The Dreaming God -A Fable

 From: Jason Zavoda [nemesis@MAGPAGE.COM]

Sent: Tuesday, December 18, 2001 5:50 AM

To: GREYTALK@MITVMA.MIT.EDU

Subject: [GREYTALK] The Dreaming God -A Fable

There was a dream of wings. Tharizdun laughed, and from his laughter the Gods of Oerth were born.

Tharizdun had eight children of his laughter. Some men would call evil, others good, but all hated and feared their father Tharizdun.

The Oerth was a wilderness. The elves walked naked beneath the trees, the dwarves were more of stone and mud than they were of flesh. Man was a beast, hunting in packs, hiding in trees and caves from the greater beasts around him.

The oldest of Tharizdun's children, born only a sliver of a moment before his kin, reached down and gave thought to mankind. Tharizdun watched and smiled and blasted the land. In some places he drew the heat away till the waters froze and the plants withered. With a glance he raised mountains that belched forth fire, or turned the grass and trees to sand where the days baked and the nights were bitterly cold.

Man did not perish, nor elves or dwarves. All grew stronger and new races and species were born. The other gods showed themselves to the tribes of man. The ancient fathers of the Flan, the Suel, Bakluni, Oeridian, and Olman, and tribes which fell and did not flourish, and tribes which live on Oerth beyond the borders of the Flanaess.

Tharizdun took the spirit of the beasts and the spirit of man and twisted. The monsters of the Oerth were born, touched by evil, brought forth to torment and to destroy.

The dreaming god, Tharizdun, grew bored with his children, tired of his own monsters, angry at the resilience of man. He would do away with them all, devour all the Oerth and the gods he'd born from his dreams, but his children knew his mind.

None had the strength to match Tharizdun. Not all eight together could defeat him, not even bind the master of nightmares. But together they might trick him and use his greatest strength against him.

The world was a dream to Tharizdun and while he was awake he was its master, but some part of Tharizdun always slept. A balance was struck between his waking self and his dreaming existence. The children of Tharizdun knew that they must shift the balance, send Tharizdun into an eternal sleep, but some small fragment of the dark god must remain awake or the Oerth, its people and its protecting gods would be swallowed whole into the dreaming mind of Tharizdun.

The children of Tharizdun created a great hall within a castle sitting on a hill. Inside they prepared a feast beyond the imaginings of men. Of the Oerth and on the Oerth this hill and castle and hall appeared to be, but it was an island of thought, a cage and a trap for the dreaming god, their father.

They sang and feasted and rejoiced. They wove a dream, a pale imitation of Tharizdun's great dreaming. It brought the dark god to them. He was within the hall, though the doors were barred, and ruin was around him. The hall was dark, the walls scarred and the finery tattered and decayed, but his children were not there.

He found ten thousand rooms within the castle walls, ten thousand horrors he left behind him, twisted dreams and nightmares, but always his children were not there.

The sound of laughter that he no longer possessed called to him and he .allowed it in greater and greater haste. Up he went till he came to a small door in the highest tower of the castle. Inside there was a child's room and sleeping in a bed was Tharizdun, his children 1 s dream, small and pale, a fragment of himself, the dreaming sliver that the waking Tharizdun held inside.

There was a ladder against one wall of the room and a trapdoor in the ceiling. Beyond the door Tharizdun could hear the laughter which he sought to reclaim. A little climb and the trapdoor was flung open. Inside was laughter and a dream of wings.

Only the gods know what happened to Tharizdun's oldest child. In the room below, the child Tharizdun is awake and laughs among ten thousand rooms, but does not sleep.

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Chapter 4: The Dry Steppes

Page 1

Page 2

Chapter 2: The Prospect of the Paynims

Page 1

Page 2

Chapter 1 - Fortune's Map

Date sent: Thu, 9 Apr 1998 00:05:38 EDT
Send reply to: The GREYtalk Discussion List GREYTALK@MITVMA.MIT.EDU
From: NiteScreed NiteScreed@AOL.COM
Subject: [GREYTALK] Chapter 1 – Fortune’s Map
To: GREYTALK@MITVMA.MIT.EDU

The Journal of Rekham Al-Mudri
Being An Account Of A Journey Into The Far West

Chapter One – Fortune’s Map

I was born into a merchant family in Tusmit but have never considered myself a native of that land. As is the practice among merchants, I was apprenticed at an early age to my uncle, Alain Nothman of Ket, who had the good fortune to marry my aunt, Alia, thereby increasing the fortunes of both families. A merchant of Oerdian extraction, it is not unusual that Alain would marry a Bakluni, at least not in Ket. Ket is in all ways cosmopolitan. It is neither of the east nor of the west, neither savage nor civilized but all this and more. All manner of peoples, races and religions mix, more or less comfortably, in Ket as befits its position as the crossroads between the Flanaess and the Inner West. I am by choice a Kettite.

My education was no more than what might be expected living as a merchant in a cosmopolitan mecca. That I have some skill with numbers, being able to quickly calculate sums without an abacus, and a fair memory for names and dates won me a place as an accountant for my uncle. That I was young and vigorous as well meant I could and would be sent with caravans to deliver goods as well as greeting those caravans that arrived at our business address in Lopolla. The older accountants, grown sedentary or settled, did not begrudge me the opportunity to see the world. It was in such employ that I made a fateful journey to the City of Greyhawk in my twenty-second year. We were first to Mitrik and then down the Velverdyva to the Nyr Dyv before on to the City of Greyhawk in the company of some Rhenee bargemen.

Of our merchanting in Greyhawk little needs be said. We were about our business with a load of mixed rugs, Kettish, Ullite and Paynim with some Tusman and fewer Zeifari or Ekbirian, and concluded matters without incident. We also carried as well some secretive cargo for the wizard Rary, a favorite son of Ket. I know not the nature of the cargo for it was intrusted solely to the caravan master but the difficulty he had in arranging to see the wizard allowed me freedom to
explore the city in a manner that would not otherwise have been possible.

Greyhawk is a great and overgrown metropolis with many twisting streets and allies. It is very much like Lopolla in this respect but greater in size by half. It is far more open seeming, not in the least because there is no everpresent dusty haze blowing in from the Paynim Plain. The river wind makes the city seem ever clan and fresh. Architecturally, Greyhawk sports fewer buildings of any height than Lopolla and builds more with stone. The sun dried, red brick buildings of Lopolla routinely top six or eight stories, while in Greyhawk siz is unusual. It was a simple enough matter then to navigate by the sun, not obscured by high tenements and clouds of dust, as I wandered absorbing the sights and sounds of the alien city.

Of my sojourn in this city of the unfathomable east no more needs be said before coming to my discovery. In my wanderings, I looked over the city with a merchant’s eye and a boy’s wonder. It did not escape me that a clever purchase, being returned to Lopolla, might fetch a handsome sum that I could then invest in my uncle’s business to better my lot; for I did not intend to spend my life accounting for other’s fortunes alone. Entertaining such avaricious thoughts, and lost in reverie if the truth be told, I wandered then into a passage of no particular note when I spied the sort of emporium commonly encountered in Lopolla. Zreed’s Antiquary promised any manner of oddments that might suit my need. I entered upon the shop, determined to explore.

What I found was simple enough. It was a map. Crudely drawn and lacking in detail, it was offered for a pittance, probably not cast off as trash by merest chance. Doubtless the proprietor considered it worthless but I essayed my fortune in its faded parchment. You must understand that as a merchant I have a passing familiarity with maps. I am no expert cartographer but I know what is mapped and what is not, where the caravans have pulled back the corners of the world and where knowledge vanishes into a misty horizon. The map clearly showed the outline of the Flanaess, my adopted homeland of Ket and the Inner West but it revealed much more. It was nothing less than a map of Oerth! It pushed back the horizon to reveal the lands of the Far West! Here was opportunity! I purchased the trifle with concealed glee.

Copyright 1998. NiteScreed@aol.com. All rights reserved.

forwarded message

Date sent: Thu, 4 Sep 1997 17:43:21 +0000
Send reply to: rjkuntz@cgi-net.com
From: rjkuntz
Organization: Creations Unlimited
Subject: [GREYTALK] forwarded message
To: GREYTALK@MITVMA.MIT.EDU

Subject:
Robilar Remembers? [Was Old Campaign Synopses]
Date:
Thu, 04 Sep 1997 13:56:19 +0000
From:
rjkuntz
Reply-To:
rjkuntz@cgi-net.com
Organization:
Creations Unlimited
To: Gary R Welsh
References:
1

>
> Now, Dek, I'm not against your point of view but I don't see why we can't
> have some variety of product.

How about detailed areas of the Wild Coast? That was a project of mine previous to giving up the ghost with the old TSR regime. Also Stoink is a winner, hands down. Castle Greyhawk has tremendous potential—and this would be reworked from existing data. My castle El Raja Key and its many sub plots—the list is endless for adventure. And note my market plan for other insights.
>
> G.R. Welsh
>
> CY 597 – the scene: an early autumn morning in a Velunan Cathedral. Qu[iet?]
> acolytes, going about their duties, look up in shock as a cry of outrage
> comes from inside the confessional booth:
>
> “You did WHAT?!? You freed Iuz AND Zuggtmoy?!?! BOTH?!?”
> Robilar shrugged. “I didn't say I was proud of it.”

For the first time in his career the acolyte could not give his blessing, for his heart burst on the spot. “Yurh-aghhh, uhhhhh...,” was all that Lord Robilar heard. He stood and walked from the cathedral and proceeded down an alley.

As Robilar walked he thought of the changed times, mostly about his old—no, he meant “earlier,” nope, it was “old”--friends and enemies. It was all so very strange.

Tenser was reported dead. His one time friend and later his staunchest enemy. Strange. And they claimed he had committed the foul deed. Certainly not without a bit of talk and torture first, he thought. Not even in his blackest moods of those days would he have dispatched such a highly regarded foe without first talking to him, bragging and claiming how much more powerful he was, and all that. After all. He was a villain.

Then Mordenkainen: There had been sporadic murmurs from every wizard he’d met and questioned about the Circle of Eight. How it was now Five, or six on sundays when the old circle members made in effigy a scarecrow likeness of Rary, which was thereafter pummeled by those cudgel wielding priests he disliked so much. But word of Mordenkainen was nowhere to be heard. It was as if he’d disappeared into the mist of fairy. Where were you old friend?

Of course Otto remained, helping and guiding him from afar. But even his pudgy old helper seemed to lack the verve of yester-year. These days his dance was more like a shuffle and he squeaked out the accompanying lines to his ditties. Poor Otto. Once so vibrant and alive. How could this be?

And then there were the other odd facts: That Terik was his brother. Well yes, brother in arms, not blood brother. And what about the Rary affair. Oh, he would redress that upon arriving in Greyhawk. And then the other rumors of the many atrocities he’d supposedly committed with that foul snake of a wizard, Rary. It was as if the Gods had beguiled Greyhawk in his abscence, cast a confusion on the very minds and souls of the populace. It was strange, and he’d get to the bottom of this. At least he had Quij, still. He looked about him.

“Quij?” Confound it! He’d left him outside the cathedral and the orc had probably wandered off. That was not so good since they were in Veluna. Lord Robilar retraced his steps to the Cathedral…

To be contionued?

Rob

---
Garden of the Plantmaster, by Rob Kuntz, is available at: http://WWW.HYPERBOOKS.COM/
---
Suport your local *Troll*. A slick, professional RPG magazine offering in-depth articles, modules/game-aids usable in *all* campaign settings, fiction, reviews. Issue #1: *Worlds Within* (my column): “The Return of Greyhawk?” & “Ice Grave,” a World of Kalibruhn module. Subscriptions: Rick Stalder, Eclipse@uit.net

Co8 and the disappearing Prince

Subject: [GREYTALK] Co8 and the disappearing Prince
Date: Mon, 22 Feb 1999 12:46:18 -0600
From: John C Wright
Reply-To: The GREYtalk Discussion List

Here is a prelude to my upcoming module that is midway in its completion. Hope
you all enjoy and I look forward to any constructive criticisms.

John Wright

********************************************************************************
Adventure Background: Several decades ago, in the late 570's, a temple of great evil arose again within the Flannaess. This 'Temple of Elemental Evil' had been vanquished once before, but as is often the case, the evil only lay dormant long enough for the forces of good to forget and turn an errant eye on the
area.

During this time the young son of King Belvor IV of Furyondy became betrothed to the daughter of the leader of Veluna. Their marriage would unite both kingdoms, and young Thrommel would become the leader of all matters temporal, while his wife would lead the united kingdoms in all matters spiritual. This would be a great blow to not only the forces of evil in the Flannaess, but it would greatly disrupt the balance. Good would hold sway over most lands, and the extra power garnered by the union of Furyondy and Veluna could likely bring about an age of unparalleled peace and prosperity. Mordenkainen, great sorcerer of the Citadel and Circle of Eight, was both an advocate of and defender of the 'Balance.' He firmly believed that with the rise of the Furyondy/Veluna kingdom, that although peace and good would reign for a time, the metaphysical representation of the balance would induce a cataclysm every bit the equal of the 'Invoked Devastation' or the 'Rain of Colorless Fire.' It was then that he began his plan to prevent this supposed cataclysm.

Mordenkainen turned to his colleagues in the Circle of Eight, and explained to them his beliefs. For the most part they all listened objectively, and in many cases nodded their agreement. All save one that is. Tenser had long been a proponent that the Circle should promote and work for good, not hinder it as it would evil forces in an effort to maintain the balance. Tenser argued long and hard against his colleagues, but on the third day of argument they called the matter to a vote. Right before the voting occurred, Mordenkainen spoke to him. "Tenser, we have been friends for years. We have studied many of the same magicks, learned under some of the same sources. We have long been close friends and trusted each other with our lives. Trust me in this, I know what is proper to do here. I would never mislead you and I would do nothing like this unless I knew it was warranted and there was no other way."

Tenser was swayed by the argument, and when the vote occurred, no one opposed it. The Circle began plans then on how best to bring about their result. Ideas of fomenting dissent and possibly war between the two kingdoms were heard, but to these Tenser vehemently refused to even hear more of. If good were to be dealt a blow, he wanted it isolated to a few individuals of power, rather than to a common populace at large.

Finally a plan was arrived at, the Circle would allow a subversive group they had heard of recently, in on the movements of Prince Thrommel, and entice them with a large offer of monetary reward to kidnap him. The Circle never mentioned who they were and worked through intermediaries to supply the Scarlet Brotherhood then with the means to penetrate the courts of Furyondy and spirit away Thrommel. When the agents of the Brotherhood had captured Thrommel, they were to meet with an agent of the Circle in the small village of Hommlet.

The Scarlet Brotherhood agents were successful, and quickly made it to Hommlet, easily evading even the best magical searches due to their high-powered help from the Circle. When the kidnappers reached Hommlet, Mordenkainen (disguised as a simple traveler), passed on to them the fee for their mission well done. The Scarlet Brotherhood agents smiled as they checked the payment, and then mentioned how nice it would be to receive not only this one payment, but a ransom as well. Mordenkain was furious at this betrayal, and quickly attacked the treacherous agents.

Thrommel took this one chance at escape and broke his bindings and sprinted away. An agent of the Brotherhood, seeing the Prince (and his payment) disappearing before his eyes, leveled a crossbow and fired. The bolt flew straight and drove into the Prince's spine. Thrommel collapsed, and then Mordenkainen's spells incinerated the last of the Brotherhood men.

Mordenkainen rushed over to the fallen Prince, and sighed when he saw how pale and deathly the Prince looked. As the Prince's life-blood flowed out Mordenkainen realized that the only way to save the Prince's life was a spell he had memorized in advance. Reaching down to the Prince, Mordenkainen lifted Thrommel's hand and examined the ring on his finger. Nodding in satisfaction, Mordenkainen etched something into the gem set on the ring and then began to chant. The Prince moaned weakly, and then gasped as a filmy white apparition of his body slipped free of his mortal confines and fell into the signet ring on his finger. Mordenkainen smiled grimly, his plan had not come off as cleanly as he would have preferred. Prying the gem from the ring, Mordenkainen then pocketed it, and standing he looked about. Nodding silently to himself, he then uttered a word and vanished from sight.

Several days later, brigands from the 'Temple of Elemental Evil' came across the bodies and proceeded to loot them. One item of note was an expensive signet ring bearing the heraldic symbol of Furyondy. It would be claimed by one of the higher priests down inside the temples dungeons and would remain there for a little while to come.

Later in the year though, a warlord by the name of Robilar came to Hommlet. He had heard of the missing adventurers and the rumors of not only evil, but of buried treasure. Not wanting to miss out on any sort of wealth, he proceeded into the temple, and laid waste to all who opposed him for two solid days. Reaching the lowest levels of the temple, Robilar had an insight into freeing yet another being of power (the reasons behind Robilar's being nearby in almost all cases of imprisoned deities/demon-lords breaking free still astounds many, perhaps he wasn't there by chance, but came with the express intent of freeing Zuggtmoy). Needless to say, after freeing the Fungi Queen, Robilar continued his looting, until he realized that the forces of good, led by Tenser and several wizards of the Eight, had come a calling. Fleeing before their superior forces, he was forced to return to his home, where he was laid siege too. Finally, he and his few men escaped, but not before leaving behind much of the looted treasure. It is here that Tenser found an interesting item. When detecting for magic, he noted one ring seemed to glimmer slightly, and lifting it carefully he noted the symbol of the Furyondy kings. He also noticed the missing gemstone, and immediately broke off helping those gathered sack Robilar's keep. Returning to his own fortress Tenser began to investigate the ring and discovered much of the previous background. His heart was heavy, for he had given his aid to this plan, but he still did not feel comfortable with it. Locking the ring deep within his fortress's vaults, Tenser tried to forget, and did so for several years, before his untimely death at the end of the Greyhawk Wars.

Now it is a little over a year since events of the Return of the Eight, and Tenser is now a solid proponent for good. He has broken from the Circle of Eight and does not believe in their goals anymore. He has seen the heart of evil, and knows that he will oppose it now with all the force he can bring to bear. Now it is time to right one of the wrongs he was involved in, for there is nothing worse than having your body tormented, other than having your soul twisted and broken.

Re: The final combat of Vecna and Kas

Date: Thu, 12 Aug 99 12:26PM PDT
From: Chris Anderson Add To Address Book Add To Junk Mail Blocker
To: GREYTALK@MITVMA.MIT.EDU
Subject: Re: [GREYTALK] The final combat of Vecna and Kas (my version)

Ok, we've seen the stories. Now, I'm curious -- what powers has everyone given to Kas's sword? I don't have my listing at work, and I don't remember all of the details, but the gist was:

Highly intelligent CE +6 shortsword of Wounding.

Minor powers: regenerate 3hp/rnd, speed (attack 1st, add an additional attack/round), immunity to fire/acid, haste at will

Major Powers: Bestow magic resistance of 75%, Paralyze on touch, raise str/dex/con to 25 for 1 turn 1/day.

Major Effects: alignment changes to that of sword, cause fear in all who see the wielder, holy water burns character, user ages 3-30 years whenever the "raise str/dex/con" power is used.

Anyone else?

--
Chris Anderson


> -----Original Message-----
> From: Nathanael. D. Wentz [mailto:nwentz@mail.saintmail.net]
> Sent: Thursday, August 12, 1999 11:17 AM
> To: GREYTALK@mitvma.mit.edu
> Subject: Re: [GREYTALK] The final combat of Vecna and Kas (my version)
>
>
> Here's my version of the way it happened, in two parts. The first is in
> story form, the second in game terms.
>
> Vecna spun around as the door to his laboratory flew open.
> His gaze met Kas's for a split second, and then the battle was joined. Kas
> hurtled toward Vecna, his arm swinging the grey edge of the Sword forward as
> he closed on his master. Vecna, however, was not idle. Arcane energies
> spat and crackled in a nimbus of green fire about him as he loosed the fastest
> spell he knew.
> It wasn't fast enough. As the bolt of death sprang from Vecna's fingers, Kas
> plunged the Sword into his chest, the length of the blade shimmering with
> the black essence of the Sword's power. Kas, flaming, flew backwards across
> the room as fast as he had crossed it less than a second before. Even as he
> hit the wall behind him, Vecna was working a longer, but more deadly magic.
> Kas raised himself to his feet as Vecna uttered the last syllable of his
> final spell. Kas threw his arm out before him, his blackened fingers still
> clutching his weapon as the blast of magical energy reached him. The Sword
> blossomed with white flames, trying desperately to block the spell's effect.
> Vecna, seeing this, began to cast a spell of protection. Once again, he was
> too late. The sword was not wholly successful, however, as Vecna's power was
> too great for it to counter. The greater part of the spell's effects were
> turned, and even as Kas was blasted into his component atoms by the remnants
> of the spell, the magic rebounded from his blazing weapon, bathing the room
> in pale radiance. Vecna, too, was consumed in the ensuing explosion, a noiseless burst of light that flattened the castle and darkened the sky with
> upthrown debris. His hand and his eye slipped away in the streams of magic,
> and no evidence of the sword's passing was ever found.
>
> Ok, Kas first kicked in Vecna's door. Then he and Vecna rolled for initiative, which resulted in a tie of 1. Kas, wielding a magical sword of
> unrivaled power, had a weapon speed factor of 1, the time required for the
> casting of Vecna's spell, a lethal blaze of energy of his own devising, the
> mysteries of which were lost when he met his doom. Kas made his attack roll
> and scored a critical hit, as one of the powers of the Sword (IMC) is that
> all successful attacks are critical hits. Kas knew he had to kill Vecna
> before the lich could send his magics against him, and so had no time to use
> the spell turning power before. (Another one of the Sword's abilities, as I
> see it.) Kas's strike wounded Vecna grievously, as his blow was augmented by
> magics in the Sword. (Another power of the Sword is that upon the utterance
> of the command word, the next creature hit is instantly slain, no saving
> throw. Obviously, some things are too powerful for the sword to destroy so
> easily. This power is usable 1/month.) Vecna's first spell brought Kas down
> to less than a third of his hit points, and the final spell destroyed him
> completely, leaving nothing but a few teeth, fused together.
> The Sword, however, deflected much of the energy of the spell, which, no
> longer focused into a beam, blew the entire tower to kingdom come. The
> entire combat took less than 15 seconds, but saw the passing of two of the
> darkest villains ever to walk on the face of the oerth.
>
> As for the speed at which Vecna and Kas are operating, I'm assuming that
> both were magically augmented in that department. Kas, however, uses no
> spells or powers, relying the Sword to counter that end of things, while he
> was concentrating on the actual "stabbing to death" bit. Even so, they were
> not enough to survive a battle with Vecna, the most powerful spellcaster in
> recorded history.
>
> -- Nathanael D. Wentz, who admits a liking of flashy and noisy magical battles.