Story HourPost your ongoing tales from your campaigns, and read those from others for inspiration. Lots of other RPG boards post "Story Hours", but this is where it started!
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!
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!
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.
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!
__________________ Robert Blezard I write; therefore, I am!
D&D v.3.5, d20 Modern, OSRIC, Pathfinder, True20... OGL Forever! Walk the Road
Avatar by Sialia
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 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 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.
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.
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!
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.
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'.
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.
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)
Linear Mode
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