Book One: Esoteric Elven Emissaries
The scene is unremarkable. Bright lights, obviously magical in nature, buzz and dance around the smooth, even stone walls of the small rectangular room you have just entered from some dingy, obscure hallway within the Academy of Valandaer.
The center of the room houses an elegant Darkwood round table, upon which texts, tomes and parchment are strewn about. With a smooth, flowing wave of his hand, the figure ahead of you, dressed in the mundane robes of a Valandaeran Adept, magically thins the clutter of literature and rearranges what is left in an orderly fashion as he strolls purposefully to the opposite side of the table.
As he sits to face you, the door closes quietly of its own accord and his facial features begin to rearrange subtly. He motions for you to sit, gesturing to the four empty chairs opposing him. "Talk amongst yourselves, briefly; introductions and the like. I have a few things to review before we begin our agenda," he says in an even, confident voice that sounds as though it too is undergoing subtle rearrangements in its features. One of the arranged texts slides, unprovoked, gently across the table and opens in front of him as he speaks. He begins to read.
"Can you hear the people sing? Singing the songs of angry men; it is the music of a people who will not be slaves again," sings one of the men who has just entered the room.The voice belongs to a human male in his early thirties with well cut, meticulously sculpted brown hair adorning his head. His face is clean shaven, with sharp features coming out of it that give it an angular look. He is dressed in fine mage's robes, purple in color and with gold trim adorning it.
He looks about at the group then gives another slow look about, as if looking for someone specific. Satisfied that the person he is looking for isn't here he continues humming his song and sits down. He begins crafting a small illusion of a ballerina dancing about the books and scrolls that are cluttering the area. It's nothing fancy, but it is enough to make his profession clear.
"OH NO! They've enchanted him! His face is melting off!" squeals the man as he notices the figment on the elven mage's face begin to remove itself. After a brief pause the humans own features begin to rearrange themselves "OH NO," he feels his face for the changes, "it's contagious!" He turns to the unremarkable man who has yet to take a seat "You should hurry and escape before you contract it as well! OH NO! Too late. Now we're all dead," the mage finishes in a wholly unconcerned tone as the monk's features follow suit.
Alaris steps forward to sit calmly in the second open chair from the left, lowering his hood and revealing medium length silver hair. As he scans the room, eyes crackling with blue arcane energy, his brow furrows briefly then relaxes. "A small, abstruse demi-plane...And appropriately warded," he says colloquially as he continues to survey the meeting place. "And that door is now disconnected from the academy. Nice touch Lanthro."
A look of realization flashes across his face, and he stands abruptly. Angling himself towards the other two, he extends an armored hand. "While I know of both of you, I don't believe we've ever been formally introduced! Prince Alaris Baelgar, at your service." He chuckles lightly as his gaze meets the face of the man who has just spoken. "From the stories I've heard, I should have expected as much. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, both of you."
Chukie calmly prods his face making sure that nothing is truely amiss after the antics of the flamboyant man in the room and turns to acknowledge Alaris "I would say I was surprised you had heard of me Alaris, but knowing a fraction of the resources at your disposal I really shouldn't be." As he shakes Alaris' proffered he remakes "This room is a nifty piece of work. For those who may be less well informed than our Elven Prince here my name is Chukie and the pleasure is all mine. Hopefully I shall make myself of use."
With that he turns to the only one to not have introduced himself "And what of you my amusing friend? I do trust you've put my poor face back I'd hate to think I was a terror to behold"
"I know what you mean oh princely one. I thought he'd be taller given the stories," the mage says swiftly redirecting Alaris' comment before returning his gaze, "to be fair though I consider most stories I hear about people to be either greatly exaggerated or incomplete. I've had bardic training after all, so I know too much about stories to do otherwise."
His facials features return to normal and he looks at Chukie, "Apparently what I took for a disease was just a trick of the light. And of course I know you, I'm a mage studying how to align magic into different shapes and forms. How to magically imprint things if you will. Your case is one of great note, to me at least. It would seem that for once however I am not known before I arrive, I forgot how nice the elvish lands could be in that respect."
"I am Roderick Motes. You will no doubt learn my epithet, but I would greatly prefer that even then you not use it. I am an enchanter, illusionist and research mage by trade. That and professional social engineer I suppose. Though the latter finds itself on my resume for fewer things." Roderick smiles before bowing to the group, "I believe there was supposed to be one more with us? Oh tell me where in the world is, Briggs the Bombardier," the bard finishes with an improvised tune.
Closing the tome in front of him, the figure looks up; his features, no longer shifting, are soft, but his weariness is apparent. He smiles. “The Mad Chimera will be rendezvousing with your entourage at another time; I imagine because of another one of his ‘episodes.’ He has asked, however, that at least one of you drinks from this,” with a quick flick of his wrist he conjures a large flask filled with a slightly luminous magenta liquid, “in order to make finding you an easier endeavor.” His voice, smooth and even, projects with a certain comfortable authority.
His expression becomes slightly more serious as he proceeds to conjure several bags that appear unceremoniously upon the table. “You all know why we have convened here; you are all aware of the situation in which we find ourselves. On this day, you leave your former roles behind and come together as comrades fighting desperately for what you believe in. Know this: Without your assistance, and by obvious implication, your success, Valandaer will fall. The tasks you will be asked to complete are by no means sanctioned officially by the nation. I assume you understand what this implies…” He pauses and looks deeply into the eyes of those across from him in turn, silently requesting confirmation of understanding.
Alaris nods. "I understand the risks. As far as Valandaer is concerned, from this point on I am no longer royalty. Teris will have the throne. I am prepared to do what I must for our nation and the safety of Sariel."
Chukie grunts in affirmation. "I have little to lose and this venture is of the utmost importance."
"Well I do declare," the mad mage says in an accent more befitting someone in the ventral regions of Cellerus, "ya'll have certainly gotten a bit more formal." He snaps his fingers and his garb changes appearance, now into a white gentleman's suit with all the frill that went out of style years ago, "I simply cannot deal with all the excitations I am experiencing. This fine young prince giving up his right to the throne. This fine young... man... giving up... not using small words. The verbosity is simply overwhelming." Roderick pauses for a second then snaps his fingers, returning to his original garb. "In all seriousness though I think were we not prepared to perform perfectly your plans of precarious purpose which so piqued our passions your propositions would long since have been protracted from our own plans. Let's get on with it."
Maintaining a stoic expression, Lanthromere breathes deeply and deliberately. “Indeed.” After a brief pause, he begins to speak. “You are being asked to acquire a holy symbol that, as far as I understand it, destroys or banishes any creature not native to Sariel; it is known as the Heart of Eralus, and, for obvious reasons, it would be a great boon. The symbol is deep within the Temple of Arannis within Sonrir. From what we have gathered, it seems that it is safely guarded within the only highly secured vault in the temple. We have been informed that it is often removed from the vault for larger religious ceremonies, such as the Rite of the Nine and Coress. That being said, Coress is not for another calendar year, and the Rite of the Nine is about as predictable as the Somarian climate. We have zero information on the layout of the temple due to its exclusiveness, but upon arriving in Sonrir, you should be able to rendezvous with a gentleman by the name of Jonas Adams. A former warrior-priest of the Order of Salizar, Sir Adams was removed from the order for certain ‘heresies’ that will remain undisclosed. Due to his former standing, however, he is well aware of the inner workings of the temple. Since his excommunication, he has made quite a name for himself as a belligerent drunk and beggar along the Cellerus-Sonrir border. He is not a difficult man to track, and he is aware that you will be looking for him.
The next item on the list is Arannis’ Shield, a pendant that prevents a soul from being taken or consumed. We need to replicate its magic on a larger scale. In a great gesture of loyalty to Valandaer, Arcanamach Lirian has breached his responsibilities to the Librarian’s Guild and confirmed the existence of the Third Library. It is deep within death itself, and it is also incidentally the home of Arannis’ Shield. He has informed me that the library spans the fourth through sixth Precincts of death, but other than that, we also know nothing. I would recommend finding someone adept at navigating through Stygis to assist you with this particular endeavor; Sorcuth would be a good place to find a necromancer of adequate skill. Interestingly, the White Mage still remains imprisoned in Vercuth which may be a viable option to explore. He is likely more trust worthy than a Sorcuthan Necromage.
Tyrixx, in the last few years of this bloody conflict, has begun a vast soul harvesting campaign, stealing and consuming the souls of Valendaer’s finest soldiers. In line with the constant effort to determine the purpose of this, we are also asking you to retrieve the Tome of Souls. A copy of the first two volumes exists within the Third Library. Magnus cannot guide you directly to the Library, but upon entering it he will be able to rendezvous with you and provide direction. Volumes three and four supposedly exist within some of the infernal archives of Baator. It is almost a guarantee that copies can be found within Dispater’s private library, but an attempt to obtain them would be nothing short of suicide. That being said, in the event that you happen upon copies of volumes three and four, do not hesitate to pick them up. Volume five, the final volume, can be found within Abaddon. Again, obtaining that volume would be no small task, especially due to the lack of order that exists within the abyss. The acquisition of the complete Tome of Souls is last on your priority list.
The final items we seek can supposedly be found within the same venue. The first is the Grimoire Arcanamacha. The only known remaining copy exists as an archived text within the Nethalium. It has been said that copies the two Abyssal volumes of the Book of the Damned also exist within the Nethalium. These volumes are the second item. You must journey to Axis and gain access to the Nethalium’s archives. Once a year, the Nethalium opens its gates to the city to host the Breaching, where the most skilled infiltrators are invited to enter the magically guarded Hall of Wards or die trying. Testing their luck against the university’s strongest defenses, the competitors pull out all the stops as they vie for a chance at a fortune in gold and magical treasure. While obviously the more important archives still remain off-limits, it could be a great opportunity to get a foot in the door. This will be happening over the course of the next 4 months due to an extension at the request of several distinguished alumni.” An amused smirk creeps across his face after his last statement. After a short pause, he continues. “The Book of the Damned is also quite low on the priority list, though copies will certainly exist within what little abyssal libraries exist and certain infernal archives.
How you choose to obtain these items is of no consequence, as long as Valandaer is not implicated. Within each of these bags, you will find tools and information related to the acquisition of each of the aforementioned items. Some of the information, as already stated, is quite lacking.” He reaches into one of the bags upon the table, pulling out a short rod. “This is Lanthromere’s Vision,” he says with a proud, brief smile. “It will teleport at least four people and their personal effects anywhere on Sariel, through the Astral, through the Ethereal, and to the ‘beginning’ of a variety of planes. After its use, however, it takes a seven day period to recharge. It also cannot bring you back to Sariel. For that, you are on your own. Any questions?”
Chukie lets out a low whistle upon the conclusion of Lanthromere's speech. "Well here I was afraid you needed us to go the market to grab you some supper. All joking aside these are all items of note are there any we need sooner rather than later? My gut impulse is to secure the Heart of Seralus first." he ponders a moment before remarking "Of this school of magic, The Nethalium, I have heard and Id like to think I have passing knowledge of all the planes but who is this white mage? I have no knowledge of such a person"
"I have to agree. The infiltration mission should take us comparatively less time, and seems to be open for several months. And I imagine the libraries are still going to be full of library type things like dust and old ladies who shush you whenever so much as a floorboard squeeks in your general area... or do they not have those in death? Zombie ladies who shush you perhaps? Or Banshees for the irony maybe," the crazed bard begins to wonder out loud to himself, giggling whenever he comes upon a particular funny combination of unholy-abomination-unto-the-cycle-of-life-and-death and old lady with inch thick glasses. Eventually he continues on, "whatever the case may be I wholly expect the books of minor importance to other people that are hidden away, as they have been, in a secret library in the third precinct of death will not be going anywhere anytime soon.
Honestly from the description it seems like all of them have and will be in their respective locations for a while. I personally think the shield might be best left for last because of its solitary nature. Truthfully I can only bring myself to care about the order in which we retrieve them a very small amount; an amount comparable I think to the weight of an ant, or a leaf, but definitely not an ant holding a leaf. And definitely not a leaf holding an ant. Though that would perhaps depend on the size of the leaf and the proximity of the ant to the nearest college of transmutation," again the mage loses himself in thought.
He comes up again with a look on his face rather like a surprised cat,
"Vendris, Sollomon. Epithet: The White Mage. Specialized in necromancy and the creation of deathless. Molding positive energy to critical energy junctures in the body. Creating suitable location for re-attachment of soul. Useful as case study for abstract energy alignment. Process eventually deemed unsuitable for leyline purposes, though particular alignment method did show promise in area of energy repurposing."
Chukie chuckles at the notion of banshee librarians before remarking "You amuse me Roderick and I hope to not be presumptuous when I call you friend. We shall have need of your cheer if we are to journey to death itself."
Becoming rather caught up in Roderick's lack of decorum in what is obviously meant to be a quite serious meeting and being rather tired already of FATE OF THE WORLDS conversation he turns to the young prince before intoning with a slightly bow "O princely one, savior of the elven people, what say you to this news. Which artifact would you have us seek in these troubled times of your nation. We shall be guided by your wisdom in these matters."
"As you say, realistically, nothing is going anywhere. The order in which we approach these tasks is irrelevant; while the Nethalium Breaching is the only undertaking that seems to have some sort of time limit, four months is a lengthy period, and it is possible that we may find another way into the heart of the Nethalium even if we somehow manage to miss the Breaching.
The volumes of the Tome of Souls and Book of the Damned, while not necessarily of minor importance, are simply not as pressing for the purposes of surviving the current state the war. They are, however, of great importance for the purposes of gaining an upper hand against our enemy. Knowledge is power.
I suggest that we attempt the Heart of Eralus first, as it requires no planar travel. From there, we can head to Sorcuth in order to find a guide for our journey through Stygis. I am not opposed to attempting to free Sollomon, though it will not be an easy task. The river Styx runs directly from the Eighth Precinct of Stygis into Axis itself, thus making accessing the Nethalium after obtaining Arannis' Shield and the Tome of Souls a fairly easy endeavor. As I recall, Lanthromere's Vision functions more accurately based on distance from the desired location.
Upon obtaining the Grimoire, we can return here. If we happen upon other volumes of the Tome or the Book of the Damned, we can pick them up, but due to the urgency of our situation, we must make haste." Standing up, Alaris picks up the glowing flask on the table and drinks deeply. He then moves to pick up Lanthromere's Vision, along with the assorted bags upon the table. "I am, of course, open to other ideas as to how we should approach the job before us. Despite my vast and princely wisdom, I am loathe to dismiss the counsel of those who are less fortunate." Alaris smirks as he turns to bow deeply towards Chukie. "In all seriousness, I see a lack of necessity in the mocking of my former title or the nation that we defend. It does not offend me, but it seems rather out of place. Shall we take our leave?"
"I'm glad you weren't offended friend because no offense was intended. I too wish to depart with some urgency. I find my present form restrictive to say the least. By your leave Grand Vizier Lanthromere?"
Glorfinmad
