Cydra: the Early Years
- Thread starter the Jester
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the Jester
Legend
Ingen Stew
Our heroes dispatched the ogres with aplomb and hurried forward, seeking Ingen Jager. They found him, broken and half-boiled in the ogres’ stewpot.
“He died well,” Lady Charlotte said.
Lochenvare snorted. “Told you he needed somethin’ to fight with.”
Their conversation was suddenly interrupted. The ogres, it seemed, had not been alone. A sudden battle cry- ”Mynar!!!”- came from behind the party, and even as they turned to face their new foes they realized belatedly that they were in a fair amount of trouble. A cone of cold of such blistering intensity that it almost killed several of the party! Charlotte collapsed, as did the gnome.
Teeth chattering from the rime of frost now covering them, the party swung about to face their attackers, and one of them sprang forward, dealing a daunting blow to Lochenvare with a cruelly-spiked flail. Behind him, the other human made a gesture and suddenly sprouted mirror images. And rushing forward, passing him by, came another troupe of goblins!
“Sleep!” Dexter commanded the fellow with the images, but the robed man snarled and shook the spell off. He began to make spellcasting gestures, and Malford watched helplessly as a volley of magic missiles sprang into his young friend Dexter.
Five missiles, Malford thought grimly. He’s a potent spellcaster- far more potent than I. Swiftly, he intoned the words to an invisibility spell and began maneuvering into position to perform a backstab on the wizard.
Lochenvare, meanwhile, was beginning to overpower his foe. The goblins were a distraction, but his heavy plate armor turned most of their blows. The human was more dangerous, and Lochenvare determined to change that situation as quickly as he could. His axe whistled into the man’s side with a sick ‘thunk,’ and he collapsed to one knee, groaning. With a smug grin, Lochenvare brought his axe down again.
The others dueled with the goblins, but now that Lochenvare’s attentions were free, he was certain to make short work of them. But what about the wizard...?
Just then a burst of flame enveloped the multiple images, and the wizard yelled in pain. Then there was a flurry of motion as Malford’s two-handed attacks pierced him again and again. A few minutes later it was all over.
Lochenvare grunted, surveying the carnage.
***
After ascertaining that whatever the humans had been up to was done- surely it must have been something no good- our heroes traveled along their way. The next morning Malford announced that they needed a day’s rest so that he could try to identify the items the humans had carried that he had detected to be magical.
It turned out that they had acquired a ring of protection from blades, a potion of flying and a pair of gloves of mirror image. Dexter took the gloves, which would serve him well for almost his entire life.
Next Time: The first appearance of the Temple of Elemental Evil in Cydra!
Our heroes dispatched the ogres with aplomb and hurried forward, seeking Ingen Jager. They found him, broken and half-boiled in the ogres’ stewpot.
“He died well,” Lady Charlotte said.
Lochenvare snorted. “Told you he needed somethin’ to fight with.”
Their conversation was suddenly interrupted. The ogres, it seemed, had not been alone. A sudden battle cry- ”Mynar!!!”- came from behind the party, and even as they turned to face their new foes they realized belatedly that they were in a fair amount of trouble. A cone of cold of such blistering intensity that it almost killed several of the party! Charlotte collapsed, as did the gnome.
Teeth chattering from the rime of frost now covering them, the party swung about to face their attackers, and one of them sprang forward, dealing a daunting blow to Lochenvare with a cruelly-spiked flail. Behind him, the other human made a gesture and suddenly sprouted mirror images. And rushing forward, passing him by, came another troupe of goblins!
“Sleep!” Dexter commanded the fellow with the images, but the robed man snarled and shook the spell off. He began to make spellcasting gestures, and Malford watched helplessly as a volley of magic missiles sprang into his young friend Dexter.
Five missiles, Malford thought grimly. He’s a potent spellcaster- far more potent than I. Swiftly, he intoned the words to an invisibility spell and began maneuvering into position to perform a backstab on the wizard.
Lochenvare, meanwhile, was beginning to overpower his foe. The goblins were a distraction, but his heavy plate armor turned most of their blows. The human was more dangerous, and Lochenvare determined to change that situation as quickly as he could. His axe whistled into the man’s side with a sick ‘thunk,’ and he collapsed to one knee, groaning. With a smug grin, Lochenvare brought his axe down again.
The others dueled with the goblins, but now that Lochenvare’s attentions were free, he was certain to make short work of them. But what about the wizard...?
Just then a burst of flame enveloped the multiple images, and the wizard yelled in pain. Then there was a flurry of motion as Malford’s two-handed attacks pierced him again and again. A few minutes later it was all over.
Lochenvare grunted, surveying the carnage.
***
After ascertaining that whatever the humans had been up to was done- surely it must have been something no good- our heroes traveled along their way. The next morning Malford announced that they needed a day’s rest so that he could try to identify the items the humans had carried that he had detected to be magical.
It turned out that they had acquired a ring of protection from blades, a potion of flying and a pair of gloves of mirror image. Dexter took the gloves, which would serve him well for almost his entire life.
Next Time: The first appearance of the Temple of Elemental Evil in Cydra!
the Jester
Legend
At this point, the party consists of:
Dexter Nadly (priest 2)
Lady Charlotte Keen (paladin 1)
Malford the Magnificent (thief 6/illusionist 5)
Lochenvare (fighter 3)
Plus 3 random pcs who were only there for one (or, in one case, two) games and thus have remained hitherto unmentioned:
Mikal the White (fighter/mage 1/1)
Jakal (ranger 1)
Aulkon the Weak (thief 1)
Strewn (mage 1)
Though I usually try to give passing reference to passing pcs in the story hour (witness Oedipus), these guys didn't really do anything that I recall; they may have been involved in one (or possibly two?) fights at most in the next update, but I don't think any of them are ever seen again. *shrugs* Just thought I'd mention them here for the sake of completeness.
Also note that Dex, under 2ed rules, is dual classed and has the abilities of a 5th-level psionicist.
Dexter Nadly (priest 2)
Lady Charlotte Keen (paladin 1)
Malford the Magnificent (thief 6/illusionist 5)
Lochenvare (fighter 3)
Plus 3 random pcs who were only there for one (or, in one case, two) games and thus have remained hitherto unmentioned:
Mikal the White (fighter/mage 1/1)
Jakal (ranger 1)
Aulkon the Weak (thief 1)
Strewn (mage 1)
Though I usually try to give passing reference to passing pcs in the story hour (witness Oedipus), these guys didn't really do anything that I recall; they may have been involved in one (or possibly two?) fights at most in the next update, but I don't think any of them are ever seen again. *shrugs* Just thought I'd mention them here for the sake of completeness.
Also note that Dex, under 2ed rules, is dual classed and has the abilities of a 5th-level psionicist.
the Jester
Legend
Into the Temple of Elemental Evil
Morning, 9/3/96 O.L.G.
Malford poked at the fire. It was still small, but it was quickly growing. He tossed a few more pieces of kindling on it, warming his fingers over it, thinking about breakfast.
A heavy sigh emitted from the lump of bedding that contained Dexter. He never wanted to get up early enough to get an early start. Malford shook his head, smiling to himself. At least the kid was still alive.
The gnome turned to the ring in his hand, emblazoned with an odd triangle. Not magical, yet... something about it...
Lochenvare joined him at the fire, bringing a skin of wine with him. “Morning,” he said. Malford nodded to him, deep in contemplation.
Finally, “I think we should go back to that stone block.”
Lochenvare looked at him in surprise. “Why?”
Malford tossed him the ring. “There were several of these in there, on various things- one of the ogres, those guys we thought were maybe adventurers, the lead goblin...” He looked at Lochenvare. “There was nothing actually happening in there. They were part of some kind of cult, but we missed the real action. I’m convinced of it.”
The big fighter nodded slowly. “All right, sounds good to me. Just as long as there’s something to kill.”
***
Noon, 9/4/96 O.L.G.
There was a secret trap door in a room beneath the stone block that only turned up after a search that included moving the goblin bedding. Our heroes gathered around it and Dexter threw it open while Lochenvare held himself at the ready; but what was revealed was a passage.
After a brief scouting foray by Malford that turned up no immediate sign of danger, the group dropped into the hall and began exploring- and, unknown to them, the very rings that Malford had been examining the morning before, were the keys the group needed. One step past a certain part of the passage and they passed through an invisible portal and to a dreadful set of passages, rooms and halls beneath a ruined temple.
Not that they knew that, of course.
Almost immediately as the group moved along they encountered a room full of guards. These were dispatched handily, and Charlotte frowned at the strange symbols they bore. “Evil cultists,” she muttered, distaste evident in her voice.
Lochenvare grinned. “Whatever, as long as we get to kill ‘em.” She grimaced at him.
The band of adventurers tore through several more rooms of guards with ease. The bandits they faced, used to bullying peasants and halflings, were no match for a band of ogre-slaying adventurers. Charlotte’s holy wrath terrified the guards; and the expression of lust on Lochenvare’s face as he cut through them almost broke more than one band of guards. But whatever fear they felt of him was not enough to break the hold of the terror they felt of their masters; and the guards fought to the death.
Numerous minor wounds and cuts were on the party by this time; their major wounds had already been healed by Dexter’s relatively new clerical talents to bruises and abrasions. Nonetheless, nearly out of spells, they retired back to the surface (again unknowingly passing through the portal) and rested up for a couple of days. Then they descended again to do more of the same.
They found ample evidence that this place, whatever it was, had once thrived with more activity. Abandoned armories, occasional rotten stores of food, thick layers of dust and cobwebs- all swore to the fact that once, this place had been much more thickly inhabited.
Then the group ran into a room hosting a pair of gnolls, led by a dazzlingly handsome man in full plate and shield embossed with a scarlet flame. His green eyes burned with the intensity of the mad. The room was smoky with the vapor from a dozen braziers that burned. At one end of the chamber was a huge pit of blazing flame. “There!” the fire cultist screamed. “Get them!” –and the gnolls raced forward to engage our heroes.
While the party dealt with his lackeys, the evil elementalist priest- for so he was- cast a fire shield. Then he turned to the great pit of fire and began raving weird nonsense-sounding syllables. And the fire seemed to respond- a great serpent of fire started to emerge!
Our heroes by this time were ready for the cultist, however. Malford warned the others, “Don’t hit him directly! That fire shield will burn you if you do!”
“Then what am I supposed to do?” growled Lochenvare, waving his cutlass threateningly as the elementalist drew his mace and moved in to attack. Lochenvare parried, then grinned as a series of arrows and stones whacked the man.
“You fools!” the elementalist raved. “The element of fire will consume you all!”
The serpent of fire lashed out, grabbing Lochenvare. He yelled as it drew him into its blazing coils.
“Uh-oh,” muttered Dexter, and lashed out with his staff of combat despite the dangers of the fire shield.
Clunk!
“Stoneskins,” groaned Malford.*
The party danced with the elementalist, throwing things, shooting arrows, casting spells (Burning hands probably won’t work too well against this guy, Malford thought ironically).
It was a difficult battle. Lochenvare struggled to free himself from the constricting tendril of fire, and Malford managed to dispel it and free him. Meanwhile Lady Charlotte fired her crossbow at the foe again and again while Dexter drew him on about the chamber.
Hmm, Malford thought desperately, what if he isn’t warded against fire? His fire shield looks to ward against cold- which is logical- but...
Desperate, he sprang close to the man and cast his burning hands at him.
Rubis- the elementalist in question- gave out a yell of pain. Gotcha! thought Malford. Then, suddenly, there was a terrible explosion. Malford threw himself flat, avoiding the worst of the blast, but Rubis was not so lucky. He had worn a flask of oil of fiery burning and it had been caught by the spell; he could not survive that.
The party backed off while his body blazed. When it finally burned out, they searched his remains and found that a pair of potions had somehow survived (not so a few other items). They took them and, badly wounded, retired.
On their way out, Lady Charlotte commented, “This place is evil to the core.”
Dexter nodded. “I can’t help but have the feeling that something bad is going to happen here.”
The group, still oblivious to its existence, passed through the portal once again and returned to their camp site.
Indeed, though he wouldn’t know it for another few days, Dexter was very right: something was to happen there that would change him forever. Something terrible.
*In 2e, stoneskin made you pretty well immune to a certain number of physical attacks.
Next Time: What’s up with Rajah, anyway?
Morning, 9/3/96 O.L.G.
Malford poked at the fire. It was still small, but it was quickly growing. He tossed a few more pieces of kindling on it, warming his fingers over it, thinking about breakfast.
A heavy sigh emitted from the lump of bedding that contained Dexter. He never wanted to get up early enough to get an early start. Malford shook his head, smiling to himself. At least the kid was still alive.
The gnome turned to the ring in his hand, emblazoned with an odd triangle. Not magical, yet... something about it...
Lochenvare joined him at the fire, bringing a skin of wine with him. “Morning,” he said. Malford nodded to him, deep in contemplation.
Finally, “I think we should go back to that stone block.”
Lochenvare looked at him in surprise. “Why?”
Malford tossed him the ring. “There were several of these in there, on various things- one of the ogres, those guys we thought were maybe adventurers, the lead goblin...” He looked at Lochenvare. “There was nothing actually happening in there. They were part of some kind of cult, but we missed the real action. I’m convinced of it.”
The big fighter nodded slowly. “All right, sounds good to me. Just as long as there’s something to kill.”
***
Noon, 9/4/96 O.L.G.
There was a secret trap door in a room beneath the stone block that only turned up after a search that included moving the goblin bedding. Our heroes gathered around it and Dexter threw it open while Lochenvare held himself at the ready; but what was revealed was a passage.
After a brief scouting foray by Malford that turned up no immediate sign of danger, the group dropped into the hall and began exploring- and, unknown to them, the very rings that Malford had been examining the morning before, were the keys the group needed. One step past a certain part of the passage and they passed through an invisible portal and to a dreadful set of passages, rooms and halls beneath a ruined temple.
Not that they knew that, of course.
Almost immediately as the group moved along they encountered a room full of guards. These were dispatched handily, and Charlotte frowned at the strange symbols they bore. “Evil cultists,” she muttered, distaste evident in her voice.
Lochenvare grinned. “Whatever, as long as we get to kill ‘em.” She grimaced at him.
The band of adventurers tore through several more rooms of guards with ease. The bandits they faced, used to bullying peasants and halflings, were no match for a band of ogre-slaying adventurers. Charlotte’s holy wrath terrified the guards; and the expression of lust on Lochenvare’s face as he cut through them almost broke more than one band of guards. But whatever fear they felt of him was not enough to break the hold of the terror they felt of their masters; and the guards fought to the death.
Numerous minor wounds and cuts were on the party by this time; their major wounds had already been healed by Dexter’s relatively new clerical talents to bruises and abrasions. Nonetheless, nearly out of spells, they retired back to the surface (again unknowingly passing through the portal) and rested up for a couple of days. Then they descended again to do more of the same.
They found ample evidence that this place, whatever it was, had once thrived with more activity. Abandoned armories, occasional rotten stores of food, thick layers of dust and cobwebs- all swore to the fact that once, this place had been much more thickly inhabited.
Then the group ran into a room hosting a pair of gnolls, led by a dazzlingly handsome man in full plate and shield embossed with a scarlet flame. His green eyes burned with the intensity of the mad. The room was smoky with the vapor from a dozen braziers that burned. At one end of the chamber was a huge pit of blazing flame. “There!” the fire cultist screamed. “Get them!” –and the gnolls raced forward to engage our heroes.
While the party dealt with his lackeys, the evil elementalist priest- for so he was- cast a fire shield. Then he turned to the great pit of fire and began raving weird nonsense-sounding syllables. And the fire seemed to respond- a great serpent of fire started to emerge!
Our heroes by this time were ready for the cultist, however. Malford warned the others, “Don’t hit him directly! That fire shield will burn you if you do!”
“Then what am I supposed to do?” growled Lochenvare, waving his cutlass threateningly as the elementalist drew his mace and moved in to attack. Lochenvare parried, then grinned as a series of arrows and stones whacked the man.
“You fools!” the elementalist raved. “The element of fire will consume you all!”
The serpent of fire lashed out, grabbing Lochenvare. He yelled as it drew him into its blazing coils.
“Uh-oh,” muttered Dexter, and lashed out with his staff of combat despite the dangers of the fire shield.
Clunk!
“Stoneskins,” groaned Malford.*
The party danced with the elementalist, throwing things, shooting arrows, casting spells (Burning hands probably won’t work too well against this guy, Malford thought ironically).
It was a difficult battle. Lochenvare struggled to free himself from the constricting tendril of fire, and Malford managed to dispel it and free him. Meanwhile Lady Charlotte fired her crossbow at the foe again and again while Dexter drew him on about the chamber.
Hmm, Malford thought desperately, what if he isn’t warded against fire? His fire shield looks to ward against cold- which is logical- but...
Desperate, he sprang close to the man and cast his burning hands at him.
Rubis- the elementalist in question- gave out a yell of pain. Gotcha! thought Malford. Then, suddenly, there was a terrible explosion. Malford threw himself flat, avoiding the worst of the blast, but Rubis was not so lucky. He had worn a flask of oil of fiery burning and it had been caught by the spell; he could not survive that.
The party backed off while his body blazed. When it finally burned out, they searched his remains and found that a pair of potions had somehow survived (not so a few other items). They took them and, badly wounded, retired.
On their way out, Lady Charlotte commented, “This place is evil to the core.”
Dexter nodded. “I can’t help but have the feeling that something bad is going to happen here.”
The group, still oblivious to its existence, passed through the portal once again and returned to their camp site.
Indeed, though he wouldn’t know it for another few days, Dexter was very right: something was to happen there that would change him forever. Something terrible.
*In 2e, stoneskin made you pretty well immune to a certain number of physical attacks.
Next Time: What’s up with Rajah, anyway?
Last edited:
the Jester
Legend
Beginning the Journey to Thule
10 am, 6/6/96 O.L.G., western Imperial Wotan
Rajah and his four bodyguards began their dangerous journey from Wotan to Thule.
Dorhaus was a huge landmass compared to anything else in the Near-Forinthian Region. The only thing of comparable size was Valonia, and Valonia was hardly inhabited by humankind at all. Here, on Dorhaus, was where many of the existing human territories were. The continent was almost squarish in shape, with a long seam of mountains that ran from its northernmost reaches down the center of the continent, splitting it roughly in two. The eastern side was almost completely taken up by the sprawling lands of Imperial Wotan and its dependants, the Prince’s Hold, the Barony of Goldstone and so forth. Directly across Wotan’s northern border was the Kingdom of Chorania, which, while not technically a dependant of Wotan, was too close to be anything else but a satellite. North of Chorania was its traditional foe, the Kingdom of Bemvia. Bemvia was, of course, was thick with Thule out of self-interest; with Wotan behind Chorania, Bemvia needed a counter-balance.
To the west of the Bendrock Mountains there were two major forces: the Kingdom of Thule- Wotan’s constant foil- and the fey folk and half-elven states. Greater Ketzia, as the north was then known- was a place few humans dared go. It was said that the fey folk ran through the entire north and loved nothing better than tricking humans into getting lost, stealing their babies, hunting folk, and so forth. The half-elven lands of Moire and Morraine took up the northwest of the continent, and they were thickly tied to the Ketzians. How thickly, no one knew.
The journey to Thule from Wotan naturally required either travel by sea- a very dangerous proposition, with the Imperial forces on the lookout for Rajah- or a trip through the mountains. Though dangerous as well, at least in this case the dangers were less Imperial in nature and more likely to come from native humanoids or monsters.
At least, that’s what General Rygarh had told Rajah.
The journey to the mountains took a week; then the group started to move upward. At least there had been no sign of pursuit.
***
3:30 pm, 6/28/96 O.L.G., the Bendrock Mountains
Grunting, the last of Rajah’s assigned bodyguards pulled himself up onto a ledge.
The group was breathing hard, but they were making good progress. Rajah asked, “Where’s the border?”
Shendros, the half-elven fighter/mage assigned to Rajah, shook his head. Wryly, he answered, “It depends on whose troops are closer. The border between Wotan and Thule isn’t really demarcated in the mountains, and even if it was, it wouldn’t be honored much.”
Rajah pondered this for a moment. “I don’t really know the geography here- what about the border where there aren’t mountains? Might it be easier to pass through there?”
“It’s a wall, M’Lord,” Proctor answered. Proctor was a human abjurer. “Believe me, the mountains are our best way of going undetected.”
Rajah nodded. He glanced back at the peaks they’d already navigated through and shook his head. “Well, let’s keep going, then.”
They moved forward about another mile before the ambush.
Suddenly there were cries in orcish, and a troop of humanoids rushing down the slope at them. “Behind me, M’Lord!” cried Proctor, and he began calling out mystic syllables and trying to ward Rajah with his spells. The other three bodyguards, weary but willing, drew steel.
“Get them!” a voice roared in Forinthian, and Rajah gasped as he saw the half-elven figure on the hill.
Elcruche! he thought, and then there was no more time for thought; the orcs were there. Rajah sprang forward, ripping his thick claw-like nails along one’s face, but another, wearing the black sun of Bleak, stepped up, some sort of large cube in his hand. The bodyguards surged forward. Rajah tried to spring to the side.
The orc cackled wickedly, holding the cube up, and Rajah felt a sudden moment of disorientation. His bodyguards gasped as he vanished. “My Lord!” shrieked Werelith, the halfling, and then grunted as one of the orcs’ scimitars nearly got through to her.
“Run!” cried Shendros, and the bodyguards broke.
Still chuckling, the orcish cleric turned as Rajah’s companions fled, and with a single great blow of his axe he brought Proctor down. The abjurer groaned as he rolled on the ground. He could feel his blood pouring all over him from his back, somewhere, and his legs didn’t seem to work. My Lord, the thought sickly, I’ve failed you. I’m sorry. Then the orc’s axe finished him off.
Rajah found himself stumbling within a small featureless room. The walls were translucent though, so he took a look around him to see if he could ascertain what had happened.
He gasped.
He was in the cube.
Next Time: Mini-Rajah!!
10 am, 6/6/96 O.L.G., western Imperial Wotan
Rajah and his four bodyguards began their dangerous journey from Wotan to Thule.
Dorhaus was a huge landmass compared to anything else in the Near-Forinthian Region. The only thing of comparable size was Valonia, and Valonia was hardly inhabited by humankind at all. Here, on Dorhaus, was where many of the existing human territories were. The continent was almost squarish in shape, with a long seam of mountains that ran from its northernmost reaches down the center of the continent, splitting it roughly in two. The eastern side was almost completely taken up by the sprawling lands of Imperial Wotan and its dependants, the Prince’s Hold, the Barony of Goldstone and so forth. Directly across Wotan’s northern border was the Kingdom of Chorania, which, while not technically a dependant of Wotan, was too close to be anything else but a satellite. North of Chorania was its traditional foe, the Kingdom of Bemvia. Bemvia was, of course, was thick with Thule out of self-interest; with Wotan behind Chorania, Bemvia needed a counter-balance.
To the west of the Bendrock Mountains there were two major forces: the Kingdom of Thule- Wotan’s constant foil- and the fey folk and half-elven states. Greater Ketzia, as the north was then known- was a place few humans dared go. It was said that the fey folk ran through the entire north and loved nothing better than tricking humans into getting lost, stealing their babies, hunting folk, and so forth. The half-elven lands of Moire and Morraine took up the northwest of the continent, and they were thickly tied to the Ketzians. How thickly, no one knew.
The journey to Thule from Wotan naturally required either travel by sea- a very dangerous proposition, with the Imperial forces on the lookout for Rajah- or a trip through the mountains. Though dangerous as well, at least in this case the dangers were less Imperial in nature and more likely to come from native humanoids or monsters.
At least, that’s what General Rygarh had told Rajah.
The journey to the mountains took a week; then the group started to move upward. At least there had been no sign of pursuit.
***
3:30 pm, 6/28/96 O.L.G., the Bendrock Mountains
Grunting, the last of Rajah’s assigned bodyguards pulled himself up onto a ledge.
The group was breathing hard, but they were making good progress. Rajah asked, “Where’s the border?”
Shendros, the half-elven fighter/mage assigned to Rajah, shook his head. Wryly, he answered, “It depends on whose troops are closer. The border between Wotan and Thule isn’t really demarcated in the mountains, and even if it was, it wouldn’t be honored much.”
Rajah pondered this for a moment. “I don’t really know the geography here- what about the border where there aren’t mountains? Might it be easier to pass through there?”
“It’s a wall, M’Lord,” Proctor answered. Proctor was a human abjurer. “Believe me, the mountains are our best way of going undetected.”
Rajah nodded. He glanced back at the peaks they’d already navigated through and shook his head. “Well, let’s keep going, then.”
They moved forward about another mile before the ambush.
Suddenly there were cries in orcish, and a troop of humanoids rushing down the slope at them. “Behind me, M’Lord!” cried Proctor, and he began calling out mystic syllables and trying to ward Rajah with his spells. The other three bodyguards, weary but willing, drew steel.
“Get them!” a voice roared in Forinthian, and Rajah gasped as he saw the half-elven figure on the hill.
Elcruche! he thought, and then there was no more time for thought; the orcs were there. Rajah sprang forward, ripping his thick claw-like nails along one’s face, but another, wearing the black sun of Bleak, stepped up, some sort of large cube in his hand. The bodyguards surged forward. Rajah tried to spring to the side.
The orc cackled wickedly, holding the cube up, and Rajah felt a sudden moment of disorientation. His bodyguards gasped as he vanished. “My Lord!” shrieked Werelith, the halfling, and then grunted as one of the orcs’ scimitars nearly got through to her.
“Run!” cried Shendros, and the bodyguards broke.
Still chuckling, the orcish cleric turned as Rajah’s companions fled, and with a single great blow of his axe he brought Proctor down. The abjurer groaned as he rolled on the ground. He could feel his blood pouring all over him from his back, somewhere, and his legs didn’t seem to work. My Lord, the thought sickly, I’ve failed you. I’m sorry. Then the orc’s axe finished him off.
Rajah found himself stumbling within a small featureless room. The walls were translucent though, so he took a look around him to see if he could ascertain what had happened.
He gasped.
He was in the cube.
Next Time: Mini-Rajah!!
Knightfall
World of Kulan DM
That was cool.
the Jester
Legend
Mini-Rajah!
3:30 pm, 6/28/96 O.L.G., the Bendrock Mountains, Dorhaus
Elcruche surveyed the area. Rajah’s bodyguards had fled, except for the one that the orcish cleric had killed. As for Rajah himself...
“Did you get him?” Elcruche demanded.
In reply, grinning a tusky grin, the orc held up his cube of captivity. A tiny figure squirmed within it. With a laugh, the orc gave the cube a shake.
***
“Ow!” Rajah cursed, tumbling head over heels. Shaken, he regained his feet and examined himself. He was a little bruised, but nothing worse. He’d had worse falls from the trees back in the jungles of Gorel, but the problem wasn’t the fall- it was the ‘stuck in a cube’ part of things.
Rajah squatted on his haunches and peered through the translucent walls of the cube.
Hells, why not? he thought, and dimension doored out, as far away as he could.
He stumbled, stunned and momentarily disoriented. Then, as he regained his senses, he could hear Elcruche shouting search orders and orcish roars and grunts of anger. Rajah smiled. How’s that for a burr under the saddle? he thought, grinning, and glanced around.
He was still small.
He’d been afraid of this. Now a hawk, a snake, even a rat could be a deadly danger. He would find mud puddles to be like lakes, little rises like hills, hills like mountains. A spider web might be able to hold him!
Well, at least Elcruche and his cronies would have a hard time finding him... but so might his bodyguards. How the hell was he going to get back together with them?
Then he slapped his forehead. Of course.
He shuffled out his trumps, gazed at the one depicting Shendros, concentrated. After a few moments the image began to gather depth and the card grew cold. Shendros’ image sprang forth before Rajah, as if he were right there.
“My Lord!” he cried.
In the background behind her, Rajah could see his other surviving bodyguards. Somewhere not too distant something much bigger than him was crashing through the dry brush that dotted the mountainside. “I got away,” he said quickly. “Pull me through to you, quick!”
***
Rajah- reduced to a height of roughly half a foot- and his bodyguards debated their next course glumly. Obviously, the Wotanians had very good information- provided by spies, divination magic or both. The mountains were clearly not safe, at least not until they crossed over to the Thulian-patrolled areas. And being anywhere close to where they were now was clearly very dangerous- Elcruche himself was in the area!
The remaining bodyguards seemed both frightened and extremely respectful of Elcruche, almost in awe. He was, they told Rajah, the head of the Wotan Intelligence Service, extremely competent, and very dangerous.
Rajah took a deep breath. “Well, I can move us a long way overnight,” he said, “but only to somewhere that I’ve already been. Which means going backward, not forward; but maybe there’s someone who can help with my... size condition.”
“We may as well try,” agreed Werelith. “But we should definitely travel into a hidden area and work our way into a town or city discretely. There could be guards anywhere.”
***
6/29/96 O.L.G., somewhere in the Bendrock Mountains
The sun peeked over the horizon and Rajah’s eyes fluttered open.
Where are we? he wondered for a moment, then recalled the events of his dream.
They had set out on foot, and soon had been making their way into a plunging valley alive with trees. Oaks and pine lorded over the scrubs and grasses, and a lush river frolicked its way through the vale’s meadows. The group had found themselves facing perhaps the largest oak tree in the valley. Something about it seemed feminine, and nurturing. Rajah had felt an odd sense of peace.
In the dream, he had been his normal height; but even so, the branches had brushed across his body and he had grown, far exceeding the stature of a normal man. There was a tittering and a strange puff of vapor...
That’s all he could remember. But clearly, the attempt at dream travel had been successful.
Did the dream mean anything? Rajah wasn’t sure- he hadn’t spent much time in the Dream Realm- but it had made a powerful impression on his subconscious. He looked around him.
The group was waking up in a beautiful valley, not as idealized as in the dream, but recognizable nonetheless. A small brook went its way through the place, with small polished stones and white sand all about its edges. Oaks and pines did dot the valley, but it wasn’t the lush forest of their dream.
Rajah turned his attention to the tree they had woken beneath. It was an oak, and if not as huge and beautiful as in his dream, it still had that sense of femininity about it. Puzzled, Rajah slowly approached it.
And a beautiful green-haired girl stepped from it, looking down at the six inch prince with a smile.
The bodyguards scrambled to their feet, but she spoke in a musical voice. “I mean you no harm, mortals!” She held her empty hands out and gave a gorgeous smile. She was wearing a shift of woven leaves that allowed tantalizing glimpses of her nubile body. “Please, do not fear me! You slept beneath my tree, now you must at least let me look at you.”
“All right,” said Rajah. She extended a hand to him and he climbed onto it, letting her lift him until he was level with her face- a dizzying height, to him.
“You are not one of the fey,” she observed, “yet you are of a size with them.”
“I’m under the influence of an enchantment of some kind,” Rajah answered. “Can you help me?”
“Perhaps,” she smiled. “I am Thera the dryad.” She paused. “I have a problem as well. Perhaps one good turn could do another?”
“Of course. Once I’m back to my normal size, I’ll gladly-“
“Ah, but little one, if this problem could be resolved by one of my size, I wouldn’t need your help, now would I?”
Rajah nodded. “That makes sense. What do you need?”
“I have had a very important ring stolen,” she said with a pout. “I would like you to retrieve it.”
“And I need to be small to do this?”
She nodded. “It was stolen,” she explained, “by the king of rats.”
Next Time: A six-inch Rajah the Tiger Prince against the King of Rats!
3:30 pm, 6/28/96 O.L.G., the Bendrock Mountains, Dorhaus
Elcruche surveyed the area. Rajah’s bodyguards had fled, except for the one that the orcish cleric had killed. As for Rajah himself...
“Did you get him?” Elcruche demanded.
In reply, grinning a tusky grin, the orc held up his cube of captivity. A tiny figure squirmed within it. With a laugh, the orc gave the cube a shake.
***
“Ow!” Rajah cursed, tumbling head over heels. Shaken, he regained his feet and examined himself. He was a little bruised, but nothing worse. He’d had worse falls from the trees back in the jungles of Gorel, but the problem wasn’t the fall- it was the ‘stuck in a cube’ part of things.
Rajah squatted on his haunches and peered through the translucent walls of the cube.
Hells, why not? he thought, and dimension doored out, as far away as he could.
He stumbled, stunned and momentarily disoriented. Then, as he regained his senses, he could hear Elcruche shouting search orders and orcish roars and grunts of anger. Rajah smiled. How’s that for a burr under the saddle? he thought, grinning, and glanced around.
He was still small.
He’d been afraid of this. Now a hawk, a snake, even a rat could be a deadly danger. He would find mud puddles to be like lakes, little rises like hills, hills like mountains. A spider web might be able to hold him!
Well, at least Elcruche and his cronies would have a hard time finding him... but so might his bodyguards. How the hell was he going to get back together with them?
Then he slapped his forehead. Of course.
He shuffled out his trumps, gazed at the one depicting Shendros, concentrated. After a few moments the image began to gather depth and the card grew cold. Shendros’ image sprang forth before Rajah, as if he were right there.
“My Lord!” he cried.
In the background behind her, Rajah could see his other surviving bodyguards. Somewhere not too distant something much bigger than him was crashing through the dry brush that dotted the mountainside. “I got away,” he said quickly. “Pull me through to you, quick!”
***
Rajah- reduced to a height of roughly half a foot- and his bodyguards debated their next course glumly. Obviously, the Wotanians had very good information- provided by spies, divination magic or both. The mountains were clearly not safe, at least not until they crossed over to the Thulian-patrolled areas. And being anywhere close to where they were now was clearly very dangerous- Elcruche himself was in the area!
The remaining bodyguards seemed both frightened and extremely respectful of Elcruche, almost in awe. He was, they told Rajah, the head of the Wotan Intelligence Service, extremely competent, and very dangerous.
Rajah took a deep breath. “Well, I can move us a long way overnight,” he said, “but only to somewhere that I’ve already been. Which means going backward, not forward; but maybe there’s someone who can help with my... size condition.”
“We may as well try,” agreed Werelith. “But we should definitely travel into a hidden area and work our way into a town or city discretely. There could be guards anywhere.”
***
6/29/96 O.L.G., somewhere in the Bendrock Mountains
The sun peeked over the horizon and Rajah’s eyes fluttered open.
Where are we? he wondered for a moment, then recalled the events of his dream.
They had set out on foot, and soon had been making their way into a plunging valley alive with trees. Oaks and pine lorded over the scrubs and grasses, and a lush river frolicked its way through the vale’s meadows. The group had found themselves facing perhaps the largest oak tree in the valley. Something about it seemed feminine, and nurturing. Rajah had felt an odd sense of peace.
In the dream, he had been his normal height; but even so, the branches had brushed across his body and he had grown, far exceeding the stature of a normal man. There was a tittering and a strange puff of vapor...
That’s all he could remember. But clearly, the attempt at dream travel had been successful.
Did the dream mean anything? Rajah wasn’t sure- he hadn’t spent much time in the Dream Realm- but it had made a powerful impression on his subconscious. He looked around him.
The group was waking up in a beautiful valley, not as idealized as in the dream, but recognizable nonetheless. A small brook went its way through the place, with small polished stones and white sand all about its edges. Oaks and pines did dot the valley, but it wasn’t the lush forest of their dream.
Rajah turned his attention to the tree they had woken beneath. It was an oak, and if not as huge and beautiful as in his dream, it still had that sense of femininity about it. Puzzled, Rajah slowly approached it.
And a beautiful green-haired girl stepped from it, looking down at the six inch prince with a smile.
The bodyguards scrambled to their feet, but she spoke in a musical voice. “I mean you no harm, mortals!” She held her empty hands out and gave a gorgeous smile. She was wearing a shift of woven leaves that allowed tantalizing glimpses of her nubile body. “Please, do not fear me! You slept beneath my tree, now you must at least let me look at you.”
“All right,” said Rajah. She extended a hand to him and he climbed onto it, letting her lift him until he was level with her face- a dizzying height, to him.
“You are not one of the fey,” she observed, “yet you are of a size with them.”
“I’m under the influence of an enchantment of some kind,” Rajah answered. “Can you help me?”
“Perhaps,” she smiled. “I am Thera the dryad.” She paused. “I have a problem as well. Perhaps one good turn could do another?”
“Of course. Once I’m back to my normal size, I’ll gladly-“
“Ah, but little one, if this problem could be resolved by one of my size, I wouldn’t need your help, now would I?”
Rajah nodded. “That makes sense. What do you need?”
“I have had a very important ring stolen,” she said with a pout. “I would like you to retrieve it.”
“And I need to be small to do this?”
She nodded. “It was stolen,” she explained, “by the king of rats.”
Next Time: A six-inch Rajah the Tiger Prince against the King of Rats!
the Jester
Legend
Tiger Prince vs. Rat King!
The tangled tunnels of the rats were too small for a normal man to navigate, but shrunken as small as he was, Rajah had the ability to do so. The stink of droppings was strong; tangles of dust were everywhere.
Rajah was nervous. There could be very many rats indeed in the warren. He doubted whether he could fight them all off; but he had a plan. It all relied on his animal affinity with tigers.
DM Note: In 2e, animal affinity let you take on a single characteristic of the animal that you had an affinity with. It was very different from the 3e stat-booster paradigm.
As the Tiger Prince crept forward through the maze of little tunnels, he strove to keep alert. His nostrils flared, testing the air. His wary eyes darted back and forth. His lips were parted just slightly, as if he were tasting the air.
Soon movement caught his eye, and a rat as large as he was started moving through the tunnels towards him.
Rajah took on the scent of a tiger, and the rat squealed and fled.
Smiling grimly, Rajah advanced.
The rats fled in all directions. How could a tiger have come here? But the smell was unmistakable. Even the King of Rats himself quailed at the thought of facing such an enemy.
Thus Rajah escaped the rat warren unharmed, without even a fight, and with the dryad’s ring.
Next Time: The dryad helps Rajah!
The tangled tunnels of the rats were too small for a normal man to navigate, but shrunken as small as he was, Rajah had the ability to do so. The stink of droppings was strong; tangles of dust were everywhere.
Rajah was nervous. There could be very many rats indeed in the warren. He doubted whether he could fight them all off; but he had a plan. It all relied on his animal affinity with tigers.
DM Note: In 2e, animal affinity let you take on a single characteristic of the animal that you had an affinity with. It was very different from the 3e stat-booster paradigm.
As the Tiger Prince crept forward through the maze of little tunnels, he strove to keep alert. His nostrils flared, testing the air. His wary eyes darted back and forth. His lips were parted just slightly, as if he were tasting the air.
Soon movement caught his eye, and a rat as large as he was started moving through the tunnels towards him.
Rajah took on the scent of a tiger, and the rat squealed and fled.
Smiling grimly, Rajah advanced.
The rats fled in all directions. How could a tiger have come here? But the smell was unmistakable. Even the King of Rats himself quailed at the thought of facing such an enemy.
Thus Rajah escaped the rat warren unharmed, without even a fight, and with the dryad’s ring.
Next Time: The dryad helps Rajah!
Knightfall
World of Kulan DM
Now that is cool roleplaying.
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