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Cydra: the Early Years
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<blockquote data-quote="the Jester" data-source="post: 1554538" data-attributes="member: 1210"><p><strong>Strogass</strong></p><p></p><p><strong>Current Lineup, Team Pirates</strong></p><p></p><p><em>Vosh- centaur druid 3; N</em></p><p><em>Lyr- cleric 5; LE</em></p><p><em>Chanticleer Gildar-Ynarlslaand- fighter 5; CN</em></p><p><em>Akakathan- merellin bard 2/priest 2; NG</em></p><p></p><p></p><p>“Land ho!”</p><p></p><p>The <em>Twikwakikikak</em> comes alive with activity. Captain Lyr ascends to the crow’s nest, using Chanti’s spyglass to gaze at the huge continent coming into view.</p><p></p><p>Strogass.</p><p></p><p>If Forinthia is the center of the worship of Galador, Strogass is its negative image, its opposite pole. That is the legendary home of all chaos and evil, of all darkness; there is the wellspring of Bleak’s power on Cydra. </p><p></p><p>And it’s <em>damn</em> far from Dexter. </p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>Sailing along the coast the pirates spot a series of small towns, then what must be termed a city. This, it turns out, is Bratamond. </p><p></p><p>The people are pale of skin, with dark hair that tends to thin stringy strands. Their eyes are dark and their clothes tend to dark colors and reds. When the pirates disembark and wander about, they quickly realize that Strogass is a place where the strong rule through their fists. They pass several beatings as they wander the city, listening to the odd local language. It’s easy enough to find a merchant that speaks Forinthian, but speaking it draws attention. </p><p></p><p>“Strangers,” an obsequious little halfling says to them in thick Forinthian. “Could you spare a moment?”</p><p></p><p>Lyr nods imperiously. “Speak!” she barks. “And we already have a cook!”</p><p></p><p>“Oh, I have a job too- I am a manservant for a great and powerful wizard. But, ah, that job has left me somewhat unprepared for my current dilemma.”</p><p></p><p>Akakathan snickers. “Manservant,” he guffaws.</p><p></p><p>It develops that Weevil (the halfling) had lost a spellbook of his master’s while gambling on a sure hand of cards. “Now he’s going to flay me if I don’t get it back!” Weevil whines.</p><p></p><p>“Well, that’s what you get for gambling with someone else’s spellbooks,” Vosh comments dryly. </p><p></p><p>“Please, I’ll pay you! And I’ll help you talk to the local merchants and such!”</p><p></p><p>After some discussion, the group agrees. Beating up the sailor who won the book is a difficult task for a halfling manservant, but less than nothing to an experienced band of adventurers. A few broken ribs and loosened teeth are enough to persuade the sailor (a swarthy fellow with a massive tattoo of a serpent across his left shoulder) to give the book up, and then our heroes have a translator for a few hours. </p><p></p><p>The ship is outfitted with new material and goods to replace the supplies expended on the long journey. New sailcloth, new rope, new timber. More food, fresh water, whiskey. Paint, sand, fishing line... the list goes on and on. Weevil shows signs of regret for his offer to serve as an intermediary with the merchants after only an hour, but Lyr keeps him doggedly at it til sunset.</p><p></p><p>Finally, before they release him, they ask him about local areas of adventure.</p><p></p><p>“Well,” he responds, “there’s an old abandoned monastery that was home to an order of monks of Galador a long time ago...”</p><p></p><p>“A monastery of Galador?” Lyr exclaims. “What a perfect Strogassian dungeon!” With a smile, she asks, “Where is it?”</p><p></p><p></p><p><em><strong>Next Time:</strong></em> The Monastery of Galador!</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="the Jester, post: 1554538, member: 1210"] [b]Strogass[/b] [b]Current Lineup, Team Pirates[/b] [i]Vosh- centaur druid 3; N Lyr- cleric 5; LE Chanticleer Gildar-Ynarlslaand- fighter 5; CN Akakathan- merellin bard 2/priest 2; NG[/i] “Land ho!” The [i]Twikwakikikak[/i] comes alive with activity. Captain Lyr ascends to the crow’s nest, using Chanti’s spyglass to gaze at the huge continent coming into view. Strogass. If Forinthia is the center of the worship of Galador, Strogass is its negative image, its opposite pole. That is the legendary home of all chaos and evil, of all darkness; there is the wellspring of Bleak’s power on Cydra. And it’s [i]damn[/i] far from Dexter. *** Sailing along the coast the pirates spot a series of small towns, then what must be termed a city. This, it turns out, is Bratamond. The people are pale of skin, with dark hair that tends to thin stringy strands. Their eyes are dark and their clothes tend to dark colors and reds. When the pirates disembark and wander about, they quickly realize that Strogass is a place where the strong rule through their fists. They pass several beatings as they wander the city, listening to the odd local language. It’s easy enough to find a merchant that speaks Forinthian, but speaking it draws attention. “Strangers,” an obsequious little halfling says to them in thick Forinthian. “Could you spare a moment?” Lyr nods imperiously. “Speak!” she barks. “And we already have a cook!” “Oh, I have a job too- I am a manservant for a great and powerful wizard. But, ah, that job has left me somewhat unprepared for my current dilemma.” Akakathan snickers. “Manservant,” he guffaws. It develops that Weevil (the halfling) had lost a spellbook of his master’s while gambling on a sure hand of cards. “Now he’s going to flay me if I don’t get it back!” Weevil whines. “Well, that’s what you get for gambling with someone else’s spellbooks,” Vosh comments dryly. “Please, I’ll pay you! And I’ll help you talk to the local merchants and such!” After some discussion, the group agrees. Beating up the sailor who won the book is a difficult task for a halfling manservant, but less than nothing to an experienced band of adventurers. A few broken ribs and loosened teeth are enough to persuade the sailor (a swarthy fellow with a massive tattoo of a serpent across his left shoulder) to give the book up, and then our heroes have a translator for a few hours. The ship is outfitted with new material and goods to replace the supplies expended on the long journey. New sailcloth, new rope, new timber. More food, fresh water, whiskey. Paint, sand, fishing line... the list goes on and on. Weevil shows signs of regret for his offer to serve as an intermediary with the merchants after only an hour, but Lyr keeps him doggedly at it til sunset. Finally, before they release him, they ask him about local areas of adventure. “Well,” he responds, “there’s an old abandoned monastery that was home to an order of monks of Galador a long time ago...” “A monastery of Galador?” Lyr exclaims. “What a perfect Strogassian dungeon!” With a smile, she asks, “Where is it?” [i][b]Next Time:[/b][/i][b][/b] The Monastery of Galador! [/QUOTE]
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