Cydra: the Early Years

[the Jester]

Chanti's Quest

“Bleak has spoken,” the priest intoned solemnly. Somewhere, someone rang a low bell. Chanti shuddered involuntarily, in an erotic mix of fear and pleasure.

She was in the fane of the main temple to the Black Sun in the town of Endros. The group, demoralized after their foray into the monastery and subsequent loss of their leader, had retreated to this town; and here, Drakar the high priest, a foul-smelling dwarf with dirty fingernails laid a great honor on Chanti.

She had told him everything; of Galiger’s valiant efforts to overthrow the Light everywhere he went, of his betrayal and murder (from her perspective) by Dexter, of their ensuing flight to Strogass, of Lyr’s death.

“Your Captain Lyr was a heathen,” Drakar grunted. “Bleak brought her here to bring you here. So that we could hear your story, and hear of this Dexter from one who has met him.” The dwarf snarled. “The Church of Bleak will aid you, child, as He has guided you all along. It is He who struck down your Captain, for He has no further need of a cowardly pagan.” The dwarf’s eyes bored in on her. “Who is Captain now?”

“I am,” she replied, “as I am the only remaining original crewman.”

He nods. “Good. We will aid you,” he repeated. Then he turned and called to a back room, “Urdor!”

After a moment a squat, dark dwarf with an axe across his back and the Black Sun of Bleak emblazoned upon the breast of his vestments emerged. “Master?” he grated.

“You will be accompanying our friends here,” commanded Drakar. “We will be investing some significant efforts in your success,” he turned to Chanti. “It seems advisable to attempt to aid you in what ways we can. This is Urdor Darkwind. He is a warrior, and a priest; he will assist you.” Drakar rubbed his grubby paws together. “And act as a moral and spiritual advisor.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Chanti responded, bowing low.

“More, we will send Delilah with you. Urdor, fetch her; tell her to be ready to leave in four hours.”

Urdor hurried out.

After a moment’s hesitation, Chanti asked, “Do you know of any way that we could protect ourselves against Dexter’s mind tricks?”

Drakar stroked his long full beard. “Perhaps,” he said. “Though it is nothing I can provide you, I can point you in the right direction. There is an amulet that will protect an area from psionics. But it was lost by its previous owner, a scholar of some note, when he was on an expedition to the Undersea beneath the Precipice.”

“The Precipice?”

Drakar smiled. “The Eastern Precipice, more properly- an area where there is a cliff several miles high.”

“And this Undersea...”

“Is in the Underdark, beneath the Precipice.”

“And this amulet is there?”

“Perhaps.” Drakar shrugs. “It is a lead. Perhaps investigation will turn it up. In any event, that is the aid I can give you on that subject.”

At just that moment, Urdor returned, followed by a tall pale beauty of an elven woman. She wore a violet dress whose color perfectly complemented her red hair and green eyes. She bore neither weapons nor armor.

“Ah,” said Drakar, “Good. This is the other assistance I can offer you- a conjurer of some skill. Meet Delilah.”

Chanti nodded, dumbfounded. A cleric and a mage! she thought exultantly. Things were looking up. But why?

“Clearly,” said Drakar, “you have some idea as to your next move?”

“Dexter,” Chanti replied without hesitation. “He must die.” She sighed. “But first we have to get this amulet.” She paused. “Unless Bleak needs something else more...?”

“Not at all,” Drakar demurred.

***

The journey would take the group north and east. The Church happily outfitted the group with a significant amount of gear to see them on their way; and so it was that they set forth, journeying northwards.

Their new companions were very different. Urdor maintained a laconic presence, barely speaking except when spoken to except to conduct the daily obsequies to Bleak. He was a steady, stable figure, always in the same place- behind and slightly to the right of Chanti. Delilah, on the other hand, was very dramatic, sultry, seductive, and mercurial. She referred to herself by many titles- Delilah the Dead, Delilah the Damned, Delilah the Delicious, Delilah the Delightful. She had a quick wit and a tendency to laugh at odd, sometimes inappropriate moments.

Chanticleer was full of righteous energy. She had been blessed in her quest to destroy Dexter by the priests of the Black Sun! Food, ale, weapons, even a magic ring- she had been well equipped by them!

If she knew what correspondence Drakar had seen, come from Farenth, she might have been able to puzzle out the trap he was setting, but she did not.

The journey was about two weeks long; along the way they were ambushed by an ankheg, which they easily dispatched (though Akakathan took a nasty burn when it spat acid upon him) and a family of four weird monsters with strange, badger-like heads; but instead of teeth, they had jagged bony ridges. Their bodies were a strange mix of stag and lion, with cloven hooves on its feet. Again, Chanticleer’s group of pirates managed to destroy them without too much trouble. During these battles, it became clear that Urdor was able to hold his own in a battle, and that Delilah- standing far back- could use her conjuration magic to good effect. In fact, she summoned a thumb-sized spider that poisoned one of their foes handily.

Their journey took them up hill, but instead of rising and then falling again, the incline remained at a gentle rise for many days. Many rills and small brooks ran down the slope. Green grass and trees were abundant. Soon enough the group reached the town of Kerm, which- according to Drakar- was near an entrance to the Underdark. Not quite a city, the town was big enough to allow them their choice of inns, so they chose one where a bunch of scurrilous characters such as themselves could fit right in.


Next Time: Into the Underdark!

 

[the Jester]

Chanti's Quest, pt. 2

We can hardly call these folks heroes. They were villains, pirates, scoundrels and blackguards. There was not a moral person among them, with the possible exception of the merellin Akakathan, who- by the present time in our narrative- was increasingly uneasy about his association with them.

Of course, it was too late to leave by this point; Akakathan already knew that he was with them for the duration. But as his kind are naturally kind-hearted and generous, his own heart was growing heavier by the week.

Six days in the town of Kerm, staying at a very good inn called the Dragon Turtle Soup Kettle, left a local gnomish illusionist murdered and Delilah in possession of his staff, which was topped by a severed human hand. She affected this proudly, along with the gnome’s gold ring and purse of fifty Imperials (the main Strogassian coin). Then the group left town, heading for the fissure that led to the Underdark (according to the priest Drakar).

Chanticleer felt a strong, vicious sense of satisfaction at the fact that her pirates- hers, now- were going to at last seek vengeance for Galiger. Dexter, you will pay for what you did, she vowed. I will kill you.

A journey of about ten days ensued, and near the end of it Delilah felt a sudden shifting in her perceptions.* Suddenly she could sense the top of the staff, as if it were her own hand atop it. Some experimentation revealed that she could use the hand to perform her spells’ somatic components. Intriguing, the quick-minded conjurer thought. And it took a week for me to become attuned to it. I’d best make sure that I stay attuned, else my staff will be useless for nine days.

The final stretch of their march led them across a ravine and through a rock badlands. The great Western Precipice that they were climbing thrust into the air, the ground broken and jagged. Cliffs abounded. The geography was astonishing. Vosh shook his head. Clearly, no natural process could achieve this. The group continued to clamber upwards along a wide sharp trail that switched back and forth, sometimes at a severe slope.

Suddenly there was a clatter of rocks to the group’s left. They glanced in that direction and, to their horror, saw a tremendous monster emerging from behind a jagged pinnacle of rock. It was easily 20’ long, with a reptilian body and a great fanged mouth. Its scales gleamed bronze in the sun, and its dull eyes were focused on them. Great wings spread from its back and it came winging towards them, hissing violently.

“Drake!” growled Urdor Darkwind, pulling out his battle axe.

The monster flapped in among them and began tearing at them. The villains scattered, spreading out to avoid presenting an easy target, and began fighting back with all their might.

Chanticleer engaged it in melee, her sword slipping beneath the beast’s scales and punctuating her intent to drive it off. Urdor sliced into it with his axe, and the monster spat a blast of flame at Chanti, who weathered it with gritted teeth and kept hacking. Delilah’s conjured spiders were skittering on the monster, biting at it, and Akakathan sang to motivate the group. For indeed, a strong motivation was required to stand against such a horrible monster! The drake bit and tore at Chanti and Urdor, but it was weakening; and Vosh’s smashing hooves confused and dazed it. The party pressed the advantage, and in another minute it was over.

Breathing hard, Chanti wiped the blood from her sword. “I consecrate this victory to Bleak,” she declared loudly. Urdor nodded approvingly.

The group followed the drake’s trail back, hoping they would find its lair and, if it had any, treasure. They were quite successful. A shallow cave filled with the monster’s shed scales and bones was also quite full of scattered treasure. After about four hours of gathering stuff, they made a count. In addition to roughly 4,000 gp in coins, they found three potions, a scroll, a longsword and a pair of spectacles that radiated magic, as well as a number of other items that didn’t.

“Wow, we hit the jackpot,” Vosh commented. The others murmured an assent.

“I can identify these, given time and a pearl,” Delilah offered.

Chanti glanced at the sun. “Let’s get to where we’re going first. We still have a couple of hours before the sun goes down; with luck we can reach the entrance to the Underdark.” She consulted her map. “It looks like we’re almost there.”

And indeed, an hour later, they found themselves approaching a gash in the ground ahead, a deep rift of unknown depth and reasonable width. At least the first portion looked to be a vertical descent.

The sun was going down. “Let’s make camp,” Chanti commanded. “At first light, we’ll go down.”

Little did they know that their quest was to take them to the very Abyss itself.

Next Time: Hmm, I think it’s time we got back to Dexter and co... just in time for Dex to become a cleric!


*Note that a Cydran week is nine days long.

 

[the Jester]

Dexter's Choice; and, Dexter's Voice

Dexter, Malford, Lochenvare and Ingen Jagar continued their adventures together. Ed, for reasons of his own, decided to quit the group for a quieter life. “Risking my life just about every day is fun for a while,” he told them, “but sooner or later my luck will come up. I’m ducking out now, before that happens, and after I’ve made a few gold.”

Wishing him well, the others prepared to move on from the Isle of Gloom.

Dexter spent a good deal of time by himself, thinking. The scar on his forehead itched or burned sometimes; it was never long without a reminder of its presence. He thought of his soul, consigned to the darkness of Bleak, and of the terrible torments he was bound to face once he died. He contemplated his young life, and what he had so far done with it- not much good, that’s for sure. Not much at all.

I’m only seventeen, he thought miserably.

The snake demon lunging for him returned to his thoughts. Son of the Light, he called me. And he was after me, specifically- not Malford, not anyone else, me, Dexter Nadly. He shuddered.

Heaving a sigh, Dexter raised his face to the setting sun. The sky was filled with orange and pink clouds- a gorgeous example of the beauty the sun can bring forth. All right, he said silently. All right. I’ve turned from Bleak to You, and he knows it and he’s pissed. He’s coming for me, and eventually- in the end- unless I can come up with something awfully tricky- he’s going to get me. Galiger, some other priest, Bleak himself- somehow he’ll get me. But not without a fight.

Dexter, for the first time in his young life, stood with his back completely straight and his head held high. The warmth of the sun was invigorating him in ways he’d never been invigorated before. He could feel it spreading through his limbs like the warmth from a stiff drink. But instead of drunkenness, it brought him a strange lucidity.

“Galador,” he said aloud, “if this is how it’s going to be, then this is how it’s going to be. If I have turned from Bleak to you, let me do it completely.

“I want to be your cleric.”

And bowing his head, Dexter prayed- really prayed- for the first time.

***

The change in Dexter was not immediately obvious. He wore the same simple garb, and he still wielded the staff of combat in battle. But philosophically, he had turned a corner. No longer would Dexter be morally wishy-washy, easily pulled from one position to another or persuaded to a new belief. He declined requests for the use of his psionic powers, stating that he had to remain focused on other things. Slowly, haltingly, Dexter started to speak about peace, and to declare that not all other religions were deceived followers of Bleak. It was only a start, and he had not yet discovered that he was possessed of the Voice of God.

The group sailed to Forinthia, where Dexter would for the first time meet High Priest Spadron, the Voice of Galador on Cydra.

It was a combination of his reputation- nobody had forgotten his telepathic deception and murder of the clerics a year and a half earlier- and the heresies that he was preaching that brought him to the attention of High Priest Spadron, but it was not until he showed signs of telepathically deceiving others again that Spadron called for Dexter to be brought before him.

***

Upon disembarking in Port Lofrax, the group sought lodging, but everywhere they went Dexter protested the price. Finally, they settled for renting rooms in a drafty, ramshackle place in the slums.

While they were in the common room, a priest of the Light was haranguing the crowd, trying to convince them to give up whatever heathen, idolatrous or backsliding ways they might have. He ranted on for quite some time, first arguing against Bleak, then against moral lassitude, then against druids, as they were agents of Bleak. It was then that Dexter first spoke up on Forinthia, arguing with the other cleric, who eyed him askance. And then Dex became aware of the Voice when he spoke.

”Not all things that are not Galador are Bleak.”

A gasp arose from all around him, including his own throat. The other cleric’s jaw dropped.

It was the Voice of Galador.

Everyone present knew, without a doubt, that the voice that had issued from Dexter’s mouth was far more than merely his voice- it was voice of their God. The crushing weight of the voice’s nature was inescapable. It could not be denied. Galador spoke through Dexter.

Lochenvare shrugged and took a drink. “Never took much with religion,” he muttered, but he was clearly shaken.

Malford gaped at the young friend he’d taken it upon himself to protect. What have I gotten myself into? he wondered dizzily.

***

Upon hearing of the incident in the slums, the High Priest called for the immediate arrest of Dexter Nadly. Psionic trickery, he thought grimly. Well, we’ll see how tricky he is faced with me.


Next Time: Dexter and High Priest Spadron meet for the first time!

 

[the Jester]

(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.

 

[Mathew_Freeman]

SIGN ME UP!

I've been a huge fan of your stuff for ages, and I'd love to have the chance to play in one of your games. In fact, I think with the assent of randomling, we could offer you a personal forum on randomlingshouse.com in which to store house rules, feats, classes etc etc. And the game itself, of course!

But seriously, yes, please let me create a character and go for it.

 

[Angel of Adventure]

Jester's Cydra Post Game is in Talking the Talk

Check it out, Tallarn. Looks like there are 2 other people who want to play at this point. I look forward to playing with you. Any idea of what story threads you may want to pursue?

 

[the Jester]

Tallarn, here's the recruiting thread. Head on over and start rollin' your character!

 

[the Jester]

Dexter and Spadron Meet for the First Time

Dexter was on the street when he was accosted by the Imperial Guard.

“High Priest Spadron requests your presence,” the commander of the squadron said.

There was a moment of silence. Dexter’s body went cold. What was happening? What did the High Priest want of him?

He thought on the incident with the Voice and gulped inwardly. Aloud, he answered the Imperial soldiers with a simple, “All right.”

Our heroes were relieved of their weapons and escorted along the wide Main Road of the city. They wound their way among wooden houses crowded together, with an occasional stone front; many small shops, bars and churches were stuffed in with the homes. The cobbled street led up the subtle rise that led to the great Cathedral of Port Lofrax. Dexter’s breath caught in his throat as the rays of the sun scintillated off the stained glass windows depicting the saints, the sun, Galador’s radiant power in victory over Bleak.

Into the Cathedral of Port Lofrax the heroes went; and Dexter was led, alone, into a large ostentatious office, well-appointed with comfortable chairs and a large shelf of religious tracts and books of philosophy. A fire crackled in the fireplace; the windows were flung wide to allow the sun in and the smoke out.

“Your Eminence, this is the boy,” one of the guards declared in an emotionless voice.

A dwarf rose from his seat. He wore the white, red and gold vestments of the High Priest of Galador, and his beard was so long that he wore it as a belt. Gold rings were upon his fingers and a holy symbol of purest gold, centered with a great sunstone that glowed from within with a continual light. High Priest Spadron.

“Dexter Nadly,” Spadron said flatly.

Nervously, Dexter bowed his head. “Uh, yeah, that’s me.” He winced; his voice sounded arrogant, but when he tried to modulate it- adding “I’m Dexter”- he sounded whiny and frightened. He groaned inwardly.

Rage filled the High Priest’s face. “You have admitted your previous crimes, and repented of them,” he growled. “You have sworn to serve the Light and to follow His ways. And yet you are returning to your ways of trickery and mental deception!”

“What? No!” exclaimed Dexter. “I’m not- I haven’t-“

“Do you think we do not hear what happens in our own cities, Nadly?” cried Spadron. “We have heard of your cruel taunting of one of our priests in the tavern! Interfering with him as he tried to spread the word of the Light!” His face contorted with passion. “And you dare to stand before me and tell me that you still walk in the Light?!”

For a moment all Dexter can think of is being back in the tender grasp of the Inquisition. “Yes,” he says at last, mastering himself. “I haven’t lied to anyone, I haven’t tricked anyone, I haven’t even used my psionics since I returned to Forinthia! I swear to you, I am a good man now- I’ve repented and changed my ways!”

“Then how do you explain your deception of Father Zakariah? No, Nadly; your honeyed words do not sway me! You were warned when you were allowed to leave before- if you returned to your evil ways, you will be punished. Well-“

Taking a deep breath, Dexter prayed to Galador. Please, Galador, he begged, if ever you favored me, favor me now. If- if I can speak in Your Voice, let me do it now. Save me from Your own Church!

And he spoke, in the Voice of Galador. Behind him he heard the Imperial Guards gasp. ”I did not lie, nor did I use my psionics; the Lord truly spoke through me.” He let out a long, deep breath, barely believing it himself. It worked, he thought in a daze. I really can speak in the Voice of Galador. It worked! Now Spadron has to believe me!

Spadron glared at Dexter, his face purpling. “How... how dare you!” he spluttered.

And then he, too, spoke in the Voice. ”You are a heretic and a murderer!”


Next Time: Well, isn’t this a pickle!

 

[the Jester]

SIGN ME UP!

I've been a huge fan of your stuff for ages, and I'd love to have the chance to play in one of your games. In fact, I think with the assent of randomling, we could offer you a personal forum on randomlingshouse.com in which to store house rules, feats, classes etc etc. And the game itself, of course!

But seriously, yes, please let me create a character and go for it.

Tallarn, if you haven't seen it, here's the thread for characters.

 

[the Jester]

The Stone Block

High Priest Spadron could not believe his ears. The Voice- coming from him, from the Nadly boy! How is it possible?

And yet- Spadron’s denouncement of him, spoken in the Voice as well, was clear and unequivocal. One could not lie in the Voice. It was infallible. Dexter was, indeed a heretic and murderer.

And that was his answer, as well.

”Yes,” Dexter answered Spadron’s accusation heavily. “I have practiced heresy and even Bleakism. I have murdered, even priests of the Light.” Eyes blazing, he raised a shaking hand to the terrible scars on his forehead. “That is why I wear this! The mark of Bleak, branded on me by the Inquisition- and later crossed out with hot metal as well. I have committed terrible crimes- but I have repented. I have come into the Light. And now-“ Dex glared at Spadron “-now I even act as His cleric.”

Spadron glowered from behind his beard. He considered for a long moment.

“You will be watched,” he snapped at last. Then, to one of the guards, he barked, “Summon Lady Keen.”

***

Dexter’s first warden was Lady Charlotte Keen, an ugly paladin whose shield bore a sword above a kocho before the sun, rising over the mountains. Though not too clever, she was very wise, and warned of Dexter’s wiles. She was to keep a close eye on him; to report back to Spadron by letter; and to ensure that Dexter did not perpetrate any crimes against the people of Forinthia or the Church of Galador. A tall order, but a paladin of House Keen was certainly capable of fulfilling the task.

Reluctantly, she left her lands and friends to join the party. Reluctantly, they let her.

***

“Thule, that’s the key,” Malford insisted. “The king of Thule is without an heir. I can make him a potion that will help.”

“Then let’s go,” Lochenvare answered. “I can’t stand Forinthia. The Imperials are everywhere, gettin’ into everyone’s business.” He snorted. “I’m not going to church on Godsday. Darken that.”

“Right,” Malford said. “The capitol is called Fuzia.”

***

The Kingdom of Thule was far to the west of Forinthia. It was on the western side of the westernmost continent in the region, Dorhaus. The passage our heroes bought took them to the south coast, from whence they continued overland. They traveled through heavily forested areas, thick groves of maple and oak spreading branches above thick undergrowth. Eventually they came out on a path and followed it west and somewhat north; this lasted them for a week, including several stops in small communities, and by the end of it the forest had thinned and the ground had taken on a rolling character. Little rills and brooks burbled between the hills and occasional frog-filled ponds dotted the landscape, yet after a few more days the party had come into a dryer area. They crossed over a small hump of mountains, skirting the edge of a great wall that separated the open fields of two great adversarial nations (Thule and Wotan).

On the day they passed the wall, about five miles north of it, they met an interesting sight. A pale little gnome with greasy black hair was puzzling over an artificial-looking block of stone. Halting, the party inquired as to what was going on.

“I’m trying to move this block,” he explained, and went on to tell our heroes that there were goblins beneath. “They raided my people,” the gnome went on, “and I wish to exact an agonizing revenge upon them.” He gave an evil grin.

“I can understand that,” Lochenvare nodded approvingly.

Lady Charlotte glared at him. “He’s evil,” she said. Lochenvare smirked, out of her detection’s area.

“Nonetheless, there are goblins down there,” Malford replied.

“Right,” said Dexter. “And I’m sure that we can be a good influence on both this fellow and the goblins.”

Charlotte made a mental note: consorting with evil.

***

The block was very difficult to move, but with the burly Lochenvare there to throw his back into it, as well as Lady Charlotte (who seemed possessed of nearly superhuman strength), our heroes managed. A stinking hole was revealed, and our heroes dropped in, Lochenvare and Charlotte in the lead.

They fell right into a goblin ambush, unfortunately for the goblins. Moments later, cleaning their weapons off, our heroes glanced around the chamber they were in. There were two exits.

“I’ll check this one out,” Ingen Jager offered, and crept off to the left.

“He’s brave,” murmured Dexter.

Lochenvare snorted. “Yeah, but he should try using weapons instead of his hands.”

There was a noise down the hall Ingen had gone into- a sort of ‘thump- splash.’

“What was that?” wondered Lady Charlotte, drawing forth her rapier.

And then the ogres came.


Next Time: Ingen Jager’s fate!