"I know many things about Thassilon," the voice replies from the mist ahead of you now. "But what nation has replaced it? Who rules the lands above today?"
The voice continues its query, returning to the northern hallway: "What became of Runelord Karzoug and Runelord Alaznist? Who wields powerful magic today?"
If the voice is speaking in Common, Seal shouts out, "Are you a god?"
"Karzoug is nothing but a silly ne'er do well that we're about to spank. As for Alaznist, I suppose she died during the Earthfall 10,000 years ago. As for potent magic wielders, I suppose you could ally with us, as we claimed tremendous power. How about it?"
Rissi turns her hood questioningly at Lucian's creative reconstruction of the truth. (Thassilonian)[b]"What is it that you want? Who are you? Are you another *squeak* devil bound here and forgotten like the rest of Karzoug's magical detritus.
Rissi begins to look with a second set of eyes, attempting to pick out the glowing magical auras which thread themselves through the magical landscape.
The voice whispers back, "I have asked you and you have answered, I suppose it only fair that I answer back. No, I am not a god. I am just the Scribbler, though I had another name once. You would do well not to speak too harshly of Karzoug nor Alaznist, for they were both my masters once. I escaped from their grasp though, to worship my true master, Lamashtu. I speak with her voice."
"Do we mark you as a demon then, if you are both *chhh* timeless and a servant of the Mother of Beasts? If so I contemplate you on your manners; I had not thought your kind fond of *squeak* extended discourse. By chance, do you know anything of Xaliasa, or how to gain entrance to the Hellfire Flume located in this city?"
"Oh, my sincerest apologies then! I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Do you know anything about the Runeforge?"
A soft giggle comes from the room ahead. "No, I am not a demon. Xaliasa? How did you learn this name? It is intimately familiar to me. The Runeforge is also one of my specialties. But why would you want to know about it?"
"We learned of these things - and many other *squeak* interesting facts - at the Therassic Monastery. And as to why would we want to know of the runeforge - it is a place of power, precious to the runelords and, I assume, linked *chhh* to their mastery of arcane energies. Is that not enough? By understanding such a thing we might *chitter* ourselves better understand the making and unmaking of runelords."
"It is linked to them, yes, but separated from them. Hence my expertise in the Runeforge, for I sought to use it as a sanctuary from my two masters lest they discover my dual allegiances. The Runeforge was a shared laboratory in a neutral region where practitioners of all seven specialties could work together with little fear of sabotage, mockery, or interference in an environment untainted by rivalries and grudges. It was a place of pure magic. Each runelord chose from among his servants those who best represented his desires and goals, then sealed those servants in Runeforge."
"Just before I could exact my plan of escape, however, many of the chambers below the Hellstorm Flume collapsed and I had the misfortune of being in one of those rooms. So ended Xaliasa."
"A terrible fate, I feel sorry for you. Say, would you know how we could find this Runeforge? We'd love to learn from such an authority on ancient Thassilon, you see."
"So, you are Xaliasa? Why did you turn against the Runelords?"
"My third master, Lamashtu, was the more powerful of the three. My devotion to her demanded that I escape my life as a double-agent between Karzoug and Alaznist."
"I think, however, that we have spoken more than enough. The key to entering Runeforge and its location are pieces of information I am unwilling to share with you. The time for talk has come to an end, my sucklings!"
The mists ahead dissipate and you see the speaker for the first time: the Scribbler, standing before you with falchion in hand. Standing behind him is a large glabrezu demon, preparing to cast a spell....
Kufieno curses as he sees the Scribbler and demon appear, then moves up to the man?, drawing his weapons along the way and attacks.
The Scribbler deflects Kufieno's blade as he and the glabrezu both begin lengthened castings....
Evanya raises her wand high and bestows Desna's good hope on the party.
Not managing to understand what kind of evil magic is afoot, Lucian moves to Thunderpuss and Sealman, then teleports the both of them within melee reach!
Rissi waves her hand and sends the giant demon back to the Abyss! The Scribbler appears human, she notes, but to have lived for as many years as he has must have required some divine intervention.
Miana charges in and kicks the Scribbler hard! It seems he has magically hardened his skin .
Sealman begins to rage. He shortens up this dorn and layeth the smacketh down upon de Scribbler.
Thunderpuss however turns into a giant ball of fur and teeth trying to disrupt Scribbler's concentration.
Kufieno swings at the Scribbler.
Seal is able to break through the Scribbler's magical protection to wound him a bit, as is Thunderpuss with her claw. Kufieno's blade glances off the man's armor though. The Scribbler casts a quickened spiritual weapon and then follows with a negative energy blast from Lamashtu herself.
"Back to the Black Depths with you! Shall and Stone, get out of my head!
Seal chips away at whatever magical defenses this Scribbler cast on himself. Sooner or later he'll get to the meaty center.
Thunderpuss gets blasted by the umbrael waves, weakening the battle cat. He fights back not allowing a little negative energy to knock him down.
Total 33 pod
Rissi pulls a wand and unleashes five magical missiles from it, each streaking into the Scribbler's body.
Kufieno continues to attack with morningstar and blade.
Seal, Thunderpuss, and Kufieno all scrape through the Scribbler's magical defenses and leave the man severely bloodied. Rissi's force missiles only increase his woe....
Understanding that the Scribbler's skin is magically enhanced, Lucian tries to dispel the evil scion's magical defenses.
Lucian dispels the Scribbler's magical defenses!
A couple of hits from Miana quickly knocks the Scribbler unconscious!
Now with more time to study the inscriptions on the wall, you find that most of them are prayers to Lamashtu or passages from her holy book. However, there are occasionally lines that have nothing to do with Lamashtu. Putting these lines together reveals a rhyme.
Rissi summons her skeletal dragon, sits upon its skull and thinks of Varisia.
Rissi recalls that Lake Stormunder is known for its plentiful hot springs and geysers. She furthermore remembers that a mysterious circle of seven stone heads stands upon the western slope of Rimeskull on Stormunder's eastern shore.
"Lake Stormunder, I do recall from *squeak* my days of study at the Arcanamirium. I have never been there *squeak* of course, for it is almost to the Land of the *chhhh* Linnorm kings. Perhaps 400 miles north of here as the dragon flies? If we intend to seek this place, we could perhaps book passage to Riddleport and from there travel overland; I would not *chhh* mind a chance to see the cyphergate, anyways." She rubs her nose whiskers for a moment in thought. "Assuming, of course, we are finish with our *squeak* business here. These chambers did not open up by chance, and one wonders if we might *squeak* now find access to the hellfire flume or some other choice locale now."
Seal eyes the headband for awhile before stowing it in the party's bag.
"Might as well check it out while we are here."
Seal touches the nearby stone wall and his skin gains a light sheen. He then opens up the small door near him after giving the nearby stone a quick glance.
A3
A low stone rim surrounds a shallow pool of water that seems to glow with a soft radiance. The walls around the room are carved with large runes, and the ceiling rises to a dome above.
A4
Small dunes of rubble and dust lie on the floor of this room, disturbed as if by the passage of pacing feet. The walls and ceiling are densely crowded with scribblings and markings. An image of a three-eyed jackal glares from the wall to the east.
A5
This room has partially collapsed. Cracks radiate along the walls and ceiling here. An image of a three-eyed jackal glares from the eastern wall, one of the cracks running right across its snout.
A7
Blood is this cavern’s decor; swaths of it lie spattered on the wall, and pools have congealed and begun to rot on the ground. Bits of flesh lie scattered as well—whatever happened here, it ended poorly for many.
A8
Here three once separate chambers have become one, joined by collapsed walls and the erosion of ages. Bloodstained fragments of chain shirts, shields, swords, and clothing lie strewn about this room haphazardly. The walls are decorated with countless scribblings written sloppily in blood.
A9
The walls, ceiling, and floor of this otherwise empty room are densely packed with writing, in many cases overlapping and tangled to near the point of illegibility. Four short lines stand out on the northern door, carved into the stone but otherwise alone on its face.
A10
The walls of this room are decorated with flowing script and runes. To the north slumps a bloody human body, its limbs apparently broken in a dozen places. A low table against the east wall is covered with vials of colored liquid, and sitting in an inkwell is a quill made from a peacock’s feather.
The scribbles on the wall of this room contain more than merely invocations to Lamashtu—they consist of notes the Scribbler has taken regarding the state of the world beyond, as reported to him by the various spirits and outsiders he’s conjured, as well as via commune, divination, and speak with dead spells that he cast on the dead body he keeps here. The notes impart a feeling of someone from out of time doing what he can to gather intelligence on a world that has moved on. Runeforge is mentioned several times—the Scribbler very much wants to send agents to the dungeon in order to gather supplies and raid it for magic items and texts, since he has grown convinced that the complex has long since been forgotten and abandoned. In particular, his notes speak of something called runeforged weapons— items that the Scribbler believes could be quite useful against the runelords and their allies, yet the methods of creation of which seem to have been lost somewhere in Runeforge itself.
The ink and quill are possessions the Scribbler valued in his previous life, and were returned to him (like his gear) by his patron Lamashtu as a payment for serving her as this temple’s guardian. There are 17 vials of ink in all, each worth 8 gp, but the real treasure here is the Scribbler’s most valued possession: a revelation quill.
Lucian marvels over the revelation quill, knowing it to be a potent divinatory artifact.
"This is a priceless treasure, one that could aid us beyond compare in our quest. May I keep it and use it? I think that in my hands, many questions would find an answer."
"Let's try it right now!" says the overexcited Varisian, grasping the feathery artifact. With it, he writes the following words on a scrap of parchment.
"Should we teleport to Lake Stormunder, what dangers await us there?"
|
"It is almost lamentable that someone should live in such solitude. But his worship of Lamashtu for such unnatural life is a stain on his soul that will take much to cleanse.", Miana pondering the near impossible notion of rehabilitating the Scribbler.
"I wonder what these runeforged weapons are.", Miana asking out loud the need for more arms against Karzoug if it is believed that he is alive and only awaiting a chance to come to power once more.
Lucian's hand continues to write:
Lo! Wings of white overhead fly
and shall Arkrhyst awaken to see
favored saviors five looking,
trying and seeking to secure a Key.
"From the library, remember Mistress Miana? Weapons aligned with *chhh* one school of magic or the other, and bane to certain other types of magic."
Rissi recalls bits from their earlier studies in the library, the pieces floating through her muridaeic mind.
"There must be powerful wards protecting the *squeak* runeforge, and these keys must bypass them. I hope we need not travel to Xin-Shalast to collect these keys, since I have deduced that city must be at the *squeak* mountain Mhar Massif. Only the tallest of peaks would suit the arrogance of a runelord's domain."
"What or who is this Arkhyst that the quill alludes to?"
"The quill seems to tell us of a winged threat called Arkrhyst, does anyone know a creature named that? It could be a guardian to the key to the Runeforge, perhaps."