(Story written by Pol, recollecting actual events of 1x.)
"In a long-ago time, there lived a gallant Giant named Cyrix...pure of spirit and brave of nature (if not a tad slow, if you know what I mean...)....
One day, in this much changed world, Cyrix wandered into the Midgard Temple...the steps of which were guarded by The Executioner...an ancient forefather to Slue.
Upon entering the Temple Courtyard, Cyrix was beset by a swarm of Goblin guards. Normally, such a pesky foe would pose no problem for someone of his stature. But in those days, the Executioner took the role of peace-keeper seriously. And, as Cyrix's reputation painted him as an accomplished brawler, he assumed Cyrix instigated the melee.... Such horrible falsehood!
Yet, Cyrix was puzzled: why there were a hoard of Goblin guards in Midgard? But his time for puzzlement was cut short, literally, by the mighty axe of the Executioner!
Cyrix twisted and weaved, and knowing he was outclassed, wisely ran (though dense in understanding, he did posses a certain savvy for battle). He ducked into an alley, where he heard a low chuckle...turning, he saw a young mage leaning against a wall, arms crossed, laughing...at him...
"What humor do you see here?", Cyrix asked...
"I see, " said the grinning, red-tinted mage, "a supposed 'hero' run like a rabbit."
"I also see the runnels of blood as the Executioner takes out his irrational vengeance on everyone who passes through the marauding goblins..."
With a laugh, the mage incanted a spell, and slipped out of view.
Trapped inside the temple compound, Cyrix knew he must clear the path for all those who come after. Yet, could a hero such as even Cyrix stand against the rage of the Executioner? Steeling his will, he pulled a magical draught from his pouch. A potion of transport dangerous, as such things land the drinker in unknown places... He pulled the stopper and drank down the bitter concoction, and as his vision cleared, he was clouted in the face by a drow guard, startled by his sudden appearance. Whipping the 500 pounds of living stone he wielded, the great Avalanche, Cyrix blasted the drow back through an open doorway. The tall, rangy Giant-kin, sprinted through the streets of the Drow capital, seeking the entrance to the light of the surface...
Normally, he would have stayed and battled the evil Drow, for such was the mission his lord Sinclair had vested him with...but this time...his mission was far more serious. Scrambling through the tunnels of the Underdark, Cyrix stumbled upon an idea. He could not face the Executioner alone... Yet, he knew he would be safe from the Goblins, and thus safe the rage of the Executioner, if he, too, could go unseen. Just as the evil mage had done.
Cyrix went to the only place he knew where such a potion could be found. Spending every coin in his possession, and selling all his belongings... (except, of course, his armor and weapons. Warriors must maintain the tools of their trade)....he purchased as many anti-cyclops elixirs as he could...all the while, praying to his liege Sinclair that they would be enough....
Rushing through the country side, Cyrix ran back to Midgard, huge strides from his giant-sized legs devouring the distance in the blink of the eye... He raced to the temple steps, and quaffing the oddly sweet elixir, felt his stomach tingle and eyes briefly blur as his body became transparent. Stepping into the courtyard, unseen by both goblin and Executioner, Cyrix looked at the hulking brute with the huge axe; nearly 2 feet taller than Cyrix himself, 30-stone of pure muscle and blind rage. Cyrix knew he would have to be careful in this fight.
Taking a deep breath, Cyrix raised his Avalanche, eyed the Executioner....and crushed a goblin against the Temple columns! His invisibility broken, Cyrix dodged goblin sword and Executioner axe, taking swipes at the little vermin, then running away, drinking another of the elixirs, and returning again to the fray.... The goblins fell one by one....and Cyrix took the beating of his life. The heavy blade of the Executioner's axe digging deeply into the shining Mithril of his armor.... Again and again, he faced the barrage...and more goblins fell. Then, when Cyrix was close to not being able to take anymore, he saw from the corner of his eye the silhouette of the red mage, brazenly come to witness the fall of Cyrix to
the executioner....yet, Cyrix was cunning, and as soon as the mage stepped into the light of the courtyard... Cyrix ducked under the Executioner, and gulped down another elixir. With no obvious target, the goblins turned their attention to the evil and cunning mage...and the Executioner, in his rage, turned his attention there as well.
Cyrix heard a brief scream...then complete silence. Even in his pure heart, he felt an amount of satisfaction at the demise of this impish murderous sorcerer...
...especially as he fell to his own trickery.
Taking a deep breath, Cyrix stepped once again into the courtyard, and in a few strokes finished the last of the goblins....once again fleeing the rage of the Executioner...yet the peril had passed, and all was once again peaceful in Midgard. Until sundown, at least, when, again, the denizens, heroes, villains, and common folk of the land returned to the world to seek their fortunes ... and test themselves in what could be their Final Challenge.
As for the mage....he was known as....
- Cyrix is mentioned in Pol's Tale, found on the Logs page.