(Cydra) Great Conflicts

[the Jester]

7/24/370 O.L.G., 7:00 p.m., Spell, the Delphinate

“I told you it would work,” the wizard says, beaming a smile at her companion. “321 has checked out fully. It doesn’t exceed its programming, but it shows amazing intellect and magical potential. I hear even the Delphin himself had a hand in its programming.”

“Well, they took him off already for his first briefing,” the other replies. “We’ve done well- I suspect there may come some notable rewards...” He smiles, thinking of certain books he has hungered to study for quite some time... books sealed away against theft or misuse, allowed only to the most trusted of the Delphinate’s wizards...

“I don’t know why you insist on calling it ‘him,’ Davan.” She shakes her head. “It’s just a construct.”

***

8 p.m., a small settlement on the edges of Lake Bellurnus, Dorhaus

Warforged Prototype Number 14789-321 appears near Horbin suddenly, without a sound. Our heroes are at the local tavern, discussing what they should do next. Horbin is very worried about the prophecy they found on the giant. “Are these going to be worms, or dragons?” he wonders. “And either way, they’re a threat to the people of Dorhaus.”

But when the warforged appears suddenly, hands reach for weapons and spell component pouches. Any sudden entrance by a weird construct of metal and ceramic is bound to provoke our somewhat paranoid heroes into a response of some kind, after all. But the construct speaks quickly, in a tinny voice.

“I am Warforged Prototype Number 14789-321. I have come to offer Horbin the MFKG Holy a gift from the Delphinate.”

The voice of the warforged is flat and emotionless. Beneath its robes clicking and whirring sounds emerge as it moves. It does not make any threatening moves.

“I’m Horbin,” announces the cleric.

“The Delphinate offers you guidance,” the warforged announces. “We believe that you know where to strike a pivotal blow in the War of Ethics.”

“Huh?”


”We wish to encourage you to overthrow the Bastion of Law.”

“The Bastion of Law...” Horbin leans back in his chair and takes a pull from his mug. He remembers...

Long years ago*... on his earlier travels, when he journeyed with an orc. They were somewhere... where were they? Somewhere far flung... the party found themselves looking at what appears to be an interesting fortress standing tall before what was an obviously well-worn battleground. There were no trees on the field, no grass; it showed the signs of many a recent battle. The fortress was walled, with a moat and a symmetrical layout. After some discussion, the party decided to send a scout in. Sith, the orcish wizard-warrior, rendered himself invisible and flying, and shortly flew in over the walls.

The rest of the party hung out off the field of battle and waited. After about half an hour they noticed some dust on the horizon: it looked like a large band of approaching creatures. The party wasn’t too worried just yet; they could always retreat, right? All they had to do is wait for Sith to return.

A large red winged flying reptilian form came out of the advancing army, which the party couldn’t quite make out yet, but they could tell it was a large force. And the dragon seemed to fly over the fortress, then swooped in and breathed a huge gout of fire on the wall... leaving a few scorches on it, but not much. It swung around for another pass, then returned to the oncoming army.

The party was now officially becoming worried about Sith. He’d been gone about an hour, and it looked like this big-ass army coming towards the fortress he was scouting was planning to attack it. Not a good thing to be caught in the middle of- especially because it seemed as though there are a lot of different big things in the army. Giants, demon and angel looking things both.... what was going on here?

Then, suddenly, a pair of humanoid frogs appeared from out of nowhere! The party reacted, scrambling for weapons, but the slaadi croaked that they were here to ask for help.

“That,” they explained, gesturing to the fortress, “is the Bastion of Law. Every week there’s a great battle between the forces of Law and Chaos here, and there is destined to be a stalemate. None of the forces here can swing the battle. Only outside intervention can do that. We want your help. Sneak in, open the gates- and the forces of Chaos can be victorious at last!”

The slaadi departed. The party immediately fell into a vigorous debate. “I’m not getting involved in this,” Anvar maintained, and Krunkshank agreed. Most of the rest were chaotic through and through, but none of them are suicidal. Still, they were becoming worried about Sith, and it looked like another army was marching in from the hills to the side of the fortress. Another chaos army? Nobody could tell just yet. Meanwhile, the Bastion’s army of Law was also drawing up into ranks, issuing forth from the fortress.

The party’s debate was growing heated when Sith returned, visible but still flying. He claimed that the party’s best interests would be served by staying out of this mess. They decided to just watch the battle take place, and take place it did. Angelic figures clashed with each other, some serving chaos, some serving law. Dragons, giants, humanoids of all sorts, bizarre monsters they’ve never seen- an incredible battle soon developed, with quarter neither asked for not given on either side. The party moved a few times as it got closer to them, and once an angel with a flying sword came close enough to warn them to stay out of it. They did, never stopping to wonder why Sith has urged them to do so as well.

As night falls the battle still raged, and another debate sprang up among them: what to do next. After some discussion they decided to keep heading on their way and hope to find either a waterway to follow or a town. The group circled around the battlefield, leaving the eternal conflict behind.

“Where the hell was it?” Horbin mutters to himself, annoyed.

“Our gift,” announces the warforged, and hands Horbin a box. “It is a portable store. It unfolds into a door into an extradimensional space that provides access to a network of Delphinite shops and stores through a shopkeeper.”

Horbin turns the wooden box over in his hands. Warily, he pulls as the edges. It snaps open, doubling in size. He pulls the edges again and it snaps further open, doubling again. Now it is the size of a window. One more time and it achieves its full size.

“Wow,” breathes Horbin.

***

Outside on the street

Veil approaches Von Dial. The man’s eyes have returned, and a certain degree of lucidity, but he seems to have given himself over to the mad faith of Na’Rat. How sane can such a one truly be? Now he raves on the streets, preaching to those who will listen.

Veil is one such. In her female elven form, Veil observes the man for some time.

“I am the obelisk alive!” Von Dial rants. “Chaos comes, and we must accept its touch! What will transpire will transpire; we must ride the currents to pleasantries! No man can predict!”

When he pauses to draw breath, Veil interjects, “Sir, I am curious about this Na’Rat you speak so much of. Perhaps you could tell me more?”

The man’s thoughts are a chaotic mess, almost distasteful to look through.

Von Dial cackles gleefully. “Na’Rat, the Chaos-Bringer! He rides the world! Forgotten for eons, but returned to awareness with his obelisks! And now I am an obelisk alive.” His voice drops to a gloating whisper.

“What does that mean? Truly, sir, this Na’Rat intrigues me.” Veil smiles prettily at the preacher.

“Would you feel his touch?”

“Well... yes... that is...”

And Von Dial touches her. With an almost palpable shock, Veil realizes that she’s changed in some way- she isn’t certain how. But something has happened... something within her has reconfigured itself.

“What did you do?” she asks, amazed.

“I? I did nothing. It was Na’Rat who acts- he brings Chaos!” Von Dial chortles.

“But...” Veil pauses. Nothing happened that’s visible, but something did indeed happen. Was it good? Bad? How can I know? “Can you tell me what happened to me?”

“You received a gift. As to its nature, that I cannot say.”

“Can... can I have another?”

***

Our heroes rest and party for a few days.

Lillamere, tired of living in a community without the decency to even have a name, tells the local officials- as Drelvin’s nephew- that the town is now called Brelana, named after Drelvin’s mother.

Veil seems to be absent from the group’s favored spot- the tavern- for nearly the entire day. She is watching Von Dial preach and receiving more gifts from Na’Rat. When she returns in the evening, steam is coming out of her ears, but she otherwise looks normal. That can’t last, as she has been begging to be touched as much as Von Dial will permit.

One evening, Horbin, frustrated by his inability to remember where the damned Bastion of Law was, issues a sending to one of his old adventuring friends from that period- Clambake, sometimes called Captain Clambake. I’m seeking the Bastion of Law- how do I find it? he sends.

Go north, comes the reply. The Serpent’s Tail. Good luck.

“Ah, of course,” Horbin breathes.

“If you have ascertained the location,” Proto (as the group has taken to calling the warforged) remarks, “I urge you to strike decisively.”

Horbin mulls it over. He doesn’t want to be heavily involved in the War of Ethics. But the Delphinate has given him a mighty gift; he owes them at least a look at the site.

“We’ll check it out,” he says gravely.

Next Time: The Bastion of Law!

*Anyone reading about the earlier adventures of Horbin, Clambake, etc. can check it out here.

 

[Sandain]

Can you please remind me what MFKG stands for?

 

[the Jester]

Can you please remind me what MFKG stands for?

Er, not really.

Stick an 'other' after the M, a 'uc' after the F, and an 'in' after the K.

I think Horbin's player came up with the MFKG 'abbreviation' to make it more appropriate to say when treating with easily offended npcs.

 

[Angel of Adventure]

Bumpin' for an Update

Bump

 

[the Jester]

Bump

Now that the holidays are over I'll have more time to write. Expect updates fairly soon to all three story hour threads- prolly do the Early Years first, once I can fact-check with Aaron and/or Craig.

 

[the Jester]

To the Isle of Battle

The cosmos is like a body. It sprawls in ways unimaginable to a cell within it. The many planes are like different orders or structure within the body- think, perhaps, of the astral plane as the body’s nerves, the ethereal as the body’s blood, the inner planes as the skeleton, the outer planes as the flesh. It is an imperfect simile, but it is useful for making an example in this case.

But if the cosmos is like a body, can it get sick? And if germs attack it, where can they be from? If the multiverse is the body attacked, what is outside?

The holes the worms are using are like cankers on the lips of the cosmos. They swarm like germs, burrowing through the heart of reality to emerge in Cydra.

The ormrs, awakened decades ago when their obelisk was unearthed on Pesh, have been sending forth cautious expeditions time and again, probing the upper world to see what is out there. Now their great master slithers forth to implore these new, primal worms to aid them in bringing back the glory of Na’Rat.

Na’Rat, the Chaos-Bringer. Na’Rat, the Worm-Wright.

***
7/30/370 O.L.G., 2 p.m., over the island chain called the Serpent’s Tail, far to the north

In the vaporous form provided by a wind walk spell, our heroes whip through the sky at extraordinary speeds, Horbin in the lead. His find the path spell will lead them to where they must go.

The Isle of Battle.

Proto, as the warforged calls itself, teleported the group first to Balramamos, then to Dorla (where they encountered an extraordinarily foul-mouthed harbor mistress named Bentricle, who appeared to know Horbin from years ago). Then Horbin took over, for none of them knew exactly where they were going, even though Horbin had been there before, years past.

Below the group, the sea churns and spray constantly lashes the air. The waters here are shallow, too shallow for most boats. The Serpent’s Tail is extremely dangerous for ships; Horbin remembers being here before, years ago, and escaping only with the aid of a captured ship of steel. But that was long ago, and his powers have grown.

Horbin smiles. His find the path will serve the group well. He can already feel it leading him down, to an island a few miles distant. And at this speed, a few miles is only a few minutes.

Whizzing over the Isle of Battle, the party sees a few small villages on the rocky coast, but no real sign of ships. They can see the great battle itself, though. Great masses of troops, arrayed in neat lines, push hard against a chaotic horde. Men, elves, dwarves, angelic figures, devils and more are arrayed against similar stock. Even a few dragons seem to be on each side.

“Impressive,” comments Inoke as the left wing of the dwarven army of Law collides with a regiment of trolls and giants. The carnage is terrible.

Looming above the battlefield is a fortress flying the banner of Law. Thick walls, bristling with defenders, seem to dare the forces of Chaos to approach. Great war machines within the walls hurl stones and great barrels of oil into the enemy lines.

“The Bastion of Law,” says Proto dramatically, but in a tinny voice

“What the hell are we doing here?” asks Veil. Steam rises from his ears. The touch of Chaos is strong upon him.

“Good question,” Horbin mutters.

“My masters at the Delphinate believe this is the pivotal battle. They seem to think that you would know what to do.”

“I don’t even really want to be involved in all this,” Horbin answers.

“No kidding!” Gerontius inserts.

“If you do not strike at Law, you are simply giving them the initiative,” Proto retorts. “Some would say the Great War of Ethics is about nothing, but it is really about principles and the right to have your own way of life. Forinthia will take that away.”

Horbin sighs. “But how? What do we do to make a difference here?”

“Maybe the citadel has to fall,” offers Inoke.

“Or maybe we can take out the main general of the Lawful army,” suggests Veil.

“Hmm... or snatch him and make him negotiate,” Horbin muses.

***

The Abyss

Oh, yes, Chaos is strongly upon him.

Law has a lot invested in this, thinks the demon prince Graz’zt. Chaos- well, Chaos never moves as one. The episode with the fleet was an interesting anomaly, one that he would love to see repeated.

He smiles a sly smile; the smile of a cat who just drank the milk out of your cereal bowl. He taps his twelve fingers together, steeples them, then jumps up and paces back and forth. He looks again at the pool holding Veil’s image.

They will be in the right place, at the right time; to do some Very Great Things for Chaos. They may be able to slay one of the accursed Arrows of Law. Graz’zt has foreseen it. Which one, he cannot say; but... surely that is a cause worth aiding.

And, of course, in doing so he will aid his own cause as well.

Graz’zt causes the shield of Graz’zt to be brought forth. It is a circular shield of heavy black iron, and spiked through the palm to the boss is a six-fingered hand. As Graz’zt watches, it twitches. He smiles that sly smile again and turns back to the scrying pool.

Next Time: Aggressive negotiations with the Army of Law!

 

[the Jester]

Aggressive Diplomacy

7/30/370 O.L.G., 4:00 p.m., at the rear of the Army of Law on the Field of Battle before the Bastion of Law

The negotiations begin suddenly and viciously. A reverse gravity cast by Proto gets things off to a nice start, but the General of Law and his guards show themselves to be formidable opponents when approached physically and magically. Thrush cuts down quite a few of the general’s elite guard before things smooth out. The whole time Horbin is trying to talk sense, and things finally settle into a tense parlay, with weapons sheathed but hands ready.

Horbin attempts to persuade General Strictis- who is clearly Galadorian- to help end the battle once and for all. “By surrendering?” the General asks, amazed at the cleric’s audacity. It is out of the question, of course. All the pleading and persuasion the group can muster avails them not a whit. None of their reasons seem to hit home with the general; he maintains the strictest devotion to duty. “I will never surrender to Chaos,” he reiterates again and again.

“I don’t serve Chaos, I serve good,” Horbin protests. “You and your army, on the other hand, are consorting with devils!”

“Even devils may serve the Light,” General Strictis responds. “All things do Galador’s bidding. And your side consorts with demons.”

“Not me,” Horbin retorts emphatically. “I’m against demons. In fact, we’d be more likely to kill a demon than talk to it.”

“Oh?”

“We would even kill a demon for you, as a token of our good nature,” Horbin offers.

General Strictis laughs grimly. “Oh, I’ve a demon for you to kill, all right. Kill Graz’zt. He is one of the mightiest of all demons, and he’s caused difficulties for us before and no doubt will again.”

“Graz’zt!” exclaims Sybele.

”I don’t think that’s a good idea,” intones Proto. “And what would you do in return?”

“Not surrender, surely?” Sybele inquires hopefully. Indeed not.

“It doesn’t really matter,” she grumbles. “Even if Chaos takes this Bastion of Law here, they’ll just go form a new one somewhere else, right?” She looks at General Strictis, who says nothing.

The negotiations continue for some time, with the Army of Law providing the hospitality prescribed by the rules of parlay. After a time, our heroes leave, frustrated in their inability to make a change in the attitudes of the servants of Law.

“I don’t know how much time we should spend here,” Horbin mutters. “I don’t see what good we can do.”

“My programming tells me,” the warforged wizard named Proto declares in a tinny voice, “that my masters in the Delphinate believe that this battle is pivotal.”

“But they fight the same fight every day!” Horbin protests. “Day after day, the same thing... and it never changes.”

“Then we must change it,” Proto replies.

“What happens to the bodies?” asks Drelvin.

“Good question,” Horbin muses. “They were gone by morning, but...”

“We should search some for loot!” exclaims Gerontius.

“Good idea,” Jezebel nods, feeling a genetic disposition towards hoarding even at her young age.* “Tonight, after the battle is over, let’s take a look.”

“You know we aren’t the first to think of this, right?” Drelvin gives the party a sardonic grin. “An army always has scavengers.”

***

8:50 p.m., near the Field of Battle

That night a fog springs up. With the stars cloaked by the fog, our heroes make their way to the field of battle, soaked in blood and littered with the dead. As they approach, Gerontius shushes them and cocks his head intently, listening to something. Then he shrugs. “Something’s moving out there,” he whispers.

The group loosens their weapons, and soon they can see the source of the noise: strange constructs, covered in nasty spikes, moving around the battlefield. They pick up the bodies and impale them on their spikes.**

“Gruesome, but effective,” Inoke comments. Thrush grunts.

The party loots a few bodies, but nothing of real worth turns up. They debate whether or not it would be a good idea to attack one of the strange cadaver collectors. But when Horbin hears a moan from a body on one of them, his decision is made. Growing pale, he cries, “There’s someone still alive on one of them!”

A furious battle ensues. Several of the constructs, including a really humungous one, join the fray, and they are certainly formidable opponents; but in the end, the combination of Drelvin, Thrush and Inoke is overwhelming. Somewhere in the middle of the battle, unable to harm the monsters significantly, Gerontius pulls out some rations and starts eating- just like a halfling, wouldn’t you know!

Afterwards, the man stuck to the construct proves dead by now, but at least no more mortally wounded men will be stuck to those particular monsters!

The group then retires, setting watches and settling down to sleep for the night.

Next Time: Graz’zt drops by for a chat!


*Remember, Jezebel is a half-dragon- Sybele’s half-dragon love child, to be precise, by way of the steel dragon Kel, in an event from Sybele’s earlier history that has yet to be chronicled (the Hatching Cave episode). She’s presently about 17-18 years old.

**This game was played the day the Monster Manual 3 came out. These constructs are a fantastic monster in the MM3- the cadaver collector. I couldn’t resist the opportunity...

 

[the Jester]

A Chat With a Demon Prince

8/1/370 O.L.G., 2 a.m., near the Field of Battle

Deep in the trance that is his peoples’ equivalent of sleep, the mind of Drelvin the Archer tosses and turns. His dreams are... tainted. A presence seems to have shouldered its way into his head. A dark-skinned, extraordinarily handsome face centers itself in the archer’s dream. A smile like the slash of a blade across a neck; delicately pointed teeth, like a baby piranha’s. Long, six-fingered hands steeple together, delicate as glass flowers.

Drelvin has met many powerful evil entities in his time- even gods. He has slain more dragons than anyone else alive in Cydra, and that is no hyperbole. He has met and defeated the devil Mezzoloch, traitor to his own kind. He has brought down a gargantuan. He has gotten away with snarling at the god of cowardice and rape.

But never has a gaze filled him with such disquiet.

The others, he knew, were enemies. This one... this one smiles, beneficially. And he asks Drelvin a question.

Would you champion Chaos?

It echoes and reverberates through the archer’s mind and soul. There is a sweet promise in the question; it is an offer as well as a task. Something hazy, some weird offering, seems behind the question.

No, Drelvin thinks to himself, I won’t. This whole affair of Law vs. Chaos is stupid. It serves no purpose. It’s not about territory, or money, or even really religion- though that’s getting closer. Whatever the hell it’s all about, Drelvin wants no part of it.

He wakes up suddenly. Shaking, he looks around wildly. Proto is on guard; faithfully watching for trouble; and none is apparent. Taking a deep breath, the archer settles back into his trance.

***

10 a.m.

Gerontius sighs and stretches. “Now that was breakfast,” he says happily, then frowns. Sybele seems... distracted. And she mumbles to herself for a moment, as if-

“Hey, guys,” she blurts, “I think we’re being watched by someone. Someone powerful, on the side of Chaos. We may have a visitor.”

Veil glances at her, full of interest.

“I just received a sending,” she continues, “asking if I wanted to become a champion of Chaos.”

“I thought you already were,” comments Lillamere.

“No, I’m a warrior of Chaos.* It’s different. I guess.” She shrugs. “I guess I don’t really know, but hey, whatever.”

“I had a dream last night,” Drelvin says, “that I think might be connected.” When he describes the figure from his dream, Horbin purses his lips grimly.

“That sounds like Graz’zt,” the cleric groans.

“Where do I know that name from?” asks Gerontius.

”That’s the demon prince that the general wants us to kill,” Horbin sighs.

“Oh.” The halfling considers for a moment. “Sounds like a bad idea, if he wants to help us out.”

“It sounds to me,” says Lillamere, “like both sides are playing for our support.”

“We could see who has more to offer!” Gerontius suggests.

”We’re not joining anyone,” Horbin states firmly. “Or at least, I’m not. I’m certainly not a fan of the forces of Law, but I can’t fight against Forinthia.”**

“So what did you tell him?” Lillamere asks Sybele, but before she has a chance to answer our heroes have a visitor.

“Greetings,” comes a voice. Everyone turns to see him there, just a few score feet away. He smiles: Graz’zt, demon prince and Lord of Chaos. He stands, beautiful and aloof, with that smile- is it mocking?- lingering on his lips like an aftertaste.

“Begone, demon!” cries Horbin.

“Peace,” Graz’zt says soothingly. “I mean no harm. I bring you gifts.”

“We want no gifts from your kind!” the cleric retorts.

“Gifts?” asks Gerontius.

Graz’zt glances away from Horbin at the halfling. He nods respectfully. “Indeed. Great gifts, and great power- should you choose to accept it.”

“Can we change our mind later?” asks Sybele cheerily.

“No.”

“Oh. Well, that just seemed kinda chaotic to me...”

Graz’zt, sweet as a kitten, hands out some highly unusual arrows. They aren’t even close to straight, but he assures them that they will fly true.*** He clearly favors Sybele; possibly because she is a warrior of Chaos already.

“Would you accept the mantle of a Champion of Chaos?” the demon prince demands.

“I’ll think it over,” she replies blithely.

Graz’zt’s eyes sweep over the group. “You are strongly allied with Chaos, and have powerful enemies on the side of Law. You are fools if you believe that you do not need aid.”

Horbin cries, “Not the aid of demons!”

Graz’zt sighs. “No, Horbin the MFKG Holy, not the aid of demons at all. The aid of Chaos. Just because we have our philosophical differences does not mean that we cannot have common interests. Look at your long friendship with Sheva and Angelfire.” Horbin stiffens. “Certainly you are not- and probably never were- friends; but you traveled together for long months and years and worked together against common foes. That is all I suggest.”

“Let’s get to the point,” Lillamere interjects. “What do you want from us? Specifically?”

“Nothing at all,” Graz’zt answers sincerely.

Our heroes absorb this for a moment. “Nothing at all?” demands Inoke. “What does that mean? Nothing at all, or nothing until you have something you need?”

“It means nothing at all. I will demand no recompense, ever. I wish you to continue as you are. If you do so, our foes will remain common and you will aid my cause, whether you realize it or no. And I... encourage any of you that wish to to champion Chaos. Should any of you do so” -that smile again- “I have a special gift.”

“But at what cost?” Drelvin snorts. “No matter what you say, I know there’s a cost.”

“Not to mention that Chaos is dangerous,” adds Horbin.

Graz’zt shrugs. “So is passion. Would you live without it?”

“I’ll do it,” Veil says suddenly. “I’ll be the champion you seek.”

Graz’zt smiles broadly, showing his teeth, and says, ”Good,”, and suddenly there’s a whirling, overwhelming giddiness that tears at Veil until he gives a warbling cry of mixed wonder, pleasure and shock. Then Veil is shaking, giving off purple-green smoke; and Graz’zt, with a nod, hands him the shield.

It’s a heavy shield with a hand spiked to it. Veil stares at it mutely for a moment, then bows; then, taking it a step further, he bows.

“Farewell,” Graz’zt says. “You will go on to great things.”

“What do you mean, great things?” asks Inoke, but the demon is gone.

“Nice guy,” comments Veil. Horbin looks at him like he’s crazy.

Next Time: Back to the ruins of Ostraghan! There’s lots more going on there, that’s for sure!


*Warrior of Chaos is a prestige class in my campaign.

**A long time ago, our heroes found themselves at the Battle of Pesh, when an immense fleet of Chaos vessels attacked a major concentration of Forinthian forces laying siege to Pesh City. Horbin received a pretty unmistakable signal that he was erring in his ways when his spells failed to take effect against Forinthian forces. A commune later confirmed that he was not to attack them.

***iirc, these were +2 anarchic arrows.

 

[the Jester]

Return to the Ruins of Ostraghan

8/2/370 O.L.G., Brelana, Dorhaus

Quietly, without telling Drelvin, Lillamere has given the small community on Lake Bellurnus, near the ruins of Ostraghan, a name. It is now called Brelana, named after Drelvin’s mother. Word has spread among the folks of the settlement, and now they all refer to their home as Brelana. Amazing what a 30+ charisma can do, virtually overnight, in a village.

Veil continues to visit Von Dial, the Living Obelisk, and Von Dial continues to touch him, gifting him with yet more Chaos. When the mindspy journeys down the streets towards him today, however, she finds a pair of men of Forinthian extraction intently watching the raving man from across the street. Veil hurries to fetch the party, and Rex puts on a good show of intimidating the men, who claim just to be refugees.

“If they were spies,” Inoke says later, “they had pretty bad spy costumes. Forinthians disguised as Forinthians?”

Who knows.

***

8/3/370 O.L.G.

The party determines to return to Ostraghan’s ruins and investigate further. Lillamere has asked around and gathered rumors, and it seems that the ruins may hold a number of interesting features. “There was a great wizard in Ostraghan at the end,” Drelvin’s nephew says, “and an academy of spearmen... also, it was said during Fuligin’s attack on Dorhaus that a great general of evil went into a temple of Galador and never emerged. It’s possible that it is still in there, bound or something.”

Drelvin frowns. “I’m a little worried about those Forinthians we saw yesterday,” he states. “Maybe we should leave a couple people behind just in case.” The party discusses this, and Drelvin ends up appointing Thrush sheriff of Brelana. N’Sari, Lillamere’s sister, remains with him as his deputy. The others head into the ruins, wind walking the few miles there in minutes.

The group resolidifies just outside the ruins. As they head in, they encounter a wounded adventurer with a broken leg, which Horbin heals. Gratefully, the man tells them that he had been wounded badly in a fight with giants a few days ago- before our heroes destroyed Fnogghi Chaos-Hand and his band.

“Seen any worms?” asks Horbin, but the man has not. He has, however, seen an intriguing huge locked portal. “Our wizard advised us not to open it,” he tells the party. “He said that it sealed away some kind of nasty creature.” Our heroes exchange glances; obviously they must investigate.

Following the man’s directions, our heroes reach a ruined tower. Searching around the fallen stones of the fallen edifice, the group rapidly locates a half-buried metal portal, chased and set with bits of both adamantine and orichalcum. Carefully examining it, Orbius notes eldritch runes scribed along its perimeter. He tells the others, “I think this holds a terrible creature called a madrey.”

“What’s that?” asks Drelvin.

“Some kind of legendary monster that is usually held behind a powerful magical seal,” the divine oracle replies ironically. “But nobody’s ever seen one, at least in the last few thousand years, and so I don’t know anything to speak of about them, except that they’re very dangerous.”

“Look,” Drelvin the Archer calls, “I found a half-dissolved plaque!”

Indeed, about twenty yards away a large area seems to have suffered damage from some sort of corrosive. Warped by whatever it was exposed to, the plaque bears words, but only part of the message on the plaque is readable:

...SE THE MADREY...GAZE OF MADNESS... DANGER TO ALL... LAMPREY OR WORM.

“Worms,” Horbin breathes.

“Does this tie into that damned prophecy?” exclaims Veil. Suddenly the hand on the shield Graz’zt gave him twitches, and his jaw drops.

“That’s...” Horbin is speechless.

“Does it talk to you?” Inoke asks.

“What?” Veil looks at him.

The swarthy man repeats, “Does it talk to you? The shield?”

“No, I mean, not that I know of... not so far...”

Do you mind if I tell them about you? Inoke thinks.

Do you trust them?

Yes.

Go ahead.

“My helmet talks to me, sometimes. In my head,” Inoke says. “It’s what taught me to be a warmind.”

The group stares at Inoke’s cat-shaped helmet. “Interesting,” says Orbius, “but we must stay focused here. We may be facing a terrible monster!”

“It sounds like it has a gaze attack,” Drelvin comments. “Whatever this thing is, I think we should kill it. I don’t want it on my land.”

“Should we open the seal? Right now it’s sealed away,” Lillamere points out.

Drelvin snorts in disdain. “Until someone comes along and Lesters it up. We can’t let this thing just sit here waiting for one of our enemies to come turn it loose on us.”

“That’s a good point,” Inoke says. “Let’s slay this thing. Surely we’re powerful enough to do so.”

The group looks at the portal. It looks stoutly sealed.

“Maybe I can open it,” Inoke offers, and throws his back into it. He grunts in surprise at the strength of its resistance, and his muscles bulge as he redoubles his efforts. It’s still not enough- not nearly enough. With a roar, Inoke flies into a rage. An inarticulate noise emanates from the warmind as adrenaline rushes through his system, and slowly, the door begins to inch open.


Next Time: Against the madrey!

 

[Sandain]

Could we please have a quick class and level update for your current group please?

Last we heard;

Lillamere, elven sorcerer 18 (CG)
Sir Maxwell Norrington, human paladin 13/knight of the chalice 6 (LG)
Sybele (fighter 8/psion 11/warrior of chaos 3) (CG)
Inoke (barbarian 2/psychic warrior 2/fighter 4/warmind 10) (NG)
Kagera (monk 19, now deceased) (LN)
Rex (monk 5/tattooed monk 1/sorcerer 1/dragon disciple 11/ranger 1/fighter 1/half-dragon paragon 1) (LN)
Veil Raybender (actually a doppelganger, though our heroes don’t yet know it; doppelganger fighter 5/mindspy 5) (CN)

And of course the npcs:

Jezebel (half-dragon rogue 5/sorcerer 7/arcane trickster 1)
N’Sari (fighter 6/sorcerer 1/arcane archer 9)
Thrush (fighter 23)