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Torvi ponders the thing a bit, organizes her thoughts before responding and announces, ”Well despite its appearance, it’s not a vermin. It’s likely more intelligent than animals, as well as cunning and with a forceful personality. It should have limited magical abilities, possibly including the ability to shift through the astral plane, perceive magic auras, and create minor illusions. It should be able to smell minerals and gems, and it feeds by consuming gemstones. They reproduce asexually, which is probably a familiar method to Dasur. Once it consumes enough sustenance, small crystalline buds should appear which break off and grow the tail and legs. I say it’s a blight on mineral resources, but it could be useful if it could be managed.”
Glenda furrows her brow and says, "Useful in what way? Besides being a cute pet."
”Well, if it finds the good gems for us, we save those and feed it the dross. Or it can dig tunnels, if directed appropriately. Of course, if it’s out of control, it can just eat all our good stuff too.”
"If it's as intelligent as you say, it would probably get mad if we used it to find 'the good stuff' and then only gave it leftovers," says Glenda. "I know I would be."
An unpaladin-like but very dwarven-like glimmer of greed flashes into Snorri's eyes.
"It has a mind, and it could converse with Dasur. If it points us to veins of gems or ore, it's possible that we may strike a deal, giving it part of what's mined for our own sustenance. The only question is how we ward Dasur's own gemstones from his appetite."
The mature crysmal takes note of the staff, it's appetite perking up,
Dasur holds the staff closer as the crysmal seems to perk up, displaying obvious signs of hunger. Though he wonders what would happen if it took a bite (would it become huge, explode, or be nourished as if it had eaten any other gem?) there was no way he was giving up the artifact.
The wizard states simply before doing an adrupt heel-face turn and exiting the area.
------------------------
Dasur spends the next day inside of the Stone Shaped hut, the pages of the spell book spread out across every surface. It looks like complete chaos, but there seems to be some kind of system at work- occasionally he will move a page from one side of the hut to the other, or adjust their order until four distinct groups seem to emerge from the chaos.
Then we begins to study each in turn, picking through his own spell book, muttering incantations, and generally ignoring everything and everyone else. He doesn't eat, and seems to only take liquids while he is reading. As the day progresses the walls of the hut start to be covered with chalk writings as he scribbles formulae and words on the walls, with many phrases or equations marked out with a big X.
After weighing the pros and cons of bringing forth the little crysmal, Snorri finally comes to the conclusion that the risk is larger than the reward. "If I could converse with it myself, perhaps I would take the risk. But I feel that having to take care of such a dangerous pet could put some undue strain on us. Let us make way."
Dasur finds most of the notes difficult to decipher the rituals. There are prayers in each of the elemental languages. There is talk of amethyst, halite, fire opal, sapphire, but for the moment the particulars elude him. In the end, he is only able to completely grasp the means of destroying the staff, which is fairly simple. It must be heated by the jets of fire from the rift and then smashed against the stone at the rim of the rift.
If he is allowed, Erebos spends the day working alongside Dasur.
Dasur peavefully and competently works alongside Erebos; the dwarf shows no signs of distrusting the dark elf like his other kin. A day of study passes, and he decides to summarize his findings to the group.
"Curiously, the book we found in the hut appears not to be a spellbook, but a ritual book solely dedicated to the staff and the elemental rift. I came to this conclusion when it became obvious there were no signs of other, more common spells within its pages. Not even the Stone Shape spell used to make the hut itself. The whereabouts of the previous occupant's day-to-day spellbook is unknown, and casts some doubt on whether they penned this tome. In any case, I have seen references to several gemstones, which include amythest, which lead me to believe the previous owner of this staff may have traveled here for the rich amythest deposit." Using the obsidian staff as a pointer tool, he taps one of the (seemingly) nonsensical equations on the side of the stone hut. "But I digress. As you can see here, the tome is split into four quantized rituals, each with a different purpose. The first opens or widens the elemental rift. The second closes the rift. The third empowers the staff I hold in my hand, and the fourth destroys the staff."
Lowering the staff in question, he lays it across his arms and turns back to the group. "The spells contain prayers in all four elemental langauges. These rituals are a marvel, and possibly crafted by a mystic theurge... it is the arcane approaching the divine, appealing to the very energies that animate elementals. I am well studied in Terran, Ignus, and Aquan, but the airy Auran has always escaped me. While I can easily use a Comprehend Langauges spell to read the literal meaning of the Auran sections, it has not lead to a direct translation. The other elemental sections contain contextual clues and phrases that activate their respective energies and blend them together harmlessly. Think of them as magical idioms that do not translate well into other languages, if an idiom could harness the entire energy output of an elemental plane and bind it to a rock."
"Unfortunately, due to the difficulties I have encountered with the Auran langauge I have only deciphered the fourth ritual, which is the means to destroy the staff. It must be heated in a jet of fire from the rift and smashed against the stone at the rim of the rift. Of course, I would rather empower the staff and then close the rift, but I will need more time." He turns to Snorri, grasping the staff in both hands. "Lord Snorri, I know this staff holds incredible power, but it is irresponsible to use it without fully understanding it. I beseech you we stay indefinitely until Erebos and I sufficiently understand the rituals connected to it."
”Which option finds Dammerhall?”
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"The option where patient, careful work is better than rushing, Torvi. Heat the steel too hastily, and it will break in the forge. I had hoped that you would be able to study in on our way forward, but I seem to understand that this rift will be vital to unleashing the power of the obsidian staff, am I correct?"
"Erebos said that the drow will not pursue us here. The Mithvarim are further away, and taking watches should be enough to keep us safe. If we leave, we will be to our destination maybe two days earlier, over the centuries that it has been sealed. If we wait, we may gain a tactical advantage that may even win us more time than we lose. It seems foolish to me to waste such an opportunity."
"It is difficult to say, Torvi. Merely walking towards Dammerhall and arriving are two different things. We do not know what further challenges we will face." Dasur patiently explains to the antagonistic skald.
"The rift appears to be significant to the staff, yes." The wizard begins to say, "But because there are rituals for both opening and closing the rift, I am unsure if the rift must be opened in this location or if it can be opened and closed freely anywhere. That is why further research is of the utmost importance."
With a slow nod, he accepts Snorri's judgement. "A wise decision." Turning rapidly on his heel, Dasur looks back at the hut, the bottom of which is nearly covered in chaulk drawings and equations. His hands too are covered in white powder, though mysteriously none of it seems to transfer to the obsidian staff. "I will return to work at once."
The ritual of closing requires wielding the stave, sacrificing four jewels worth 100 gp each (halite, amethyst, sapphire, fire opal). Speaking prayers in all four Elemental languages. If you don't know a language, make a DC 15 Linguistics check to cover the ones you are missing.
The ritual of widening requires wielding the stave, sacrificing the same jewels, and speaking different prayers.
To empower the stave, you have to widen the rift, then hold the stave in the elemental power that pours from it. This would be very dangerous to the wielder.
To destroy the stave, simply heat it in fire from the rift and then smash it on the stone around the rift.
By the end of the second day, Dasur calls together his companions for another briefing the research into the rituals surrounding the staff.
"I am pleased to announce Erebos and I have deciphered all of the rituals." The wizard says with a hint of exictement coloring his usually monotone voice. "Widneing or closing the rift requires a set of prayers in the four elemental langauges and sacrificing gemstones of halite, amethyst, sapphire, and fire opal. Based on the descriptions of their size, they must be worth approximately one hundred gold pieces and be intact. Whomever designed these rituals was clearly aware of the ability to use crystalline structures to amplify magical power... ah, if only I was able to speak with them..." A wistful sigh escapes his lips as he turns his back to the group and towards the stone hut, which is utterly covered in chaulk drawings and equations now.
With a flick of his wrist he telepathically lifts a piece of well-worn chalk off the ground and uses it to point to a final set of arcane writings near the door of the hut. "This is the ritual used to empower the staff and bring it to even greater heights of elementally charged brilliance. First the portal must be widened, which would cause a tremendous amount of elemental energy to be unleashed into this localized area of the material plane. You have seen how the landscape has reacted to even this small of a rift... I imagine if this portal was widened and left open it would change the very structure of the land for miles and transforming it into an even more volatile and inhospitable place. After the portal is widened the staff must be held in the stream of elemental power to absorb the energies. Unless some sort of contraption is designed to keep the staff in place while it is being blasted, this would be deadly for whomever is holding the staff in place at that time."
The tiny piece of chaulk floats back to Dasur and wiggles its way into one of his many belt pouches as he turns back towards the group. "While we are near a significant source of amythest and I may have some sapphires on hand, we still lack the halite and fire opal required for the widening ritual. Halite is more commony known as rock salt..." He says with a wave of his hands towards the pools of strange salts nearby. "... and we may be able to gather the significant quantities needed nearby, though it will be difficult to find samples pure enough for the ritual. The fire opal, however, will need to be discovered or purhcased. On top of that, unless we wanted to make life very hard for the Mithvarium, we would need double the amount of gemstones to close the rift after the ritual is complete."
The dwarven elementalist absentmindedly rubs the perfectly smooth surface of the staff while he speaks. "In conclusion, at this time Erebos and I are unable to perform the ritual needed to empower the staff at this time. Several gemstones will be needed, but compared to the power it will grant the staff, it is a paltry investment. I will also need to research spells that can protect myself from the elemental energies that are anathema to biological life. In the meantime I suggest we collect some of the amythest from the ridge before it gets completely eaten by the crysmals."
"Ummmm, you speak a lot, but you say little. Why do we want to do the empower ritual? More power isn't always a good thing."
Snorri looks slightly disappointed that the ritual will not happen soon. "Patience will be in order, then. But, as with all craftsdwarfship, it will take time to create a worthy item. Like at the forge, our creations reflect the depths of our faith. Anything less than perfection would be an insult."
Snorri checks that the packs are properly secured and prepares to travel further through the Azathyr.
"I agree, until we can fully control this phenomenon, it's wisest not to meddle further," says Glenda.
"In general I agree, Torvi." Dasur says, perhaps surprisingly, to their skeptical skald. "While I believe any knowledge is good, we in the arcane studies have a responsiility to ensure it is not dangerous to those around us. In this case, though, the power of this staff is magnitudes greater than anything I have seen before and within my own speciality. If we can unlock its full potential I will have an insight into the mind that created it, further bolstering my understanding of how elemental magics interact with the material plane. Considering the risk is only to myself as long as we close the portal after it is finished, this seems a rare instance where great power and knowledge can be acquired quickly with a small amount of risk to others."
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As you pack up your equipment and carefully cross the bubbling mud, Erebos helps Dasur pack up the research materials. The drow seems unusually please with himself, but he works hard enough.
Iverna seems happy to leave this place and move on. She climbs along the wall, the easier path.
Once past the bubbling mud, you continue to move North, you follow the eastern wall of the cavern, the twilight of the massive cavern painting the walls and ceiling with one of the strangest lights you can recall. The light continues to brighten slightly as you continue, getting closer and closer to the light source.
The great rift widens in front of you. If you had not seen the fungal
jungle in the Upper Azathyr, then this would easily be the largest cavern you had ever seen. Its ceiling rises more than three hundred feet. The farthest walls of this massive rift are too far away to see.
Nearby are great lakes of hot boiling mud. The mud is not uniform in color, but instead is mixed with some unknown contaminants that have caused it to be stained with every color of the rainbow. It is a
scalding mad riot of color and vapor and it stretches out for miles. Every few minutes somewhere, the mud erupts. Great geysers of steaming water push into the air. It seems a dangerous place but here and there are gaps, stone walkways that seem to avoid the worst of nature’s fury. Perhaps this place is traversable after all. And beyond the hot mud pools to the north is what can only be described as an underground jungle. This is populated not by fungus but by greenery and trees. Faint light filters through the great light in the top of the rift and casts the whole place in partial daylight. No doubt it is this light that allows the greenery to flourish and thrive.
And yet, though the trees seem familiar, there is also something profoundly unfamiliar about this forest. For every splash of green you can see, there are also sparks of bright cerulean, vivid vermillion and electric yellow. From this distance it is hard to make out anything too specific about the distant jungle, but even from here you can discern it is an alien place no doubt full of strange wonders and unimaginable dangers. Still, you’ll never discover the truth sitting on this ledge. There is a natural stairway that winds down the cliff face to the floor of the rift. The stairway itself is
broad and not all steep, slowing descending twenty feet to the plain beyond. It seems a new phase of your underground expedition has begun.
The view into the Great Rift fills Dasur's vision as they crest a rocky outcrop. The sunlight seems almost blinding after the extended time they have spent journeying through the Azathyr, and he holds up a hand to his bushy brow to shield his face from the weak but natural light.
"Here, the Elemental Planes leech into the world and cause these wonderous displays." The wizard comments as he points his obsidian staff at the bubbling mud below him. "And there, impossible pigments color plants I have never seen nor heard about. But I do know this little light could not support that many plants..." He continues while pointing off into the distance.
"Erebos, you mentioned the Mithvarium are close to the Fey, correct? Could that bizarre jungle be fed not only by the sun, but by energies from the First World? It is obvious the barriers between the planes are very thin here... could this be a unique location where we can experience not only the Elemental Planes leak into the Material Plane, but the First World as well?" The wizard seems momentarily stunned by this thought, staring off into the distance. "What wonders and horrors could be birthed by such a place? Our magics could become completely unpredictable in such an enviroment. Spell components could fly out of our pouches and cast themselves with such instability!"
"Now its the pigments in the rocks at least. Rocks I can understand!"
As usual, Snorri understands half the words Dasur says, and he only manages to glance half the meaning from half of them. Planar theory was never his strongest suit: it's simple enough when gouts of fire sprout from a rock, but leeching, leaking and the elemental plane of butter are a step too arcane for him.
Still, the general feeling of dread communicates quite well.
"Good thing we are resistant to spells, then. Let's assume that everything here is going to try to kill us, and never lose sight of one another. Iverna, stay close rather than scouting, getting lost in the forests is easier than one thinks."
"I remember stories of great heroes, where the trees had been possessed by a great evil, and nobody but dwarves and one of their gods were alerted to the danger. In a place like this, it certainly feels more plausible."
"Evil tree things? Yeah, so that sounds like an elf thing, completely," observes Torvi as she glances at Erebos.
Erebos grows increasingly uncomfortable as you move closer and closer to the light. "Sun, Ssusun. Dasur, know you nothing of light! That is not the sun, though its light burns nearly so much. We are miles beneath the surface, beneath even the Fungal Jungle which once was open to the sky, but now is closed. No, this is some ancient artifice. It dates to before the Abandoned descended into the Dark. We Drow found our way to survive here in the Dark, but the Mithvariim, they followed a different path. Here in the everlight they reached into the First World to create a space in which they could survive. To reach Zaraketh, we need only skirt their territory. Perhaps we can avoid the elves and the thunder lizards on our path. If we suffer no delays, we should reach the mine in 5 or 6 days. Given our difficulty navigating the area around the rift, I suggest we descend into the Forest below. We are more likely to face living opposition there, but we are better off facing living creatures than walls, it would seem."
Iverna stares at the light, at the vegetation, at the colors.
"Dwarves, you seem untroubled by these strange mushrooms. What is all of this shit that lies beneath this ledge. I feel as though the feathered mushrooms are watching me."
"Ah." Dasur says after Erebos' explaination, and the wizard leans upon his staff as he stares off in the distance. "That would explain its unwavering intensity. I was under the imrpession this was a great rift none had dared to descend, but your knowledge of the local topography has thoroughly disproven that."
Thoughts of the First World and whatever ancient artifice the Mithvarium have created churn thorugh his mind as he stares at the bizzare colors in the distance. It starts to hurt after a while, and he looks away. "If we cross through the jungle I will be unable to provide us shelter. I can provide us a safe extradimensional space to make shelter, complete with a door, as long as I can find a solid rock face roughly the height of Erebos and twice as wide. We will be less likely to find such outcoppings in the forest, but I also feel Erebos is correct that it would be the faster route." Otherwise they would be spending considerable time constructing rope systems at every cliff face.
Intrigued by Iverna's comments, he walks over and looks down. "Watching you? Would you describe this sensation as "telepathic", as though something is trying to speak to you, "instinctual", as if you are being stalked by a predator, or "all-encomposing", as if a thousand eyes are surrounding you from all sides?"
"Probably there are drow out there waiting to ambush us says I. Why else would an elf urge us into the trees, and away from mother-stone?"
Glenda tilts her head oddly and says, "I do not think that trees are central to the existence of the drow."
"Elves are elves, pointy ears and such!"
Erebos bristles at Torvi's mistrust. "You are correct, Glenda. Dark elves have no interest in your surface flora. Trees, ferns, wood. These things are not common to our experience. If we happen upon any Dark Elves, they will be a raiding party, not a group set on ambushing us."
"Raiding party, or an ambush against us? Can you explain the nuances in how we would react differently to either of those please? The difference between them sounds completely a social distinction to me."
"You are more than free to climb the walls yourself, Torvi." grumbles Snorri, annoyed by the endless bickering. "I'll take my chances with my feet on the ground."
"The drow you have encountered thus far have been either invading the svirfneblin you decided to defend or guarding territory they considered tactically important. Any drow we encounter would be outside of their sphere of influence, operating in enemy territory. They might see us as a target of opportunity, but they would be unaware of our presence. Most likely, they would seek to avoid us. They would be here to attack the Miithvarim, with no thought of us. I have been on these raids myself, so I hope to be able to avoid their likely movements."
"Now, let us descend and make our way through the forest. Take care. The most dangerous encounters here will not be dark elves..."
"I concur." Dasur states after the discussion on the dangers of the subterranean jungle and dark elves subsides. "I ask everyone be on the lookout for rocky outcroppings during our hike in case we are in need of rapid extradimensional shelter."
You descend into the forest, finding a strange, somewhat primordial world, but full of strange colors. Giant dragonflies and butterflies as big as your outstretched arms, honey ants the size of your fist which Erebos plucks from the rich soil of the forest floor.
"Look, here. Be careful of the pincers, as they are strong enough to slice off your fingers. But this abdominal chamber is a delight."
He stabs the swollen abdomen delicately and drinks whatever is inside.
"Of course, it is even better made into ant mead, but that takes more patience than we have at the moment."
You have a night of rest in the forest beneath a twilight ceiling and a grove of amber leaved trees. The stone wall is nearby, offering Dasur an opportunity to create safe haven.
Torvi quietly watches the elf doing elf things.
Dasur isn't so interested in the flora and fauna as he is the strange world they inhabit. There was something permeating everything around them, causing these strange colors and making the plants grow, he was sure of it. The artifact Erebos mentioned must have something to do with it, but looking up into the chamber was about as healthy as looking into the sun. He would need to build some sort of device to indirectly view the light source, but there was precious little time and resources for such an endeavour.
As the group tires and decides it is "night", Dasur approaches the wall they have been using as a guide through the jungle and presses his hand to its coarse exterior. Nodding to himself, he produces a tiny miniature shovel from a belt pouch and taps it against the surface. "ທີ່ພັກອາໄສໃນໂລກ." He says in a strong voice that seems edged with power to even untrained ears, and the stone briefly hums a low, pleasing note in response.
A 5 foot long, but shallow, vertical seam appears in the face of the stone; it stands out like a splash of purple paint on a white chicken to their dwarven eyes, though to other races it would be more difficult to spot. With a small push the seem noiselessly separates from the wall and swings inward like a well-oiled door.
"This space should last four hours, and then I will need to refresh the spell. Just do not let me oversleep or we will be ejected out of the space." The wizard says as he strides into the space without pause, grabbing the handle on the opposite side of the door and holding it open for the others to enter.
The interior is completely dark and appears to match the texture and type of stone that makes up the door, but with a perfect smoothness that only the most talented masons among their people could achieve. Trying to actually touch the surface is met with resistance- there appears to be a thin wall of force separating the air of the chamber from the stone that decorates it.
As each being enters there is a moment of vertigo as the chamber automatically expands, increasing its size to accomodate the newcomers. "I would not build a fire in here. While I have incorporated scaling inward and outward microportals to different pressure zones in the Plane of Air to provide a continuous flow of breathable air, there is not enough exchange for a large volume of smoke to cleanly exit. I'm afraid my calculations show if I made the portals any thicker than a yak's hair the probability of inadvertently summoning a localized and deadly extraplanar lightning storm greatly increases."
Erebos notices Torvi's disdain and plucks up an ant. He holds it out to her, "Torvi, I understand your dislike for me. I don't care for you either. But surely even you can appreciate honey? Or the promise of mead? Can you not imagine sitting in whatever great hall awaits you in Dammerhall lifting a mug of rift-ant mead? Surely that must appeal to you. If the Mithvariim do not use our intestines to string their lutes, we may yet see that day."[/ooc]
You rest as pleasantly as you can in the stone vessel of Dasur's manipulations, waking to the same eternal twilight. You find that Iverna has captured and cooked three great dragonflies.
[b]"They are not so different from the great crayfish that we farmed in the Lake. The heads are particularly delectable. Not the eyes. I don't recommend that."
After breaking your fast, you move on.
Dasur gently pokes the dissected head of one of the dragonflies and brings the finger to his mouth. "A unique taste. The influence of the Frst World seems to effect all senses equally." He drones before grabbing a fork and breaking off a chunk of roasted dragonfly.
He spends the rest of the time traveling saying little, taking occasional glances upwards towards the strange twilght source in the "sky".
Curious about the underground honey, Snorri goes against his first instinct and tastes the juices in the bug's abdomen. "Mead and ale both. The breweries in the ancient city must have been mighty indeed, to satisfy the thirst of such a clan."
As his food, as well as the drink, turns out to be made of bugs, he sighs to himself and cuts himself a slice of the giant insect. "Thanks, Iverna. It's nice to know we will not starve."
While they walk, the young dwarven lord stops for a moment, his instincts crying out but his mind struggling to find the reason. Better safe than sorry, he draws steel.
"Take care. I have a bad feeling about this place, we may be in danger"
"Ummm no. I will pass on the ants, sorry."
Glenda seems a bit restless but has little to contribute.
"Perhaps it should be cooked first. Some animals carry diseases if their flesh is eaten raw."