the Jester
Legend
Sandain said:
At the present point in the SH it's still right about the same... though I do believe I left out Horbin the MFKG Holy, cleric 22/CG. Once the party has finished up another session or two I'll update the list again.
-
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(Cydra) Great Conflicts
- Thread starter the Jester
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At the present point in the SH it's still right about the same... though I do believe I left out Horbin the MFKG Holy, cleric 22/CG. Once the party has finished up another session or two I'll update the list again.
the Jester
Legend
Sandain said:
They left in the middle of Bile Mountain. In game, this was because Lester needed to spend some time putting his affairs in order at the Temple of Elemental Good. Out of game, the reason was because his player was having a baby, and was sadly anticipating not having enough time to game for a while.
Thankfully, he's back! He plays Proto at the present point in the story hour.
the Jester
Legend
Krafus said:Hello, Jester. I just finished reading this story hour in a marathon reading session. I always like to read about epic-level parties - the battles are big, lots of spells flying around, and often big consequences hinging on the outcome of what the players do.
I'm glad you've enjoyed it so far! And trust me on this, the ride just keeps getting wilder...
Our heroes are, currently, about a dozen games or thereabouts ahead of the story hour, and they're changing the face of the universe.
the Jester
Legend
The Madrey
Beyond the great seal is a vast room, dark and deep. The walls are unworked stone, rough and jagged. The illumination spilling from our heroes’ various magical sources of light glimmers ahead and below, for a great pool of water lies before the group.
Weapons at the ready, our heroes move towards the edge of the water. Warily, Veil keeps his new shield at the ready. She reaches down and picks up a loose stone, then casts it in the water with a plop. In seconds the water starts to churn and move.
Horbin casts a quickened righteous might, growing dramatically, and grips his spear. Rex enlarges himself as well, and Inoke expands to huge size. Drelvin ties a blindfold on, calling out, “Don’t forget, it probably has some kind of madness gaze!”
“I’ll try to do something about that- but be ready to close your eyes!” Lillamere warns.
Then it surfaces, a huge lamprey with weird eyes lining its body along the flanks all the way down its body. Its mouth looks like it could cover an entire cow. The thing is only half-revealed from the water, but it looms up like a 30’ long serpent.
Then Lillamere’s sunburst explodes, a tremendous glare blazing through the darkness of the cave. The madrey gives out a tremendous squeal and rushes forward, chomping down on Inoke, trying to get a grip sufficient to drain blood; but with a mighty cry, the swarthy warmind throws the huge monster off of him.
Then Horbin grimly cries, “Ancient evil! Your time has come to be purged in the name of Dexter! You have been judged and found wanting!!” And with that, with a single destruction spell, Horbin the MFKG Holy reduces the madrey to ash.*
“That wasn’t so bad,” comments Veil from behind her shield. The hand spiked to it twitches.
Searching the pool, our heroes find a small amount of treasure. In one of the dry corners of the chamber Drelvin turns up a book that radiates magic, so after the group emerges into the waning sunlight Lillamere casts legend lore and a snatch of verse comes to mind that seems to indicate that it increases one’s health and vitality.
By the time the party is ready to continue on, dark has fallen. They briefly debate waiting for morning, but rapidly agree that there’s no need. They are adventurers; they’ve traipsed through the darkness of the lost city of Moil. This is nothing Horbin’s holy symbol (flickering with continual flame) can’t take care of for them.
“Let’s check out that old wizard’s tower I heard about,” urges Lillamere. “Maybe there’s something interesting in there!”
They move through the ruins of Ostraghan to the tower of the great wizard who had inhabited it at the time of its fall. With any luck, there is tremendous magic waiting to be discovered within- perhaps forgotten spells, maybe lost magic items, potions... pulse quickening, our heroes burst in the door and immediately confront a strange golem, but it falls to Rex, Drelvin and Inoke. The others find their magicks ineffective against it, but no matter; the battle is over in seconds.
The interior of the tower reeks of strange fumes. Drelvin suggests wrapping cloth across their noses, and the party does; but even so, they are all light-headed by the time they pick their way through the shambles of the lower level to the central staircase that leads up. Above, the fumes are even worse. Parts of the walls are discolored and stained by weird chemicals. The level consists of a ring-shaped hallway surrounding two rooms. One of these is a library, where the group gains another magical book and a small collection of scrolls. The first wrinkled parchment contains read magic, comprehend languages, and mage hand; another holds fireball, dispel magic and stoneskin. The final scroll bears the spells globe of invulnerability, bonebreak, wall of honey and seal portal.
The other room of the level proves to be guarded by a force screen of some sort, but Lillamere disintegrates it and the group passes into a laboratory. Everything in the chamber shows signs of extreme burn damage, and the fumes are notably thicker in the laboratory.
Returning to the library, the party again ascends, little suspecting that one of them is about to kill another.
Next Time: One of our heroes kills another!!
*Darn it! Failed the save. This could’ve been such a cool battle.
Beyond the great seal is a vast room, dark and deep. The walls are unworked stone, rough and jagged. The illumination spilling from our heroes’ various magical sources of light glimmers ahead and below, for a great pool of water lies before the group.
Weapons at the ready, our heroes move towards the edge of the water. Warily, Veil keeps his new shield at the ready. She reaches down and picks up a loose stone, then casts it in the water with a plop. In seconds the water starts to churn and move.
Horbin casts a quickened righteous might, growing dramatically, and grips his spear. Rex enlarges himself as well, and Inoke expands to huge size. Drelvin ties a blindfold on, calling out, “Don’t forget, it probably has some kind of madness gaze!”
“I’ll try to do something about that- but be ready to close your eyes!” Lillamere warns.
Then it surfaces, a huge lamprey with weird eyes lining its body along the flanks all the way down its body. Its mouth looks like it could cover an entire cow. The thing is only half-revealed from the water, but it looms up like a 30’ long serpent.
Then Lillamere’s sunburst explodes, a tremendous glare blazing through the darkness of the cave. The madrey gives out a tremendous squeal and rushes forward, chomping down on Inoke, trying to get a grip sufficient to drain blood; but with a mighty cry, the swarthy warmind throws the huge monster off of him.
Then Horbin grimly cries, “Ancient evil! Your time has come to be purged in the name of Dexter! You have been judged and found wanting!!” And with that, with a single destruction spell, Horbin the MFKG Holy reduces the madrey to ash.*
“That wasn’t so bad,” comments Veil from behind her shield. The hand spiked to it twitches.
Searching the pool, our heroes find a small amount of treasure. In one of the dry corners of the chamber Drelvin turns up a book that radiates magic, so after the group emerges into the waning sunlight Lillamere casts legend lore and a snatch of verse comes to mind that seems to indicate that it increases one’s health and vitality.
By the time the party is ready to continue on, dark has fallen. They briefly debate waiting for morning, but rapidly agree that there’s no need. They are adventurers; they’ve traipsed through the darkness of the lost city of Moil. This is nothing Horbin’s holy symbol (flickering with continual flame) can’t take care of for them.
“Let’s check out that old wizard’s tower I heard about,” urges Lillamere. “Maybe there’s something interesting in there!”
They move through the ruins of Ostraghan to the tower of the great wizard who had inhabited it at the time of its fall. With any luck, there is tremendous magic waiting to be discovered within- perhaps forgotten spells, maybe lost magic items, potions... pulse quickening, our heroes burst in the door and immediately confront a strange golem, but it falls to Rex, Drelvin and Inoke. The others find their magicks ineffective against it, but no matter; the battle is over in seconds.
The interior of the tower reeks of strange fumes. Drelvin suggests wrapping cloth across their noses, and the party does; but even so, they are all light-headed by the time they pick their way through the shambles of the lower level to the central staircase that leads up. Above, the fumes are even worse. Parts of the walls are discolored and stained by weird chemicals. The level consists of a ring-shaped hallway surrounding two rooms. One of these is a library, where the group gains another magical book and a small collection of scrolls. The first wrinkled parchment contains read magic, comprehend languages, and mage hand; another holds fireball, dispel magic and stoneskin. The final scroll bears the spells globe of invulnerability, bonebreak, wall of honey and seal portal.
The other room of the level proves to be guarded by a force screen of some sort, but Lillamere disintegrates it and the group passes into a laboratory. Everything in the chamber shows signs of extreme burn damage, and the fumes are notably thicker in the laboratory.
Returning to the library, the party again ascends, little suspecting that one of them is about to kill another.
Next Time: One of our heroes kills another!!
*Darn it! Failed the save.
This could’ve been such a cool battle.
the Jester
Legend
Deaths
The door bursts open as Inoke puts his shoulder into it. He draws up short, appalled by what he sees.
First is the pair of disgustingly fat monstrosities. Though Inoke doesn’t recognize them, Horbin does; they are shator demodands, powerful evil outsiders from the plane of Carceri. It was a demodand that held Till prisoner, and that Horbin slew with a single destruction spell. Behind the demodands, though, is something else- a ghostly shade of some sort, the spirit of the long-dead master of the tower.
And suddenly there’s pandemonium.
A cloud of greenish vapor issue from one of the shators, filling the chamber with a cloudkill. Our heroes move fearlessly through it, trying their best to join battle. Then a terrible, blood-curdling shrieking starts coming from the unseen shade in the midst of the vapors, and it tears at the sanity of our heroes. Some sort of stunning boom blares out, stunning Jezebel, Lillamere, Sybele and Inoke.
Rex gives a mighty roar and leaps on one of the shators. It struggles mightily, but he tears it apart in seconds, then roars in triumph. Drelvin, meanwhile, squints and grimaces, his eyes tearing from the deadly gas, but he launches a flurry of arrows at the sound of the shade. His head throbs; he can barely think. It’s driving him mad! He has to stop it, before it’s...
Too late.
Inoke, meanwhile, has already lost his mind completely. He stands, befuddled, for a few moments, trying to talk to his club, Deadly Avalanche, before quizzically looking over at Drelvin. He’s very confused. Veil glances at him in concern. He’s about to attack, the mindspy thinks unhappily. Oh crap.
The stunned people are still reeling, unable to act; and if it weren’t for Rex they would all be meat for the demodand. With a gesture it charms almost all of them, but the half-dragon resists, roars, and leaps upon the fat creature! Again the dragon disciple wrestles with his opponent, tearing and choking, until he breaks its neck!
Then things get ugly. The mind-shattering shrieking of the tower wizard’s shade continues to throb through our heroes’ minds; and Drelvin’s mind snaps. He whirls and fires at Lillamere, sinking arrow after arrow into his handsome nephew. To add insult to injury, the last one obliterates the sorcerer’s crotch. Lillamere stumbles back nearly 15’ before falling dead to the floor.
“Drelvin’s blue came to happy,” Inoke grunts, and smashes his great club at the archer. It strikes him square in the back, separating ribs and shattering spine; then crashes into his thigh, wrenching his leg from its socket; and finally, an overhand blow directly onto the elf’s head finishes him off, pounding him into the ground like a tomato.
“Nooo!” cries Sybele, and fires an arrow at Inoke’s boot, stapling him to the ground. The big burly warrior wheels to face her, but finds himself stuck to the ground.
“Enough!” cries Horbin the MFKG Holy, invoking the Light of Dexter. A mass heal washes over the party and the shade; the monster screeches one last time and vanishes like the morning mist. The others feel their heads clear and their wounds close.
But it is too late for Lillamere and Drelvin.
“What have I done?” cries Inoke. His face is etched in sorrow.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Horbin says compassionately. “You were out of your mind. And I’ll bring them back.”
But he won’t, at least not both of them- for one of them has had enough of the trials of life. Hardships have dogged him for centuries; he is done.
Drelvin the Archer is no more.
Next Time: Drelvin’s Funeral! Appearances by many old pcs, including Malford, the tabaxi champion Hobbes, Stone, Belmondo the Enhanced and more!
The door bursts open as Inoke puts his shoulder into it. He draws up short, appalled by what he sees.
First is the pair of disgustingly fat monstrosities. Though Inoke doesn’t recognize them, Horbin does; they are shator demodands, powerful evil outsiders from the plane of Carceri. It was a demodand that held Till prisoner, and that Horbin slew with a single destruction spell. Behind the demodands, though, is something else- a ghostly shade of some sort, the spirit of the long-dead master of the tower.
And suddenly there’s pandemonium.
A cloud of greenish vapor issue from one of the shators, filling the chamber with a cloudkill. Our heroes move fearlessly through it, trying their best to join battle. Then a terrible, blood-curdling shrieking starts coming from the unseen shade in the midst of the vapors, and it tears at the sanity of our heroes. Some sort of stunning boom blares out, stunning Jezebel, Lillamere, Sybele and Inoke.
Rex gives a mighty roar and leaps on one of the shators. It struggles mightily, but he tears it apart in seconds, then roars in triumph. Drelvin, meanwhile, squints and grimaces, his eyes tearing from the deadly gas, but he launches a flurry of arrows at the sound of the shade. His head throbs; he can barely think. It’s driving him mad! He has to stop it, before it’s...
Too late.
Inoke, meanwhile, has already lost his mind completely. He stands, befuddled, for a few moments, trying to talk to his club, Deadly Avalanche, before quizzically looking over at Drelvin. He’s very confused. Veil glances at him in concern. He’s about to attack, the mindspy thinks unhappily. Oh crap.
The stunned people are still reeling, unable to act; and if it weren’t for Rex they would all be meat for the demodand. With a gesture it charms almost all of them, but the half-dragon resists, roars, and leaps upon the fat creature! Again the dragon disciple wrestles with his opponent, tearing and choking, until he breaks its neck!
Then things get ugly. The mind-shattering shrieking of the tower wizard’s shade continues to throb through our heroes’ minds; and Drelvin’s mind snaps. He whirls and fires at Lillamere, sinking arrow after arrow into his handsome nephew. To add insult to injury, the last one obliterates the sorcerer’s crotch. Lillamere stumbles back nearly 15’ before falling dead to the floor.
“Drelvin’s blue came to happy,” Inoke grunts, and smashes his great club at the archer. It strikes him square in the back, separating ribs and shattering spine; then crashes into his thigh, wrenching his leg from its socket; and finally, an overhand blow directly onto the elf’s head finishes him off, pounding him into the ground like a tomato.
“Nooo!” cries Sybele, and fires an arrow at Inoke’s boot, stapling him to the ground. The big burly warrior wheels to face her, but finds himself stuck to the ground.
“Enough!” cries Horbin the MFKG Holy, invoking the Light of Dexter. A mass heal washes over the party and the shade; the monster screeches one last time and vanishes like the morning mist. The others feel their heads clear and their wounds close.
But it is too late for Lillamere and Drelvin.
“What have I done?” cries Inoke. His face is etched in sorrow.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Horbin says compassionately. “You were out of your mind. And I’ll bring them back.”
But he won’t, at least not both of them- for one of them has had enough of the trials of life. Hardships have dogged him for centuries; he is done.
Drelvin the Archer is no more.
Next Time: Drelvin’s Funeral! Appearances by many old pcs, including Malford, the tabaxi champion Hobbes, Stone, Belmondo the Enhanced and more!
the Jester
Legend
R.I.P. Drelvin
Let us raise a toast to Drelvin the Archer.
Since he first came to prominence alongside Malford and Dexter in their battle with the gargantuan,* Drelvin has stood steadfast against all odds. Though he was dogged by ill-fortune- from being petrified for decades to the many losses of his leg- Drelvin always maintained that wry sense of humor and his perspective. He was always one elf against insurmountable odds, and despite his many triumphs he never lost sight of the hugeness of his enemies.
The gargantuan... the dragon Gnarichlor... E-Krektor... Felenga... Acererak... the list is long. Drelvin had many enemies among the great. He destroyed, or aided in the destruction of, many of them. He often boasted that he had killed more dragons than anyone else in Cydra, and he might have claimed the most liches as well had he thought about it.
Yes, he had his defeats as well. The cockatrices in the Hill of Skulls, that left him a statue in the fountain in the old gardens of Var for decades... the loss of the sacred Bodyguard’s Bow and his subsequent disgrace... having his leg shattered thrice in one minute in Hell, seized by an undead lake monster, removed by clockwork horrors... But no matter his defeats, he overcame them. The horrors were overthrown, he was restored to favor in court, his leg was regrown (again and again and again).
Ahhh, Drelvin, it’s a sad day when we put you in the ground.
***
8/8/370 O.L.G., 11 a.m., the graveyard at the Chapel of Dexter
The funeral is somber. Everyone is there; the king and queen, many of Drelvin’s archers from his time as the queen’s bodyguard, all of his current and most of his former adventuring companions, many of the local people. Drelvin had many friends. There are humans, elves, dwarves, gnomes, halflings, even tabaxi in the crowd. God-King Malford and Queen Moira, the royal children, the local nobility and landed gentry; old adventuring friends, including the king, Stone D. Mason, Zelda Hammerhead, Hobbes, Mary Nine, Sunsi, Thimbleton the Evoker, Chobain- the roster of Drelvin’s former companions is long. Horbin gives a moving sermon, whose words leave too much pain in my heart to record. Many eyes are wet. Drelvin’s waxy corpse lays within the closed coffin, too badly damaged to be open for viewing.
Drelvin was a baron, given land and title by God-King Malford. He has died childless; his heir apparent, then, is his nephew- Lillamere. As his first act in his new capacity, Lillamere renames the house House Drelvin, and designates his sister, N’Sari, as his heir.
Inoke struggles with his guilt. The gloomy sky reflects his mood. I did this, he thinks dully. I killed Drelvin.
A figure pads up towards him- a large, imposing tabaxi. The cat-man’s fur is deep black, and across his back a sword hangs. Behind him, dripping from the blood, comes a trail of droplets of blood. The sword seems to be exuding it. Inoke regards the tabaxi warily. The cat-man halts before him and looks him up and down.
“They say,” the tabaxi says conversationally, “that you’re the one who killed Drelvin.”
“That’s right,” Inoke says unhappily.
The tabaxi’s eyes flash yellow. “Are you proud of it? Do you think that makes you tough?”
“What? No-”
“Drelvin was a good man,” the tabaxi snarls. He looks almost ready to pounce.
Inoke exclaims, “Yes, he was! I didn’t mean to kill him! I was driven mad by some sort of monster! I-“
Just then Lester arrives and interrupts. “Hobbes! Hey, how’s it going? This is Inoke. Inoke, this is Hobbes, the great leader of the tabaxi.” He grins fleetingly.
“We just met,” Hobbes says frostily. He gives Inoke another glare, growling threateningly at him, before stalking off.
“Oh, uh, hmm,” mutters Lester. “Don’t mind him, he’s just upset,” he tells Inoke, then hurries off to try to pacify Hobbes. They are old friends; why, Hobbes was there on that fateful day (if one can call time in Darkhold day or night) when Lester released the terrible power of Fuligin. And they have not seen each other in years. They have a lot of catching up to do.
Hobbes is not the only one to give Inoke a cold stare. Stone D. Mason, a doughty dwarven warrior and thane of Platinum Peak, also has little more than a hostile grunt to say to Inoke. The warmind feels guilty, unhappy, uncertain about his future path. These are Drelvin’s old companions, and most of them are nobles. If they decided to do so, they could make life very uncomfortable for him as long as he stayed on Dorhaus. Depressed, angry at himself and guilty, Inoke can say nothing to defend himself. After all, he did kill the archer.
If anyone were to tell him that his choices would lead him to a new religion, a new god, and a new alignment in a few short months, he would laugh in disbelief and shake his head. For now, though, he is a miserable man, downcast and saddened.
Some hours after the funeral, the party is invited to dinner with the King. One does not turn down such an invitation. Into the castle they go, and thence to a sumptuous dinner with fowl, fish and coneys laid out with roasted nuts and scalloped potatoes. It’s gnomish style tonight!
Malford studies Inoke intently. “So you’re the one who killed Drelvin.”
Inoke’s face falls. “Yes,” he groans. “But I didn’t mean to! There was a monster, it drove me insane, I didn’t know what was going on!”
Malford says nothing for a time. Then, he says, “Drelvin was my oldest friend. He was probably my best friend since Dexter died. He bodyguarded my Queen and defended her with his life. You have cost me a friend, my realm a valuable agent, and the world a good man.”
“I’m sorry...”
Malford shakes his head. “I know that these things happen when magic compels you. I’m a spellcaster myself. One does not always have control over their actions when facing hostile monsters. You cannot fully be blamed for what happened.
“My question to you is, how will you prevent it from happening again?”
Inoke stares at the king in surprise. “I... I hadn’t...”
“You’d better,” Malford says sharply. “I had better not hear about you killing another one of my friends.”
***
A grey period... a few days blur by, and Sir Maxwell more and more turns contemplative. “I could do a lot of good here, if I built a small temple and a facility,” he murmurs to himself at several points. His plans begin to shape up- and he realizes that the time has come.
”I’m retiring,” he announces to the party.
“What!” exclaims Horbin.
“I have work to do,” Maxwell explains. He tells the group about his plans; Lillamere has given him land in Brelana, and he has easily secured some in Var as well.
“Aw, man,” Gerontius groans. “First Drelvin, now Maxwell too!”
***
Veil, meanwhile, has continued to play with Chaos. In Var there is an Obelisk of Na’Rat; again and again she touches it. Among other things, she now has a strong, strong craving for something called nose dust, but nobody seems to know what it is or where to find it. It’s driving her mad. Worse yet, she is under a geas to slay a hydra with her bare hands. Fortunately, one of her hands has turned into a mace. Over and over her friends exhort her to moderate her desire for the touch of Chaos; but she just grins and keeps it up.
***
8/10/370 O.L.G., the hills north of Var
Veil’s initial attempt to overcome a hydra bare-handed and by herself fails. Her friends help drive it off, but she is still victim of the geas effect. Afterwards, sitting around, the party talks about various strategic ways to approach the problem.
“Its heads kept growing back!” exclaims Veil, wiping sweat from her brow. She shakes her head in dismay.
Though old friends have passed out of our story (though we have no doubt that Sir Maxwell will come up again, perhaps once our party is fighting an arch-devil or something), perhaps a new one is entering. Seethe, a druid of exceptional power, had intervened in the hydra battle to aid our heroes, not even knowing about the geas on Veil. They’ve been discussing their recent adventures, and especially the Prophecy of the Worms, and Seethe is most interested; after all, strange worms from other planes invading Cydra is hardly a natural thing; indeed, it is every druid’s duty to guard against such horrific interventions in the natural order of things. So he offers to aid them in their travels, and our heroes, their ranks somewhat depleted, gladly accept his offer.
At least, he claims that is his motive. There is more to it, of course.
Our heroes have so far resisted every attempt by the forces of Law or Chaos to involve them on a greater level as champions of one side or the other in the Great War of Ethics (with the exception of Veil’s deal with the demon prince Graz’zt). Now another side has begun developing, with the druids at the forefront.
They are champions of balance.
Our heroes return to the ruins of Ostraghan, Seethe with them, hoping to guide them on the middle path.
Next Time: Our heroes return to exploring the ruins of Ostraghan!
*A tale yet to be told, alas.
**Sir Maxwell’s player’s new character, of course. Drelvin’s player’s new character will arrive in due course.
Let us raise a toast to Drelvin the Archer.
Since he first came to prominence alongside Malford and Dexter in their battle with the gargantuan,* Drelvin has stood steadfast against all odds. Though he was dogged by ill-fortune- from being petrified for decades to the many losses of his leg- Drelvin always maintained that wry sense of humor and his perspective. He was always one elf against insurmountable odds, and despite his many triumphs he never lost sight of the hugeness of his enemies.
The gargantuan... the dragon Gnarichlor... E-Krektor... Felenga... Acererak... the list is long. Drelvin had many enemies among the great. He destroyed, or aided in the destruction of, many of them. He often boasted that he had killed more dragons than anyone else in Cydra, and he might have claimed the most liches as well had he thought about it.
Yes, he had his defeats as well. The cockatrices in the Hill of Skulls, that left him a statue in the fountain in the old gardens of Var for decades... the loss of the sacred Bodyguard’s Bow and his subsequent disgrace... having his leg shattered thrice in one minute in Hell, seized by an undead lake monster, removed by clockwork horrors... But no matter his defeats, he overcame them. The horrors were overthrown, he was restored to favor in court, his leg was regrown (again and again and again).
Ahhh, Drelvin, it’s a sad day when we put you in the ground.
***
8/8/370 O.L.G., 11 a.m., the graveyard at the Chapel of Dexter
The funeral is somber. Everyone is there; the king and queen, many of Drelvin’s archers from his time as the queen’s bodyguard, all of his current and most of his former adventuring companions, many of the local people. Drelvin had many friends. There are humans, elves, dwarves, gnomes, halflings, even tabaxi in the crowd. God-King Malford and Queen Moira, the royal children, the local nobility and landed gentry; old adventuring friends, including the king, Stone D. Mason, Zelda Hammerhead, Hobbes, Mary Nine, Sunsi, Thimbleton the Evoker, Chobain- the roster of Drelvin’s former companions is long. Horbin gives a moving sermon, whose words leave too much pain in my heart to record. Many eyes are wet. Drelvin’s waxy corpse lays within the closed coffin, too badly damaged to be open for viewing.
Drelvin was a baron, given land and title by God-King Malford. He has died childless; his heir apparent, then, is his nephew- Lillamere. As his first act in his new capacity, Lillamere renames the house House Drelvin, and designates his sister, N’Sari, as his heir.
Inoke struggles with his guilt. The gloomy sky reflects his mood. I did this, he thinks dully. I killed Drelvin.
A figure pads up towards him- a large, imposing tabaxi. The cat-man’s fur is deep black, and across his back a sword hangs. Behind him, dripping from the blood, comes a trail of droplets of blood. The sword seems to be exuding it. Inoke regards the tabaxi warily. The cat-man halts before him and looks him up and down.
“They say,” the tabaxi says conversationally, “that you’re the one who killed Drelvin.”
“That’s right,” Inoke says unhappily.
The tabaxi’s eyes flash yellow. “Are you proud of it? Do you think that makes you tough?”
“What? No-”
“Drelvin was a good man,” the tabaxi snarls. He looks almost ready to pounce.
Inoke exclaims, “Yes, he was! I didn’t mean to kill him! I was driven mad by some sort of monster! I-“
Just then Lester arrives and interrupts. “Hobbes! Hey, how’s it going? This is Inoke. Inoke, this is Hobbes, the great leader of the tabaxi.” He grins fleetingly.
“We just met,” Hobbes says frostily. He gives Inoke another glare, growling threateningly at him, before stalking off.
“Oh, uh, hmm,” mutters Lester. “Don’t mind him, he’s just upset,” he tells Inoke, then hurries off to try to pacify Hobbes. They are old friends; why, Hobbes was there on that fateful day (if one can call time in Darkhold day or night) when Lester released the terrible power of Fuligin. And they have not seen each other in years. They have a lot of catching up to do.
Hobbes is not the only one to give Inoke a cold stare. Stone D. Mason, a doughty dwarven warrior and thane of Platinum Peak, also has little more than a hostile grunt to say to Inoke. The warmind feels guilty, unhappy, uncertain about his future path. These are Drelvin’s old companions, and most of them are nobles. If they decided to do so, they could make life very uncomfortable for him as long as he stayed on Dorhaus. Depressed, angry at himself and guilty, Inoke can say nothing to defend himself. After all, he did kill the archer.
If anyone were to tell him that his choices would lead him to a new religion, a new god, and a new alignment in a few short months, he would laugh in disbelief and shake his head. For now, though, he is a miserable man, downcast and saddened.
Some hours after the funeral, the party is invited to dinner with the King. One does not turn down such an invitation. Into the castle they go, and thence to a sumptuous dinner with fowl, fish and coneys laid out with roasted nuts and scalloped potatoes. It’s gnomish style tonight!
Malford studies Inoke intently. “So you’re the one who killed Drelvin.”
Inoke’s face falls. “Yes,” he groans. “But I didn’t mean to! There was a monster, it drove me insane, I didn’t know what was going on!”
Malford says nothing for a time. Then, he says, “Drelvin was my oldest friend. He was probably my best friend since Dexter died. He bodyguarded my Queen and defended her with his life. You have cost me a friend, my realm a valuable agent, and the world a good man.”
“I’m sorry...”
Malford shakes his head. “I know that these things happen when magic compels you. I’m a spellcaster myself. One does not always have control over their actions when facing hostile monsters. You cannot fully be blamed for what happened.
“My question to you is, how will you prevent it from happening again?”
Inoke stares at the king in surprise. “I... I hadn’t...”
“You’d better,” Malford says sharply. “I had better not hear about you killing another one of my friends.”
***
A grey period... a few days blur by, and Sir Maxwell more and more turns contemplative. “I could do a lot of good here, if I built a small temple and a facility,” he murmurs to himself at several points. His plans begin to shape up- and he realizes that the time has come.
”I’m retiring,” he announces to the party.
“What!” exclaims Horbin.
“I have work to do,” Maxwell explains. He tells the group about his plans; Lillamere has given him land in Brelana, and he has easily secured some in Var as well.
“Aw, man,” Gerontius groans. “First Drelvin, now Maxwell too!”
***
Veil, meanwhile, has continued to play with Chaos. In Var there is an Obelisk of Na’Rat; again and again she touches it. Among other things, she now has a strong, strong craving for something called nose dust, but nobody seems to know what it is or where to find it. It’s driving her mad. Worse yet, she is under a geas to slay a hydra with her bare hands. Fortunately, one of her hands has turned into a mace. Over and over her friends exhort her to moderate her desire for the touch of Chaos; but she just grins and keeps it up.
***
8/10/370 O.L.G., the hills north of Var
Veil’s initial attempt to overcome a hydra bare-handed and by herself fails. Her friends help drive it off, but she is still victim of the geas effect. Afterwards, sitting around, the party talks about various strategic ways to approach the problem.
“Its heads kept growing back!” exclaims Veil, wiping sweat from her brow. She shakes her head in dismay.
Though old friends have passed out of our story (though we have no doubt that Sir Maxwell will come up again, perhaps once our party is fighting an arch-devil or something), perhaps a new one is entering. Seethe, a druid of exceptional power, had intervened in the hydra battle to aid our heroes, not even knowing about the geas on Veil. They’ve been discussing their recent adventures, and especially the Prophecy of the Worms, and Seethe is most interested; after all, strange worms from other planes invading Cydra is hardly a natural thing; indeed, it is every druid’s duty to guard against such horrific interventions in the natural order of things. So he offers to aid them in their travels, and our heroes, their ranks somewhat depleted, gladly accept his offer.
At least, he claims that is his motive. There is more to it, of course.
Our heroes have so far resisted every attempt by the forces of Law or Chaos to involve them on a greater level as champions of one side or the other in the Great War of Ethics (with the exception of Veil’s deal with the demon prince Graz’zt). Now another side has begun developing, with the druids at the forefront.
They are champions of balance.
Our heroes return to the ruins of Ostraghan, Seethe with them, hoping to guide them on the middle path.
Next Time: Our heroes return to exploring the ruins of Ostraghan!
*A tale yet to be told, alas.
**Sir Maxwell’s player’s new character, of course. Drelvin’s player’s new character will arrive in due course.
SeldomSeen
Explorer
Thanks Jester.
It's always fun to see that your character has made an impact on the world. Whether he was going bezerk from wearing the cloak of the bear, slaying ancient dragons, or getting his leg hacked off for the third time in one combat, it was great fun. Rest well brave elf, for you are remembered in story and song.
It's always fun to see that your character has made an impact on the world. Whether he was going bezerk from wearing the cloak of the bear, slaying ancient dragons, or getting his leg hacked off for the third time in one combat, it was great fun. Rest well brave elf, for you are remembered in story and song.
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