The Praxate Cycle

[DangerousDan]

The Praxate Cycle

By the noted playwrite Emile de Rochefort

Dramatis Personae:

Aldraxos Praxes, a Stygian Hoplite.

Grand Larson Burkden, his mentor.

Lady Neeshu Stargazer, a foul Stargazer werecat-warlord

Governor Zakarias Sharboneth, ruler of the Ymphian Colony

Chorus

 
 

Act I

 
Our hero begins in the Stygian Stronghold upon the Ymphian Colony. It is the eve of the Stygian Armada’s invasion of the Starwood, and Hoplite Praxes has been called to the personal rooms of his mentor and friend, Grand Larson Burkden. Enter Chrous.
 
  Chorus: Good Praxes! The Starwood stands in defiance of our most noble Armada, and our people cry in anguish! What sayeth the Tetrarch of our noble task?
 
  Enters Hoplite Praxes, chest bare and gleaming and wearing loose fitting trousers in Stygian colours. Ensure that actor is muscled, gleaming with sweat and is exemplar of humanity.
 
  Praxes: Our beloved Tetrarch speaketh of the war, and I listen. Depart for the Starwood anon, and await glorious battle! I shall return to my lord, and listen to the wisdom at his feet, and sup upon his strength. Depart, friends, blades drawn!
 
  Exit chorus.
 
  Burkden: Sweet Praxes, you have come!
 
  The men embrace.
 
  Praxes: Aye, Lord, my sword and heart with me. What say you of the battle to come?
 
  Burkden: A perilous foe awaits thee in the Starwood. The Countess Neeshu Stargazer!
 
  The crowd gasp.
 
  Praxes: What perilous a foe!
 
  Burkden: Aye, sweet man, and a great cat of legend! Come closer, and sup of my wisdom for the night’s end, until the bitter sun crests over the horizon.
 
  The men embrace, end of Act I.
 
 

Act II

 It is nightfall, and our hero Praxes paces his tent. A grim gaze is set darkly into his chiseled face, his sheathed blade still covered in dried Stargazer blood. As the slit to his tent opens, he leaps forward with a snarl and pins the entering stranger, who is revealed to be a dirt-faced child. The child quivers as Praxes levels his blade at the child’s throat.

Praxes: Speak quick, little wasp, or the feel sting of my blade in your flesh. Why have you come this night into my tent?

Child: My lord Praxes, I have come bearing news most grave! I pray, my lord, that it shall not send me to the self-same place.

Grudgingly, Praxes releases the messenger boy.

Praxes: We have all lost friends this day; your tongue could bring me no revelation iller than that my eyes have already gazed on.

Child: Would that be so, my lord! For my revelation is grave indeed; I fear to tell it.

Praxes: Spit your words, jack-a-nape, or I will give you a revelation of naked steel!

Child: Aie! The Tetrarch, my lord! Engaged in combat with the foul Lady Neeshu Stargazer, he was bested by low cunning and cutlassery! He now lay naked and beaten, on the verge of Kelemvor’s gentle kiss.

With a fearsome cry, Praxes heaves his blade into the ground before sinking to his knees with a look of utter anguish. The child, his eyes full of fear, runs out of the tent.

Praxes: Cruel Tymora, thou art fickle! I give my victory this day to you a thousand times, but that I might have gentle Burdken by my side once more! How cheap is victory, when the cost is my heart, my soul? I am finished! We are finished!

Praxes gazes at his embedded blade longingly. He pulls it from the ground, heaving it in the air and positioning it above his chest. He makes for the killing blow, but stops suddenly. In another fit of rage, he tosses the blade aside.

Praxes: No! If I am to suffer loss, then the Stargazer shall suffer one even greater! Their forest will burn, and their women will cry for mercy, but their only mercy will be cold steel. They will beg for the sweet kiss of Kelemvor, but they will find a much fouler embrace: THE KISS OF ADRASTOS PRAXES.                    
 
 
 

Act III

   Once more, we are in the Starwood. The Lady Neeshu Stargazer stands over the defeated corpse of Grand Larson Burkden. She smiles terribly. Enter Chorus:
 
  Chorus: Alas! We weep for gentle Burkden, sweet Praxes and our Isle that burns! The Stwarood lieth aflame, and Burkden defeated at the feet of the Lady Stargazer? Whom shall free our Isle  Ymph from this dread scourge?
 
  Stargazer: Burkden, gentle Burkden! You lie defeated at my feet! Now thou must assuredly consent to mine offer of marriage!
 
  Burkden: Never, thou foul harpy! Never shall my father’s inheritance fall into thine accursed hands.
 
  Stargazer shrieks a laugh. Enter Praxes.
 
  Chorus: It is brave Praxes!
 
  Praxes: Enough, foul harlot! Let us end this quarrel, you and I- and sweet steel ‘twixt us.
 
  The Lady cackles.
 
  Stargazer: Hah! I fear neither steel nor you, Praxes! You shall fall before me as thine Lord, and gentle Burkden shall lie with me by the eve’s end- and our union shall be blessed.
 
  Praxes lets out a roar of rage, and thunders towards the Lady Stargazer. They fight. She grazes the man’s arm.
 
  Praxes: Ah! A flesh wound, bitter as the claws which bit them. I shall end this, foul temptress!
 
  Praxes deals the Lady Stargazer a foul wound. She screams, then collapses. Praxes goes to kneel beside Burkden, before falling himself.
 
  Praxes: Ah! Foul poison dost claim me!
 
  Burkden: Sweet Praxes! Gentle Praxes! Praxes, beloved above all else! Nay, nay! Say you live!
 
  Praxes goes limp in Burkden’s arms.
 
  Burkden: Sweet Praxes! Let me make thee immortal with a kiss!
 
  Burkden kisses Praxes upon the forehead, the cheek and then the mouth. He begins to weep softly, head upon the fallen man’s chest.
 
  Chorus: Cruel fate, that pluck’d the greatest of us upon the hour of his triumph. Na’er shall we forget the Tragedy of Hoplite Praxes, and na’er again shalt the foul Lady Stargazer threaten us so! Let all remember the sacrifice of sweet Praxes, freshly remembered in their cups the eve of his fall!
 
  The cast get up, bow, and promptly flee the stage.

[DangerousDan]

Editor's Note:

It is believed that this tragedy, apparantly penned in the midst of the Stygian Hoplite Adrastos Praxes' conflict with the Stargazers of our Isle, was intended to serve as propaganda in order to win the favour of Tertrach Burkden and the hoplite himself. As to the writer, no mention of de Rochefort in any of the Colony's records are forthcoming, save for a report from the Disciples of the Pallid Mask who have informed me that the unfortunate troubador came to them claiming to have been driven mad by a particularly nasty bout of syphilis. In due course and dulled by the opium poppy, M. de Rochefort died in mid Eleasis- although when the Priests examined the body to determine cause of death, 'his' genitals were found to be entirely missing. The corpse was burned a few days later.

A. Tyrell.
Scholar