   Excellent stuff, as usual, J.




Wow, someone's reading this one! 

I'm kind of surprised, given how randomly I tend to update it. There has to be room in my schedule on top of game prep and the regular SHs... which is rare. 

But hey, right now I'm going strong!


----------



## Knightfall

the Jester said:
			
		

> Wow, someone's reading this one!
> 
> I'm kind of surprised, given how randomly I tend to update it. There has to be room in my schedule on top of game prep and the regular SHs... which is rare.
> 
> But hey, right now I'm going strong!



I came back to this one after you finished the Great Conflicts story arc. I haven't started reading your new one yet.


----------



## Nightbreeze

Just finished reading this now, Iand it sure is interesting


----------



## the Jester

So there I was, thinking I had time and inclination to work on an Early Years update, and I went to review where I was...

Oh, crap. 

Now I remember- the reason I hadn't written another one is because I'm missing my picture and/or character sheets for the npc party! Which is important; they are major players in what happens next. 

Now, I _know_ those papers still exist... I just have to find them!

But rest assured, I'm still thinking about this SH, and it's not done by any means!


----------



## the Jester

Alas, after many fruitless hours of searching (and a change of residence!) I have proven unable to locate the elusive picture of the evil npc party in the Hill of Skulls. Nor are my notes complete enough to truly reassemble the sequence of events that followed.

So, much like I have throughout this story, I will endeavor to summarize and capture the flavor of the events as best I can. And boy, was that flavor a bitter one for our heroes.

***

It’s an old cliched villain trick: threaten babies. But that’s exactly what Augustus- the envoy at the head of the Strogassian party in the Hill of Skulls- meant to do. 

He tried to persuade Dexter to surrender to him; but Dex wasn’t having any of that. With a massive party of adventurers backing him, Dexter did not grovel; he growled. The Dark Emperor had his eye on the Son of Light? Well, stare at the sun and you just might get blinded.

The two parties of adventurers had a first clash, ending with the villains withdrawing and the heroes declining to pursue, fearing a trap. They were right; but the villains escaped not to lead the party into a trap, but rather, to get the babies they needed in order to set the trap. Meanwhile, our heroes continued their cautious exploration of the Hill, hoping to find their friends- hoping to find the ancient texts that they had come for- hoping to find a way out. 

***

Rajah, meanwhile, began to cautiously edge his way into the chamber that he was in. _No zombies,_ he thought wryly. _That’s something, at least._ His nostrils flared. There was a reptillian scent... The Tiger Prince swallowed. The air was hot.

There was the sound of movement- a scratch of claws rasping along the rock-strewn floor of the place. Rajah moved into the shadows as best he could and tensed. And then a 20’ long lizard the color of fire came into view. It hissed, its tongue testing the air. Its beady reptile eyes swept over the rocks, looking for the prey it had scented. 

Rajah leapt at it, using his _gloves of the slug_, and turned its flesh to mucus. 

The fire lizard gave a loud howl as the Tiger Prince tore into it. The beast flailed about in agony as the hot environment immediately began to dry out its skin, and it roared in pain and fear.

It belched flames.

Rajah’s mastery over his body was complete. He adapted to the energy, blazing with light, and kept ripping at the monstrous lizard, his hands clenched into claws. He tore into its throat, and the great lizard choked and drew back. Rajah watched it drown in its own blood.

“I have got to get out of here,” he said aloud. He sighed. He could; his mind could get him out of the Hill of Skulls by teleporting him. But- what about his friends? What if they were inside? He might never find them again. 

Rajah was not afraid, but the idea of being lost alone on Strogass was... daunting. For a moment, he wished he were back with his tiger clan, living a simple, free life on Dorhaus. But he knew that he could never return to that lifestyle- not with his uncle, Tovan, trying to kill him. 

Reluctantly, Rajah kept exploring. _If I can’t find a safe resting place, I’ll have to get out of here soon,_ he thought. _I haven’t yet found a real defensible area._

***

Meanwhile, the others also continued their explorations for a couple of days and descended a level, encountering a tribe of bugbears. The party slew most of them, but Therighast the Prophet _charmed_ two and brought them along as guides and muscle. 

“We don’t really know all that much,” one of them rumbled in Strogassian (and Therighast translated for the rest of the party). “It’s not like all of the inhabitants of the Hill get together for dinner, you know. A lot of us fight and even eat each other.”

“Well, good,” replied Therighast. “Then since most of the creatures in here aren’t your friends, you won’t mind helping to defend us.”

“Oh, not at all,” beamed the friendly bugbear.

But it wasn’t too much longer before the party got in over their heads. What was that about babies, again?

***

At about the same time, Rajah finally used his psionics to escape the Hill of Skulls. Teleportation failed, but he proved able to _dream travel._ He encountered another adventurer above, Ilyara, a sly-looking Strogassian elf. They joined up, although each was wary of the others, and Rajah bleakly considered his options. _I could teleport back inside, but that won’t help me find the others. If I can figure out which entry point the others took, maybe I can follow them. Then again, I have no way of knowing which way they went, and even if I figure the riddle out, I can’t know for sure that they did. They might have chosen wrong._ He glanced sidelong at Ilyara. _I hope she’s trustworthy. I could use some help right about now._

Rajah sighed. _The best thing for me to do,_ he thought, _might be to simply wait._ Though the idea left a foul taste in his mouth, he realized that any other choice might be disastrous.

***

The enemy party appeared again, but this time was squalling infants in their arms. The threat was clear even before they made it: Dexter would give himself to them, and to their dark master, or the babies- innocent babies- would die. All of them. 

Dexter was torn. Several members of the party wanted to attack the enemies and let Galador sort it out, but Dexter forbade it. 

Pandos the Mute, Dexter’s Warden, watched with interest as Dexter wrestled with the situation. _He still has not shown any sign of evil or Bleak worship,_ thought the paladin. _Clearly, he once was- and equally clearly, he feels terrible guilt and regret over his past. Everything he does is to atone._

And what could Dexter do in this situation? Quested with a holy mission by Galador Himself, forced to choose between half a dozen innocent babies and his Lord’s commands, Dexter did the only thing he could: he prayed. 

_Galador,_ he prayed, _please hear my plea. I want to do Your work, but that work is all about protecting the innocent- and here I am, torn between protecting innocent children by surrendering myself to Your enemies and giving up on my sacred mission, or fulfilling my mission at the cost of innocent babies. My Lord, I need Your Light to guide me. Please, show me the way! What is the right thing to do?_

And, for one of the only two times in my campaign to date, Galador answered.*

Great radiant wings seemed to sweep over the scene. Augustus and his henchmen cried out, and when their eyes cleared, our heroes were simply _gone._

_*Next Time:*_ After a sojourn in Heaven, our heroes return to the Hill of Skulls!


*The other time was at the climactic battle of the Great War of Ethics, where Galador Himself came to fight on Cydra- only to be confronted by the god Vandreu manifest as well.


----------



## the Jester

Heaven was the most wonderful place imaginable. 

Dexter was at peace for the first time in his life; perhaps the only time. To those that were true followers of Galador, especially Dex, Jenner, Belmondo, Therighast and Pandos, Heaven was pure bliss. They basked in the Divine Radiance. 

To others it was less comfortable. Nydroth was on edge the entire time he was there; he was a despoiler of corpses, a practicioner of the Black Art, and he was only barely welcome, and only by virtue of being one of Dexter’s companions.

Inevitably, they would have to go back; but if they lived good lives and had faith in the Light in the face of all adversity, they could one day return to Heaven- and from that day forward, they would have eternal life near the Throne of Light.

***

_I’ve waited too long,_ Rajah decided. _It has been weeks and there’s no sign of my companions. Ilyara and I have solved the puzzle; it’s time to follow my friends. Hopefully they’ve left a trail of bodies and broken doors that I can follow, and the things they have slain have not simply been replaced._ He took a deep breath and turned to Ilyara. “I think it’s time,” he said.

“Finally,” she replied. 

They walked from their camp site down into the valley from which the Hill of Skulls rose like a great spider bite on the skin of the land itself. And, to Rajah’s amazement, for the first time since he had been teleported inside the Hill, he saw one of his friends.

“Hello!” bellowed Belmondo cheerfully.

“Belmondo!” exclaimed Rajah. “Where are the others? What happened?”

Belmondo sighed. “The others are still in Heaven. We were lifted there to escape the worst the Hill had to offer. Belmondo was sent back to find _you._ To join you as you re-enter the Hill of Skulls, so that we will all hopefully be reunited soon..” 

“Why not send everyone back at once?” asked Rajah.*

“The Light works in mysterious ways,” Belmondo answered.

“Have you seen any sign of Drelvin?” Rajah and Belmondo said at the same time. 

***

Back inside again. The Hill of Skulls was a daunting challenge. The three of them fought another handful of duergar, and then Ilyara’s keen elven eyes spotted a secret door. That led the group to a maze patrolled by a halberd-wielding minotaur. Rajah broke his neck and Ilyara found another secret door- this one leading to a chamber with a staircase leading down.

“This seems to be a good sign,” Rajah said.

“Or a bad one,” Ilyara retorted.

***

The others followed not long after. Galactus and Criediki stumbled upon Rajah, Belmondo and Ilyara, and then the entire group rejoined- less Drelvin, of course.

“I hope he is still alive,” Dexter murmured.

_Me too,_ signed Pandos the Mute. 

***

Down the stairs, the party found a tribe of bugbears in service to the Dark Empire. Jenner shouted in joy as _Brainmasher_ slew goblinoid after goblinoid. Therighast charmed one, and it led the party to their chief, who they engaged and defeated, gaining an ominous-looking map. Therighast studied it, along with Nydroth and the dwarves, easily discerning that it seemed to represent the level they were on.

“Look here,” pointed Nydroth. “This arrow points upwards, and it seems to be in the chamber we entered from. I would bet that marks a set of stairs... and that _this_ arrow over here, pointing downward, marks the way into the deeper levels of the Hill of Skulls.”

“And these markings seem to indicated danger, here, here and here,” Jenner rumbled from behind his whiskers. “But I don’t know if I’d trust a map we got from bugbears.”

“Maybe,” Dexter hesitated.

“The stairs,” said Ilyara, “sound like what we’re after.”

But when the party approached the stairs on the map and Ilyara checked for traps, she halted them. “Those aren’t stairs at all,” she reported. “It’s some kind of illuson covering a trap.”

“I guess the bugbear map isn’t exactly reliable, then,” Nydroth said, disappointed.

“Told you,” Jenner grunted.

They looked at the map again. “Maybe they were trying to hide their treasure with these danger signs,” suggested Ilyara. “I say we check them out.”

The party moved to the door to one of the indicated high-danger areas and threw it open. 

Standing hip-deep in a pool of molten lava was a fire giant. 

With a harpoon.

Dexter said, “Oh sh-“

_*Next Time:*_ Everything goes wrong!

*On a metagame level, there were only a few pcs present at that session.


----------



## the Jester

The giant hurled its harpoon at the party. It swooped gracefully through the air straight towards Dexter. 

“Dex! No!” cried Julio Titan, and hurled himself in the way. The harpoon speared him in the shoulder, sinking deep and catching him with its barbs. He screamed. 

The fire giant gave a loud guffaw and shouted something gleeful-sounding in its own tongue (which nobody but the giant itself understood). 

Its intent was clear, though, as it prepared to pull Julio into the bubbling pit of lava that it was wading in. The party unleashed a flurry of attacks at both the giant and the chain that the harpoon was hooked to- but neither fell. And then it yanked, hard, and Julio Titan screamed as he was pulled into the molten rock, dying in seconds. 

“Oh my god,” choked Ilyara.

“Not good,” confirmed Therighast.

The giant gave out a great belly laugh as it re-coiled its chain. “It’s going to try to get us all that way!” shouted Proctor. There was a scurrying panic as the party retreated through another door. Dexter led the way, _sight linked_ with Pandos so that he could see- and stumbled to a halt. 

”The book,” he breathed. 

Indeed- what appeared to be an ancient, brittle book so thick that it _had_ to be a Galadron stood on a pedastal in the middle of the room. Without hesitation, Dexter sprang for it.

And fell right through it into a deep pit, landing at the bottom with a cry of pain.

“Hello,” a deep voice purred. Disoriented and blind, Dexter reeled as a heavy blow landed upon his shoulder. He cried out again.

To the others, it had seemed as though Dexter had sprung for the book and fallen through the floor. “It’s an illusion of some kind!” cried Criediki. 

Dexter screamed again from below the “pedastal”, and Pandos the Mute leapt after him. So did Rajah. 

It was a long fall- 50’ down. Rajah fell like a cat, and was barely discomfited by it. Pandos hit like a stone, but quickly _laid hands_ on himself. Rajah hit the ground, rolled, and came up fighting a heavy-set figure in a purple and gold vest. He looked like a man, but he didn’t _smell_ like a man. He smelled like earth and stone mixed with incesnse and spice. Like sand and loam all at once.

_And he can turn invisible,_ Rajah thought as the figure faded from view, only to reappear again a moment later when it struck him. Rajah lashed back at it, and Dexter unleashed _sunmotes_ at the creature. 

The others up above were starting to prepare a safe descent, when suddenly the room’s door opened and things got much, much worse.

Augustus, the envoy who led the Strogassian party, and his allies, entered the room. “There will be no miracle to whisk you away to Heaven this time, Dexter!” Grumpy Stiggins, the dark halfling in the evil party, taunted. 

One of the new adversaries was a she-troll. Rajah was about to call for fire when she did something that caught all of the beleagured heroes off guard. 

She cast a spell, and burst into flames.

_That’s a _fire shield, realized Therighast. “She’s warded herself against fire!” the prophet of Galador shouted. 

The villains pressed in against the heroes. One of them, a champion of Bleak, slew Proctor Mansack after a brief engagement, while Nydroth contemplated whether it might be best to simply switch sides. 

_Alas, I think not,_ he thought. _If I did, my current companions would stop at nothing to destroy me. And even if I turned on them, I have no assurance that these ruthless Strogassians would accept me. No, I must remain on Dexter’s side, at least for now._

Jenner and Therighast started clambering down the walls of the pit. It wasn’t that hard of a climb, but it was long; it would take some time. 

Time that Dexter, Pandos and Rajah were sorely lacking at the bottom of the pit. 

“This is some kind of earth creature!” Rajah cried, smacking it hard with a clawed hand. It fell back a foot or two with a grunt, then smiled and waded in on Rajah, pummeling him over and over with mighty blows. 

_It’s a dao- an earth genie,_ realized Dexter. He could hear his friends screaming in the room above, as Augustus, Sprukarth (the troll), Grumpy and their companions waded into them with mighty force.

_It might be our only chance to get out of here._ Instantly, Dexter _contacted_ Rajah and Pandos, then _mindlinked_ with both of them. _Pandos, Rajah, we’ve got to take that thing alive! It might be able to get us out of here!_

Rajah thought back, _I’ll do what I can._

Together, Rajah and Pandos pressed a furious attack. They rained blow after blow on the dao, while Dexter initiated some of his most crippling psionics.

_Mindwipe._

A single, psychically-searing dose of it to the badly wounded dao is enough; it cried, “I yield! Please, do not take my life! I will grant you three wishes!”

Listening to the clash of blades, the roar of trolls, the explosive _whoomp_ of _fireballs_, Dexter grabbed the cowering dao by throat. “Good,” he growled. “Here’s the first one. _I wish that the oldest copy of the Galadron in the Hill of Skulls would appear here, now, before me!_”

Nothing happened.

“Where is it?” roared Dexter.

“I have fulfilled your wish,” the dao cried. “If nothing happened, it is because your wish was not properly phrased!”

_We’re too late,_ Dexter thought. _And there is no more time to waste._ Aloud, he said, “_I wish that my soul was no longer bound to Bleak!_”

Nothing happened.

“Surely,” the dao replied, “you do not think that I, a mere humble genie, have the power to override a god?”

Dexter gnashed his teeth. “All right, you bastard. _I wish that myself and all of my companions would be teleported instantly out of the Hill of Skulls to a safe location!_”

***

The party vanished, and Augustus- leader of the Strogassian band of villains- yelled out in surprise. “Where did they go? We _had them!!_” 

Sprukarth, the troll evoker, rumbled, “They have escaped, somehow.”

“Treacherous dao!” the envoy spat. “You will pay for allowing them to escape! The Dark Emperor forgives nothing!”

“Including you, my lord,” the dao replied with equanimity.

***

The ragged, beaten group of heroes appeared in the mountains. Several of them had been slain; Drelvin was a statue, destined to rest in the gardens of Var for nearly a century before he could be restored. 

Dexter wept without tears, without eyes. He had failed in his most holy mission. Pandos, his warden, clapped him on the back and signed, _We must escape Strogass._

Dexter nodded, and the party began their long journey home. 

_*Next Time:*_ Dexter meets with Spadron, and the hunt for Pandos the Mute’s mount begins!


----------



## the Jester

The roll of those lost in the Hill of Skulls was long. It included the almost-legendary Hendrick the Witch-Hunter, who came to bring Dexter to justice and died to help save him. Pandos thought long and hard on the events of the last few months- the long arduous journey to Strogass that Dexter undertook for a cause that ultimately proved futile. The sacred texts that the party was seeking were surely lost forever now. 

And yet the young man had not lost faith. Not his blinding, nor the trials that Bleak had forced him to endure, nor the bitter hunt for him by his old friends had caused him to lose faith. There was something amazing about him, the paladin reflected. Pandos had been chosen for his position because, being deaf and dumb, he was immune to any influence that the _Voice of Galador_ as spoken by Dexter might have. If there was some falsehood behind his growing cult, surely Pandos would expose it.

There was nothing false about Dexter, thought Pandos, nothing at all. But there was still something very important that was necessary before he could be satisfied. 

_Dexter and the Church of the Light must reconcile._

***

The journey home was easier, since they knew the way. The _seagate_ that had allowed them to transport themselves across thousands of miles again served to cut the distance of their journey nearly in half. Even so, it took weeks aboard ship to reach their destination: Forinthia.

Pandos had spoken to Dexter via the _mindlink_ that the Son of Galador could create, and they had agreed about the urgency of making peace with High Priest Spadron as soon as possible. Especially with the death of Hendrick, both of them felt it was of the utmost importance to clear the air immediately.

The ship they were on sailed into port and they bought kocho, riding the vicious warbirds overland until they reached the city called the Halls of Light. Even from a distance it seemed to glow from the golden radiance that poured from so many _continual lights_.

High Priest Spadron received Pandos first. He was in an  office in a high tower, the sun streaming through stained glass behind him. Idols of Galador flank him from the back corners of the room, each aglow with golden radiance. A page stands at his elbow.

“Warden,” nods the High Priest in greeting. “I understand that Dexter is with you.”

_Yes,_ signs Pandos.*

“Please, your report.”

The page's presence is quickly explained. Spadron knows some of the basic signs that the church's warriors use, but the complex and intricate sign language that Pandos must use to give his report is beyond him. The page begins speaking, translating almost as quickly as Pandos can sign.

_Dexter has shown no signs of anything but sincerity. He has been harried by agents of Bleak, he opposed the Dark Empire of Strogass at great cost, and he truly walks in the Light of Galador. He means only well, and Galador does speak through him. I have found that he carries out the Light's will as best he can interpret it, and since Galador has shown him special favor, we must pay attention to him, to his actions and to his understanding._

***

High Priest Spadron stood alone for a few moments before Dexter came before him. He clasped his hands in prayer, but- as had been the case all along, in reference to Dexter- Galador would say nothing to him. 

A trial of faith. It could be nothing else. 

Spadron sighed and checked the careful knotwork that tied his long beard into a belt around his waist. He straightened his holy symbol and stood carefully straight. Then he pulled the cord that would summon Dexter before him.

They were mutually humble- and by the end of the hour, the Church of the Light had reconciled with Dexter Nadly.

***

Naturally, there were edicts to be issued, proclamations to be proclaimed and doctrine to be revised. Dexter left all that to the church. He had more important things to think about, like _people_.

Pandos, meanwhile, spent a week in prayer and meditation, made offerings and supplications, and composed himself for the paladin's great quest: he was ready to seek his mount.**

The visions that he received were of a magnificent bird, obviously some kind of kin to the kocho but stronger, faster, perhaps even able to manage a kind of half-flight for a few short moments. And it was caged- caged by orcs. There was a landmark- a huge waterfall, split dramatically by a spur of rock into two large falls. Huge trees all around, which Pandos recognized as redwoods. 

A little researched turned up a place called Split Falls in the midst of the Great Redwood Forest on Valonia.

Dexter agreed to accompany him on another long journey. They had visited the great redwoods before and been truly amazed at the size of them; they were the biggest trees that any of the heroes had ever seen. It was a soothing area. And besides...

Dexter sighed. There had been a time, with an elven woman- his only time so far- the happiest moment of his life... On one level he ached to see her again, though he hardly knew her. And he knew that those elves were nomadic, and that there was not much chance that he would ever see her again.  

He did not know that she was to bear his child. 

***

Before they left, a young scion of the church named Orion approached Pandos. “My lord,” he said, “I have studied sign so that I might converse with you more easily. I am but a young paladin, and I have much yet to learn; yet I am at the point where my new studies must be in the field. I would attach myself to you, learn from you and help ward you- and Dexter- against evil.”

Although he had mixed feelings about it, Pandos agreed.

***

Plunging into the depths of the Great Redwood Forest, the two of them- along with occasional allies garnered from tribes of elves- battled their way through a giant constrictor snake, cut down megalocentipedes, avoided a marsh filled with giant frogs. They pushed through thickets, forded shallow rivers and hacked down hangman trees. 

Finally, they came to Split Falls. 

It was beautiful- a waterfall easily 140' high that parted around a great wedge of granite that thrust over a deep gorge, where the water tumbled into a great pool before spilling out along two streams.

Between the streams was the orcish encampment- several crude buildings and a stockade. There were only a trio of orcs in evidence; there were probably more out hunting or something, reflected Pandos the Mute. He gestured for the others and they moved carefully along the edge of the cliff, trying to avoid being seen, until they found a place where they could descend. Soon enough they were at the bottom, and then they waded through one of the streams and darted to cover in some foliage not far from the camp. 

And then, close enough that a rush would take them to the enemy, they attacked. 

Two of the orcs fell readily enough, but the third drew a glowing two-handed sword and roared a challenge at Pandos.*** Orion rushed to meet him first- and the orc cut him down summarily. 

Dexter rushed to lay a _cure light wounds_ on him and the orc lunged forward, his blade clanging against Dexter's _staff of combat_ over and over before finally driving into the priest-psion's hip. Dexter cried out, and Pandos rushed the orc, beating him back with his own attack for a moment. 

But the orc was _good._ His swordplay was phenomenal; and soon it was all Pandos and Dexter could  do, even flanking the orc, to hold their own. Relentlessly, the orc scored another hit on Dexter, then another. When Dex tried to heal himself, the orc took advantage of the moment to score a deep wound in Pandos. 

But the heroes were not completely without luck in their fight. Dexter's staff crunched into the orc several times and Pandos managed to cut his ribs and shoulder with his blade. 

Then the orc's wide swings caught Dexter in the chest, knocking him back and almost slaying him. 

Pandos gasped silently, but he seized the moment. While the orc was still recovering from his swing, Pandos smote him hard across the face. His helm prevented the blow from being a fatal one, but Pandos' followup blow was stunning, and he managed to land a third attack.

The orc was still standing, though, and he delivered a lightning-quick series of attacks that Pandos was barely able to fend off. One got through, hammering his breastplate. He could feel blood pouring down his body, but he just gritted his teeth and swung again, his sword slicing into the orc's pelvis. 

The orc roared in pain and staggered back. He draw a potion and drank it, and Pandos watched in dismay as the muscles of his arms began to bulge with incredible strength. The orc reversed his grip, thrusting down with all his might, and stabbed into Pandos' thigh. The paladin was knocked back and off of his feet, dazed and nearly slain. Yet the orc was tottering too...

With a sneer, the orc gestured for him to get up.

Pandos groaned silently, and rose to his knees. Then he laid hands upon himself.

The orc's eyes widened as Pandos' worst wounds knit themselves closed. With a roar, it rushed him, but Pandos was ready. He sprang to his feet and brought his sword up in an arc. Even as the orc's blow took him in the chest, carving him open, he disemboweled the orc. They fell together- but only Pandos rose.

Limping, he made his way to his friends, making sure their wounds were bandaged as best he could, then drawing them off to the orcs' crude shack. At least they would be under cover there...

Then he went to meet his mount.

_*Next Time:*_ A new quest: the _Holy Avenger!_

*Since sign language is not a spoken language, _tongues_ won't translate it.

**In case you didn't know, in 1e and 2e, a paladin could quest for a special mount at 6th level. Since there are no horses in Cydra (well, at the time there were a scant few- nowadays they are significantly more common), his mount would prove to be something a little more special.

***Here's this guy's stat block (hey, he's a 2e orc with levels!): 


			
				My Notes said:
			
		

> Plate mail, shield +1, 2H sword +1, longbow, 16 arrows +1, ring of protection from maiming (-1 die from crit severity, cannot be removed), potions of stone giant strength, healing, polymorph; 4 proficiency slots in 2H sword gives +2 to hit, +3 to damage; Str 18 (51), D 16, C 15; AC -1, THAC0 13, HP 79; level 8. Total with sword: +5 to hit, +7 damage; 5 attacks per 2 rounds.



Amazing how short a 2e stat block could be, even for a boss bad guy, eh?


----------

