Cydra: the Early Years
the Jester
Legend
Hehe... I was just thinking how funny it would be if I looked in on Dexter's old character sheet and was like, "Oh wow, I'm sorry, he was actually Lawful Evil at first, and he has a half-elf...!"
the Jester
Legend
We don’t get to see them now, but rest assured that they’re involved.
Those orichalcum objects- the bowl. The knife. The candleholder. The bell. The book.
We’ll see them in the future, more than once; probably yet again.
For now, we need concern ourselves only with the golem. Within its crate, it lay as if in a deep sleep. Boxed up, hidden behind a wooden crate, the thing would stand almost seven feet if held erect; and clearly- terrifyingly, to the greedy merchant foolish enough to attempt its transport- it was articulated. You could (were you brave enough to touch it) move its arms and legs as if it were some clever toy made for a giant’s baby.
Its fierce ram head, its strongly muscled body- these served as warnings to any foolish enough to trifle with it. It seemed, somehow, to radiate menace
In the depths of night, as its fingers began to twitch, as the Orichalcum Devourer began to stir from its harmless sleep, it was a single impulse that drove it. Someone had used the bell, book and candle. Someone had made the sacrifice- a sacrifice we’ll get to see people make, in time; but not yet.
It caused this terrible thing to wake.
The wooden crate, nailed shut but iron nails as long as a troll’s finger, burst apart with only a moment’s work. The Orichalcum Devourer smashed its way free; and then it moved swiftly, never hesitating for even an instant. It climbed the stairs from the hold, ramming a fist through sailor standing above before he had a moment to act.
Then the Orichalcum Devourer moved to the forecastle and started slamming its terrible metal fists into it, smashing a hole in the wall almost instantly.
As sleepy sailors (and the passengers) woke, the Orichalcum Devourer smashed its feet through the deck, then smashed a hole in the ship’s hull from within the hold- below the waterline.
Ocean began to pour into the ship’s belly.
Screams as the Orichalcum seemed to move randomly, tearing walls to bits, allowing more and more of the sea outside to violate the ship; and soon it was listing badly.
Our heroes- can we call these guys that? Maybe not quite yet- Malford, Dex and Lochenvar convened on deck. Around them, all was chaos. The sky was black, pricked with the flames of the stars. There was no moon, but the sound of the sea was everywhere.
“We’re about to be shipwrecked, aren’t we?” Dexter groaned.
“Unless we can stop that thing,” Lochenvar grunted.
“We’re about to be shipwrecked,” Malford agreed.
The Orichalcum Devourer came up on deck.
“Crap,” said Malford.
There was a sudden jar of clashing colors as he let out a color spray, but neither it, nor Dexter’s psychic assault seemed to have any effect on the golem. Instead it rushed to the mainmast. In a moment it had grasped it in a terrible hug, and before the group’s terrified eyes it ripped the mast down. It fell into the deck with a thundering crash. Splinters of wood danced into the air.
Suddenly the ship gave a great shudder and an audible groan.
“Oh no!” cried Dexter.
Suddenly water was everywhere.
Next Time: What will happen to our heroes? (All right, we’ll start calling them that...)
Those orichalcum objects- the bowl. The knife. The candleholder. The bell. The book.
We’ll see them in the future, more than once; probably yet again.
For now, we need concern ourselves only with the golem. Within its crate, it lay as if in a deep sleep. Boxed up, hidden behind a wooden crate, the thing would stand almost seven feet if held erect; and clearly- terrifyingly, to the greedy merchant foolish enough to attempt its transport- it was articulated. You could (were you brave enough to touch it) move its arms and legs as if it were some clever toy made for a giant’s baby.
Its fierce ram head, its strongly muscled body- these served as warnings to any foolish enough to trifle with it. It seemed, somehow, to radiate menace
In the depths of night, as its fingers began to twitch, as the Orichalcum Devourer began to stir from its harmless sleep, it was a single impulse that drove it. Someone had used the bell, book and candle. Someone had made the sacrifice- a sacrifice we’ll get to see people make, in time; but not yet.
It caused this terrible thing to wake.
The wooden crate, nailed shut but iron nails as long as a troll’s finger, burst apart with only a moment’s work. The Orichalcum Devourer smashed its way free; and then it moved swiftly, never hesitating for even an instant. It climbed the stairs from the hold, ramming a fist through sailor standing above before he had a moment to act.
Then the Orichalcum Devourer moved to the forecastle and started slamming its terrible metal fists into it, smashing a hole in the wall almost instantly.
As sleepy sailors (and the passengers) woke, the Orichalcum Devourer smashed its feet through the deck, then smashed a hole in the ship’s hull from within the hold- below the waterline.
Ocean began to pour into the ship’s belly.
Screams as the Orichalcum seemed to move randomly, tearing walls to bits, allowing more and more of the sea outside to violate the ship; and soon it was listing badly.
Our heroes- can we call these guys that? Maybe not quite yet- Malford, Dex and Lochenvar convened on deck. Around them, all was chaos. The sky was black, pricked with the flames of the stars. There was no moon, but the sound of the sea was everywhere.
“We’re about to be shipwrecked, aren’t we?” Dexter groaned.
“Unless we can stop that thing,” Lochenvar grunted.
“We’re about to be shipwrecked,” Malford agreed.
The Orichalcum Devourer came up on deck.
“Crap,” said Malford.
There was a sudden jar of clashing colors as he let out a color spray, but neither it, nor Dexter’s psychic assault seemed to have any effect on the golem. Instead it rushed to the mainmast. In a moment it had grasped it in a terrible hug, and before the group’s terrified eyes it ripped the mast down. It fell into the deck with a thundering crash. Splinters of wood danced into the air.
Suddenly the ship gave a great shudder and an audible groan.
“Oh no!” cried Dexter.
Suddenly water was everywhere.
Next Time: What will happen to our heroes? (All right, we’ll start calling them that...)
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the Jester
Legend
Aerisa
Unfortunately for our heroes, there was nothing they could do but cling to the wreckage and hope that they ended up somewhere that there was land.
Lochenvar called out for his brother for about an hour, but there was no sign of him so he saved his breath after that. He did not weep; he seemed a stoic individual. The group was, however, joined by the halfling Stetson, seemingly a reasonably strong swimmer and lucky enough to have survived the confusion just before the sinking of the Flying Fish.
“I hope your brother made it,” Malford called to Lochenvar, but the man didn’t even acknowledge him.
They rode the currents for a time. We were close to Aerisa, Malford thought. The currents there tend to sweep much ashore. It is a hope...
When night fell our heroes felt a certain measure of fear. It was no more likely that a shark would attack them now than before, but somehow the ability to see what was out there was crucial to their bravery. Even Malford’s infravision was useless, with the oceans being warm enough to mask almost anything.
At least we won’t freeze, the gnome thought sardonically.
***
In the morning they washed ashore, exhausted. The four of them found a stream nearby, drank thirstily, then ate a few fruits from some nearby trees and collapsed into sleep.
It was late afternoon when they woke. A group of elves had quietly built a fire a hundred yards away; two of the elves were watching for the group to wake, and when they did at last the elves immediately offered them food, drink, new clothing, and other comforts.
“You were shipwrecked, yes?”
Dexter nodded, chewing hungrily on a fish on a stick that had been pulled from the fire for him.
“Well, you are on Aerisa. It is a small isle, and simple; we have little, but we need little. You will find life here to be easy and carefree, at least until the next ship arrives and you can find passage... wherever you’re going.”
“Um,” Dexter said around a mouthful of fish, “how often do ships lay in here?”
The elf shrugged eloquently. “Occasionally. Not regularly. Perhaps four times a year.”
I’m going to be stuck here for months, and I hate elves, Dexter groaned inwardly. Great. Stuck with a bunch of arrogant pointy-eared... He sighed. I guess I’ll have to make the most of it.
But as the group was escorted to an elven village, Dexter found himself mellowing towards these elves. The conceit of Forinthian elves that he’d met knew almost no bounds, but not so with these. Though Galadorian, they were neither proselytizing nor judgmental.
They were, in fact, downright pleasant.
Unable to hold his resentment of them, Dexter found his attitude shifting in subtle ways. Galiger surely would not have approved. Dex felt a momentary pang- they were friends, once- but pushed it roughly aside. Malford was still his friend- his best friend. He didn’t need Galiger anyway- he was a bad influence.
Dexter tries to recall the dream he had last night, but it’s so foggy- but he knows that this time wasn’t like the others. He did not dream of the Light last night. There were no glories of Heaven.
There was utter darkness, black and evil, shot through with spasms of chaos.
It was from Bleak. Hi, son, gotcher soul don’t you know.
Just makin’ sure you haven’t forgotten.
No, indeed- Dexter can’t forget that. No indeed.
Next Time: Another reminder!
Unfortunately for our heroes, there was nothing they could do but cling to the wreckage and hope that they ended up somewhere that there was land.
Lochenvar called out for his brother for about an hour, but there was no sign of him so he saved his breath after that. He did not weep; he seemed a stoic individual. The group was, however, joined by the halfling Stetson, seemingly a reasonably strong swimmer and lucky enough to have survived the confusion just before the sinking of the Flying Fish.
“I hope your brother made it,” Malford called to Lochenvar, but the man didn’t even acknowledge him.
They rode the currents for a time. We were close to Aerisa, Malford thought. The currents there tend to sweep much ashore. It is a hope...
When night fell our heroes felt a certain measure of fear. It was no more likely that a shark would attack them now than before, but somehow the ability to see what was out there was crucial to their bravery. Even Malford’s infravision was useless, with the oceans being warm enough to mask almost anything.
At least we won’t freeze, the gnome thought sardonically.
***
In the morning they washed ashore, exhausted. The four of them found a stream nearby, drank thirstily, then ate a few fruits from some nearby trees and collapsed into sleep.
It was late afternoon when they woke. A group of elves had quietly built a fire a hundred yards away; two of the elves were watching for the group to wake, and when they did at last the elves immediately offered them food, drink, new clothing, and other comforts.
“You were shipwrecked, yes?”
Dexter nodded, chewing hungrily on a fish on a stick that had been pulled from the fire for him.
“Well, you are on Aerisa. It is a small isle, and simple; we have little, but we need little. You will find life here to be easy and carefree, at least until the next ship arrives and you can find passage... wherever you’re going.”
“Um,” Dexter said around a mouthful of fish, “how often do ships lay in here?”
The elf shrugged eloquently. “Occasionally. Not regularly. Perhaps four times a year.”
I’m going to be stuck here for months, and I hate elves, Dexter groaned inwardly. Great. Stuck with a bunch of arrogant pointy-eared... He sighed. I guess I’ll have to make the most of it.
But as the group was escorted to an elven village, Dexter found himself mellowing towards these elves. The conceit of Forinthian elves that he’d met knew almost no bounds, but not so with these. Though Galadorian, they were neither proselytizing nor judgmental.
They were, in fact, downright pleasant.
Unable to hold his resentment of them, Dexter found his attitude shifting in subtle ways. Galiger surely would not have approved. Dex felt a momentary pang- they were friends, once- but pushed it roughly aside. Malford was still his friend- his best friend. He didn’t need Galiger anyway- he was a bad influence.
Dexter tries to recall the dream he had last night, but it’s so foggy- but he knows that this time wasn’t like the others. He did not dream of the Light last night. There were no glories of Heaven.
There was utter darkness, black and evil, shot through with spasms of chaos.
It was from Bleak. Hi, son, gotcher soul don’t you know.
Just makin’ sure you haven’t forgotten.
No, indeed- Dexter can’t forget that. No indeed.
Next Time: Another reminder!
the Jester
Legend
Lela said:
Hm, this is really two questions.
As to Galador and Bleak:
Galador is the center of a vast and powerful monotheistic religion that, at the time of this thread, dominates everywhere the pcs have ever been. He's the one who ignited the sun a million years ago (which orbits Forinthia, natch).
Bleak is the devil figure of the religion. At this point in the campaign, if you're not a Galadorian, the Galadorians consider you to be a Bleakist. There's an A or a B, but there's no such thing as C or None of the above. Think of this period of Galadorianism as being the worst cliches of an overbearingly controlling monotheistic society.
Forinthia is the center of Galador's religion. It's primarily human and dwarven in racial makeup (though there are numbers of others as well). The humans and dwarves (but especially the humans) have conquered a vast amount of surrounding territory (often the culture does the conquering, bringing capitalist systems to mercantile cultures and taking over with a combo of religious indoctrination, military efforts, and intermarriage over a generation or two).
Until they went to Aerisa, the pcs had seen elves on Forinthia, who were snooty Galadorians or sullen anti-Galadorians who kept it to themselves (in either case rubbing the pcs the wrong way), and on Gorel. The elves of Gorel are, of course, possessed of anywhere from genocidal hatred of outsiders to only a near-genocidal hatred of outsiders.
The elves of Aerisa were my attempt to show the players that not all elves in the world were a buncha snots. Keep in mind that this is still in the very early days of the campaign world- the above update takes place mostly in game 19. The world had only existed, in real time, for 2 months and 2 days! So there were a lot of things I was fleshing out as I went. (The campaign started with a rough map of Forinthia and a few notes when the players demanded I run a game a few weeks after my old campaign world was eaten by Tharizdun.)
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the Jester
Legend
Another Reminder
For the record, at this point the pcs in this group are:
Dexter Nadly- human psionicist 4; align N.
Malford the Magnificent- gnome thief/illusionist 5/4; align CN.
Lochenvare- human fighter 1; align NE.
Able Steel (see below)- I believe human; fighter 1; align N.
Keep in mind that this is 2e, so Malford is more like a 5th level pc than a 9th level pc.
Regardless...
Lochenvare grunted as he pushed through the foliage. The jungle was thick and humid, and he was sweating fairly profusely. The muscles on his back glistened as he hacked a bush savagely with the machete he had purchased from the elves earlier, and said bush got right out of their way.
Since they had time to kill, our heroes had searched out what sign of adventure they could. As it turned out, one of the few things Aerisa boasted was a host of old overgrown ruins. Though there were doubtless several areas of ruins at various levels of overgrowth, our heroes could only easily discern the location of one, so it was towards that one that our heroes headed.
They had also, in the elven villages, picked up another companion- Able Steel. Now, truth to tell, the memories are a lil rusty here, and Able only lasted two games, and I don’t have his old character sheet in my ‘body bag’ file. So I’m not sure- I might be makin’ this stuff up. If any of my old players recalls this- Able was one of the only Cydran pcs played by Bo- I’d love some input and correction of the record.
Anyway, if memory serves (hah!), Able Steel was a human warrior the group picked up, who, like them, had been shipwrecked and survived only through the clever vagaries of fate and that self-same current that had swept Dexter, Malford, Lochenvare and Setson ashore. Now, as they were all adventurers, they were waiting for the next ship out- so it seemed logical that they should all check out the ruins together.
The ruins, when the party finally arrived at them, were surrounded by a crumbling wall on a little more than half of their perimeter. Elsewhere, the stones of the wall had tumbled or been removed past the point of their serving as an effective barrier. Within the wall there were a number of smaller buildings and a pair of larger ones; and as our heroes examined the interior, they were attacked by a pair of huge hungry lizards as long as Lochenvare was tall. But the lizards could not stand before the furious power of our heroes, especially now that they contained a pair of fighters; and in a few short moments, the lizards lay dismembered or disemboweled on the flagstones of the ruins’ courtyard.
Searching out the ruins- with Malford watching for traps, and Dexter feeling a growing presentiment of danger- the party found a secret panel concealing a small vault. As Malford opened it, however, a terrible thing appeared without warning in a sudden burst of black radiance!
It was humanoid, with two legs, but it looked supple, like a snake; and where a man would have arms it had snakes. Four long whipping snakes, fangs dripping caustic venom, struck out at our heroes! In an instant it had bitten Lochenvare and he dropped, spasming and frothing at the mouth, unable to move.
Worst of all was the thing’s head. It wore Dexter’s visage like a mask.
“I come for you, Son of the Light,” the snake-demon hissed. “In the name of BLEAK!! He will have you!!”
Dexter swung his new staff, catching the thing in the head. He shouted in anger as he did so, and both Able and Malford pressed in. They battled fiercely against the thing for a few moments, and then Dex laid it low.
He was shaking.
He leaned his staff against the wall and pressed his head against the crumbling surface as well. The cool stone contrasted bitterly with the burning heat of the scars on his forehead.
“Lochenvare’s alive,” Malford announced. “He’s just paralyzed...” He glanced at Dexter’s face and shut up.
***
The secret vault held a gold box that contained a ring and a bag of 66 red coins. The bag of coins and the ring were both magical.
They diced, and Lochenvare took the ring. The coins went to Dexter.
They immediately laid their curse upon him, though it was not to be recognized for quite some time.
***
When the ship arrived, they were overjoyed. When it left, they were on board. Already Dexter had tried to weasel out of paying for his food.
Next Time: Back to Forinthia, and thence- where?
For the record, at this point the pcs in this group are:
Dexter Nadly- human psionicist 4; align N.
Malford the Magnificent- gnome thief/illusionist 5/4; align CN.
Lochenvare- human fighter 1; align NE.
Able Steel (see below)- I believe human; fighter 1; align N.
Keep in mind that this is 2e, so Malford is more like a 5th level pc than a 9th level pc.
Regardless...
Lochenvare grunted as he pushed through the foliage. The jungle was thick and humid, and he was sweating fairly profusely. The muscles on his back glistened as he hacked a bush savagely with the machete he had purchased from the elves earlier, and said bush got right out of their way.
Since they had time to kill, our heroes had searched out what sign of adventure they could. As it turned out, one of the few things Aerisa boasted was a host of old overgrown ruins. Though there were doubtless several areas of ruins at various levels of overgrowth, our heroes could only easily discern the location of one, so it was towards that one that our heroes headed.
They had also, in the elven villages, picked up another companion- Able Steel. Now, truth to tell, the memories are a lil rusty here, and Able only lasted two games, and I don’t have his old character sheet in my ‘body bag’ file. So I’m not sure- I might be makin’ this stuff up. If any of my old players recalls this- Able was one of the only Cydran pcs played by Bo- I’d love some input and correction of the record.
Anyway, if memory serves (hah!), Able Steel was a human warrior the group picked up, who, like them, had been shipwrecked and survived only through the clever vagaries of fate and that self-same current that had swept Dexter, Malford, Lochenvare and Setson ashore. Now, as they were all adventurers, they were waiting for the next ship out- so it seemed logical that they should all check out the ruins together.
The ruins, when the party finally arrived at them, were surrounded by a crumbling wall on a little more than half of their perimeter. Elsewhere, the stones of the wall had tumbled or been removed past the point of their serving as an effective barrier. Within the wall there were a number of smaller buildings and a pair of larger ones; and as our heroes examined the interior, they were attacked by a pair of huge hungry lizards as long as Lochenvare was tall. But the lizards could not stand before the furious power of our heroes, especially now that they contained a pair of fighters; and in a few short moments, the lizards lay dismembered or disemboweled on the flagstones of the ruins’ courtyard.
Searching out the ruins- with Malford watching for traps, and Dexter feeling a growing presentiment of danger- the party found a secret panel concealing a small vault. As Malford opened it, however, a terrible thing appeared without warning in a sudden burst of black radiance!
It was humanoid, with two legs, but it looked supple, like a snake; and where a man would have arms it had snakes. Four long whipping snakes, fangs dripping caustic venom, struck out at our heroes! In an instant it had bitten Lochenvare and he dropped, spasming and frothing at the mouth, unable to move.
Worst of all was the thing’s head. It wore Dexter’s visage like a mask.
“I come for you, Son of the Light,” the snake-demon hissed. “In the name of BLEAK!! He will have you!!”
Dexter swung his new staff, catching the thing in the head. He shouted in anger as he did so, and both Able and Malford pressed in. They battled fiercely against the thing for a few moments, and then Dex laid it low.
He was shaking.
He leaned his staff against the wall and pressed his head against the crumbling surface as well. The cool stone contrasted bitterly with the burning heat of the scars on his forehead.
“Lochenvare’s alive,” Malford announced. “He’s just paralyzed...” He glanced at Dexter’s face and shut up.
***
The secret vault held a gold box that contained a ring and a bag of 66 red coins. The bag of coins and the ring were both magical.
They diced, and Lochenvare took the ring. The coins went to Dexter.
They immediately laid their curse upon him, though it was not to be recognized for quite some time.
***
When the ship arrived, they were overjoyed. When it left, they were on board. Already Dexter had tried to weasel out of paying for his food.
Next Time: Back to Forinthia, and thence- where?
Malford/Sheva
First Post
testing
grrr I posted a huge post and it didnt post it...moo
grrr I posted a huge post and it didnt post it...moo
