New D&D Chaos and Charm Spells

My husband (the wonderful and talented Dungeon Master) and I finally had a chance to finish some priest spells that I (and a few helpful friends) had been working on for ... geez, a few years at this point. My priest follows Hermes, that world's god of Messages and Mischief, so I've always been kind of irked that very few of the spells in the 2nd edition Player's Handbook actually fit his priesthood- he doesn't heal or fight or do anything particularly "useful"; instead he tends to function as a delivery boy with a side of druid and a bit of bard/rogue thrown in for good measure. A few of the animal spells work for the "Message" side (since animals can carry messages or give information), and the priests of Hermes do specialize in Charm magic (mind control? You betcha!), but otherwise there really wasn't much that fit the "Mischief" side of his duties. Not all priesthoods are boring, despite what you might think from reading through the yawn-inducing selection of priest spells.

So I decided to get creative. My goal was to create an entirely new sphere (a sphere is a branch of spells that all fit a theme) and call it Mischief, but one of the DMs on my DM's forum pointed out that in one of the extra D&D books there's a sphere called Chaos. Now THAT is what I'd been looking for! (This book also contained a sphere called Thought; this fills in the gaps for the "Message" side of my priest's order by giving him Telepathy and communication magic.) Now the new spells that I had been creating had a category!

So far we've come up with four new ones; three of which fit into the Chaos sphere and one that's a new, more general Charm spell.

Transmuting Tincture - Level 1
-Sphere: Chaos
-Range: 0
-Components: Material, Somatic
-Duration: 6 hours
-Casting Time: 1 round
-Area of Effect: caster
-Saving Throw: None

This spell enables the priest to change his or her appearance slightly, altering hair color, eye color, skin tone, or any combination of the three for the duration of the spell. Nothing else is changed other than coloration and it cannot be dispelled; it must wear off on its own.

When this spell is in effect, it stacks with a Disguise proficiency (required of this priesthood), improving that by 3. Since this spell cannot voluntarily be removed, if the priest should need to look like himself in that time frame, a Disguise check would have to be made. There is no saving throw for the spell itself, but if used with a disguise, then a roll must be made.

The somatic and material components of this spell are combined; the priest must draw a fake mustache on his finger in charcoal and bring it to his lip. Once the spell goes into effect, the charcoal drawing is erased.

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Snakes in the Backpack - Level 1
Sphere: Animal, Chaos, Summoning
Range: 30 yards
Components: Verbal, Material, Somatic
Duration: Special
Casting time: 1 round
Area of effect: 1 closeable object
Saving throw: None

The version of the spell depends on the words spoken by the priest at the time the spell is cast and the material used. The number of snakes and kind depend on level and/or alignment. The target for the spell is any type of closeable container (backpack, chest, basket with lid, etc).

If fake snakes are selected, for every 2 levels of the priest, 1d4 springy fake snakes leap out of the pouch, backpack or closeable container; these vanish after 1 round. If the priest chooses real snakes, this summons the same number of snakes of a chosen variety. These also pop out of the bag and have a chance of attacking the target (depending on the species of the snake summoned) before slithering away.

Summoning venomous snakes should be carefully considered by good-aligned priests. The snakes, live or fake, remain inert and immobile until the container is actually opened, at which point the real snakes spring to life.

For the real snakes option, the material component is a piece of snakeskin (of the type of snake being summoned) coiled up while casting the spell. For the fake snakes, a coiled spring is the material needed. These are expended when the spell is cast.

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Bogey Bombardier - Level 2
-Sphere: Plant, Chaos
-Range: 40ft
-Components: Material, Somatic
-Duration: 3d4 rounds
-Casting Time: 4
-Area of Effect: 1 creature/level
-Saving Throw: Negate

When this spell goes off, the priest is able to effect a number of creatures equal to his level. Creatures affected are entitled to a saving throw vs Spell; if they fail, they are coated in a sticky ooze that lasts for 3d4 rounds. This ooze slows them down, adding 5 to their initiative in battle. This also causes the creatures to become adhesive and any item in their hands at the time of the spell cannot be dropped for the duration. Once the spell expires, the ooze vanishes. (The ooze is like tree sap in composition.)

The material component for this spell is a red rubber nose that the priest puts on and honks once. This is not expended by use.

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Aura Mask - Level 3
-Sphere: Charm
-Range: touch
-Components: M, V, S
-Duration: 1 day/level
-Casting Time: 1 round
-Area of Effect: 1 cubic foot/level
-saving throw: Neg.

Unlike a somewhat similar wizard version of this spell, this one doesn't change the aura of an object, but instead influences the mind of the person focusing on the item. When a detection spell is cast, the Charm spell on the object causes the spellcaster testing it to believe the object is unmagical. Any person attempting to use magical means to determine if the object is magical must save vs Spell; success negates the spell's effect on that individual and they see the object as being the magical thing that it is.

The material component is a piece of wool passed over the object; this is expended when the spell is cast.

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I'll be working on more spells in the future; it's a lot of fun having ones that are actually relevant to this priesthood!

~Meri

Dear Writer (from Seph)

((Time for another letter from one of my current characters! Try to ignore his ill humor; he's not usually quite this bad, I promise.))

Meri,
I should have known that you wouldn't let me just wash my hands of this mess and return to Zet. Now I'm caught in a prophecy that I shouldn't have been able to hear which doesn't even make much sense in a place I shouldn't be in the first place. I know (or at least think I know) what parts were about me and what parts were the annoying elf, but who are the other three people involved? If you're going to force me to eavesdrop, at least give me more information! Being told "your elf knows more than he lets on" isn't particularly helpful when he won't tell me anything. I am not one of your immoral Messengers, as similar as you seem to think I am; I'm not going to use mind control to get that out of him.

Besides, I think his god was on to something with the assumption that Raff will react angrily if he learns I've been recruited to keep him safe. If I try to ask what's up, he's going to suspect something and go on the offensive again. I'd rather not be punched in the jaw or tackled again, thank you. I know I can immediately heal, but that's not the point. I'm not the elf's keeper, his tamer, or his punching bag, which is what you and certain gods seem to want from me.

Speaking of, know what really gets me? You could have given some sort of warning that I was speaking with a god! A "Hey, Seph, keep your trap shut so you don't spill snark all over the conversation" would have sufficed. And since when can a deity speak to someone who isn't His own? I could understand if you'd had Eros "ask" for my help, but why Hermes? Is one headstrong elf enough to change the way things have always worked? What is really going on here? It's more than just having to keep him safe, particularly since three others apparently have to share our quest (whatever that is), isn't it? Something big is heading towards us. I don't need functioning eyes to be able to see that.

If it wouldn't be too terribly much trouble, perhaps you can give me a hint of what this is before it happens so I can keep my word and not, you know, let the elf get killed and have the wrath of an angry god fall on me. I'd prefer to avoid that type of ire at all costs and I'd rather not lose Raff if that can be prevented, either. (Shut it, Writer. It's just easier to get around when I travel with someone who can see.)

Unrelated to the rest of this, I want to add that I'm not happy with the addition of yet another pet. We don't need a bird. Are you trying to get us kicked out of the inn? I'm still not happy about that lie to get us there, by the way. In fact, I'm not happy about any of this. Gee, is that obvious?

~Your unamused Knight of Wands,
Seph

Adventures of a Young Messenger - Always Trust a Fox (Part 5)

Part 5 - Always Trust a Fox
(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 6)

It was an enjoyable trip to Woodland city, it being high summer and having the good companionship of the strange fox and the assorted animal life we met along the way, so I took my time. A day and a half after setting out from my family's manor, I arrived at the gates of Woodland just before sunset. Before I could ask the gatekeeper which way it was to the Messengers' Mosque, he pointed straight ahead and said "Go past the Temple of Apollo until you get to the fountain, turn left and go up the main street. The mosque will be on the left before you get to the fortress." Noticing my confusion- was I in a town of psychics?- he added with a chuckle, "It's the fox, lad. Been here long enough to know that foxes go with Messengers." How could I have missed that obvious fact? It wasn't like anyone who wasn't blind could miss a fox this large; he certainly didn't look like a dog or anything like that!

With a sheepish smile at my own obtuseness, I thanked him and continued on, eager to reach my destination and see what these Messengers were like. For one thing, were they really as strange as the impression I'd gotten after reading the scroll?

Turning the corner I saw the mosque before me: a large, old grey stone building with its red double doors ajar, although if this was to let in the cool evening air or out of welcoming, I wasn't sure. I walked up to the doors and, figuring that I wouldn't have to knock since they were already open, peeked in. The fox, knowing that we'd reached our destination and not understanding why I was hesitating on the doorstep, brushed past my legs and entered. I shrugged, then followed him in.

Inside was a small foyer; past that was a large room with many desks, tables, shelves, a great many scrolls and a great many industrious people dressed in red. There were a few adolescents in plain robes (acolytes, I realized), but all looked older than myself; if this was to be my home, it appeared that I was going to be the youngest. Well, at least I was used to that. I also noticed that everyone over the age of eighteen or so looked incredibly tan, but since this was unimportant, it got pushed to the very back of my mind to wonder about later.

The fox led me to an experienced -and busy-looking- priest who fell into the "very tan" category, but then vanished into the bustle as I was distracted by taking in my surroundings. Unsure of how the man would react to being interrupted by a random kid, but assuming that the fox had led me to someone who would be able to help, I cleared my throat and said as politely as possible, "Hello. I apologize for interrupting you but the fox brought me here and I'm not sure where exactly I'm supposed to go..." As the words came out of my mouth, I realized just how silly they sounded.

The man looked up from the parchment he had been reading, and, to my surprise, instead of brushing me off or looking annoyed, gave me a big smile as he said, "Ah, you must be the new kid Armand told us would be arriving. Follow me."

Nodding in agreement that I was, in fact, the "new kid", I followed him through the organized chaos of that work area and up a quieter flight of stairs. He chatted cheerfully to me as we walked through the mosque, although I'll admit that I did more nodding than replying as he was the sort to dominate any conversation (not to mention that I was feeling quite overwhelmed), and we eventually reached a closed door, at which he knocked. A kindly voice invited us into what turned out to be an office; at the desk was a smiling, not quite middle-aged man with black hair and pointed beard, garbed in the most ornate robe I'd seen so far in the mosque. He thanked the priest, whose name was apparently Ronnis, for "not frightening the boy away", which I didn't understand at all, since the man had been nothing but friendly. Instead of looking offended, Ronnis just laughed and retorted "That was once! Besides, he only got as far as the door" before leaving the room. The man behind the desk laughed and muttered something under his breath about some Messengers being too mischievous for their own good.

By this point I was utterly confused; weren't priests supposed to be dour, serious, and... well, boring? This all fit the impression I'd gotten from the scroll, but not any of my preconceived opinions of clerics. The man behind the desk must have noticed the look on my face because he asked, "Not what you expected, lad? Messengers know when to be serious, but Hermes is a Trickster, as well; He likes His followers to have a sense of humor, but that's an understatement when it comes to some of us." He nodded his head in the direction of the recently shut door.

Looking rather embarrassed because I didn't know that and in fact knew very little about Messengers at all; on the rare occasion my family received or sent messages, it was through a horse courier. Not wanting to offend the priest, but figuring I should be honest here, I replied, "I didn't know that, sir. Hermes isn't a god that is often... mentioned by my family." Because the fools think He's a common god and are too pretentious to even stoop to talking about Him, I added to myself, not daring to say that aloud. The man must have had an idea of what I was thinking, though, because he gave me a reassuring smile and said, "It is true that Hermes and his priests are hard working, but that does not make us lowly. However, judging from your expression, you already understand that." I nodded; I found most of the things my family thought to be wrong or stupid, so of course this was no different.

"I'm Armand, by the way; I'm the Head Messenger here, but I'm assuming that since you're here, you got my letter, so you likely already deduced that." I nodded again, although thinking that it would be just like someone like Ronnis to lead a wild goose chase instead of going straight to a destination.

He then went on to explain what it was that Messengers did (carry messages, sort messages, write and read things out for people who couldn't... if it had to do with words, the Messengers were right on top of it) and what I'd have to do (watch and learn and do a lot of the busywork around the mosque with the rest of the acolytes for a few years until I'd be allowed on deliveries). Armand was pleased to learn that I already knew how to read and write in two languages and told me I'd be learning more; that made me quite happy because I'd always wanted to learn more than Common and High Elvish, that second one being the only non-human language my father would allow, and that was begrudgingly.

Armand then showed me around the rest of the mosque, introducing me to the acolytes and a few of the full Messengers who weren't too busy; there were two student-clerics about my age, though older, and a couple more a few years older than that (one of these was elven, which kind of surprised me since everyone else I'd met seemed to be fully human- but judging by the hairstyle and ears, there was no mistaking this boy for a full human), as well as a few older priests and priestesses coming and going. Everyone seemed to be pleasant and good humored, even though none were idle, which certainly fit what I've learned of the Messengers so far.

When we got back to his office, the high priest returned to his seat and asked, "So, do you think you're ready to learn how to be a Messenger? As you likely noticed, you are the youngest here, which might be somewhat challenging to start." Drawing myself up and trying to appear confident- I mean, I was intelligent and ready to work, even if I was also new and young- I replied, "Of course, sir! I don't mind being the youngest; I can work hard and catch up."

Armand smiled. "I thought you might say that. I do have a warning for you, though." That deflated me; don't tell me there was going to be pointless rules here, too? Catching my expression, he quickly added, "Nothing about you per se, lad. I just get the feeling that you haven't been around too many young people and I know how Messengers can be; they're the nicest people I've met, but they can be rather... enthusiastic about pranks, so be careful until you get your feet under you, okay? I don't normally warn the acolytes, but most of them have a better idea of what they're getting into."

I thanked him for the advice and said, "You're right; I'd probably have just walked right into something." I thought for a moment and added, "I probably still will, but at least I'll know to watch out. This is part of the 'learning' thing, too, right?"

"You're catching on, Cyneric. I wish you luck, but I'm sure you'll do fine. One can always trust a fox." He paused in thought for a moment, and added, "Alright, maybe not so much, but Messengers can always trust a fox, if just because we're the only beings more sly than they are."

It wasn't until that night, after I'd settled in and been given my acolyte robes, that I recalled the cryptic warning my brother had given me earlier that week. As I drifted off to sleep on my first night as a cleric-to-be, I mused over how Armand seemed to have echoed his words, only in a way that turned out to be a lot less unnerving. Yes, I knew I was going to like it here, even if my new brethren did turn out to be slightly crazy.


(Part 6 can be found here.)

((Yeah, I had this mostly written months and months ago, but got distracted by Raff and never finished it. Sorry, Cyn. I do love you, too, even if I tend to neglect you for my elves.))

As we are about to face a dragon...

May 22ndish, 708CC, ? day of ---moon.
(We have been underground for far too long and I've completely lost track of the date or even the current moon phase. It's possibly Darkmoon by now, but don't hold me to that.)

Goblins, slaves, chaos... it has been an eventful past few days. We have freed those we set out to rescue, but are not in the clear yet. Our next task is to face a dragon and the bugbear goblin king at an underground lake and fortress, down at the bottom of the goblin mine. Straightforward enough, I suppose, but as we rest and try to prepare for an upcoming battle, as a priest I find myself facing somewhat of a moral dilemma.

There's a fine, fine line between mischief and harm, and that is a line which all Messengers must be careful to stay on the correct side of. Using our divinely granted magic to get someone to aid us who otherwise would be loath to do so is okay. Charming someone to ignore us and go away is obviously fine. Getting them to give us information? Fine, as well. But here's where the line gets sticky- it is not an act of Good to beguile someone into being friendly with the sole intention of killing them. In no way is it an act of Good to use mind-control with the direct objective being harm.

To explain this with relevance to recent events: using beguilement to acquire a monster as a guide? Perfectly okay. Using it to get information we need from a mimic? Fine. But I'm not entirely proud of the fact that I used it to send a group of goblins off to fight other goblins- that's too close to harm for me to be comfortable.

But I foresee us coming to a point very soon where I will have to use it for harm, and that fact troubles me. Part of the advice Hermes gave when I asked how to save those we came to rescue and get out ourselves was "join your strengths if you want to win", and, like it or not, beguilement is my greatest strength. I may prefer the more druidic magic Messengers are granted, but that is not our greatest ability. (Not being able to access that magic and having to rely on just beguilement has me longing to return to the surface, but I won't get into that here.)

The goblin king and dragon are most certainly Evil and have been capturing and killing a great deal of innocent people, so getting rid of them as quickly as possible is the ideal. My Charm magic may not be powerful enough to influence enemies of this magnitude, but it is my strongest weapon- in order to help my friends, that is what I should try, even if I am unsure of the result. But here my dilemma arises: since we do want to kill these two creatures, any amount of beguilement I do will be with harm as the direct intention.

Likely I am unduly worried here, as my god's words should reassure me that I would be allowed to do this and taking down Evil is certainly the righteous thing to do, but... I've just never been comfortable with doling out injury. Using my quarterstaff or flame magic to attack someone who is trying to hurt us is one thing (not that I particularly enjoy that, either), but mind-controlling them in order to hurt them... it just seems wrong.

So this is why I'm feeling rather torn. I know what I must do to aid my friends, but it's not something I want to do and I'm not entirely certain if it is something my god would approve of. But if I can charm something powerful into not harming my party- or even just distract it long enough for the fighters to take it down- surely that is the right thing to do. Maybe sometimes mischievous harm used in the name of Good is still a good act...

Or maybe I won't have to worry too much about this. We do have a potion of black dragon control and Linora has said that she knows Draconic (whereas I have a spell that will allow me to speak the dragon's language, but only for about ten minutes). With luck, she can handle this kind of thing and I won't have to resort to beguilement, giving me the option to instead focus on disruptive magic to try to nullify anything the dragon (dragons are magical, right?) or hobgoblin priests throw at us. I'll have my Charm magic ready as I always do, however, because it would be positively stupid not to. Fingers crossed and prayers sent, we'll get through this with minimal damage.

A letter to Cyneric's best friend

Raff,
I hope this letter finds you safe and not getting into too much mischief, but I know you far too well to assume that wish to be at all likely. (That no one is catching on that you are the cause of the antics you wreak would be a more appropriate hope.) I have a great deal I want to tell you since my last letter, but much will have to wait until our paths next cross, partly because I don't want this letter to turn into a tome and partly because some of this information I do not feel safe sending even with our brethren. Yes, I know you are rolling your eyes and thinking me overly paranoid but I do have my reasons to be so worried.

I will give a vague warning here that I will elaborate on when I next see you: please, please be careful with a certain disguise. My party has become unfortunately high profile and as a result that disguise may no longer be safe for you to use on this side of the continent; in fact, it's probably not safe since being conspicuous means my group has made enemies. Once again, I am likely being unduly paranoid, but... well, please be cautious. And do not worry about me; you know I am not a risk taker, and traveling with adventurers has not changed that fact. I even have a bodyguard now who I trust to always have my back; he's an orc we met on the road who is bereft of his kin, so I'm hoping that traveling with my group makes him feel less alone. I know from experience that having friends can fill that kind of void, as you are quite aware.

So much has happened to me and my traveling companions lately that I can't possibly fit it into one letter, so I'll just give you a short summary. (Honestly, there are so many monster infestations around the area that I'm having some trouble keeping track of what's happening where and what the locations are that we're likely to be sent next; you know I have a horrible head for anything involving battle plans and fighting.) I mentioned earlier about being high profile; well, you know the dragon Khrom-Vel that I've mentioned before? We've become his champions (complete with uncanny wrist tattoo) after we helped heal him from a battle with two other dragons. I'm not entirely sure what this entails, but it seems like it means that we now can call on him if we have the need, and having a dragon on your side cannot possibly be a bad thing.

We've been traveling up and down the coast for a while; we were in Joven recently helping out Dwight, our old traveling companion, with a gnoll problem in that area. While there we also had an ill-fated encounter with a wizard that resulted in the death of one of our party members, the gnome Caleb. (I'm beginning to think that wherever we go, trouble is bound to follow close behind.) Our travels have finally taken us back to Woodland, but since the mosque has no assignment for me at the moment, I'll be going south with the rest of the group on a task set by the mercenary's guild. Between my duty and the tasks set by the guild, I'm rarely in Woodland anymore for more than just a quick stop over; I'm aware that sounds silly when you spend even more time away from there than I do, but I can't help feeling a bit homesick when on the road for an extended period of time. I know that soon enough I'll have permanent duty there, though, and will then yearn for all this traveling. Go figure!

Anyway, I've had an ongoing assignment for a while that you will find quite interesting. The Messengers in Port Town have developed a kind of magic... thing (I still do not completely understand it) that allows one to travel between mosques in a matter of moments, no matter the distance between them. It involves a stone altar-type thing and a canopic jar; the jar powers the Gate and allows it to function. (I think.) I have been dropping off the plans for this gate at each mosque I pass through and sending some along with those I deem trustworthy. Once every mosque has one, I'd imagine our assignments will be safer and quicker, but I'm still having mixed feelings about it since it means less traveling and that has always been what Messengers do. I can't say that I dislike being able to get home from, say, Joven, in seconds, though!

There is so much more I want to tell you, but, judging from the length of this letter, it will have to wait until I see you in person. Speaking of... do you think you could perhaps hint that you'd like some assignments that will take you back towards Woodland? I have no idea if the mosques you've been working through have any deliveries that have to come that direction, but I know you're quite good at persuading people to do things to your advantage. I'd like to give you a copy of the Gate plans to take back in that direction and have new information to give you for a disguise, but I'll admit that my wish to see you is not entirely (alright, not even close to entirely) duty or mischief-related; I miss you terribly. I'd joke that Hermes is having a good laugh over our assignments keeping us so far apart, but knowing Him, that's probably the truth. Hmph.

Sending my love,
Cyn

((I'm still not quite done the next part of Cyneric's backstory, but Josh [the DM and creator of this world] mentioned that since Cyn has letters he wants to send to a few people in-game, I may as well start writing them up. This isn't quite up to date, since it's a few gaming sessions behind [because it's a letter, it's only up to date to the last place he was able to mail it from], but it's the most "now" thing I've written in a while.))

Adventures of a Young Messenger - Breaking the News (Part 4)

Part 4 - Breaking the News
(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 5, Part 6)


I awoke the next morning to an unfamiliar weight on my feet. Climbing out of bed, I noticed that the fox had returned, likely through the window that was now slightly ajar. It's a good thing my room was on the ground floor, because otherwise the fox would have... needed wings... actually, that wouldn't be so strange, all things considered, would it? Anyway, determined to leave that day regardless of my parents' opinions, I got dressed and packed my belongings. Here was yet more proof that I was never cut out to be noble; everything important to me fit into one bag with room to spare. This I slung across my back, then headed to the kitchen to find some food to take with me, knowing that it would take me at least a day to get to Woodland on foot.

Leaving the fox in the hallway with my backpack, I found the kitchen bustling as the cook and her help put together breakfast, so I was able to grab some meat and bread and an apple without anyone taking particular notice of me. The kitchen workers were used to my coming and going over the years as I grabbed lunch on the run from my lessons or a few odds and ends to give to my animal friends, and an innocent expression usually got me out of trouble if the cook happened to catch me. This time I earned a raised eyebrow from said woman, but fortunately she didn't try to stop me as I hurried out. I was thankful for small favors there; my mother must have forgotten about me enough to not warn her that under no condition was I to be allowed outdoors, which, as the staff knew well by now, was always my intention when I entered the kitchen.

I figured that by now my family would be sitting down for breakfast and hoping that would distract them some (and counting on Kendric to come to my aid or, knowing him, cause extra distraction if necessary), I picked up my bag, and with the fox at my heels, headed for the dining area to tell them my intentions. Luck was with me because I arrived at the same time as my brother, who gave the fox a head scratch and me a reassuring smile before going in. I waited a few minutes, then followed him with the large fox close by my side. Unsurprisingly, even after clearing my throat a few times my parents failed to notice our presence until the fox made a little growl, at which point my mother and sister began shrieking about how there was a wild animal in the house and how dare I bring that dirty thing in. My brother and I exchanged amused looks while our father tried to calm the women down; the fox gave the scene a vulpine grin, seemingly pleased. Figuring this was a good time while everything was in chaos, I loudly (and with pride, I'll admit) stated above the din, "Just to inform you all, I have been Called by Hermes and, as I'm now under his jurisdiction, will be leaving for Woodland today."

That got everyone's attention. My father looked rather bewildered while my sister wisely said nothing and seemed to be concentrating far too hard on her breakfast. My mother, on the other hand, glowered and exclaimed with disdain something along the lines of "Hermes? Why would you ever pick him?" (Even from across the room, I saw that she was giving Him a small "h".) After my brother finally explained to our father what "jurisdiction" meant (I couldn't even look at Ken at this point, fearing that if I did, I'd break into laughter at the absolute asininity of this whole thing), my father frowned, but began to try to quiet my mother down lest she say something that would earn them dangerous attention from a deity (never a good idea). Looking from the fox to me and back to the fox, she finally lowered her complaints to an inaudible grumble. Before they could think of any sort of logical argument (unlikely as that would be), I then let them know again that I would be leaving now and not to worry about sending anyone with me (also doubtful, but to keep up appearances they might have) since Woodland was hardly a long trek away.

Trusting that Ken would handle his side of the plan, and not wanting to give my parents any time to stop me, I said a quick goodbye and walked out of the room. I later learned from my brother that the fox gave a long, unblinking stare to both of my parents in turn, leaving them speechless for quite some time, and then gave a sly grin to Ken before following me out.


(Part 5 can be found here.)

Adventures of a Young Messenger - Called by a God (Part 3)

Part 3 - Called by a God
(Part 1, Part 2, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6)


There was no sign of the fox for the next few days, and I began to feel disappointed and somewhat foolish. Perhaps it had just been a normal wild fox and maybe the amber had just appeared there by sheer random chance? I sincerely hoped not, but it was possible (and little did I know, I was dealing with a Trickster). On the third night, however, I found the fox sitting in the same spot waiting for me as I strolled with my retinue of stray cats and the odd squirrel. Feeling strangely happy about this, I grinned and said hello. Once again he gave me an odd stare, but this time I didn't feel uncomfortable; if anything, it felt like I was being greeted by an old friend. The fox then rose and, supplanting one of the cats, took his place at my side where he stayed for the remainder of my walk. This same thing occurred for the next few days: I'd reach that spot and the fox would be there to join me. He turned out to be an even better listener than the usual animals I met in my nocturnal travels because, while most animals would sit still while I talked to them, he actually appeared to understand. I must have shared my whole life's story with him in that short time, although what interest that was to a fox, I had no idea.

Unfortunately my birthday soon arrived, bringing with it the accustomed unusual attentiveness by my family for the next day or two while they recalled my existence. I don't remember much of what happened on that birthday, it being spent trying to avoid the usual lectures by my parents along with the added problem of being anxious to get another chance to see the fox, but I do remember Kendric's gift. Unlike the rest of my family who only ever gave me things I neither wanted nor needed (daggers, bits of armor, a sword, books on subjects that didn't interest me... I passed them all on to Ken who could use them), my brother always knew what would be appreciated and this time was no different; he had noticed that I'd begun wearing that piece of amber and had gotten me a strong gold chain for it. This he gave to me along with the cryptic comment, "Good luck". Looking back, I probably should have asked what he meant, but I think I just assumed he was giving me another warning to not let anyone else know what had been happening. It turns out, though, that Ken may have been having one of those psychic sibling moments that occasionally popped up between us.

I wasn't able to sneak out of the house again for a few nights, much to my frustration and impatience, but when I finally did, I was disappointed to find that the fox was once again not waiting for me in his usual spot. With a sigh, figuring that it must have gotten bored with waiting and wandered off somewhere else, I continued on my walk. It wasn't until I'd reached the last part of my wanderings before I'd turn to go back home that I noticed him sitting up on the small hill at the edge of the property. I almost called out to him, forgetting that yelling out would be a bad idea, when the full moon came out from behind the clouds and shone a brilliant beam of light onto the fox. Confused but curious about this sudden show of dramatics focused on an animal, I climbed the hill to investigate. At the top I noticed that, although it was the same fox, he appeared even larger and more vividly-colored than usual, and he seemed to be holding something white in his mouth. Before I could get a better look, he padded over to me and dropped what turned out to be a scroll at my feet. Grateful for the bright moonlight, I saw that it had a small winged fox emblem embossed in the wax seal and was addressed to me by name. (Even then, overwhelmed as I was, I was curious about how an animal could know that the words "Cyneric Conroy" belonged to me. Now that I'm a Messenger, I realize it's quite simple for even an unintelligent animal to carry a message, but at that moment it added to the unearthly atmosphere.)

Breaking the wax and unrolling the scroll, I saw that it read in neat, even handwriting:
"Dear Cyneric,
Congratulations! We have learned at the Woodland Mosque what you have likely deduced some time ago: you have been Called by Hermes to become one of His Messengers. I asked my four-legged friend to convey this message to you as I know that he will get this scroll to you safely. Please conclude whatever needs to be completed and set out as soon as you can. The fox has agreed to stay by your side until you arrive and I hope that he will help convince your kin that you are serious.
We hope to meet you soon,
Armand, Head Messenger- Order of the Fleet Fox, Woodland"

Flipping it over I noticed the words:
"PS. This letter will self-destruct in five seconds upon reading this sentence."

Then further down:
"Just kidding!"

After staring in befuddlement at the bizarre mixed message from this letter and wondered how whoever this "Armand" was knew what my parents' reactions would be, I looked down to see the fox gazing at me intently. Guessing that he wanted some sort of answer, I nodded. The fox nuzzled my hand affectionately and ran off, which puzzled me greatly; he seemed to like me and the note did just tell me he would stay, after all. I shrugged, figuring that he was probably just hungry, and hurried back home to show the letter to Kendric and, with his help, plan out a good way to break the news to my parents.



(Part 4 can be found here.)

Adventures of a Young Messenger - The Black Sheep (Part 1)

Part 1 - The Black Sheep
(or is it "red fox"?)
(Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6)



A narrative telling of the events that occurred in August 689CC

I don't often talk about my family and there's a good reason for that: I'm the black sheep. That idiom is oddly appropriate as it is animal-related, but I'll get to that later.

You would think that in a prestigious, aristocratic family, it would be a given that the youngest son would enter some sort of priesthood. In my family that was not so. Well, I suppose that it did work out to be the case, but it wasn't what my father intended, which was for all of his sons to follow in his footsteps and become warriors of some sort. His plan seemed to be working fine as my eldest brother, Osric, happily went off to serve as a page and just as enthusiastically became a knight when he reached the appropriate age, then slid gracefully into the position of landholder when our father passed the estate on to him. Next was Kendric, who, while not quite as enthusiastic as Os, managed to find his niche in the army and is now currently serving as a lieutenant at the castle town. Even our sister Bryn fit into the scheme by marrying an officer.

And then there was me. I never had any interest whatsoever in learning how to fight, which caused no end of trouble. Ken is only a year older, so we had most of our lessons at the same time, and of all my siblings he's the one I'm closest to. He didn't understand why I wanted to sneak off, but he was always up for causing some sort of distraction (okay, trouble) so I could get away from the kinds of lessons that I hated. Eventually our tutors in those subjects stopped bothering to look for me, figuring that since I was the youngest son, I would probably just end up doing something scholarly anyway. That is what I excelled at; by nine I could read anything in the (rather sparse) library and was much further advanced than either of my brothers when it came to logic, reading, and numbers.

Although not pleased by my aversion to what he deemed important, my father would likely have let this slide (my having two more important brothers to occupy his time) if it wasn't for the fact that my family eventually realized why it was that I was sneaking off from the strategic and weapons-training lessons: to spend time in the wooded areas around our land, talking to the animals. Even then, when I couldn't speak with them in words yet, they were still better company than most of the humans around me. I suppose that I was fortunate to be so ignored that no one noticed this until I was ten, which was when the second shoe subsequently dropped. After my father loudly exclaimed things along the lines of "no son of mine will be one of them druids!", I was pretty much exiled from the outdoors. Life would have been entirely boring had I obeyed, but I found a way to sneak out almost every night (with Ken's help again, of course- I could have been found talking to a tree stump or a rock, and he wouldn't have thought any less of me). After a while a large, vibrantly colored fox began joining me on my evening walks and then... well, that's a story in and of itself, so I'll tell that later. Suffice it to say that just after my eleventh birthday I was Called by Hermes.

The next day during breakfast I proudly walked up to my parents and informed them that I was now under Hermes' jurisdiction and would be entering His nearest mosque in Woodland. The looks on their faces were priceless! There was some mumbling (mostly along the lines of "Hermes? Couldn't you have picked a more stately god?" by my mother and "What's this 'jurisdiction' thing?" by my father) of course, but my parents were at least smart enough to know that getting on the wrong side of any deity (even one they deemed "working class") would be a Bad Idea and so sent me on my way.

Over the years, I've largely patched up the relationship with my family, but I doubt I'll ever be particularly close to any of them besides my one brother; Os and Bryn are nice enough people, in their own ways, but they were too much older than me to really be anything more than distant acquaintances. As an adult, the main problem is that I'm still far too different from my kin; I have no interest in the small things that they consider important and they don't understand how I can be happy with the path I took. I do have to say, however, that I appreciate the fact that Ken enjoys a good practical joke. I suppose there is always one bright part to every family, no matter how unpleasant the rest may be.

(Part 2 can be found here.)

((Meri here. I'm going to be writing up these stories about Cyneric every so often, so look for more soon. I miss writing and this'll be good practice for the creative/fictional kind. :) ))

What indignity!

March 30, 708CC, 2nd day of Darkmoon

That racist, inconsiderate, narrow-minded hick of an innkeeper! How dare he deny service to SwampFox! It honestly took me a moment to realize what he was saying; I am unused to being denied service or lodgings (because who in their right mind would slight one of the few people who can be trusted to carry important messages and packages both quickly and safely?), so I just couldn't believe the gall of that man. Sure, Dallas was willing to lend SwampFox her disguise hat, but I most definitely did not want to give that fool any coin after that attitude he showed. When I finally regained my composure, I said a few indignant words and stormed out. The rest of the party were wonderful in following soon after.

I suppose this is something I should get used to, but we've been fortunate in staying either outdoors or in the establishments of people more willing to accept coin than to worry too much about the scruples they may have with other races.

Anyway, Ghost pointed out that she would spread the word in Joven and Woodland that a member of the Mercenaries' Guild was turned away in Montvale, so hopefully the innkeeper will reap what he sowed. And even if he doesn't lose custom that way, I got some instantaneous revenge in the form of "Summon Insects" cast on the inn. (No one degrades one of my close friends and gets away with it!) Perhaps next time he'll recall that Hermes is a Trickster as well as a Messenger, and that His followers can act accordingly.

I'm not really sure what SwampFox thought of all this; I think it was mild amusement that I felt such insult on his behalf, anger at being treated that way, and some pride in the fact that the party stood up for him. It's hard to tell what SwampFox feels, though; he never says much, even to me.

A letter to my player (not quite in character)

((This letter is out of character, in an in character way. Someone on one of my message boards started a thread with the idea of writing as your D&D/roleplaying character leaving you a note, so I wrote this up a few days ago. I think this is a cute idea, so I may do more of these in the future. If I do, none of these posts will be canon; obviously this is out of character because he's talking to me, but it's sort of in character because it's Cyneric doing the talking.))

To my writer, Meri:
I know you miss your old bard, but get over it! It has been almost four years since that campaign, so you'd think you would have forgotten about it and embraced the current one by now. Don't make me charm you into some sense with my Rod of Beguile; it still has nearly fifty charges left, you know, and I'm sure Hermes would approve. Besides, you should be proud of me; I'm going to be High Messenger in the relatively near future, and that silly elf of yours never accomplished anything near as great! He never even got a henchman, despite his annoyingly high charisma (granted, my henchman is an orc, but still; I'd like to see him turn an orc into a civilized bodyguard and trusted friend!). Also, speaking of charisma, stop assuming that I'm not attractive just because I can't pass a disguise check; 12 is a perfectly good stat for a scrawny priest who is overly tan and perpetually covered in road dust and twigs after being a Messenger for the past ten years. I'd like to see you traipse around the continent nonstop, and without a horse, no less!

And go finish that "plushie" you’re making of me. It's bad enough that you made the rest of the group first, but now you've left me half done! ...What’s that? ... Oh, SwampFox says he also wants to be one, so you better get to work and hope that you have the right green. It isn't our fault that you didn't know me well enough to know I'd befriend an orc, and then plan yarn colors accordingly.

~Cyneric Conroy, Order of the Fleet Fox and SwampFox, Badfang Clan