Cydra: the Early Years

[the Jester]

Dangit, I don't remember what those cards do.

They feature fairly heavily in the high-level story hour (To War Against Felenga) and its predecessor (Agents of Chaos).

Trumps allow a person to make mental contact with the person or place on the trump. If you get a strong enough contact, you can actually physically touch the person or place or even step through to them. They're stolen directly from Roger Zelazny's Chronicles of Amber- excellent reading, especially the first series.

 

[the Jester]

Farenth

Ah, Farenth- now there’s a topic.

As Galador and Bleak each started trying to pull Dexter’s strings in one way or another, Farenth, a lowly cleric of Darkness, sailed with him for a time, then was kicked off the vessel. During this time, he grew to hate Dexter with a burning passion. He hated Malford. He hated Lyr, and Chanti, and Galliger; and by the time he was put ashore, he swore revenge against them all.

Farenth was dark-haired, with a trimmed beard and moustache. His eyes held the kind of crazy light that usually means you should get the hell away from this guy right now. When the party first met him, he was of average build; but as his obsession with his former shipmates grew, he ate less and less and became more and more gaunt and ruined. A heavy diet of narcotics, spicy fermented drinks and psychedelic grubs began to twist the already-twisted man further and further from anything like conventional thought.

Farenth spent a number of months in planning. The darkness carried him away on wings of evil; as the place he stayed in spun around his hallucinating eyes, he realized that Dexter was his antithesis- where Farenth had come from a life of good and privilege only to sink into the depths of depravity, Dexter had risen from the abysmal state he was in when Galliger was influencing him to a state of grace. So what if Bleak got his soul when he died, so long as he lived?

Farenth began styling himself the Son of Darkness- the Child of Bleak. It started as a metaphor, but spiraled quickly out of control in his crazed mind, and one night soon he believed that he had been visited by Bleak. Perhaps he had; who can say what a visitation by one’s god will look like? Regardless, Farenth somehow emerged from this terrible night, during which various objects had been destroyed and cast about the room violently (perhaps in his raving psychotic state he’d done it himself- again, who knows), and Farenth somehow had garnered a great deal of information concerning our heroes.

He realized now that the only way to truly do justice to his hatred for Malford, Dexter, Chant, Lyr, and the rest would be to get them to kill one another.

He began to move the pieces into place.

Chanti, Lyr and the rest of the pirates (those were the two he really hated) could be lured in if they thought they could kill Dexter. Farenth was sure of that. Chanticleer could be counted on to see to it; she wanted his blood, even if the others might not. Make it look easy and they will come.

As to luring Dexter and Malford- that would be a little more difficult. But Farenth put his evil mind to work on it and soon came up with a plan.

He would kidnap the confessor.


Next Time: Again, who knows which thread I’ll follow next time... but now you start to see the big picture!

 

[Lela]

He would kidnap the confessor.

*Closes mouth*

 

[the Jester]

Strogass

Current Lineup, Team Pirates

Vosh- centaur druid 3; N
Lyr- cleric 5; LE
Chanticleer Gildar-Ynarlslaand- fighter 5; CN
Akakathan- merellin bard 2/priest 2; NG


“Land ho!”

The Twikwakikikak comes alive with activity. Captain Lyr ascends to the crow’s nest, using Chanti’s spyglass to gaze at the huge continent coming into view.

Strogass.

If Forinthia is the center of the worship of Galador, Strogass is its negative image, its opposite pole. That is the legendary home of all chaos and evil, of all darkness; there is the wellspring of Bleak’s power on Cydra.

And it’s damn far from Dexter.

***

Sailing along the coast the pirates spot a series of small towns, then what must be termed a city. This, it turns out, is Bratamond.

The people are pale of skin, with dark hair that tends to thin stringy strands. Their eyes are dark and their clothes tend to dark colors and reds. When the pirates disembark and wander about, they quickly realize that Strogass is a place where the strong rule through their fists. They pass several beatings as they wander the city, listening to the odd local language. It’s easy enough to find a merchant that speaks Forinthian, but speaking it draws attention.

“Strangers,” an obsequious little halfling says to them in thick Forinthian. “Could you spare a moment?”

Lyr nods imperiously. “Speak!” she barks. “And we already have a cook!”

“Oh, I have a job too- I am a manservant for a great and powerful wizard. But, ah, that job has left me somewhat unprepared for my current dilemma.”

Akakathan snickers. “Manservant,” he guffaws.

It develops that Weevil (the halfling) had lost a spellbook of his master’s while gambling on a sure hand of cards. “Now he’s going to flay me if I don’t get it back!” Weevil whines.

“Well, that’s what you get for gambling with someone else’s spellbooks,” Vosh comments dryly.

“Please, I’ll pay you! And I’ll help you talk to the local merchants and such!”

After some discussion, the group agrees. Beating up the sailor who won the book is a difficult task for a halfling manservant, but less than nothing to an experienced band of adventurers. A few broken ribs and loosened teeth are enough to persuade the sailor (a swarthy fellow with a massive tattoo of a serpent across his left shoulder) to give the book up, and then our heroes have a translator for a few hours.

The ship is outfitted with new material and goods to replace the supplies expended on the long journey. New sailcloth, new rope, new timber. More food, fresh water, whiskey. Paint, sand, fishing line... the list goes on and on. Weevil shows signs of regret for his offer to serve as an intermediary with the merchants after only an hour, but Lyr keeps him doggedly at it til sunset.

Finally, before they release him, they ask him about local areas of adventure.

“Well,” he responds, “there’s an old abandoned monastery that was home to an order of monks of Galador a long time ago...”

“A monastery of Galador?” Lyr exclaims. “What a perfect Strogassian dungeon!” With a smile, she asks, “Where is it?”


Next Time: The Monastery of Galador!

 

[Lela]

Now we see a reverse dungeon delve. This should be interesting.

 

[the Jester]

Now we see a reverse dungeon delve. This should be interesting.

The halflings in my Of Sound Mind SH are also on Strogass, though in the northeast rather than the south; but still! You might see something like this again- or even, perhaps, this very place, should that party ever go this direction!

Of course, the halflings are almost 300 years after Lyr, Vosh, et. al.

 

[the Jester]

The Monastery of Galador

Six centuries before, a sect of Strogassian Galadorian monks sought to establish a monastery in service to the Light. They acted quietly, turned all would-be visitors away, and carefully kept up the appearance that they were nonreligious. But after a century and a half, they were found out. The provincial governor of the time dispatched a large troop of undead and men and slaughtered the monks, despoiling the serenity of the area forever. He then cursed the grounds in the name of Bleak.

Now a certain villainous party approached the plateau on which the ruins sat. In the lead were Chanticleer Gilder-Ynarlslend, hero of Bleak, the centaur druid Vosh, and Lyr, harpoon-wielding priestess of the Sea, Sky and Land. Straggling behind them came Akakathan, grumbling about the harsh dry air. The merellin would stop occasionally to dribble a little water from his waterskin onto his forehead and neck.

The party stopped a few hundred yards away. “Vosh, go take a look for entrances. Don’t get too close,” commanded Lyr. The green-haired centaur nodded and galloped off, circumnavigated the outer wall at a distance of some forty yards, then returned.

“Looks like the wall’s crumbled in two places,” he reported. “Two easy entrances- one of them looks to be the remains of the old gate.”

“Let’s take the back way,” said Lyr, and the group approached carefully. The wall was made of hewn stone blocks fitted together carefully and mortared into place. The entrance the captain chose was along the north wall, near one corner, and a small hole showed clear signs of assault from a catapult. Clambering over a pile of rubble, the pirates made their way down into the corner of a weed-choked yard. All around them were headstones.

“Careful,” Lyr murmured. “We don’t want to wake any restless dead.”

“Galador’s too weak to use the undead,” scoffed Chanti, kicking over a headstone.

Almost immediately the ground began convulsing. Forms started clawing their way out of the bushes, some up from under the dirt of the graves. In moments the adventurers were surrounded and battling for their lives! The stinking, putrid undead were covered in filth and grime, and as they dug at their living foes with dirty claws they infected the wounds with terrible disease (although the party would not realize this until the morning). Most wore the remains of priestly robes and Galadorian holy symbols. More and more rose up, shambling forward to quickly engage the party.

But the pirates were quite capable of defending themselves. After an initial moment of panic, Lyr rallied her troops. “Form up!” she cried, thrusting mightily with her harpoon. It crashed into the ribcage of the undead priest and she released it as she cast flame blade. The brilliant shaft of divine fire flashed all around her as she hacked left and right. Vosh’s terrible hooves crashed down on first one heucuva, then another. He knocked them back like toys. Akakathan sang out, hoping he could help his friends, and Chanti’s blade was a veritable blur as she chopped mercilessly, grinning at the soiled holy symbols. As she chopped one down, she exulted, “These were priests!”

Soon the battle was over, and though wounded, the pirates were intact. Counting skulls, they determined that they’d faced fifteen opponents- not too bad, for a group of four!

“Still, we’re pretty beat up,” Lyr acknowledged, “so we’d best rest and heal before we try going back in.”

The others agreed, and the party withdrew about a half mile. Chanti nervously set up a perimeter and kept glancing in the direction of the ruin as if expecting something to come after them.

Occasionally, though, instead of looking north towards the monastery, she would look long and hard to the west, towards Dexter, and her heart would burn with hate.

Somehow, she knew, Strogass would bring them back together. And she would kill him.

Next Time: Heucuva disease sets in!

 

[the Jester]

Vosh In Love

Sore joints, aching muscles, rebellious stomachs. Akakathan, Chanti and Lyr groaned as disease set in.

The battle with the heucuva had its aftereffects.

This isn’t good, worried Vosh. He glanced at Lyr. She was so beautiful- and dying! Clearly, this disease was beyond his limited powers, and his natural passions rose to the forefront. Centaurs are creatures of hot blood. He would not allow his friends to die! He would not!

Especially not Lyr.

Thundering off, Vosh rode to find help. If he couldn’t save them, he would find someone else who could. He rode hard to the south, towards the city of Bratamond, where the Twikwakikikak lies at anchor. Nobody on board will be able to help, but it’s a city. Vosh was sure there would be someone.

‘Someone’ there was. Vosh returned to his companions, nearly a full day later, exhausted and without having slept, carrying an apothecary on his broad back. The old gnome dismounted and swiftly set to work, using potions and herbs to aid the others, whose illness was beginning to cause them delirium.

Vosh let out a ragged breath as he bit into an apple, brushing a lock of green hair from before his eyes. I’ve done all I can, he thinks dully. Now it’s up to him. Another ragged sigh, and he wandered into the shade of a nearby tree to get some rest.

The apothecary was successful; and Vosh, once it became clear that the others were on their way to a full recovery, carried the gnome home with many heartfelt thanks. When he returned again to the others, they were nearly ready to get back to work.

When the sun rose the following morning, it was time to return to the Monestary.

Vosh was filled with joy. He had saved his love! He smiled happily to himself. He had fallen head over heels in love with his captain; and whether she cared for him or not, he would do anything to protect and serve her.

***

The group moved cautiously through the tumbled stones of the graveyard. The corpses of the heucuva moldered all around them. Chanti gave a head a kick as she walked by, sneering. They passed a well and approached the main building of the monastery. From their vantage, they could see choked fields of weeds overgrowing grain and vegetable lines both north and south of the building. Behind it- to the west, opposite the cemetery- was some sort of pond.

Chanticleer approached the front doors boldly, her sword naked in one hand. She threw the door open with the other. Immediately a brilliant light spilled out at them, as bright as the light of the sun. Squinting, frowning, Chanti took a step forward.

To either side of the doors were two stone pillars carved with sun symbols. Each glowed with continual light. A hole in the ceiling of the place had created a pile of rubble in one area; the rest of the room, though fairly intact, was empty.

The group moved into the chamber. There were a number of different possible routes from the entry chamber- a wide passage, an archway and two doors. Lyr moved to one of the doors and threw it wide. A hallway, with a room immediately to the left as well; she stepped up and glanced into the room. It was some sort of kitchen, with more exits, including what looked like a trap door leading down.

Lyr turned and gestured for Chanti to take the lead. “Let’s explore the rest of the hallway first,” she commanded, and Chanti moved down the hall. The others fell in behind her- Lyr, then Vosh, then Akakathan.

The hallway zigged and zagged, and soon there were many doors, most to empty meditation cells, to either side. Occasionally, a room would be partially collapsed, but the monastery was surprisingly intact.

Then, as the pirates hit a T intersection, turning right, Akakathan cocked his head. “Do you hear something?” he asked, hesitantly. “Squeaking?”

“Probably bats,” Chanti said dismissively, just as she stepped into what was obviously once a training room. Two corpses lay on the floor. Chanti’s eyes widened for an instant.

And then the stirges came, like a cloud of flying knives, descending from their roosts on the ceiling. The party was unprepared for the huge swarm of bloodsuckers. Chanti screamed as she cut left and right, ahead and behind, and stirges stuck to her like burrs. Lyr screamed as half a dozen landed on her and sunk their proboscises into her, sucking her life and starting to bloat like cat-sized mosquitoes. Akakathan stabbed wildly with his harpoon, desperately dodging the disgusting little parasites, while Vosh rushed forward, kicking out with his hooves and slashing with his scimitar.

They fought like heroes while the filthy creatures buzzed around, alighting and draining them. The stirges fell in droves, but there were nearly two dozen of them. It seemed that for every one Vosh squished under his hooves, another two were flying around. And Lyr!

She fell, four stirges still attached to her.

Vosh whinnied in consternation, screamed in fear, and dashed to her aid.

Chanti was weakening too, but still on her feet. She saw Lyr’s predicament and tried to stagger over to her aid, but started to sink down herself. Shaking her head, she stopped and mustered her will. She tore another stirge from her own breast and crushed it, then rushed the rest of the way to Lyr’s side.

Akakathan speared the last two from the air with his harpoon, grimacing as he shook their corpses from his harpoon. Then he, too, rushed towards Lyr. Vosh began to wail.

They were too late. Once again, their Captain was dead.


Next Time: Who shall be the new captain?

 

[Lela]

The stirges fell in droves, but there were nearly two dozen of them.

I'm curious. How many stirges are in a drove? Is it like gaggles or flights? At least 3?

 

[the Jester]

I'm curious. How many stirges are in a drove? Is it like gaggles or flights? At least 3?

Hmm, can't recall, I'd have to dig out my 1e books.