Knightfall
World of Kulan DM
I'm really get a kick out this thread and Great Conflicts. They complement each other.
Cheers!
KF72
Cheers!
KF72
Cydra: the Early Years
the Jester
Legend
Knightfall1972 said:
Thanks!
Pretty much the whole campaign ties together in one way or another. Early on you have Dexter and Malford, and the whole idea of Law vs. Chaos really started at the very beginning (with Galador being very Lawful and a little Good). You get Na'Rat even at this early stage, too. Later, when I moved to Davis and started a new group, you have the introduction of Neutrality as a distinct force in Tirchond. (Neutrality's finest moment yet, by the way, was when a true neutral pc drew the Balance card from a deck of many things and chose to be judged rather than to change alignment. He had several games of rigorous moral and ethical tests, which he passed with flying colors.) Then it ties in to Dexter and Malford again around game 200 (heh heh), and somewhere towards the end of that sequence you get the introduction of the Clockwork Horrors, who tie in to Horbin and Clambake and stuff in my old story hour. In between you have the group that went from calling itself the Swords of Assistance to the Fine Bitches because almost all the surviving pcs were female (including Sheva, Sybele, Angelfire and some others), which again tied in to the Law-Chaos conflict and into the Neutrality aspect of Tirchond. Then you get to the Agents of Chaos storyline, which ties Horbin to the other group, and eventually to Malford again.
Yeah- you'll see pcs (and some npcs) across multiple story hours. The relationships between the various characters sometimes have considerable complexity beneath the surface.
Here is a list of the games, in case anyone's interested.
the Jester
Legend
Uldinor
2/4/97 O.L.G., 6 p.m., the Baron’s Castle in Var
The Elf-King of Ketzia arrived as dusk was beginning to blink its eyes across the horizon. The sky had turned that strange color neither grey nor blue, with the western clouds glowing golden as evening’s setting rays caught them. He rode in on a strange steed neither exactly garen nor exactly elk, but some dangerous-looking combination of both. He was accompanied by a train of elves, perhaps a dozen in number. No one saw them before they emerged from around the curve of the road on the Baron’s Road and became visible from the castle.
Malford’s men, of course, saw to the mount and the comforts of the visiting elves without delay. They didn’t know who they were, but a powerful veil of enchantment and illusion seemed to spring from them; and they were quite clearly Ketzisti elves, the strange elves of Ketzia, the folk of the Faerie-Land. The Baron was summoned, and upon realizing that this was the Elf-King whom he had demanded, Malford led him to a sitting room.
Already Malford’s ambitions were stirring. He was a Baron, come out of nothing; was that enough for him? Not by half. He wanted more- bigger lands, more gold, more powerful magic. He had that thirst for life that only adventurers have; and so he determined that this meeting, however ill-begun via the xvarts, would give him something useful. Some edge... something.
Much more, in fact, than he expected.
The Elf-King- who never gave his name- admitted that the mountains weren’t really his, but stated that the particular section the xvarts lived in was probably theirs by right. He didn’t seem overly concerned at the losses the party inflicted on the xvarts; he was a little put out, but he seemed willing to be eminently reasonable about it. A good thing, too, since everyone knew what happened when the fey folk were angry: your milk would curdle, your food would spoil, animals would hate you, and so forth. So when Malford gratefully offered to do a favor for the Elf-King in return for his concessions on the mountains and xvarts, the Elf-King immediately affirmed that there was indeed something he needed help with.
“Uldinor,” he said, his voice dripping hate.
“Who is Uldinor?” asked Malford, cocking an eyebrow.
“A summoner,” the Elf-King replied.* “He has the secrets of the circles that allow him to summon and command fey folk, and that protect him from fey! He can control us, and we are powerless against him!” His fists were clenched, and his lips curled in a snarl. “Even I dare not go against him; he has many of my folk guarding him against their will... I would not harm them, if I can avoid it.”
“Sounds tricky,” commented Lochenvare.
“Why is he doing this? What does he have to gain? From what I’ve heard of Faerieland, it seems like he could just get lost in it pretty easily,” Malford remarked.
The Elf-King winced. “He could, but in the meantime many fairies would die. Why he’s doing this...” He stopped for a long moment, looking down. Then, haltingly, the Elf-King continued, “One of his circles... one of the material components... is pixie wings.”
“We’ll do it,” Dexter said. “We’ll help you.”
2/10/70 O.L.G., 2 p.m., Ketzia
Picture meadows of thousands of shades of grass, blooming with early flowers- splashes of yellow and white and blue on a green canvas. Throw a few clouds in the sky, puffy like cotton balls. The sky was a deep blue, the color of that one beautiful child’s eyes. Cheery little shrubs popped up happy and healthy on every ridge and roll. Animals flitted about- squirrels raced and mice scampered and cats played with their prey and snails slowly trekked along and butterflies spread their colors like rainbows in the sky. There were stranger things too- ‘bunnycorns,’ as the party dubbed them, were rabbits with unicorn horns; the group saw several families of them, including adorable little babies.
Their travel was, as the Elf-King had assured them it would be, unimpeded by the normal detrimental effects of Faerie. The sun advanced across the sky, leaving the group day and night which might otherwise have blended into perpetual twilight; the weather was fair, when it might have grown wroth with them out of whimsy; no fiendish trees barred their path, nor riddled doors their way, nor troll-haunted bridge their road. It seemed that the Elf-King’s good will meant quite a bit- at least, if one trusted all the stories and tales about Faerie.
Which Malford, at the least, did. Rajah had never heard those tales, having been brought up in the jungles of Gorel by tigers. But he listened as Dexter and Malford excitedly told the stories. So did Lady Charlotte, but her attitude was more parochial. She disapproved of faerie tales and such as pagan artifices to cover the influence of Bleak, and so she noted Dexter’s telling of the tales with a reluctant sense of dismay. After all, Charlotte had heard Dexter speak in the Voice of God... could she doubt him now? Well, clearly, the answer was yes, because she did... but... It was very confusing. She filed the faerie tales away for another day.
The group found Uldinor easily. It was almost as if the land itself led them to him. Perhaps it did. There was a house, and it was human-sized; and it was clearly out of place. The party had seen nothing like it yet.
They drew off a short distance to discuss strategy.
“We don’t want to hurt any faeries if we can avoid it,” Malford said, and Dexter instantly agreed.
“It may not be possible to avoid hurting some of them,” Rajah stated. “If they get in our way, we have to remove them for their own good. Some of them may not be removable unless we hurt them. Or even kill them.” He tossed his mane of hair. His muscles rippled as he stretched his arms and legs, loosening up for fighting.
“Be that as it may, we should minimize it as much as possible,” Malford insisted.
“Instead of fighting our way through there,” Rajah suggested, “we might be better off just running through each room until we find this summoner guy.”
The group greeted this with silence for a moment, then Malford giggled. “I can just see it. We’ll pick up a train of faeries!” He started to laugh hysterically, and the others joined him.
When the laughter subsided, Dexter said, “Let’s do it, then.”
And they did. The group clustered around the entrance; then Rajah threw open the door and they all sprang inside. Malford scrambled to the next door and threw it open before the fey could respond to him, but then, anguished looks on their faces, the enslaved fairies threw themselves at our heroes. Rajah knocked a sprite back and Dexter smacked a brownie with his staff of combat. Then the party was through into the next room, and Lady Charlotte was already cutting down the sprite blocking the exit. Then through, while Malford whirled and blanketed the closest faeries in a color spray.
The next door led to Uldinor.
The man was standing, grinning, in the center of a circle, but the grin vanished instantly when he realized that his attackers weren’t fae. “Wait!” he cried, “don’t-“
Lady Charlotte didn’t even pause long enough to detect evil. She charged, followed by Rajah, who tore at the summoner like a tiger, screaming and growling. Malford moved in and landed a backstab, and Dexter’s staff of combat dealt a telling blow. In moments it was over, and though the nixies and sprites had begun reluctantly attacking the party in a half-hearted effort to defend their master, the instant Uldinor dropped the faeries all stopped.
The nearest nixie sighed, a great sigh of relief.
A brownie groaned, “At last...!”
And our heroes grinned. A job well done.
Next Time: Our heroes have dinner with King Verrion of Thule!
*Summoners are important to this part of the story, or I probably never would have even mentioned them. A summoner was a master of circle magic, based on the summoner class from Paladium. I don’t recall there ever being a pc summoner back when I used them, at least not in Cydra. Anyhow, summoners used circle magic, that is, they inscribed circles and invoked their magic. There were three types of circles- summoning circles, circles of protection and circles of power. A summoner could invoke so many circles per week (I think?- don’t believe I still have the rules for all that).
2/4/97 O.L.G., 6 p.m., the Baron’s Castle in Var
The Elf-King of Ketzia arrived as dusk was beginning to blink its eyes across the horizon. The sky had turned that strange color neither grey nor blue, with the western clouds glowing golden as evening’s setting rays caught them. He rode in on a strange steed neither exactly garen nor exactly elk, but some dangerous-looking combination of both. He was accompanied by a train of elves, perhaps a dozen in number. No one saw them before they emerged from around the curve of the road on the Baron’s Road and became visible from the castle.
Malford’s men, of course, saw to the mount and the comforts of the visiting elves without delay. They didn’t know who they were, but a powerful veil of enchantment and illusion seemed to spring from them; and they were quite clearly Ketzisti elves, the strange elves of Ketzia, the folk of the Faerie-Land. The Baron was summoned, and upon realizing that this was the Elf-King whom he had demanded, Malford led him to a sitting room.
Already Malford’s ambitions were stirring. He was a Baron, come out of nothing; was that enough for him? Not by half. He wanted more- bigger lands, more gold, more powerful magic. He had that thirst for life that only adventurers have; and so he determined that this meeting, however ill-begun via the xvarts, would give him something useful. Some edge... something.
Much more, in fact, than he expected.
The Elf-King- who never gave his name- admitted that the mountains weren’t really his, but stated that the particular section the xvarts lived in was probably theirs by right. He didn’t seem overly concerned at the losses the party inflicted on the xvarts; he was a little put out, but he seemed willing to be eminently reasonable about it. A good thing, too, since everyone knew what happened when the fey folk were angry: your milk would curdle, your food would spoil, animals would hate you, and so forth. So when Malford gratefully offered to do a favor for the Elf-King in return for his concessions on the mountains and xvarts, the Elf-King immediately affirmed that there was indeed something he needed help with.
“Uldinor,” he said, his voice dripping hate.
“Who is Uldinor?” asked Malford, cocking an eyebrow.
“A summoner,” the Elf-King replied.* “He has the secrets of the circles that allow him to summon and command fey folk, and that protect him from fey! He can control us, and we are powerless against him!” His fists were clenched, and his lips curled in a snarl. “Even I dare not go against him; he has many of my folk guarding him against their will... I would not harm them, if I can avoid it.”
“Sounds tricky,” commented Lochenvare.
“Why is he doing this? What does he have to gain? From what I’ve heard of Faerieland, it seems like he could just get lost in it pretty easily,” Malford remarked.
The Elf-King winced. “He could, but in the meantime many fairies would die. Why he’s doing this...” He stopped for a long moment, looking down. Then, haltingly, the Elf-King continued, “One of his circles... one of the material components... is pixie wings.”
“We’ll do it,” Dexter said. “We’ll help you.”
2/10/70 O.L.G., 2 p.m., Ketzia
Picture meadows of thousands of shades of grass, blooming with early flowers- splashes of yellow and white and blue on a green canvas. Throw a few clouds in the sky, puffy like cotton balls. The sky was a deep blue, the color of that one beautiful child’s eyes. Cheery little shrubs popped up happy and healthy on every ridge and roll. Animals flitted about- squirrels raced and mice scampered and cats played with their prey and snails slowly trekked along and butterflies spread their colors like rainbows in the sky. There were stranger things too- ‘bunnycorns,’ as the party dubbed them, were rabbits with unicorn horns; the group saw several families of them, including adorable little babies.
Their travel was, as the Elf-King had assured them it would be, unimpeded by the normal detrimental effects of Faerie. The sun advanced across the sky, leaving the group day and night which might otherwise have blended into perpetual twilight; the weather was fair, when it might have grown wroth with them out of whimsy; no fiendish trees barred their path, nor riddled doors their way, nor troll-haunted bridge their road. It seemed that the Elf-King’s good will meant quite a bit- at least, if one trusted all the stories and tales about Faerie.
Which Malford, at the least, did. Rajah had never heard those tales, having been brought up in the jungles of Gorel by tigers. But he listened as Dexter and Malford excitedly told the stories. So did Lady Charlotte, but her attitude was more parochial. She disapproved of faerie tales and such as pagan artifices to cover the influence of Bleak, and so she noted Dexter’s telling of the tales with a reluctant sense of dismay. After all, Charlotte had heard Dexter speak in the Voice of God... could she doubt him now? Well, clearly, the answer was yes, because she did... but... It was very confusing. She filed the faerie tales away for another day.
The group found Uldinor easily. It was almost as if the land itself led them to him. Perhaps it did. There was a house, and it was human-sized; and it was clearly out of place. The party had seen nothing like it yet.
They drew off a short distance to discuss strategy.
“We don’t want to hurt any faeries if we can avoid it,” Malford said, and Dexter instantly agreed.
“It may not be possible to avoid hurting some of them,” Rajah stated. “If they get in our way, we have to remove them for their own good. Some of them may not be removable unless we hurt them. Or even kill them.” He tossed his mane of hair. His muscles rippled as he stretched his arms and legs, loosening up for fighting.
“Be that as it may, we should minimize it as much as possible,” Malford insisted.
“Instead of fighting our way through there,” Rajah suggested, “we might be better off just running through each room until we find this summoner guy.”
The group greeted this with silence for a moment, then Malford giggled. “I can just see it. We’ll pick up a train of faeries!” He started to laugh hysterically, and the others joined him.
When the laughter subsided, Dexter said, “Let’s do it, then.”
And they did. The group clustered around the entrance; then Rajah threw open the door and they all sprang inside. Malford scrambled to the next door and threw it open before the fey could respond to him, but then, anguished looks on their faces, the enslaved fairies threw themselves at our heroes. Rajah knocked a sprite back and Dexter smacked a brownie with his staff of combat. Then the party was through into the next room, and Lady Charlotte was already cutting down the sprite blocking the exit. Then through, while Malford whirled and blanketed the closest faeries in a color spray.
The next door led to Uldinor.
The man was standing, grinning, in the center of a circle, but the grin vanished instantly when he realized that his attackers weren’t fae. “Wait!” he cried, “don’t-“
Lady Charlotte didn’t even pause long enough to detect evil. She charged, followed by Rajah, who tore at the summoner like a tiger, screaming and growling. Malford moved in and landed a backstab, and Dexter’s staff of combat dealt a telling blow. In moments it was over, and though the nixies and sprites had begun reluctantly attacking the party in a half-hearted effort to defend their master, the instant Uldinor dropped the faeries all stopped.
The nearest nixie sighed, a great sigh of relief.
A brownie groaned, “At last...!”
And our heroes grinned. A job well done.
Next Time: Our heroes have dinner with King Verrion of Thule!
*Summoners are important to this part of the story, or I probably never would have even mentioned them. A summoner was a master of circle magic, based on the summoner class from Paladium. I don’t recall there ever being a pc summoner back when I used them, at least not in Cydra. Anyhow, summoners used circle magic, that is, they inscribed circles and invoked their magic. There were three types of circles- summoning circles, circles of protection and circles of power. A summoner could invoke so many circles per week (I think?- don’t believe I still have the rules for all that).
the Jester
Legend
Dinner with the King
2/25/97 O.L.G., 7 p.m., in the dining hall of the Royal Castle in Fuzia, Thule
Having left his majordomo, Marcus, in charge of things at home, Baron Malford and Prince Rajah had gone to Fuzia, several hundred miles away. Now they sat to dinner with the King of Thule. As one of the King’s men, Malford felt obligated to relate to him the recent events involving Ketzia. It was a neighboring state, after all, and he had made diplomatic contact- sort of- with the Elf-King. King Verrion II of Thule, Lord of Lake Bellurnus, Protector of the Ketzian Mountains, Thane over the Bendrock, Guardian of the Western Reaches, etc., was most pleased to hear of it. He thought that Malford might make a wonderful addition to the aristocracy indeed.
“We’ve never had much luck with the Ketzians,” Verrion confessed. “Please, feel free to build this relationship up. Everyone knows that the Ketzians could be either fantastic allies or deadly enemies. And if you could persuade him to send envoys, or even to meet with me personally... well, I would be honored to receive any such gestures.”
Not only would friendship with the Ketzians help in its own right, it would also aid the Kingdom of Thule in its diplomacy with the Duchy of Moire and the state called only Morraine, in the north. These were two nations of mixed blood human/elves. Generally referred to as ‘half-elves,’ the inhabitants of Moire and Morraine were usually the product not of mixing elf with human, but of mixing mixed bloods among the Moirans and Morrainians. The elven blood in these folk was largely Ketzisti; they connected with the Ketzians like no other people possibly could. Like the Ketzisti, they preferred an attitude of careful neutrality towards the big polarization of Dorhaus.
Picture Dorhaus for a minute. Split along its north-south axis by the Bendrock Mountains, and along its east-west axis by the Ketzian Mountains (on the west) and the Swamp of Lithos (to the east).
In the west, south of the Ketzian Mountains, was the Kingdom of Thule, of which the Barony of Var was a vassalage. North of the Ketzian Mountains, of course, was Ketzia itself- which remains even today, and persevered through even the worst of Fuligin’s ravages. The northern extent of Ketzia ended, at that time, where the Bendrocks began curving gently west towards the coast. Further north still were Moire and Morraine, with forests and smaller ranges of mountains on their borders.
The southern portion of the eastern part of the continent, below the Swamp of Lithos, was controlled by Imperial Wotan. This included several powerful semi-independent tributaries, such as the Barony of Goldstone, the Prince’s Hold, the County of Aara and the Duchy of Sallax. But the current Emperor of Wotan- Tovan IV, called Kinslayer but never in his presence and never very loudly- held everything together with an iron-tight fist. Imperial Wotan and the Kingdom of Thule were the two largest and strongest states on Dorhaus; they were natural rivals, though separated by the Bendrocks except at their southernmost extent, where a pair of forts were built at either end of the Iron Wall long ago to guard the passage against all but the most determined armies. The interminable warfare between the two enemy states was thus limited to clashes in and around the Iron Wall or dangerous forays through the formidable chain of mountains.
North of the Swamp of Lithos, southeast of Moire and Morraine, was a smaller kingdom called Chorania. Being so close to Imperial Wotan, it could not escape becoming a satellite. North of it was a state known as Bemvia, and it and Chorania were longstanding foes. With Imperial Wotan behind Chorania- after all, the Emperor would love to annex the entire continent if he could manage it- the only way Bemvia could hold out was to become a fierce ally of Thule’s.
One of the problems in this arrangement was that it was very difficult for Thule to send reinforcements to Bemvia. They either had to sail through the rough waters off the north of Dorhaus, which were notoriously dangerous, especially in the spring, or they had to go through a long mountain journey, during which time they were vulnerable to ambush. There was a much easier route- going through territory that was Ketzian. If Malford could somehow open that route... The implications were fantastic.
So were the implications of Rajah. The Tiger Prince, King Verrion thought. It was not inconceivable that there could one day be a friend on the throne of Wotan. Perhaps it was unlikely; but it was at least possible.
King Verrion II of Thule grinned to himself. It was a good time to be King. Yes indeed.
Next Time: Farenth’s Game begins!
2/25/97 O.L.G., 7 p.m., in the dining hall of the Royal Castle in Fuzia, Thule
Having left his majordomo, Marcus, in charge of things at home, Baron Malford and Prince Rajah had gone to Fuzia, several hundred miles away. Now they sat to dinner with the King of Thule. As one of the King’s men, Malford felt obligated to relate to him the recent events involving Ketzia. It was a neighboring state, after all, and he had made diplomatic contact- sort of- with the Elf-King. King Verrion II of Thule, Lord of Lake Bellurnus, Protector of the Ketzian Mountains, Thane over the Bendrock, Guardian of the Western Reaches, etc., was most pleased to hear of it. He thought that Malford might make a wonderful addition to the aristocracy indeed.
“We’ve never had much luck with the Ketzians,” Verrion confessed. “Please, feel free to build this relationship up. Everyone knows that the Ketzians could be either fantastic allies or deadly enemies. And if you could persuade him to send envoys, or even to meet with me personally... well, I would be honored to receive any such gestures.”
Not only would friendship with the Ketzians help in its own right, it would also aid the Kingdom of Thule in its diplomacy with the Duchy of Moire and the state called only Morraine, in the north. These were two nations of mixed blood human/elves. Generally referred to as ‘half-elves,’ the inhabitants of Moire and Morraine were usually the product not of mixing elf with human, but of mixing mixed bloods among the Moirans and Morrainians. The elven blood in these folk was largely Ketzisti; they connected with the Ketzians like no other people possibly could. Like the Ketzisti, they preferred an attitude of careful neutrality towards the big polarization of Dorhaus.
Picture Dorhaus for a minute. Split along its north-south axis by the Bendrock Mountains, and along its east-west axis by the Ketzian Mountains (on the west) and the Swamp of Lithos (to the east).
In the west, south of the Ketzian Mountains, was the Kingdom of Thule, of which the Barony of Var was a vassalage. North of the Ketzian Mountains, of course, was Ketzia itself- which remains even today, and persevered through even the worst of Fuligin’s ravages. The northern extent of Ketzia ended, at that time, where the Bendrocks began curving gently west towards the coast. Further north still were Moire and Morraine, with forests and smaller ranges of mountains on their borders.
The southern portion of the eastern part of the continent, below the Swamp of Lithos, was controlled by Imperial Wotan. This included several powerful semi-independent tributaries, such as the Barony of Goldstone, the Prince’s Hold, the County of Aara and the Duchy of Sallax. But the current Emperor of Wotan- Tovan IV, called Kinslayer but never in his presence and never very loudly- held everything together with an iron-tight fist. Imperial Wotan and the Kingdom of Thule were the two largest and strongest states on Dorhaus; they were natural rivals, though separated by the Bendrocks except at their southernmost extent, where a pair of forts were built at either end of the Iron Wall long ago to guard the passage against all but the most determined armies. The interminable warfare between the two enemy states was thus limited to clashes in and around the Iron Wall or dangerous forays through the formidable chain of mountains.
North of the Swamp of Lithos, southeast of Moire and Morraine, was a smaller kingdom called Chorania. Being so close to Imperial Wotan, it could not escape becoming a satellite. North of it was a state known as Bemvia, and it and Chorania were longstanding foes. With Imperial Wotan behind Chorania- after all, the Emperor would love to annex the entire continent if he could manage it- the only way Bemvia could hold out was to become a fierce ally of Thule’s.
One of the problems in this arrangement was that it was very difficult for Thule to send reinforcements to Bemvia. They either had to sail through the rough waters off the north of Dorhaus, which were notoriously dangerous, especially in the spring, or they had to go through a long mountain journey, during which time they were vulnerable to ambush. There was a much easier route- going through territory that was Ketzian. If Malford could somehow open that route... The implications were fantastic.
So were the implications of Rajah. The Tiger Prince, King Verrion thought. It was not inconceivable that there could one day be a friend on the throne of Wotan. Perhaps it was unlikely; but it was at least possible.
King Verrion II of Thule grinned to himself. It was a good time to be King. Yes indeed.
Next Time: Farenth’s Game begins!
the Jester
Legend
Farenth's Game: What Has Gone Before
And now we get to Farenth’s Game.
Let’s have a little recap, shall we?
Originally a group of scoundrels formed a pirate crew. Several of them were followers of Bleak, including Chanticller, the ship’s tail, and Galiger, a cleric of Bleak who spent his every moment praising the darkness and opposing the Light of Galador, Bleak’s arch-nemesis and the (more or less) monotheistic deity of the world. (Other gods are out there, but Galadorianism dominates the known world and persecutes everything else, claiming that it is worship of Bleak wrapped in deceptive clothes.) Most of the rest of the pirate crew was, if not evil, at least anti-Galadorian. Dexter, a young, impressionable lad, was a ripe target for conversion to the worship of Bleak, and in a deadly battle he gave his soul to Bleak in return for victory. But then Dexter, who had used his mental powers to murder a cleric of Galador, was captured and tortured by the Inquisition. Forced to convert or die, the lad naturally converted to follow the Light. He was branded and released, and returned to the crew a humbled and changed young man.
Galiger was furious that Dexter had recanted his worship of Bleak, and especially furious that he would not cast Galador aside in turn, but Dexter was afraid that the Inquisition would know and he would not suffer himself into their hands again. Galiger constantly baited and taunted Dexter, until finally Dexter attacked him and psionically mindwiped him, reducing his mental faculties significantly. Only the intervention of Malford, captain of the pirates, stopped the fight from turning lethal; Malford magically rendered them both unconscious, and realizing that there was no way the two could coexist peacefully, he carried Dexter away. He felt responsible for the lad, and he felt that Galiger would be satisfied with leadership of the pirate ship. But Galiger, enraged, killed himself in an oil-bearing assault on a church of Galador that led to an appalling fire.
Thus Dexter and Malford fled the ship. The other pirates, though some clamored for revenge, sailed far away to Strogass, a continent rumored to exist where Bleak ruled supreme. Along the way, the new pirate captain, Lyr, discovered that one of the crew members, a man named Farenth, had attempted to intimidate the cook into poisoning her. When confronted, Farenth lied smoothly and claimed that he had been acting in what he felt was the ship’s best interest. After an intense interrogation, Lyr decided to let him live, but to put him off the ship at the next harbor, Pesh.
Farenth was also a Bleakist; though information on his background is sparse, it is clear that he once aspired to paladinhood. And he fell, far and farthest, to the bottom of the blackest pit there is. Farenth’s name lives in infamy, even hundreds of years later, and no doubt will continue to live on for eons. For he was the antithesis of Dexter.
Meanwhile Dexter explored his faith, and tentatively moved towards good and lawful alignment. And when he took up the raiment of a cleric, he discovered that he could speak in the Voice of God. This surprised Dexter as much as it surprised anyone, and he almost immediately began running afoul of the established church. Yet as individual priests heard him speak in the Voice, they knew that Galador spoke through him. His previous reputation as a deceiver worked strongly against him, though. Malford and Dexter had gathered a formidable group of adventurers around them, including one of the old pirate crew, and Malford had even been made a Baron by the King of Thule.
Meanwhile, the pirates reached Strogass. They didn’t know it, but Farenth would follow them there after he failed to redeem himself on Pesh. He knew where Lyr had intended to go, broadly speaking, and the idea of reaching a land where he could relax into his true, evil proclivities was most appealing. While the pirate leaders adventured, Lyr was killed; and the new captain was none other than Chanticleer, one of Bleak’s villains and the leader of the faction that wanted to hunt down and kill Dexter. But they knew that they needed a way to defend themselves against his mental powers first, so they went on a quest for an item that took them to the Underdark and thence to the very Abyss itself.
Farenth, meanwhile, had begun spinning his web. He seethed with hate for all of them- Chanti, Dexter, Malford, several of the others. He manipulated and murdered his way into position and slowly, subtly, began drawing them together. He dispatched a letter to Dexter and Malford- it was easy enough for him to find out where they were, as news of Dexter was racing all around- and he dispatched another to Captain Lyr and her crew (not knowing that Lyr was dead and Chanti had become the new leader of the pirates).
Farenth’s plan was simple, at heart. He would kill them all. The beauty of it was, he would use the two groups against each other. He would kill them all by tricking them into killing each other, and only at the end would he swoop in to get the survivors. If they were lucky, he might honor one or two of them by sacrificing them to Bleak.
Oh yes. Kill them all.
***
These are the pcs at the culmination of Farenth’s game, a few updates from now.
Good Guys:
Dexter Nadly (cleric 5)
Malford the Magnificent (thief/illusionist 6/5)
Lochenvare (fighter 5)
Rajah (psionicist 5)
Lady Charlotte (paladin 4)
Bad Guys:
Delilah the Damned (conjurer 3)
Vosh (centaur druid 5)
Akakathan (priest/bard 4/5)
Urdor Darkwind (fighter/priest 3/2)
Chanticleer Gilder-Ynarlsland (villain 6)
Though the good guys have a slight level advantage, you’ll see that the bad guys get a certain, erm, blessing from Bleak to help them out....
And now we get to Farenth’s Game.
Let’s have a little recap, shall we?
Originally a group of scoundrels formed a pirate crew. Several of them were followers of Bleak, including Chanticller, the ship’s tail, and Galiger, a cleric of Bleak who spent his every moment praising the darkness and opposing the Light of Galador, Bleak’s arch-nemesis and the (more or less) monotheistic deity of the world. (Other gods are out there, but Galadorianism dominates the known world and persecutes everything else, claiming that it is worship of Bleak wrapped in deceptive clothes.) Most of the rest of the pirate crew was, if not evil, at least anti-Galadorian. Dexter, a young, impressionable lad, was a ripe target for conversion to the worship of Bleak, and in a deadly battle he gave his soul to Bleak in return for victory. But then Dexter, who had used his mental powers to murder a cleric of Galador, was captured and tortured by the Inquisition. Forced to convert or die, the lad naturally converted to follow the Light. He was branded and released, and returned to the crew a humbled and changed young man.
Galiger was furious that Dexter had recanted his worship of Bleak, and especially furious that he would not cast Galador aside in turn, but Dexter was afraid that the Inquisition would know and he would not suffer himself into their hands again. Galiger constantly baited and taunted Dexter, until finally Dexter attacked him and psionically mindwiped him, reducing his mental faculties significantly. Only the intervention of Malford, captain of the pirates, stopped the fight from turning lethal; Malford magically rendered them both unconscious, and realizing that there was no way the two could coexist peacefully, he carried Dexter away. He felt responsible for the lad, and he felt that Galiger would be satisfied with leadership of the pirate ship. But Galiger, enraged, killed himself in an oil-bearing assault on a church of Galador that led to an appalling fire.
Thus Dexter and Malford fled the ship. The other pirates, though some clamored for revenge, sailed far away to Strogass, a continent rumored to exist where Bleak ruled supreme. Along the way, the new pirate captain, Lyr, discovered that one of the crew members, a man named Farenth, had attempted to intimidate the cook into poisoning her. When confronted, Farenth lied smoothly and claimed that he had been acting in what he felt was the ship’s best interest. After an intense interrogation, Lyr decided to let him live, but to put him off the ship at the next harbor, Pesh.
Farenth was also a Bleakist; though information on his background is sparse, it is clear that he once aspired to paladinhood. And he fell, far and farthest, to the bottom of the blackest pit there is. Farenth’s name lives in infamy, even hundreds of years later, and no doubt will continue to live on for eons. For he was the antithesis of Dexter.
Meanwhile Dexter explored his faith, and tentatively moved towards good and lawful alignment. And when he took up the raiment of a cleric, he discovered that he could speak in the Voice of God. This surprised Dexter as much as it surprised anyone, and he almost immediately began running afoul of the established church. Yet as individual priests heard him speak in the Voice, they knew that Galador spoke through him. His previous reputation as a deceiver worked strongly against him, though. Malford and Dexter had gathered a formidable group of adventurers around them, including one of the old pirate crew, and Malford had even been made a Baron by the King of Thule.
Meanwhile, the pirates reached Strogass. They didn’t know it, but Farenth would follow them there after he failed to redeem himself on Pesh. He knew where Lyr had intended to go, broadly speaking, and the idea of reaching a land where he could relax into his true, evil proclivities was most appealing. While the pirate leaders adventured, Lyr was killed; and the new captain was none other than Chanticleer, one of Bleak’s villains and the leader of the faction that wanted to hunt down and kill Dexter. But they knew that they needed a way to defend themselves against his mental powers first, so they went on a quest for an item that took them to the Underdark and thence to the very Abyss itself.
Farenth, meanwhile, had begun spinning his web. He seethed with hate for all of them- Chanti, Dexter, Malford, several of the others. He manipulated and murdered his way into position and slowly, subtly, began drawing them together. He dispatched a letter to Dexter and Malford- it was easy enough for him to find out where they were, as news of Dexter was racing all around- and he dispatched another to Captain Lyr and her crew (not knowing that Lyr was dead and Chanti had become the new leader of the pirates).
Farenth’s plan was simple, at heart. He would kill them all. The beauty of it was, he would use the two groups against each other. He would kill them all by tricking them into killing each other, and only at the end would he swoop in to get the survivors. If they were lucky, he might honor one or two of them by sacrificing them to Bleak.
Oh yes. Kill them all.
***
These are the pcs at the culmination of Farenth’s game, a few updates from now.
Good Guys:
Dexter Nadly (cleric 5)
Malford the Magnificent (thief/illusionist 6/5)
Lochenvare (fighter 5)
Rajah (psionicist 5)
Lady Charlotte (paladin 4)
Bad Guys:
Delilah the Damned (conjurer 3)
Vosh (centaur druid 5)
Akakathan (priest/bard 4/5)
Urdor Darkwind (fighter/priest 3/2)
Chanticleer Gilder-Ynarlsland (villain 6)
Though the good guys have a slight level advantage, you’ll see that the bad guys get a certain, erm, blessing from Bleak to help them out....
the Jester
Legend
Farenth's Game, pt. I
At some point- possibly already chronicled- something very important happened to Chanticleer and a few of her companions.
All of this thread up to now has been from some fairly detailed notes and game summaries, but oddly this got left out. Did it happen after the group’s trip to the Abyss? I don’t think so- I think it was sometime before. But somehow, this event was never noted.
Well, I have no date for this- just a rough idea. Insert this parallel to our recent looks at them; squeeze it in there somewhere. I shall merely report the events, and to a certain extent (in this case) I must leave the chronology to you.
***
The night was thick and dark. The villains of this piece were celebrating their evil plans. Vosh provided some interesting mushrooms, Chanti and Urdor provided the liturgy to Bleak, Akakathan- somewhat reluctantly- provided the music. This ceremony to an evil god of the land people was more than a little uncomfortable for him, but it was already too late for him to back out of the group.
The mushrooms took hold, though Akakathan refrained from indulging in them. Frenzied dancing ensued, and feasting and drinking; and in the midst of it all, dedicated to their Dark Lord, came an orgy, given in the name of Bleak.
“Bleak!” Chanti cried, “I am your vessel! Fill me with your Darkness!”
They took her one by one, first Urdor and then Delilah and then even the centaur, Vosh- he almost ripped her in two, but she accepted him gladly, screaming Bleak’s name.
The storm fell upon them, lightning and thunder, the sky black with clouds as fat drops of blood-warm rain splattered down around them. Akakathan shivered at the greasy feeling of the drops; this was no natural rain.
And then a stroke of black lightning struck down.
Vosh, Delilah, Urdor and Chanticleer were writhing together beneath a tree when it came, the coup de grace, killing them all instantly and leaving them insensate for a moment. Akakathan’s scream was drowned out by the thunder. He rushed to the pile of bodies, but they were already stirring.
Bleak had heard their prayers, accepted their sacrifices and touched them to aid them in their quest. They looked the same, at least for now, but though they still breathed (out of habit) their hearts no longer beat. In time they would learn that they had become undead, and when they did their reactions would vary.
Both Urdor and Chanticleer were overjoyed. A mark of Bleak’s favor! The Black Sun surely shone upon them! So what if they were cold to the touch? So what if men would shudder at the thought of enjoying Chanti’s charms? They were now undead warriors of Bleak, unholy reavers of blasphemy. Now their quest for Dexter’s blood had new impetus. “I’m going to kill him,” Chanti murmured to herself with new assurance.
Vosh was horrified at his change. He was a druid! How could he have become undead, such a terrible blight on nature? He wept secret tears and vowed to find a way to reverse the process. To Vosh this was an abomination, so unnatural that it made his stomach churn. But for now, out of friendship, he would remain with his companions.
Delilah was the only one with mixed feelings on the subject. To her, a believer in the power of seduction, the inability to touch, to feel like a living thing, was crushing; but the ability to exist eternally, in unchanging beauty, was like a heady wine to her. (Later, when she began moving among the richest men of Forinthia, she found that some people, at least, liked her to be cold and still. “Play dead,” he whispered in her ear.) She immediately set out to develop a spell designed to aid her with seducing others into believing she was a warm living woman. Inner warmth was to be the result, but the process made her very thoughtful. Why not make spells her rivals would have difficulty casting? Gloating at her brilliance, Delilah the Damned began work on a spell whose material component was horrific enough that most casters would be unable to use it- especially good casters. This became her oozing lilacs.
Akakathan watched it all quietly and wondered what the hell he was doing with these horrible monsters, but there was nowhere to go and no way out.
***
When the group got the letter from Farenth, they were surprised- to say the least. It was addressed to Lyr, who was dead. In it, Farenth claimed that he was luring Dexter and his companions to Forinthia, and inquired as to whether Lyr and her crew would care to aid him in killing them. Chanti grinned like a demon upon reading it.
Twenty-four hours later, the crew had been pulled together and the Twikwakikikak was moving out of the harbors of Strogass and setting out for far-away Forinthia.
Next Time: Farenth’s Game, part II!
At some point- possibly already chronicled- something very important happened to Chanticleer and a few of her companions.
All of this thread up to now has been from some fairly detailed notes and game summaries, but oddly this got left out. Did it happen after the group’s trip to the Abyss? I don’t think so- I think it was sometime before. But somehow, this event was never noted.
Well, I have no date for this- just a rough idea. Insert this parallel to our recent looks at them; squeeze it in there somewhere. I shall merely report the events, and to a certain extent (in this case) I must leave the chronology to you.
***
The night was thick and dark. The villains of this piece were celebrating their evil plans. Vosh provided some interesting mushrooms, Chanti and Urdor provided the liturgy to Bleak, Akakathan- somewhat reluctantly- provided the music. This ceremony to an evil god of the land people was more than a little uncomfortable for him, but it was already too late for him to back out of the group.
The mushrooms took hold, though Akakathan refrained from indulging in them. Frenzied dancing ensued, and feasting and drinking; and in the midst of it all, dedicated to their Dark Lord, came an orgy, given in the name of Bleak.
“Bleak!” Chanti cried, “I am your vessel! Fill me with your Darkness!”
They took her one by one, first Urdor and then Delilah and then even the centaur, Vosh- he almost ripped her in two, but she accepted him gladly, screaming Bleak’s name.
The storm fell upon them, lightning and thunder, the sky black with clouds as fat drops of blood-warm rain splattered down around them. Akakathan shivered at the greasy feeling of the drops; this was no natural rain.
And then a stroke of black lightning struck down.
Vosh, Delilah, Urdor and Chanticleer were writhing together beneath a tree when it came, the coup de grace, killing them all instantly and leaving them insensate for a moment. Akakathan’s scream was drowned out by the thunder. He rushed to the pile of bodies, but they were already stirring.
Bleak had heard their prayers, accepted their sacrifices and touched them to aid them in their quest. They looked the same, at least for now, but though they still breathed (out of habit) their hearts no longer beat. In time they would learn that they had become undead, and when they did their reactions would vary.
Both Urdor and Chanticleer were overjoyed. A mark of Bleak’s favor! The Black Sun surely shone upon them! So what if they were cold to the touch? So what if men would shudder at the thought of enjoying Chanti’s charms? They were now undead warriors of Bleak, unholy reavers of blasphemy. Now their quest for Dexter’s blood had new impetus. “I’m going to kill him,” Chanti murmured to herself with new assurance.
Vosh was horrified at his change. He was a druid! How could he have become undead, such a terrible blight on nature? He wept secret tears and vowed to find a way to reverse the process. To Vosh this was an abomination, so unnatural that it made his stomach churn. But for now, out of friendship, he would remain with his companions.
Delilah was the only one with mixed feelings on the subject. To her, a believer in the power of seduction, the inability to touch, to feel like a living thing, was crushing; but the ability to exist eternally, in unchanging beauty, was like a heady wine to her. (Later, when she began moving among the richest men of Forinthia, she found that some people, at least, liked her to be cold and still. “Play dead,” he whispered in her ear.) She immediately set out to develop a spell designed to aid her with seducing others into believing she was a warm living woman. Inner warmth was to be the result, but the process made her very thoughtful. Why not make spells her rivals would have difficulty casting? Gloating at her brilliance, Delilah the Damned began work on a spell whose material component was horrific enough that most casters would be unable to use it- especially good casters. This became her oozing lilacs.
Akakathan watched it all quietly and wondered what the hell he was doing with these horrible monsters, but there was nowhere to go and no way out.
***
When the group got the letter from Farenth, they were surprised- to say the least. It was addressed to Lyr, who was dead. In it, Farenth claimed that he was luring Dexter and his companions to Forinthia, and inquired as to whether Lyr and her crew would care to aid him in killing them. Chanti grinned like a demon upon reading it.
Twenty-four hours later, the crew had been pulled together and the Twikwakikikak was moving out of the harbors of Strogass and setting out for far-away Forinthia.
Next Time: Farenth’s Game, part II!
the Jester
Legend
Farenth's Game, pt. II
While Farenth was manipulating the villainous group of pcs with the promise of Dexter’s head, he was also setting the terrible events in motion that would lure Dexter and his companions- the heroic pcs, if you will. He had already hit upon his bait for them- and he had already kidnapped Sheila the Confessor, the priestess who had assuaged Dexter’s fears and helped his pains while he was in the dungeons of the Inquisition. She was the one, more than any other, who had turned Dexter to the Light. Dexter could not turn from her. Driven by a deep guilt crossed with teenaged lust, he had no choice when the letter came. And indeed, why should a group of adventurers so puissant that they included the Son of the Light, the Baron of Var and the rightful heir to mighty Imperial Wotan fear a single pirate madman worshiper of Bleak?
Dexter was frightened for Sheila. “He wants us to come to Forinthia to get her out of his ‘tender ministrations,’” Malford read to him (for, alas, Dexter could not read with no eyes).
Dexter could not, would not refuse.
The party strapped on their gear and prepared to depart, but Malford was crafty and perceptive. “I don’t like it,” he argued. “What if he’s got a crew of his own now?” And he brought his captain of the guard with him, along with four of his men.
“A Bleakist? Let’s smite him!” Lady Charlotte was showing a taste for violence, at least if it was justified by service to the Light. Dexter timidly tried to talk to her about it, but though she listened, his words didn’t seem to unduly influence her actions.
From Var, the group traveled to Ostraghan, a large port city on Lake Bellurnus. From there they rode a barge downstream to the sea, where they sought passage on a boat. Farenth had dispatched one of his new lieutenants, a dwarven fighter named Durgin, with orders to take the group’s measure. Farenth knew full well that Durgin wouldn’t be able to kill them, but he hoped to gain enough information about the party’s tactics and abilities to make the investment of time worthwhile. Durgin, having traveled to Dorhaus and to the most likely city the group would leave from, hired a pack of wererats to attack the party, and they struck while the party was whiling away a few days waiting for their ship to depart. The heroes handily dispatched the lycanthropes, though several members of the group were wounded in the engagement (including Malford’s captain of the guards, Breston).
Durgin got away aboard the same ship our heroes were on and kept watching them unobtrusively. Soon enough they all reached Port Lofrax, on Forinthia. As the adventurers disembarked, Durgin walked away towards Farenth’s lair.
Farenth, utterly deranged at this point, was keeping quite busy. Between committing unspeakable acts of torture upon Sheila, he was keeping a close eye on any ships arriving from the west. Dorhaus- and half of his targets- lay in that direction.
Kill them all. Oh, yes.
Next Time: Farenth’s Game concludes with a bang! What happens when the heroic pcs meet the villainous pcs, with Farenth and his lackeys in the middle??
While Farenth was manipulating the villainous group of pcs with the promise of Dexter’s head, he was also setting the terrible events in motion that would lure Dexter and his companions- the heroic pcs, if you will. He had already hit upon his bait for them- and he had already kidnapped Sheila the Confessor, the priestess who had assuaged Dexter’s fears and helped his pains while he was in the dungeons of the Inquisition. She was the one, more than any other, who had turned Dexter to the Light. Dexter could not turn from her. Driven by a deep guilt crossed with teenaged lust, he had no choice when the letter came. And indeed, why should a group of adventurers so puissant that they included the Son of the Light, the Baron of Var and the rightful heir to mighty Imperial Wotan fear a single pirate madman worshiper of Bleak?
Dexter was frightened for Sheila. “He wants us to come to Forinthia to get her out of his ‘tender ministrations,’” Malford read to him (for, alas, Dexter could not read with no eyes).
Dexter could not, would not refuse.
The party strapped on their gear and prepared to depart, but Malford was crafty and perceptive. “I don’t like it,” he argued. “What if he’s got a crew of his own now?” And he brought his captain of the guard with him, along with four of his men.
“A Bleakist? Let’s smite him!” Lady Charlotte was showing a taste for violence, at least if it was justified by service to the Light. Dexter timidly tried to talk to her about it, but though she listened, his words didn’t seem to unduly influence her actions.
From Var, the group traveled to Ostraghan, a large port city on Lake Bellurnus. From there they rode a barge downstream to the sea, where they sought passage on a boat. Farenth had dispatched one of his new lieutenants, a dwarven fighter named Durgin, with orders to take the group’s measure. Farenth knew full well that Durgin wouldn’t be able to kill them, but he hoped to gain enough information about the party’s tactics and abilities to make the investment of time worthwhile. Durgin, having traveled to Dorhaus and to the most likely city the group would leave from, hired a pack of wererats to attack the party, and they struck while the party was whiling away a few days waiting for their ship to depart. The heroes handily dispatched the lycanthropes, though several members of the group were wounded in the engagement (including Malford’s captain of the guards, Breston).
Durgin got away aboard the same ship our heroes were on and kept watching them unobtrusively. Soon enough they all reached Port Lofrax, on Forinthia. As the adventurers disembarked, Durgin walked away towards Farenth’s lair.
Farenth, utterly deranged at this point, was keeping quite busy. Between committing unspeakable acts of torture upon Sheila, he was keeping a close eye on any ships arriving from the west. Dorhaus- and half of his targets- lay in that direction.
Kill them all. Oh, yes.
Next Time: Farenth’s Game concludes with a bang! What happens when the heroic pcs meet the villainous pcs, with Farenth and his lackeys in the middle??
the Jester
Legend
Farenth's Trap Closes
4/18/97 O.L.G., 10 a.m., the harbor of Port Lofrax, Forinthia
What have I gotten myself into? groaned Akakathan to himself.
He stood on the prow of the Twikwakikikak in the stinging spray, his heart heavy. He could simply leave... but these people were his friends. And they were counting on his help. Behind him, he heard Vosh say, “So this is Forinthia?” The centaur’s voice was tinged with sorrow- since the foul ritual that had turned him undead, he had not recovered his good cheer.
“Yes,” came the voice of Chanticleer, full of spite and malice. “And Dexter is here somewhere.”
***
The city was crawling with Farenth’s agents. He was certainly well-informed of local events, and the arrival of the villains was reported to him right away. No sign of Lyr, as yet, but there were others he knew... oh yes. On his knees behind a dark altar, he grinned as he made his prayers to Bleak. Everything was coming together. His spider web was quivering as the flies landed.
When Durgin announced that Malford had arrived with nine allies, Farenth frowned slightly. That was a lot of opposition; he could only hope the pirates would be as wise.
Then he spoke to the doppelganger and they made their final plans. Even if Dexter thought he won, Farenth would ensure that he would lose.
And then, of course, one more thing to take care of- Farenth spent the majority of his savings having a teleport spell put into his ring of spell storing. Now all was ready.
***
Noon, the Blue Moon tavern, Port Lofrax
“We’ve got to find them,” Dexter said urgently.
“It’s a trap, you know,” Lochenvare grunted.
“It doesn’t matter. We’ve got to save Sheila!”
“Wasn’t she involved in your torture?”
“No, she was my Confessor. And it doesn’t matter. We just need to stop Farenth and rescue her!”
“Whatever.” The burly fighter shrugged and took a pull on his beer. “So how do we find them?”
“He lured us here,” Malford explained. “He will find us.”
***
How right Malford was. Once Farenth’s preparations were made, his people in place, the doppelganger in the form it needed to be, he sent off one of his particularly amusing lackeys to get things started.
***
1:30 p.m.
Seth, garbed in outrageously pink studded leather armor, moved through the streets of Port Lofrax, keeping his eyes peeled for a centaur with green hair. That would be the one that would stand out the most. He asked street vendors near the docks, passing out a few coppers, until he had followed the pirates’ meandering trail to an inn of rough reputation. There he sauntered up to their table and softly, in a simpering voice, murmured, “Farenth sends his regards.”
Chaticleer’s head snapped up. “Where is he?” she asked, her voice dangerous.
“Is it him you seek- or Dexter?”
***
Meanwhile, almost simultaneously, a group of three of Farenth’s agents ambushed Dexter’s group as they were on their way to Port Lofrax’s cathedral to Galador. Dexter hoped they might be able to help track down the missing Confessor.
The attack was sudden and brutal. It was led by Amar, one of Farenth’s lieutenants, but all three of the agents were sacrifices. Farenth knew they had no real chance against the heroes; the idea was to lead them into his lair.
When the last of the three was defeated, the party interrogated the only survivor. And he played his role perfectly- quivering in fear of his life, he told them where to find Farenth. They moved immediately towards the address he had given- towards Farenth’s trap.
***
“We need to think about this,” Delilah repeated. “If we’re going to attack them, we need to make sure they won’t just slaughter us. Can we take them in a fair fight? Maybe- we don’t know what they can do- but we shouldn’t even try. Forget a fair fight! Let’s be sure we’ll get them!”
“He’s in that house right now,” Seth promised.
“We don’t want to just charge in at them,” Delilah insisted. “We need to lay a trap and lure them out into it.”
“What do you mean?” Chanti’s eyes were lidded; she was drugged with the feeling of vengeance, about to be delivered. Vengeance for Galiger- vengeance for Bleak.
“I’ve got an idea,” she explained. “First of all, we all use that dust of disappearance- if we lose the fight, we don’t want Dexter and his team to get it, so however much we use up is a good thing. Then we all wait in a rope trick and ready oil and acid and missiles. When they come into range, Chanti sneaks out of the hole and prepares to engage Dexter and the rest of us drop fire on them, creating a distraction.”
“Damn,” swears Urdor Darkwind, “you’re clever.”
“Delicious, darling,” she said sweetly.
They began passing around the dust.
Next Time: Here we go, folks! You’ve seen the lead-up- here comes the confrontation!
4/18/97 O.L.G., 10 a.m., the harbor of Port Lofrax, Forinthia
What have I gotten myself into? groaned Akakathan to himself.
He stood on the prow of the Twikwakikikak in the stinging spray, his heart heavy. He could simply leave... but these people were his friends. And they were counting on his help. Behind him, he heard Vosh say, “So this is Forinthia?” The centaur’s voice was tinged with sorrow- since the foul ritual that had turned him undead, he had not recovered his good cheer.
“Yes,” came the voice of Chanticleer, full of spite and malice. “And Dexter is here somewhere.”
***
The city was crawling with Farenth’s agents. He was certainly well-informed of local events, and the arrival of the villains was reported to him right away. No sign of Lyr, as yet, but there were others he knew... oh yes. On his knees behind a dark altar, he grinned as he made his prayers to Bleak. Everything was coming together. His spider web was quivering as the flies landed.
When Durgin announced that Malford had arrived with nine allies, Farenth frowned slightly. That was a lot of opposition; he could only hope the pirates would be as wise.
Then he spoke to the doppelganger and they made their final plans. Even if Dexter thought he won, Farenth would ensure that he would lose.
And then, of course, one more thing to take care of- Farenth spent the majority of his savings having a teleport spell put into his ring of spell storing. Now all was ready.
***
Noon, the Blue Moon tavern, Port Lofrax
“We’ve got to find them,” Dexter said urgently.
“It’s a trap, you know,” Lochenvare grunted.
“It doesn’t matter. We’ve got to save Sheila!”
“Wasn’t she involved in your torture?”
“No, she was my Confessor. And it doesn’t matter. We just need to stop Farenth and rescue her!”
“Whatever.” The burly fighter shrugged and took a pull on his beer. “So how do we find them?”
“He lured us here,” Malford explained. “He will find us.”
***
How right Malford was. Once Farenth’s preparations were made, his people in place, the doppelganger in the form it needed to be, he sent off one of his particularly amusing lackeys to get things started.
***
1:30 p.m.
Seth, garbed in outrageously pink studded leather armor, moved through the streets of Port Lofrax, keeping his eyes peeled for a centaur with green hair. That would be the one that would stand out the most. He asked street vendors near the docks, passing out a few coppers, until he had followed the pirates’ meandering trail to an inn of rough reputation. There he sauntered up to their table and softly, in a simpering voice, murmured, “Farenth sends his regards.”
Chaticleer’s head snapped up. “Where is he?” she asked, her voice dangerous.
“Is it him you seek- or Dexter?”
***
Meanwhile, almost simultaneously, a group of three of Farenth’s agents ambushed Dexter’s group as they were on their way to Port Lofrax’s cathedral to Galador. Dexter hoped they might be able to help track down the missing Confessor.
The attack was sudden and brutal. It was led by Amar, one of Farenth’s lieutenants, but all three of the agents were sacrifices. Farenth knew they had no real chance against the heroes; the idea was to lead them into his lair.
When the last of the three was defeated, the party interrogated the only survivor. And he played his role perfectly- quivering in fear of his life, he told them where to find Farenth. They moved immediately towards the address he had given- towards Farenth’s trap.
***
“We need to think about this,” Delilah repeated. “If we’re going to attack them, we need to make sure they won’t just slaughter us. Can we take them in a fair fight? Maybe- we don’t know what they can do- but we shouldn’t even try. Forget a fair fight! Let’s be sure we’ll get them!”
“He’s in that house right now,” Seth promised.
“We don’t want to just charge in at them,” Delilah insisted. “We need to lay a trap and lure them out into it.”
“What do you mean?” Chanti’s eyes were lidded; she was drugged with the feeling of vengeance, about to be delivered. Vengeance for Galiger- vengeance for Bleak.
“I’ve got an idea,” she explained. “First of all, we all use that dust of disappearance- if we lose the fight, we don’t want Dexter and his team to get it, so however much we use up is a good thing. Then we all wait in a rope trick and ready oil and acid and missiles. When they come into range, Chanti sneaks out of the hole and prepares to engage Dexter and the rest of us drop fire on them, creating a distraction.”
“Damn,” swears Urdor Darkwind, “you’re clever.”
“Delicious, darling,” she said sweetly.
They began passing around the dust.
Next Time: Here we go, folks! You’ve seen the lead-up- here comes the confrontation!
Knightfall
World of Kulan DM
It's going to be a slobberknocker! ![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
