Mathew_Freeman
Adventurer
"Dragon".
Two words that strike terror into the hearts of every PC, no matter what level.
Two words that strike terror into the hearts of every PC, no matter what level.
(Cydra) Great Conflicts
- Thread starter the Jester
- Start date
omrob
First Post
Dragon Shmagon
Normally true, but we had Drelvin the Dragonslayer with us at that time so had nothing to fear. Drelvin - the legless, the stoned, recently restored to service in Malford's court has dropped many a dragon in his time.
Mebbe his player will chime in and give us a dragon head count...
Of course we haven't tried to take any of the actual DRAGONS of J's game yet. Er, at least Sybele hasn't.
Tallarn said:"Dragon".
Two words that strike terror into the hearts of every PC, no matter what level.
Normally true, but we had Drelvin the Dragonslayer with us at that time so had nothing to fear. Drelvin - the legless, the stoned, recently restored to service in Malford's court has dropped many a dragon in his time.
Mebbe his player will chime in and give us a dragon head count...
Of course we haven't tried to take any of the actual DRAGONS of J's game yet. Er, at least Sybele hasn't.
Last edited:
the Jester
Legend
The Granite Heart
There aren’t many people on Cydra who have seen a dragon and lived.
Almost all of our heroes are, in fact, among that select few.
Fewer people still have fought a dragon and triumphed, yet most of our heroes have done that too.
Still, it’s never something to take lightly. Dragons, after all, are gods. They have clerics. At least, the so-called “true” dragons do.
***
Lester can’t move at all. He strives mightily to shift the stone crushing and suffocating him, but his mightiest effort fails.
***
In the cave, the Granite Heart’s dragon guardian storms forward towards Sir Maxwell. Thanks to Orbius’ mass mirror image, the dragon targets a false version of him; but the knight knows that he cannot count on that lasting. People scatter in fear as the dragon charges; Thrush, who had been scrambling to remove rocks from the rubble atop Lester, abandons the L in his fear. More elementals, large and huge, pour forward out of the darkness.
Of everyone, Drelvin is the calmest.
He remembers his first dragon, almost 200 years ago. Gnarichlor, the Green. What a tough battle that was!
Then there was that weird cross between a blue and a shadow that the party fought a while back. Seemed to recognize at least some of them, too. Hmm.
And then there was the brine dragon, in Moil! This will be four!
Drelvin proceeds to loose arrow after arrow at the dragon with a speed virtually unrivaled on Cydra. One of his arrows hits the dragon right in the face and several teeth shatter. Two more sink into its body. It roars in displeasure, glaring at the archer.
Then it roars again, as a small hole is blasted through it by Orbius’ puncture and Horbin’s solar spells. Maxwell steps up and engages it with his great silver hammer, smashing into its foreleg with righteous anger.
The dragon tears into Maxwell with a claw, rending his chest. Blood spatters, but Maxwell does not falter. Instead he channels, drawing upon the divine might of Garnet, and smites it. Several of his blows hit, dealing terrific damage to the monster.
A few of the elementals are still up, still attacking the party members scattered by the dragon’s fearsome presence, and the cowering heroes are unable to effectively counterattack! Horbin moves to defend them, the power of Dexter flowing through him.
Orbius uses a time stop, casts a wall of force to protect his position, and summons a huge elemental. As soon as things start moving again, Orbius commands, “Dig Lester out from under this rubble!”
The elemental gets to work.
Sir Maxwell and the dragon slash and hack at each other brutally. Blood is flying everywhere. More arrows are in the air, constantly streaming from Drelvin to the dragon. Horbin is dispatching elementals left and right, having enlarged himself to heroic proportions via righteous might. In a single flurry of motion he dispatches five elementals!
The mass of elementals is thinning; the dragon and Maxwell are both weakening. Finally, the paladin lands a final blow and strikes the creature down! After that it’s all a matter of mopping up; with Orbius casting disintegrates, Horbin all righteoused up and Drelvin firing at such speed that his bow is merely a blur, it takes only a few seconds.
After the obligatory few moments of healing, the party moves forward and approaches the Granite Heart itself.
The Granite Heart is a tremendous stone, probably 100’ in height, which resembles nothing so much as a heart. It seems to have somehow grown up and out of the ground, where it balances precariously on segment no bigger than a dozen feet around.
Nervously, Lester wonders aloud, “Now what?”
“Let’s see if there’s an entrance.” Orbius starts examining the Heart.
***
Emotionless, the Judge of Worlds regards Cydra from without.
It is hard to describe such a perspective- one that encompasses such a vast area that it is truly all-encompassing.
Cydra is a world that favors Law. Forinthian dominance has assured that for thousands of years. They have traveled far and managed to bring order everywhere they have gone- at least, to some degree.
This is proper.
Unfortunately, there are ancient and terrible forces of Chaos that have awakened. Things are decaying quickly. Law is breaking apart; Chaos is infecting the nations and lawmakers, those who should keep order.
The Judge of Worlds can see right to the heart of the matter. He has awaked for a reason. There is a great danger. He must attend to it.
First he casts his mind into a strange place he has never been before. He can sense a powerful... entity. A Lawful mind. Something different from anything he has known before. He seeks to contact it.
When he succeeds, he makes contact with something far more dangerous than he could possibly expect. And it’s a something that’s more than willing to aid his cause. But it is something that the Judge of Worlds, in his epic wisdom, does not trust. Never in a million years has he encountered something like this. Never has he conceived of such a thing- an intangible intellect, formless, able to ride the waves of what it calls the realm of radio.
And in response to this touching of minds, in a thousand somewheres, billions of somethings awaken at the same instant.
***
A search of the Granite Heart reveals no sign of an entryway of any kind. It’s strongly magical, though, and Horbin suggests a simple dispel attempt. “Maybe he’s just hanging out in there,” mutters Lester.
“All right, get ready,” Horbin tells the group, then casts a greater dispel magic at the Heart.
And suddenly a great rocky form bursts out, huge and ominous- Ogremoch, the Elemental Prince of Evil Earth.
“Let’s get it on!” cries Lester.
Next Time: The party’s confrontation with Ogremoch![/i]
There aren’t many people on Cydra who have seen a dragon and lived.
Almost all of our heroes are, in fact, among that select few.
Fewer people still have fought a dragon and triumphed, yet most of our heroes have done that too.
Still, it’s never something to take lightly. Dragons, after all, are gods. They have clerics. At least, the so-called “true” dragons do.
***
Lester can’t move at all. He strives mightily to shift the stone crushing and suffocating him, but his mightiest effort fails.
***
In the cave, the Granite Heart’s dragon guardian storms forward towards Sir Maxwell. Thanks to Orbius’ mass mirror image, the dragon targets a false version of him; but the knight knows that he cannot count on that lasting. People scatter in fear as the dragon charges; Thrush, who had been scrambling to remove rocks from the rubble atop Lester, abandons the L in his fear. More elementals, large and huge, pour forward out of the darkness.
Of everyone, Drelvin is the calmest.
He remembers his first dragon, almost 200 years ago. Gnarichlor, the Green. What a tough battle that was!
Then there was that weird cross between a blue and a shadow that the party fought a while back. Seemed to recognize at least some of them, too. Hmm.
And then there was the brine dragon, in Moil! This will be four!
Drelvin proceeds to loose arrow after arrow at the dragon with a speed virtually unrivaled on Cydra. One of his arrows hits the dragon right in the face and several teeth shatter. Two more sink into its body. It roars in displeasure, glaring at the archer.
Then it roars again, as a small hole is blasted through it by Orbius’ puncture and Horbin’s solar spells. Maxwell steps up and engages it with his great silver hammer, smashing into its foreleg with righteous anger.
The dragon tears into Maxwell with a claw, rending his chest. Blood spatters, but Maxwell does not falter. Instead he channels, drawing upon the divine might of Garnet, and smites it. Several of his blows hit, dealing terrific damage to the monster.
A few of the elementals are still up, still attacking the party members scattered by the dragon’s fearsome presence, and the cowering heroes are unable to effectively counterattack! Horbin moves to defend them, the power of Dexter flowing through him.
Orbius uses a time stop, casts a wall of force to protect his position, and summons a huge elemental. As soon as things start moving again, Orbius commands, “Dig Lester out from under this rubble!”
The elemental gets to work.
Sir Maxwell and the dragon slash and hack at each other brutally. Blood is flying everywhere. More arrows are in the air, constantly streaming from Drelvin to the dragon. Horbin is dispatching elementals left and right, having enlarged himself to heroic proportions via righteous might. In a single flurry of motion he dispatches five elementals!
The mass of elementals is thinning; the dragon and Maxwell are both weakening. Finally, the paladin lands a final blow and strikes the creature down! After that it’s all a matter of mopping up; with Orbius casting disintegrates, Horbin all righteoused up and Drelvin firing at such speed that his bow is merely a blur, it takes only a few seconds.
After the obligatory few moments of healing, the party moves forward and approaches the Granite Heart itself.
The Granite Heart is a tremendous stone, probably 100’ in height, which resembles nothing so much as a heart. It seems to have somehow grown up and out of the ground, where it balances precariously on segment no bigger than a dozen feet around.
Nervously, Lester wonders aloud, “Now what?”
“Let’s see if there’s an entrance.” Orbius starts examining the Heart.
***
Emotionless, the Judge of Worlds regards Cydra from without.
It is hard to describe such a perspective- one that encompasses such a vast area that it is truly all-encompassing.
Cydra is a world that favors Law. Forinthian dominance has assured that for thousands of years. They have traveled far and managed to bring order everywhere they have gone- at least, to some degree.
This is proper.
Unfortunately, there are ancient and terrible forces of Chaos that have awakened. Things are decaying quickly. Law is breaking apart; Chaos is infecting the nations and lawmakers, those who should keep order.
The Judge of Worlds can see right to the heart of the matter. He has awaked for a reason. There is a great danger. He must attend to it.
First he casts his mind into a strange place he has never been before. He can sense a powerful... entity. A Lawful mind. Something different from anything he has known before. He seeks to contact it.
When he succeeds, he makes contact with something far more dangerous than he could possibly expect. And it’s a something that’s more than willing to aid his cause. But it is something that the Judge of Worlds, in his epic wisdom, does not trust. Never in a million years has he encountered something like this. Never has he conceived of such a thing- an intangible intellect, formless, able to ride the waves of what it calls the realm of radio.
And in response to this touching of minds, in a thousand somewheres, billions of somethings awaken at the same instant.
***
A search of the Granite Heart reveals no sign of an entryway of any kind. It’s strongly magical, though, and Horbin suggests a simple dispel attempt. “Maybe he’s just hanging out in there,” mutters Lester.
“All right, get ready,” Horbin tells the group, then casts a greater dispel magic at the Heart.
And suddenly a great rocky form bursts out, huge and ominous- Ogremoch, the Elemental Prince of Evil Earth.
“Let’s get it on!” cries Lester.
Next Time: The party’s confrontation with Ogremoch![/i]
Knightfall
World of Kulan DM
Go Lester Go! Don't pull any levers!
Go Lester Go! Rah! Rah! Rah!
Go Lester Go! Watch out for falling rocks!
Go Lester Go! Rah! Rah! Rah!
Go Lester Go! Watch out for falling rocks!
the Jester
Legend
Against Ogremoch!
Ogremoch, the Elemental Prince of Evil Earth, is a massive unformed statue of granite. Vaguely humanoid, his long arms strike with terrible force. Even as Horbin casts divine power, the Prince of Evil Earth lands a solid blow upon the cleric.
“We’re taking you down!” cries Thrush, and he strikes, again and again and again, landing punishing blows on Ogremoch. Stone flies everywhere as the large fighter hews mightily at him. Horbin leans in with his mace, and the battle rages wildly. Wham! Crack! Clang! Metal and stone connect! Chips fly! Ogremoch breaks Thrush’s nose with a blow to the face that leaves the man shaking his head for a moment.
Horbin takes a moment to cast a mass heal, and our heroes press the attack. Ogremoch pound on Thrush, dealing incredible damage again and again, but Thrush was just almost completely healed, so he cries, “I have you now!” and returns the favor!
Drelvin first attempts to slay the Elemental Prince of Evil outright with his mask of death, then fires a carefully-aimed deadly shot at him.
Jezebel bestows a greater invisibility on Sir Maxwell as he joins the battle, and then another on Drelvin, via Smacky, her pseudodragon familiar. Trying nervously to stay out of Ogremoch’s focus, she casts another on Sybele, who is firing her bow as well.
Ogremoch, suffering under a tremendous attack by heroes such as ours, cannot last long, and he knows it. So, after a few last blows, he calls out, ”Stop! I will yield to you.”
Thrush snarls but draws back. He glances at the others.
“What do you think?” Sybele murmurs tensely to Horbin.
“We can dismiss him or something,” suggests Horbin.
“Yeah, from the sounds of what’s happening with the fire elementals, there will be an Elemental Prince of Evil Earth; why not have it be one that already knows we can kick his ass?” Drelvin grins. His sword, Shastruth, chuckles.
“All right,” Horbin tells Ogremoch. “Here’s the deal! We’re gonna banish you back to your home plane, and then you’re not coming back, all right?”
“If you come back, we will be forced to slay you,” Sir Maxwell intones severely.
“You may have heard of us,” Drelvin says sharply. “We’re the folks who killed Imix. So keep that in mind if you get any funny ideas.”
”I agree,” Ogremoch rumbles in an unhappy voice.
“Maybe we should make him serve us for a year and a day,” Sybele suggests.
“No!” Sir Maxwell exclaims. “He is an abomination. Evil outsiders need to go home. We don’t want him here.”
“Okay,” she shrugs.
***
Our heroes are forced to wait for hours until Horbin regains his spells. Ogremoch makes no trouble; he has been cowed by his near-death at the hands of the same adventurers who destroyed Imix. Inwardly he trembles. If word of this defeat gets out-
But of course, he can change it from a defeat to an escape in the telling.
Though he is the slowest of the Elemental Princes, even Ogremoch knows that he cannot appear weak and survive as the Prince of Evil.
The banishment goes perfectly, and then our heroes return to Var.
A long session in the Three Rubies leads our heroes to a night of drunken excess. Once again, they have triumphed over power of almost cosmic proportion. Imix, Ogremoch, Felenga, Fuligin, Acererak, E-Krektor- for some of them it is a long list indeed.
Over the next few days our heroes realize that they presently have no pressing matters.
***
Orbius cannot bring himself to believe that things are finished quite so cleanly. So he determines to check, via commune.
Are the Bile Lords actively plotting versus us? Uncertain.
Am I communing with Boccob? Yes.
Oh Boccob, I open my mind to you. Take all I have learned and all that I know within yourself.
Is Felenga forever destroyed? Yes.
Is Acererak forever destroyed? Yes.
Are there more than two Bile Lords remaining? Possibly.
Has the Bile Lord found a Bile Queen? No.
Will Marius allow us to negotiate for time in his Citadel? No.
If we went to the Temple of Elemental Evil and tried to excavate for loot, would it work? Eventually.
Would it take more than seven days? Yes.
2 weeks? Yes.
2 months? Yes.
Was Fedifensor in the Earth Temple?* No.
Air? No.
Water? No.
Fire? No.
The lowest level, the Greater Temple? Yes.
Is it locked within a box? No.
Is it stuck within the earth? No.
Will I ever get Jezebel to marry me? Yes.
Orbius is content.
***
Prayzose is deep in prayer in an ancient temple to the Light. He is at the center of things, on Forinthia, yet he cannot reveal himself. So he has gone to a ruined city, broken centuries ago by the Tarrasques, and reconsecrated an old hall of worship. His Eagles stand guard at a discrete distance. They are always with him.
I must return, thinks Prayzose. The Empire will collapse otherwise. I may have already waited too long. He sighs. Even if it costs me my queen.
Slowly, he turns the devil’s offer over in his mind.
If he can free her, I can reveal myself. I can take my place at the head of the forces of Law. But will I be compromising myself by dealing with him?
And yet, I’m not dealing with him. I refused his offer, but I suspect he’s still going to try to free her. To what extent am I being compromised by this? He frowns, then heaves a great sigh. He must do what he must do. He must start making preparations, now, before hearing word from the devil again. Regardless of the cost, he must return.
Has he not told himself that before? Love is a powerful actor in changing his course.
Prayzose opens a gate directly to the interior of his tent, where he collapses into a chair. He rubs at his chin, pondering how best to begin readying his force to travel to Forinthia.
Something moves in his bed.
Prayzose gasps as the Tiger Empress calls softly, “My lord, I have returned.”
***
Over the next few months, the party takes care of various bits of personal business. They visit Fandral, the foul-tempered dwarven mage-smith who has made them several items in the past. He scorns them at first, but eventually is swayed by their honeyed tongues. He agrees to allow his apprentice to work on a sword for Lester. He also agrees to begin work on a suit of light armor for Sybele after he’s done with the urgrosh he’s presently forging. “Come back in a year,” he snaps.
Angelfire supervises the building of her temple on Tirchond and her center and store in Var. She spends some money trying to assist Tirchond’s defenses and to increase the amount of food available; though not quite a famine yet, the island is increasingly on short rations.
Sybele stays at the old house bought years ago by her then-companions, the Swords of Assistance. Staying there brings back memories- the forest fire started by the halflings, the Hatching Cave, Firestorm Peak- many an adventure has passed since then, but her old companions are still dear to her, when she sees them. Those that survived, that is. Thinking of Liana’s terrible death, she still shudders.
Thrush proposes.
Sybele is hesitant. “I can’t marry you- I’ve never even met your family! And you’ve never met mine! Besides, we still need to defeat the Bile Lords.”
“That’s true,” Thrush nods. “Well, let’s do it! We’ll finish the Bile Lords this fall, and then we’ll plan a trip to Forinthia in the spring.”
“Okay,” Sybele agrees.
Orbius tries valiantly to restore his simulacrum to animation, but it is not to be. So he makes a new one.
***
After some months spent dredging the mud and rock filling the Temple of Elemental Evil, Lester takes a break to return to Fandral’s apprentice. His new sword is finally ready. He is very pleased with it. It is crafted of adamantine and flames on command. Moreover, it can emit a gust of wind and an ice storm once per day each- thereby representing all the elements. “Well done!” Lester commends the dwarf with a grin.
***
And so the days slip by, our heroes eating and drinking and loving, enjoying this rare period between action for them.
Horbin, meanwhile, turns his attention to a matter that he’s let slip by for far too long: Till.
Till was Horbin’s shield boy, afflicted with hero worship if anyone ever was. He picked him up years ago on Dorla**, and poor Till was kidnapped by Marius a while back.
Marius, Horbin curses silently.
Well, it’s time to take care of business. Marius isn’t answering sendings, but someone else has come to lend a hand.
Next Time: Rescuing Till!
*Fedifensor was indicated as the best loot in the ToEE by a previous divination.
**See The Jester's Old Story Hour.
Ogremoch, the Elemental Prince of Evil Earth, is a massive unformed statue of granite. Vaguely humanoid, his long arms strike with terrible force. Even as Horbin casts divine power, the Prince of Evil Earth lands a solid blow upon the cleric.
“We’re taking you down!” cries Thrush, and he strikes, again and again and again, landing punishing blows on Ogremoch. Stone flies everywhere as the large fighter hews mightily at him. Horbin leans in with his mace, and the battle rages wildly. Wham! Crack! Clang! Metal and stone connect! Chips fly! Ogremoch breaks Thrush’s nose with a blow to the face that leaves the man shaking his head for a moment.
Horbin takes a moment to cast a mass heal, and our heroes press the attack. Ogremoch pound on Thrush, dealing incredible damage again and again, but Thrush was just almost completely healed, so he cries, “I have you now!” and returns the favor!
Drelvin first attempts to slay the Elemental Prince of Evil outright with his mask of death, then fires a carefully-aimed deadly shot at him.
Jezebel bestows a greater invisibility on Sir Maxwell as he joins the battle, and then another on Drelvin, via Smacky, her pseudodragon familiar. Trying nervously to stay out of Ogremoch’s focus, she casts another on Sybele, who is firing her bow as well.
Ogremoch, suffering under a tremendous attack by heroes such as ours, cannot last long, and he knows it. So, after a few last blows, he calls out, ”Stop! I will yield to you.”
Thrush snarls but draws back. He glances at the others.
“What do you think?” Sybele murmurs tensely to Horbin.
“We can dismiss him or something,” suggests Horbin.
“Yeah, from the sounds of what’s happening with the fire elementals, there will be an Elemental Prince of Evil Earth; why not have it be one that already knows we can kick his ass?” Drelvin grins. His sword, Shastruth, chuckles.
“All right,” Horbin tells Ogremoch. “Here’s the deal! We’re gonna banish you back to your home plane, and then you’re not coming back, all right?”
“If you come back, we will be forced to slay you,” Sir Maxwell intones severely.
“You may have heard of us,” Drelvin says sharply. “We’re the folks who killed Imix. So keep that in mind if you get any funny ideas.”
”I agree,” Ogremoch rumbles in an unhappy voice.
“Maybe we should make him serve us for a year and a day,” Sybele suggests.
“No!” Sir Maxwell exclaims. “He is an abomination. Evil outsiders need to go home. We don’t want him here.”
“Okay,” she shrugs.
***
Our heroes are forced to wait for hours until Horbin regains his spells. Ogremoch makes no trouble; he has been cowed by his near-death at the hands of the same adventurers who destroyed Imix. Inwardly he trembles. If word of this defeat gets out-
But of course, he can change it from a defeat to an escape in the telling.
Though he is the slowest of the Elemental Princes, even Ogremoch knows that he cannot appear weak and survive as the Prince of Evil.
The banishment goes perfectly, and then our heroes return to Var.
A long session in the Three Rubies leads our heroes to a night of drunken excess. Once again, they have triumphed over power of almost cosmic proportion. Imix, Ogremoch, Felenga, Fuligin, Acererak, E-Krektor- for some of them it is a long list indeed.
Over the next few days our heroes realize that they presently have no pressing matters.
***
Orbius cannot bring himself to believe that things are finished quite so cleanly. So he determines to check, via commune.
Are the Bile Lords actively plotting versus us? Uncertain.
Am I communing with Boccob? Yes.
Oh Boccob, I open my mind to you. Take all I have learned and all that I know within yourself.
Is Felenga forever destroyed? Yes.
Is Acererak forever destroyed? Yes.
Are there more than two Bile Lords remaining? Possibly.
Has the Bile Lord found a Bile Queen? No.
Will Marius allow us to negotiate for time in his Citadel? No.
If we went to the Temple of Elemental Evil and tried to excavate for loot, would it work? Eventually.
Would it take more than seven days? Yes.
2 weeks? Yes.
2 months? Yes.
Was Fedifensor in the Earth Temple?* No.
Air? No.
Water? No.
Fire? No.
The lowest level, the Greater Temple? Yes.
Is it locked within a box? No.
Is it stuck within the earth? No.
Will I ever get Jezebel to marry me? Yes.
Orbius is content.
***
Prayzose is deep in prayer in an ancient temple to the Light. He is at the center of things, on Forinthia, yet he cannot reveal himself. So he has gone to a ruined city, broken centuries ago by the Tarrasques, and reconsecrated an old hall of worship. His Eagles stand guard at a discrete distance. They are always with him.
I must return, thinks Prayzose. The Empire will collapse otherwise. I may have already waited too long. He sighs. Even if it costs me my queen.
Slowly, he turns the devil’s offer over in his mind.
If he can free her, I can reveal myself. I can take my place at the head of the forces of Law. But will I be compromising myself by dealing with him?
And yet, I’m not dealing with him. I refused his offer, but I suspect he’s still going to try to free her. To what extent am I being compromised by this? He frowns, then heaves a great sigh. He must do what he must do. He must start making preparations, now, before hearing word from the devil again. Regardless of the cost, he must return.
Has he not told himself that before? Love is a powerful actor in changing his course.
Prayzose opens a gate directly to the interior of his tent, where he collapses into a chair. He rubs at his chin, pondering how best to begin readying his force to travel to Forinthia.
Something moves in his bed.
Prayzose gasps as the Tiger Empress calls softly, “My lord, I have returned.”
***
Over the next few months, the party takes care of various bits of personal business. They visit Fandral, the foul-tempered dwarven mage-smith who has made them several items in the past. He scorns them at first, but eventually is swayed by their honeyed tongues. He agrees to allow his apprentice to work on a sword for Lester. He also agrees to begin work on a suit of light armor for Sybele after he’s done with the urgrosh he’s presently forging. “Come back in a year,” he snaps.
Angelfire supervises the building of her temple on Tirchond and her center and store in Var. She spends some money trying to assist Tirchond’s defenses and to increase the amount of food available; though not quite a famine yet, the island is increasingly on short rations.
Sybele stays at the old house bought years ago by her then-companions, the Swords of Assistance. Staying there brings back memories- the forest fire started by the halflings, the Hatching Cave, Firestorm Peak- many an adventure has passed since then, but her old companions are still dear to her, when she sees them. Those that survived, that is. Thinking of Liana’s terrible death, she still shudders.
Thrush proposes.
Sybele is hesitant. “I can’t marry you- I’ve never even met your family! And you’ve never met mine! Besides, we still need to defeat the Bile Lords.”
“That’s true,” Thrush nods. “Well, let’s do it! We’ll finish the Bile Lords this fall, and then we’ll plan a trip to Forinthia in the spring.”
“Okay,” Sybele agrees.
Orbius tries valiantly to restore his simulacrum to animation, but it is not to be. So he makes a new one.
***
After some months spent dredging the mud and rock filling the Temple of Elemental Evil, Lester takes a break to return to Fandral’s apprentice. His new sword is finally ready. He is very pleased with it. It is crafted of adamantine and flames on command. Moreover, it can emit a gust of wind and an ice storm once per day each- thereby representing all the elements. “Well done!” Lester commends the dwarf with a grin.
***
And so the days slip by, our heroes eating and drinking and loving, enjoying this rare period between action for them.
Horbin, meanwhile, turns his attention to a matter that he’s let slip by for far too long: Till.
Till was Horbin’s shield boy, afflicted with hero worship if anyone ever was. He picked him up years ago on Dorla**, and poor Till was kidnapped by Marius a while back.
Marius, Horbin curses silently.
Well, it’s time to take care of business. Marius isn’t answering sendings, but someone else has come to lend a hand.
Next Time: Rescuing Till!
*Fedifensor was indicated as the best loot in the ToEE by a previous divination.
**See The Jester's Old Story Hour.
Last edited:
the Jester
Legend
(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.
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.
the Jester
Legend
The Rescue of Till
Horbin the MFKG Holy. If ever there was a Galadorian cleric just ripe for a fall, it’s him. He teeters on the edge of heresy, he sways over the edge of trying to reject Galador while maintaining his association with Dexter, he leans over the gap of a fall from grace and catches his balance in a most precarious position.
He even wants to divorce Galador from Forinthia!
Horbin is one of the most powerful clerics on Cydra- perhaps the most powerful. His renown has spread far and wide, and he is declared wise and holy from Dorhaus to Bordis and beyond. Even in far-flung Azar word of Horbin’s teachings has reached. He feels his responsibilities heavily, and tries to set a good example for his fellows, who are as powerful in their areas as he is in his.
And his hands are tied.
A pale finger taps, annoyed, at a table of black marble. A blood-red liquid decants into a glass.
The War.
Horbin has been divinely chastised before, for striking against the Forinthian forces during the beginnings of the Battle of Pesh. He will not make that mistake again, she thinks, not until he is ready to go into full rebellion against the Light. And that is unlikely to occur any time soon. He has a gift of seeing to the heart of matters, and that makes him most resistant to corruption.
But then, some forms of corruption can masquerade as goodness.
Seclaidra smiles to herself. She knows just how to track down that altar boy. And though she isn’t about to face Marius personally, Horbin is probably willing to take that risk. And with his friends, that will no doubt lead to a route for Marius.
Even if he isn’t guarding the boy himself, he’ll know about it soon enough after Horbin makes his assault. And that will lead to repercussions against Horbin, and probably his friends as well. And that will lead them to strike back, which will lead them to the War and to the positions that she wants to maneuver them into.
Seclaidra sits back in her luxurious chair covered with chinchilla furs. She stretches languidly and casts a sending to a certain simulacrum she’s been cultivating. In moments, Marius the Enigmatic has arrived.* They embrace warmly; she is wearing a pleasing and nearly human form. He, of course, looks dashing and handsome and powerful. He wears his hair short, unlike many of the Marii.
”Darling,” he says, hoping- as always- he can feel real emotion. He’s just a spell, but he wants to believe that he’s real, that he could somehow survive a well-placed dispel magic.
Ha!
As always, she leads him around by that hope. When she’s done she rewards him, then sends him away; and then she takes herself directly to Horbin, slipping through the planes as easily as the cleric himself might, and offers to escort him to a portal that leads to where Till is.
Horbin studies the voluptuous being before him. His perceptions see through to her true nature; she is a force of evil. And he has seen her before; he remembers her face.**
“Why are you helping me?” he demands.
She smiles. Sometimes, the truth serves better than any other tool.
“You are a great force for Chaos, Horbin,” Seclaidra says gently. “Yet as long as Marius has Till, your hands are tied. I wish to free them. Not to persuade you to any goal or task- simply to untie your hands.”
Horbin hesitates for a long moment, fearing a trap; then, decisively, he says, “All right.”
“Do not lose this.” She hands him a delicate flower. “It is the key to open the portal on the way back. Without it you must provide your own escape.”
“Whatever,” Horbin answers shortly. At last he’s going to be able to rescue the boy! He remembers the time Till was the only one fighting against a lich... and Till was just a boy, with no skills, experience or ability! Yet he stuck to the fight, stood his ground and picked up Horbin’s holy mace.
Well, it’s time at last to rescue him.
***
The portal deposits Horbin in one end of a narrow passage through jagged rock. He can feel a razor wind running through the air, but where it’s headed he can’t begin to guess.
The door at the end of the hall opens before him, and a terrible kelubar demodand springs to its feet from a chair behind a desk. It chuckles in a voice like an earthquake, then vanishes, going invisible. Horbin counters with a true seeing.
There he is, moving in, right in front of the cleric! He steps back and unleashes a quickened flame strike, but the kelubar springs away, evading the blast with a mocking laugh. Then it makes an obscure gesture that Horbin recognizes as a summoning sigil, but nothing happens. Perhaps the buddies he was calling on are at a good party with some hot demon girls and are too busy to come to his aid. The demodand squawks in dismay.
Horbin has had enough. He tosses a quickened lower resistance at it and then intones, “You have been judged and found wanting!” A destruction reduces the kelubar to so much ash, quickly spread by the wind.
Grimly, Horbin finishes punishing Till’s jailor with a soul binding. Then he turns to the row of dingy doors set in the opposite wall. Each bears a tiny barred window. Heart pounding in anticipation and fear, Horbin begins examining each in turn. Almost immediately he finds one with a small form visible, huddled in the far corner of a tiny filthy cell.
“Till?” he calls, and his only answer is a small moan.
Destroying the door is child’s play, and then Horbin takes the insensate boy in his arms. Till is in no shape to walk, even with a massive dose of healing magic. He needs food, clean water, time to rest and recover. His mind is nearly broken; he thinks this is some cruel illusion perpetrated by Marius.
Marius, Horbin think angrily. You’re going to pay for what you’ve done.
***
“Did I tell you?” Angelfire says. “Someone tried to poison me the other day!”
“Really? Who?” asks Lester.
“I don’t know, I was in a bar and someone put poison in my drink.” She shrugs. “Hah! It was no threat to me. I’m far too powerful for whatever that stuff was. Heck, I even finished my drink.”
“Do you think they’ll try again?”
She shrugs again. “Well, I better not catch them.”
“Hey, did I show you my new Sword of the Elements?” Lester asks, drawing it out excitedly.
***
The adventures of the spring have given way to more routine activities in the autumn. The year 368 of Our Lord Galador is drawing towards its conclusion. In the evening of the year, things are winding down; things are looking fine. Engines of war keep turning, but conventional forces move little, if at all, during the winter. Soon the weather will turn, and campaigning will become nigh impossible.
In some places, especially those that already have battles taking place in them, war continues to blaze hot. In most, it remains a sullen bed of coals, waiting for the new fuel of spring to leap back into play.
“I’m bored,” says Lester.
Fortunately for him, Angelfire, Sybele and Thrush had chosen to visit Var that week (the three of them currently residing in a house owned by the Swords of Assistance, Sybele and Angel’s old buddies, in the Shining City of Tirchond).
“We need to finish off the Bile Lords,” Sybele suggests.
“That’s true,” Thrush opines.
“Let’s look into it,” Orbius says, and soon he’s begun a flurry of divinations.
Next Time: Our heroes begin a Return to Bile Mountain, and meet a prismatic marauder!!
*You may have seen him before here.
**Her you may have seen here.
Horbin the MFKG Holy. If ever there was a Galadorian cleric just ripe for a fall, it’s him. He teeters on the edge of heresy, he sways over the edge of trying to reject Galador while maintaining his association with Dexter, he leans over the gap of a fall from grace and catches his balance in a most precarious position.
He even wants to divorce Galador from Forinthia!
Horbin is one of the most powerful clerics on Cydra- perhaps the most powerful. His renown has spread far and wide, and he is declared wise and holy from Dorhaus to Bordis and beyond. Even in far-flung Azar word of Horbin’s teachings has reached. He feels his responsibilities heavily, and tries to set a good example for his fellows, who are as powerful in their areas as he is in his.
And his hands are tied.
A pale finger taps, annoyed, at a table of black marble. A blood-red liquid decants into a glass.
The War.
Horbin has been divinely chastised before, for striking against the Forinthian forces during the beginnings of the Battle of Pesh. He will not make that mistake again, she thinks, not until he is ready to go into full rebellion against the Light. And that is unlikely to occur any time soon. He has a gift of seeing to the heart of matters, and that makes him most resistant to corruption.
But then, some forms of corruption can masquerade as goodness.
Seclaidra smiles to herself. She knows just how to track down that altar boy. And though she isn’t about to face Marius personally, Horbin is probably willing to take that risk. And with his friends, that will no doubt lead to a route for Marius.
Even if he isn’t guarding the boy himself, he’ll know about it soon enough after Horbin makes his assault. And that will lead to repercussions against Horbin, and probably his friends as well. And that will lead them to strike back, which will lead them to the War and to the positions that she wants to maneuver them into.
Seclaidra sits back in her luxurious chair covered with chinchilla furs. She stretches languidly and casts a sending to a certain simulacrum she’s been cultivating. In moments, Marius the Enigmatic has arrived.* They embrace warmly; she is wearing a pleasing and nearly human form. He, of course, looks dashing and handsome and powerful. He wears his hair short, unlike many of the Marii.
”Darling,” he says, hoping- as always- he can feel real emotion. He’s just a spell, but he wants to believe that he’s real, that he could somehow survive a well-placed dispel magic.
Ha!
As always, she leads him around by that hope. When she’s done she rewards him, then sends him away; and then she takes herself directly to Horbin, slipping through the planes as easily as the cleric himself might, and offers to escort him to a portal that leads to where Till is.
Horbin studies the voluptuous being before him. His perceptions see through to her true nature; she is a force of evil. And he has seen her before; he remembers her face.**
“Why are you helping me?” he demands.
She smiles. Sometimes, the truth serves better than any other tool.
“You are a great force for Chaos, Horbin,” Seclaidra says gently. “Yet as long as Marius has Till, your hands are tied. I wish to free them. Not to persuade you to any goal or task- simply to untie your hands.”
Horbin hesitates for a long moment, fearing a trap; then, decisively, he says, “All right.”
“Do not lose this.” She hands him a delicate flower. “It is the key to open the portal on the way back. Without it you must provide your own escape.”
“Whatever,” Horbin answers shortly. At last he’s going to be able to rescue the boy! He remembers the time Till was the only one fighting against a lich... and Till was just a boy, with no skills, experience or ability! Yet he stuck to the fight, stood his ground and picked up Horbin’s holy mace.
Well, it’s time at last to rescue him.
***
The portal deposits Horbin in one end of a narrow passage through jagged rock. He can feel a razor wind running through the air, but where it’s headed he can’t begin to guess.
The door at the end of the hall opens before him, and a terrible kelubar demodand springs to its feet from a chair behind a desk. It chuckles in a voice like an earthquake, then vanishes, going invisible. Horbin counters with a true seeing.
There he is, moving in, right in front of the cleric! He steps back and unleashes a quickened flame strike, but the kelubar springs away, evading the blast with a mocking laugh. Then it makes an obscure gesture that Horbin recognizes as a summoning sigil, but nothing happens. Perhaps the buddies he was calling on are at a good party with some hot demon girls and are too busy to come to his aid. The demodand squawks in dismay.
Horbin has had enough. He tosses a quickened lower resistance at it and then intones, “You have been judged and found wanting!” A destruction reduces the kelubar to so much ash, quickly spread by the wind.
Grimly, Horbin finishes punishing Till’s jailor with a soul binding. Then he turns to the row of dingy doors set in the opposite wall. Each bears a tiny barred window. Heart pounding in anticipation and fear, Horbin begins examining each in turn. Almost immediately he finds one with a small form visible, huddled in the far corner of a tiny filthy cell.
“Till?” he calls, and his only answer is a small moan.
Destroying the door is child’s play, and then Horbin takes the insensate boy in his arms. Till is in no shape to walk, even with a massive dose of healing magic. He needs food, clean water, time to rest and recover. His mind is nearly broken; he thinks this is some cruel illusion perpetrated by Marius.
Marius, Horbin think angrily. You’re going to pay for what you’ve done.
***
“Did I tell you?” Angelfire says. “Someone tried to poison me the other day!”
“Really? Who?” asks Lester.
“I don’t know, I was in a bar and someone put poison in my drink.” She shrugs. “Hah! It was no threat to me. I’m far too powerful for whatever that stuff was. Heck, I even finished my drink.”
“Do you think they’ll try again?”
She shrugs again. “Well, I better not catch them.”
“Hey, did I show you my new Sword of the Elements?” Lester asks, drawing it out excitedly.
***
The adventures of the spring have given way to more routine activities in the autumn. The year 368 of Our Lord Galador is drawing towards its conclusion. In the evening of the year, things are winding down; things are looking fine. Engines of war keep turning, but conventional forces move little, if at all, during the winter. Soon the weather will turn, and campaigning will become nigh impossible.
In some places, especially those that already have battles taking place in them, war continues to blaze hot. In most, it remains a sullen bed of coals, waiting for the new fuel of spring to leap back into play.
“I’m bored,” says Lester.
Fortunately for him, Angelfire, Sybele and Thrush had chosen to visit Var that week (the three of them currently residing in a house owned by the Swords of Assistance, Sybele and Angel’s old buddies, in the Shining City of Tirchond).
“We need to finish off the Bile Lords,” Sybele suggests.
“That’s true,” Thrush opines.
“Let’s look into it,” Orbius says, and soon he’s begun a flurry of divinations.
Next Time: Our heroes begin a Return to Bile Mountain, and meet a prismatic marauder!!
*You may have seen him before here.
**Her you may have seen here.
Sollir Furryfoot
Explorer
I'd definately be interested playing in a PBP Cydra game for sure on these boards, Pick me! Pick me!
the Jester
Legend
Sollir:
All right, I'm a softy- go to my thread in talking the talk, but you're the LAST ONE I'm lettin' in at this point...
All right, I'm a softy- go to my thread in talking the talk, but you're the LAST ONE I'm lettin' in at this point...
the Jester
Legend
Return to Bile Mountain
The Delphinate was founded as a small village about seven hundred fifty years ago. At the time it was a simple community of magi fleeing persecution. The times were against practitioners of the arcane arts; many were tortured and killed for witchcraft. Such things would continue for centuries, but never again on the same scale as during that black period seven and a half centuries past.
A few wizards and a psion, together escaping a strong pursuing force from the Kingdom of Thule, settled on the island of Sevlon. Sevlon was sparsely populated and mostly unexploited. By making alliances with the fae of the isle, the magi who founded the Delphinate managed not only to survive but to thrive. They repelled, absorbed or deceived those who sailed to their isle; and in a few generations their small village had become first a bustling city, and then an entire nation, spreading over most of Sevlon.
After two hundred years, the magi of Sevlon reached a golden age. Nearly sealing their borders, they had cut off most contact with the outside. Wizards and sorcerers would teleport out, but without the right ‘key’ one can’t teleport in. This, combined with magical barriers, discouraged most visitors for centuries, during which Delphinate life flourished and grew strong. The streets were lit with light glass spells; magic axles drove eternal machines, freeing man from the trap of much otherwise-necessary labor; an age of justice facilitated by divinations came to pass. Using sorcerous abilities the Delphinate extended the allotted lifespan of its citizenry. Had it so chosen, it might have challenged Forinthia when it was weak and scattered from the terrible threat of the Tarrasques.
But the Delphins were always wise enough to steer the Delphinate clear of political or military entanglements, and long life helped policies spanning generations succeed.
Off the coast of the Delphinate, now, two fleets clash.
One flies the golden flag of the Forinthian Imperial Navy, sails billowing as the wind whisks them across the waters. From the flanks of the ships great bursts of smoke and noise forewarns their adversaries that huge balls of lead are coming at them.
The adversaries- a smaller group of only eight ships, but sized for and crewed by storm giants- skims to and fro, seeking to dodge the oncoming fleet. They are heading towards the shores of Sevlon, but will surely founder on the stones around the isle first. The high winds are driving a considerable chop on the waves.
On the deck of the lead Forinthian ship, a quartet of tall, proud clerics stands poised. They watch the fleeing giants grimly, estimating the range. “I’m glad they’re out of boulders,” one of the clerics comments nervously.
“I hope they don’t have any more of those javelins, either,” another responds, then they lapse into quiet, glancing periodically at the ominously gathering storm clouds.
When the giants come within range, a quartet of flame strikes slams down from the heavens above, igniting the sails and decks of half of the giant vessels. A great cheer rises from the Forinthian fleet as the damaged giant ships begin losing speed. More orcish shot blasts into the giants’ ships, and this time one of the balls connects directly with an injured storm giant. She bellows in pain as it blows out her right thigh, collapsing onto the deck of her burning ship.
One of her companions lifts into the sky and hovers, glaring at the Forinthian fleet. Then he casts a spell and vanishes.
“He’s still there,” one of the clerics shouts. “He’s just invisible!” And he casts a dispel magic into the air, but to no avail.
“He’s fleeing to Sevlon!”
The crew murmurs dreadfully. They don’t want to go there. And the worried, muttered conversations start: Does he have friends in the Delphinate?
“Not to worry, boys,” shouts the Captain, drawing his cutlass. “There’s plenty more giants to kill!”
***
Till is resting, fully healed in body and soothed in mind, but traumatized. At least he believes that he’s free, now; or at least half-believes it.
Horbin groans inwardly at the length of time it took to find the lad. He flashes back to that period on Dorla when they met originally; how Till had looked up to him!
Clambake, he thinks suddenly. Whatever happened to him?
***
Mabrack the storm giant flies within the confines of the Delphinate’s dimensional bubble and then teleports to the capitol, Spell. He’s been here before. Some of these people are his friends.
Appearing on the porch of a certain very powerful associate’s house, the giant leans down and knocks, hard, on the door. It cracks, and he feels a twinge of remorse. “Zeldon, it’s Mabrack! I need your help, immediately!” And he casts a quick, desperate sending to another powerful friend.
The door opens only moments later. “What is it?” asks a tired voice. A gnome of uncertain grooming stands there, his nose artfully broken many times in the past. Bloodshot eyes stare out at the giant.
“I was sailing with some of my folk and we were attacked by Forinthians,” Mabrack explains rapidly. “They’re killing my people, right now!”
“You know we Delphinites don’t get involved with politics,” Zeldon grunts disgustedly. “Go to someone whose hands aren’t tied.”
“Zeldon, they’re in your waters. Right near your shores.”
Zeldon stiffens. “What!” Just then, Mabrack’s other friend arrives. There is a cold look in his eyes.
“That changes everything,” says Zeldon grimly. “That means that it is a matter for the entire Delphinate.”
“I can’t believe,” says Mabrack’s other friend, “that they would be so stupid.” His smile is feral.
***
Orbius says, “The way to draw the Bile Lords out seems to have something to do with a garrison. I think we need to find it and destroy it, or it might actually be some kind of item or something.” He sounds slightly puzzled. “But at the moment it’s nonexistent. I think that might mean that it’s on another plane, or something- or maybe that it only exists at certain times or something.” He shakes his head.
”I’m bored,” the L complains. “Let’s go.”
***
The next morning- the morning of 7/29/368 O.L.G.- our heroes began their Return to Bile Mountain. Orbius mass teleports the group about a half mile from Mount Angelfire, as it is now called (named after one of our heroes, in fact). Immediately, several of them spot some sort of glinting light near the mountain’s feet. The determine to investigate and head towards it, most of them flying or moving at incredible speed through various magical and psionic means.
As they come closer, they find themselves nearly dazzled by the brilliant light reflecting out from the serpent at the central. It is made of diamond-like crystal, the size of a purple worm, horned like a peryton. Where the sunlight strikes it, scintillating rainbows of cover give forth. The light is nearly bright enough to blind our heroes.
The group keeps moving up, but as they get too close- and by that we must save a hundred feet or thereabouts- the dazzling rays of color suddenly turn dangerous! Thrush cries out in dismay as he suffers a blast of flame, Sybele is blasted with a violet ray that she manages to resist, Lester shrugs off a green one.
“This thing is dangerous!” cries Lester. It starts rolling forward, hauling its gargantuan bulk along with it.
Our heroes go into action. Orbius blasts at it with a puncture spell, and then Thrush, seventy feet away, swings wildly at it. Thanks to the mass far strike spell that Orbius cast, he inflicts telling wounds upon it. Sybele and Londo don’t do quite so well, each of them landing a single blow worth counting.
Lester, puzzle, mulls over his great knowledge of the elements- and realizes what the creature is. “It’s a prismatic marauder!” he cries. “Very dangerous! It gives off prismatic... uh... rays!”
“We know!” cries Sybele.
“Oh yeah,” Lester mutters, and he casts a quickened fireball, which flares harmlessly against the creature, and then a powerful volcanic eruption, which begins directly under the creature. A spray of magma and hot lava ripples upwards, splattering all over the marauder!
The great crystal serpent lunges forward, trying to bite the hapless Angelfire, but fortunately her armor protects her from its ravages. She whips her blade into it with a spang! Our heroes pour it on, but the prismatic marauder is tough. It shrugs off their combined assault and rolls over Angel and Londo, crushing them for severe damage.
The beams flinging from it mostly glance off our heroes, but Jezebel succumbs to one, going completely mad, while Smacky (her pseudodragon familiar) becomes blinded and panicks! Things get chaotic- the monster sustains an incredible amount of punishment- but finally Thrush lands the killing blow. The marauder explodes in a blast of sharp crystal fragments, cutting everyone around it. Fortunately for them all, Horbin’s there; he can heal them, restore sanity to Jezebel and un-blind Smacky. And, naturally enough, he proceeds to do so. A few moments later the group looks up at the mountain. The river that flows into it emerges from the other side as water, now; before they came and destroyed the Crux Crystal, it came out as frothy yellow bile, stinking like vomit. One of the most disgusting places our heroes have ever been, without a doubt.
“Let’s go,” Angelfire says cheerfully.
Next Time: Into Angelfire Mountain!
The Delphinate was founded as a small village about seven hundred fifty years ago. At the time it was a simple community of magi fleeing persecution. The times were against practitioners of the arcane arts; many were tortured and killed for witchcraft. Such things would continue for centuries, but never again on the same scale as during that black period seven and a half centuries past.
A few wizards and a psion, together escaping a strong pursuing force from the Kingdom of Thule, settled on the island of Sevlon. Sevlon was sparsely populated and mostly unexploited. By making alliances with the fae of the isle, the magi who founded the Delphinate managed not only to survive but to thrive. They repelled, absorbed or deceived those who sailed to their isle; and in a few generations their small village had become first a bustling city, and then an entire nation, spreading over most of Sevlon.
After two hundred years, the magi of Sevlon reached a golden age. Nearly sealing their borders, they had cut off most contact with the outside. Wizards and sorcerers would teleport out, but without the right ‘key’ one can’t teleport in. This, combined with magical barriers, discouraged most visitors for centuries, during which Delphinate life flourished and grew strong. The streets were lit with light glass spells; magic axles drove eternal machines, freeing man from the trap of much otherwise-necessary labor; an age of justice facilitated by divinations came to pass. Using sorcerous abilities the Delphinate extended the allotted lifespan of its citizenry. Had it so chosen, it might have challenged Forinthia when it was weak and scattered from the terrible threat of the Tarrasques.
But the Delphins were always wise enough to steer the Delphinate clear of political or military entanglements, and long life helped policies spanning generations succeed.
Off the coast of the Delphinate, now, two fleets clash.
One flies the golden flag of the Forinthian Imperial Navy, sails billowing as the wind whisks them across the waters. From the flanks of the ships great bursts of smoke and noise forewarns their adversaries that huge balls of lead are coming at them.
The adversaries- a smaller group of only eight ships, but sized for and crewed by storm giants- skims to and fro, seeking to dodge the oncoming fleet. They are heading towards the shores of Sevlon, but will surely founder on the stones around the isle first. The high winds are driving a considerable chop on the waves.
On the deck of the lead Forinthian ship, a quartet of tall, proud clerics stands poised. They watch the fleeing giants grimly, estimating the range. “I’m glad they’re out of boulders,” one of the clerics comments nervously.
“I hope they don’t have any more of those javelins, either,” another responds, then they lapse into quiet, glancing periodically at the ominously gathering storm clouds.
When the giants come within range, a quartet of flame strikes slams down from the heavens above, igniting the sails and decks of half of the giant vessels. A great cheer rises from the Forinthian fleet as the damaged giant ships begin losing speed. More orcish shot blasts into the giants’ ships, and this time one of the balls connects directly with an injured storm giant. She bellows in pain as it blows out her right thigh, collapsing onto the deck of her burning ship.
One of her companions lifts into the sky and hovers, glaring at the Forinthian fleet. Then he casts a spell and vanishes.
“He’s still there,” one of the clerics shouts. “He’s just invisible!” And he casts a dispel magic into the air, but to no avail.
“He’s fleeing to Sevlon!”
The crew murmurs dreadfully. They don’t want to go there. And the worried, muttered conversations start: Does he have friends in the Delphinate?
“Not to worry, boys,” shouts the Captain, drawing his cutlass. “There’s plenty more giants to kill!”
***
Till is resting, fully healed in body and soothed in mind, but traumatized. At least he believes that he’s free, now; or at least half-believes it.
Horbin groans inwardly at the length of time it took to find the lad. He flashes back to that period on Dorla when they met originally; how Till had looked up to him!
Clambake, he thinks suddenly. Whatever happened to him?
***
Mabrack the storm giant flies within the confines of the Delphinate’s dimensional bubble and then teleports to the capitol, Spell. He’s been here before. Some of these people are his friends.
Appearing on the porch of a certain very powerful associate’s house, the giant leans down and knocks, hard, on the door. It cracks, and he feels a twinge of remorse. “Zeldon, it’s Mabrack! I need your help, immediately!” And he casts a quick, desperate sending to another powerful friend.
The door opens only moments later. “What is it?” asks a tired voice. A gnome of uncertain grooming stands there, his nose artfully broken many times in the past. Bloodshot eyes stare out at the giant.
“I was sailing with some of my folk and we were attacked by Forinthians,” Mabrack explains rapidly. “They’re killing my people, right now!”
“You know we Delphinites don’t get involved with politics,” Zeldon grunts disgustedly. “Go to someone whose hands aren’t tied.”
“Zeldon, they’re in your waters. Right near your shores.”
Zeldon stiffens. “What!” Just then, Mabrack’s other friend arrives. There is a cold look in his eyes.
“That changes everything,” says Zeldon grimly. “That means that it is a matter for the entire Delphinate.”
“I can’t believe,” says Mabrack’s other friend, “that they would be so stupid.” His smile is feral.
***
Orbius says, “The way to draw the Bile Lords out seems to have something to do with a garrison. I think we need to find it and destroy it, or it might actually be some kind of item or something.” He sounds slightly puzzled. “But at the moment it’s nonexistent. I think that might mean that it’s on another plane, or something- or maybe that it only exists at certain times or something.” He shakes his head.
”I’m bored,” the L complains. “Let’s go.”
***
The next morning- the morning of 7/29/368 O.L.G.- our heroes began their Return to Bile Mountain. Orbius mass teleports the group about a half mile from Mount Angelfire, as it is now called (named after one of our heroes, in fact). Immediately, several of them spot some sort of glinting light near the mountain’s feet. The determine to investigate and head towards it, most of them flying or moving at incredible speed through various magical and psionic means.
As they come closer, they find themselves nearly dazzled by the brilliant light reflecting out from the serpent at the central. It is made of diamond-like crystal, the size of a purple worm, horned like a peryton. Where the sunlight strikes it, scintillating rainbows of cover give forth. The light is nearly bright enough to blind our heroes.
The group keeps moving up, but as they get too close- and by that we must save a hundred feet or thereabouts- the dazzling rays of color suddenly turn dangerous! Thrush cries out in dismay as he suffers a blast of flame, Sybele is blasted with a violet ray that she manages to resist, Lester shrugs off a green one.
“This thing is dangerous!” cries Lester. It starts rolling forward, hauling its gargantuan bulk along with it.
Our heroes go into action. Orbius blasts at it with a puncture spell, and then Thrush, seventy feet away, swings wildly at it. Thanks to the mass far strike spell that Orbius cast, he inflicts telling wounds upon it. Sybele and Londo don’t do quite so well, each of them landing a single blow worth counting.
Lester, puzzle, mulls over his great knowledge of the elements- and realizes what the creature is. “It’s a prismatic marauder!” he cries. “Very dangerous! It gives off prismatic... uh... rays!”
“We know!” cries Sybele.
“Oh yeah,” Lester mutters, and he casts a quickened fireball, which flares harmlessly against the creature, and then a powerful volcanic eruption, which begins directly under the creature. A spray of magma and hot lava ripples upwards, splattering all over the marauder!
The great crystal serpent lunges forward, trying to bite the hapless Angelfire, but fortunately her armor protects her from its ravages. She whips her blade into it with a spang! Our heroes pour it on, but the prismatic marauder is tough. It shrugs off their combined assault and rolls over Angel and Londo, crushing them for severe damage.
The beams flinging from it mostly glance off our heroes, but Jezebel succumbs to one, going completely mad, while Smacky (her pseudodragon familiar) becomes blinded and panicks! Things get chaotic- the monster sustains an incredible amount of punishment- but finally Thrush lands the killing blow. The marauder explodes in a blast of sharp crystal fragments, cutting everyone around it. Fortunately for them all, Horbin’s there; he can heal them, restore sanity to Jezebel and un-blind Smacky. And, naturally enough, he proceeds to do so. A few moments later the group looks up at the mountain. The river that flows into it emerges from the other side as water, now; before they came and destroyed the Crux Crystal, it came out as frothy yellow bile, stinking like vomit. One of the most disgusting places our heroes have ever been, without a doubt.
“Let’s go,” Angelfire says cheerfully.
Next Time: Into Angelfire Mountain!
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