Gixard glances at the letter and nods. "That damned wizard, Alphonse Umber. He wrote that letter. He talked with Eleanor and Hassith about the Gloombridge, but I didn't pay close attention. But!" he hurries to add with a glance at Nme'an's hammer, "But, it was something ...strange. Hard to define. Probably magical. He seemed annoyed when Eleanor insisted it was a place to find on a map, as if her idea of it wasn't complete. See, I wasn't asked to join for my learned wits," he explains. His beady eyes glint with a pride, perhaps thinking of the true reason he was recruited.
"Eleanor talked about traveling south to find it, though. She had a few guesses at its location but nothing certain."
Nme’an turns and takes a few steps from Beorae and Gixard. With a shake in his voice, he speaks just loud enough for Beorae and the others to hear above the wind and waves.
”Siwezi kumuangalia. Mwambie ambaye Hassith ni. Na kumwuliza kilichotokea Prince Titus.”
Beorae nods to Nme'an and steps closer to the goblin. "Who is Hassith? What happened to Prince Titus – is he the 'heir' that this Umber wizard wrote about?"
After a moment, but before Gixard can respond, she adds, "And what was your contributon to this… group?"
Syntax can be a tricky barrier among magical scholars, especially if they try to wax poetic. But if she was going to hazard a guess, a magical bridge could be another term for an extraplanar portal. Gates like that do not just lie about, and often require a lot of energy to open or maintain. The idea that the Gloodbridge could be a portal is a decent theory, because they are indeed more than just a physical location. But, all she has to go on is the word of one untrained in magic and who was not following the discussion of magical bridges.
Broadly speaking, of magical bridges, some anecdotal lore about Brenan's Crossing comes to mind. It has stood long before the town that surrounds it, and was built long before the legend of Brenan the Berserker claimed it. No one actually knows who made the bridge, and its endurance over the centuries has some wonder what magic is hidden stones that form the crossing.
Gixard seems to be telling the truth. Themp also senses that the little goblin is hoping for a lot of questions, for obvious reasons.
"Hassith? You killed him. One of the grey men, the priest. The other was an assassin and a spy. And my role? None of them had any skill for tracking and bushcraft, and did not know how to travel bogs, lakes, and rivers as well as I. That twin boat you lashed together, that was a hurried mess, wasn't it?" he turns a coy look to his interrogators. "I've seen worse, though."
"Your prince lives. Umber took him, yes. Quite unexpectedly, along with stealing all the dwarvish gold we got from Fignar. The prince is probably who 'the heir' refers to, but that damned wizard loves his riddles and double-talk. Sorry, if you were hoping to find that brave dandy here, in this tower..." he cracks another grin, "I'm afraid the Prince is in another castle."
”Where did you meet Fignar? What does he need weapons for?”
Nme’an asks, turning back to Gixard. ”And what of the strange thing on Elanor’s neck. What was it?”
”Finally...” Nme’an say, with an intentional pause before continuing, ”what is all of this? This wizard, and Eleanor, and this dwarf? And you, firstborn the Bogtoe tribe. What is the common purpose?”
"Fignar? He's just a trader. Comes from the mountains and we meet him south of here. I would draw you a map to where we meet, but my hands are tied."
Gixard grimaces with disgust. "If you haven't noticed, half-giants tend to be deformed. That's because men and giants shouldn't lying together in the first place. She referred to that lump once as her twin."
"Similar to yours, I'm guessing, if the knights we tortured are to be believed, their hopes to revive a dying king. Forgotten spells and ancient knowledge. I don't have much use for that stuff, but the folk who do owe me a favor." He casts a frown over the Stillwater Lake, keenly aware he will not be receiving any favors anytime soon. He looks at Beorae. "Am I wrong? I saw your magic firsthand."
"Listen, if this is going to be the end, would you oblige me a moment with my pipe and tobacc? They're both in the inner pocket of this vest." He nods downward toward his right breast. The leather vest he speaks of is under a layer of ropes.
No.” Nme’an says sternly in response to Gixard’s request.
”I have no other questions for him. Unless there is something I have forgotten, you two should turn away. There is no need for you to contend with this bitterness,” he says to his companions.
Beorae interjects, partially out of genuine interest and partially stalling for time, "What do you mean, 'they owe you a favor'?"
Gixard grins, "A tower for a tower, that was the deal. I help them reach this 'Ithalgol's Keep' and they help me take the Bitterfont. I was going to be the first goblin chief in Bloomrot to have a castle!"
To the unschooled mind, goblins largely appear to have no society or culture, content to steal, kill, and burn the things others have built. However, from the little that Beorae knows, she sense that they do indeed have their own customs, but they are quite unlike the traditions and values shared by people of Vyren. As for their customs on death rites, she only remembers one anecdote she heard from a ranger passing through her hometown: Goblins refer to a burial as "going back to the mud". How they accomplish this seems to be a little loose in definition, but the body always ends up submerged or underground.
Beorae is sure that goblinkind have their own legends and heroes whose tales are orally passed on from generation to generation (most goblins distrust written language). But these figures are not featured in common history lessons, nor the ways they are interred.
”Not anymore.” Nme’an says.
With a single swing he ends the Goblin’s life.
Afterwards he works with the others to bury the smaller creature with no fanfare or commendation.
The goblin’s little ugly head cracks open with single burst of blood, the swing knocking the chair over as well.
Removing any valuables from his person, the adventurers remove his leather vest to find a small chainmail shirt underneath. The inner pocket of the vest contains a tiny pipe and drawstring pouch of dried brown leaves. On one hand, they find a ring, made of bone with a dark, crudely-cut triangular stone inlaid. Around his waist is a wide belt made with a pale hide and fastened with a loop and horn hook. Emptying the pockets in his trousers reveal a pouch filled with gold and silver, and a thimble-sized clay container. Opening the tiny container reveals it to be some kind of bright orange pigment. A counting of the coin totals to a value of fifty in gold coins.
Beorae, ever thorough, notices that the ring, the belt, and the clay container give off magical auras.
At first, Beorae detects the orange pigment in the thimble-sized clay container to give off a necromantic energy. After further inspection, it seems that this thick oily paint is intended as war paint, to apply on one person’s face. Once it is applied, the wearers of the bright orange war paint can quickly make the paint rearrange itself into a disturbing and hideous visage.
The bone ring is imbued with faint abjuration magic that helps its wearer deflect incoming attacks.
This thick, pale-hide belt uses moderate transmutation magic to strengthen the body of whomever it girds.
With their last enemy buried, the three return to the tower. Ascending the stairs to the third level besets them with a new, but not wholly unwelcome smell. Aromas of roasted meat and baked bread waft from the third level, and when they return to the floor where they did battle only a few hours ago, the surviving Champions of Thaleniel find a veritable feast laid out onto one of the long tables. Trays of savory beef, pork, and lamb sit beside baskets of hot steaming bread and plates of many cheeses. Bowls of fruit and vegetables are interspersed between platters of roasted potatoes, beets, and other tubers, and a great basin holding a hearty stew rests at the very end. There are three large pitchers among the fine foods. One contains a sweet red wine, another contains a golden ale, and the last contains cold water.
Three sets of plates, bowls, goblets, and silver eating utensils are arranged on the long dining table as well. Any objects that were laid onto this table by Themp and Beorae's clean up are on another table, similarly organized as before. Every surface, including the floors and walls, appears to be cleaned and free of any sign of the confrontation that took place on that level.
"Well, this is fortuitous" exclaims Themp sarcastically "How does that saying go? 'There's no free lunch'?"
”That’s right,” Nme’an says coldly as he examines the food. Without saying another word, he hefts one of the chairs and carries it away from the table to the back wall of the room between the next staircases. There, Nme’an retrieves one of his rations from his supplies and begins to eat it while staying alert enough to protect his companions should the need arise.
”What do we do next?” Nme’an asks the others as they finish their meals. ”Travel, it to say combat, will be difficult with Sir Montague in the state he is in. And we still have not searched all of this tower...” he says thinking aloud. ”...and we certainly must proceed after the prince... at some point.”
He sits quietly, lost in thought for some time then says, ”How about if we do this: Tomorrow, after we are recovered, we search the tower more fully including the upper floor. Maybe there is something to help the king maybe not but there might at least be something to help Sir Montague.
That finished, and perhaps the next day depending on how quickly and safely our search goes, we leave Sir Montague in this place where his meals and needs will be seen to by the magical servants, and we try and find some of our allies like the gnomes or elves we met on the way here. Surely one of these groups would be interested in helping secure and restore this place. Thus, we start this tower back to the place of learning it should be and provide further protection and healing for Sir Montague.
Finally, and this may be days from now, though it cannot be helped, we proceed with all haste down river back to Brenan’s crossing in search of the Prince and those behind this conspiracy.”
He looks to the others and concludes, ”At least that is my idea, anyway.”
"I'm really uneasy about this tower now. The next floor should be the kitchen and pantry, but every floor after that has potential to host magical items. Any other... guests might have armed themselves with some. We should move with greater caution." Themp responds.
He tells the half-elves what he has gathered from the library, hoping the planning takes his mind of this terrible morning.
Beorae deposits the items from Gixard with the other items before sitting down on one of the benches, eyeing the food that has magically appeared at the table. She gingerly picks at the feast, more out of curiosity than need for nourishment, as her Ring of Sustenance makes that unnecessary. The druidess listens to Nme'an and Themp, considering their comments in silence. When they are done, she says, "Agreed, Themp – this tower definitely makes me feel uneasy, though I suspect that's due to the raw power of magic this place represents. There is much to learn here, both for good and evil. Though I would be surprised if there are others still here."
"And yes, Nme'an, we certainly need to rest and recover our strength. If we're going to search the tower tomorrow—and I think we should, since we're here—maybe you and I should discuss what spells we'll prepare in the morning, as well. These notes," she says, holding up the crumpled student scribblings, "suggest that we need some specific spells prepared, and your priest training may come in useful."
"Anyway, Shark and I need to train for a bit. It will be good for him and I need some time to process all that has happened today. You are free to join us, of course," she says before heading over to the other side of the room. Clearing a space, she and Shark spend the next few hours working on his latest command, 'Come'.
Afterward, Beorae asks, "Does anyone else want to search the next couple floors with me? I'd also like to spend some time in the library, but I'm wondering if we'll find anything useful upstairs first."
”We will explore together or not at all. We were given a hard lesson today. Myself doubly so. I will not allow such a split of our party to happen again.” Nme’an says.
"You are right." Themp agrees "We should cover each others' back at all times. Lets go. I'll take point for now, but if any magic is afoul, I don't think I'd be of much use."
Beorae and Shark follow Themp up the stairs to the next level, keeping an eye (and nose) out for anything out of the ordinary. Well, as "ordinary" as an ancient abandoned magical tower can be, that is.
The food Beorae tastes on the table is delicious. Though she feels no need to eat thanks to her magical ring, she finds that she has not enjoyed food this flavorful and expertly prepared since the feast hosted by Court Wizard Dacius after her victory at the tournament.
The druidess finds the same protective magical properties in the stone walls as she detected when she first reached the island that morning. She notices an additional faint magical aura on the doors to the kitchen, but she does not recognize its function.
The three climb the stairs at the back of the room, to find a small landing before more stairs lead upward on either side. From the bottom, the explorers can see that both stair flights lead up to the same area. When they ascend further to another small landing, they find wooden double doors with words carved into them: Kitchen Staff Only. Below, in smaller lettering, reads: Knock for service.
No sound can be heard from the other side of the kitchen doors, although Shark brushes his nose where the doors meet the floor, picking up scents of tantalizing foods inside. Aside from these double doors, the only other feature of note are more stone stairs, leading up to the next level in the tower. Cautiously the three climb these stairs, to find a level that is somewhat open, broken up by segments of wall that imply separate sections of the floor without entirely closing them off into rooms.
Rising up from the stairs, and after noticing the odd placement of the walls, the three find other features of interest on these fabled proving grounds of arcane students from ages past. To their right, in the corner sits a large wooden chest banded with iron and closed with a sturdy lock. The left nearest corner is empty, though a corner of wall mirrors that of the opposite side with the chest.
A thick, center wall divides the hall left and right. The stone masonry is made from dark rock free of any decoration. Suddenly, when Beorae magically scans the level, parts of the walls blaze with lines of strange green runes. The adventurers find that if she turns her spell of detection away, the walls darken to as they were before. The runes only appear to glow on two separate wings on either side of the large stone divide.
Beorae notices a magical aura on the locked wooden chest. It is a faint source, but she will need to rest and perhaps study before inspecting the magic on the locked box again.
Thankfully, another magical aura is much easier for her to identify. In the empty left corner, she notices a simple illusion spell. In truth, the energy used to make the illusion everlasting is so strong it almost masks the illusory magic itself. With her naked eye, she sees nothing amiss, but her magical senses tell her that part of the floor is covered by a glamer that only looks like plain stone paving.
When the green runes spark to life, she recognizes this form of universal magic instantly: she will have to decipher these runes in order to make sense of them.
The group confers to explore the floor further, in order to know how to best prepare for the Room of Attainment. They agree that it is best not to touch anything, in order to avoid accidentally triggering something harmful or damaging. With the help of the half-elves ability to discern the magic within, they find that the magical auras within the chest are categorized as Evocation and Transmutation, but the finer details are not discovered. Beorae deems it wise to not touch the Illusory spell that lingers in the other corner, masking the plain stone floor. They would have to investigate that tomorrow. On the two walls where the green runes glow, the druidess uses another spell, and reads the inscription aloud. On one wall:
Seek you the diamond dust?
Guard your heart against her charm.
Trade with her you must,
Though she would do you harm…
And on the other wall:
The wise look ahead
To know how to pass the test.
Consulting the dead
May require a full night’s rest.
The three puzzle over this as they move to inspect the further corners of the floor. Beyond the wall that mentions “consulting the dead”, a large gong facing downwards is suspended over an equally large brass basin. In the center of the basin, rests a tiny iron bowl. On a nearby wall, a few shelves hold up several clay canisters and urns. One of the shelves has only a mallet. Beorae and Nme’an scan the corner of the room, and find one magical aura, resonating from the gong and basin. An Evocation spell, Shatter, appears to be awaiting some kind of trigger. Nme’an expresses some concern that there might be the ashes of the dead in the urns, and might be reanimated and pose a threat; his reasoning being the overabundance of magic in this place and placement of the runic verse behind them. The three also suspect that the shattering contraption has something to do with the diamond dust, but are unsure, as they make their way to the other corner.
Passing the wall that speaks of “diamond dust”, the three find a large bronze statue, cloaked and sitting cross-legged in the corner. Between its crossed feet, stands a large hourglass that is about three feet high. The hourglass is empty, and Themp points out that the top of the hourglass opens. The half-elves are able to detect a couple magical auras from this corner of the room: Illusion and Necromancy. The Illusion seems to emanate from the hooded cowl that forms the statue’s head. Like the last Illusion, the three agree it is best to leave that magic for the next day. As for the Necromantic aura, Beorae recognizes the function as a spell of Speak With Dead, created in such a way to be triggered when something passes through the neck of the hourglass. Finally, things are beginning to make sense: the three deduce that surely diamond dust must be placed inside the hourglass. But where do they find the diamond dust? What does the locked chest and Illusory floor have to do with this puzzle? Where is the door or stairs leading up the next floor?
With these questions and many more, the three decide to spend some time in the library for further research. Recalling most of Beorae’s knowledge of magical theory from Ferwald’s tutelage, Nme’an’s cursory education of magic from the Dawnflower Archives, and Themp’s experience of spells cast at him, the three agree that a broad overview of the different types of magic to be a good start. Their group study reveals that magic spells, in all its various forms, as classified into eight schools: Abjuration, Conjuration, Divination, Enchantment, Evocation, Illusion, Necromancy, and Transmutation. Abjuration includes spells that protect and ward against harm. Conjuration includes summoning creatures from other places, channeling healing or harming energy from other planes, and opening interplanar portals for instant travel. Divination spells are used to seek knowledge, either through contacting otherworldly beings or using magical sight to watch and hear things from afar. Enchantment includes spells that affect the mind, such as Eleanor’s attempt to Charm Beorae at their first meeting. Evocation spells are the ones that often found in stories of legend: a wizard evoking a fireball or a druid calling lightning from the skies. Evocation is considered to be the more dangerous magical school, more likely to cause bodily harm than the others. Illusion, like Enchantments, also affect the mind, but more precisely the perceptions of the mind -figments and glamers, sounds and sights that have no substance are Illusions. Necromancy includes the communication and manipulation of the dead, but is also the root of spells that cause sickness, weakness, fear, and other afflictions that can plague a creature’s life force. Transmutation spells can manipulate the physical things in the world; it can make wood hard as iron, or turn a man into a mouse, or change the weather for better or worse. It is during this study, that Beorae reexamines the encrypted notes she found in one of the rooms, and learns that the first step of the challenge upstairs is with the Illusory floor in the corner, and the locked chest is the final step.
Exhausted from the mental and physical exertion of the day, the three decide to go to bed, in the sparsely furnished rooms that were embattled just six hours ago. The next morning, they find a large breakfast waiting for them, including something for Shark and Sir Montague. The three still feel uneasy at the food, but nibble at it nonetheless. Guiding himself along the walls, Sir Montague joins them for breakfast, and they brief him on their findings upstairs. The wounded knight nods, and says he worries that he would be of no use to their challenges, and asks that he remains on this floor where he might rest and recover. The surviving Champions of Thaleniel agree, and add that if they have any questions they think might fall under Montague’s expertise, they would seek him out.
Before they move upstairs, Beorae stops Themp and performs an incantation, and the thief can feel the weight of sickness leave his body. She further heals the damage left by the nasty fever. With that, the three are ready to attempt the puzzles in the Room of Attainment...
The three stand around the corner with the Illusion on the floor. Nme’an unlimbers the massive Casns sword, and touches the glowing blade to the floor. The steel passes through the stone like a hand through a shaft of light, and Nme’an’s eyes are opened. He can see the faint outline of Illusory stone floor, but underneath, stone steps leading down into dark. Beorae and Themp see that the Knight Lieutenant comes to no harm, and resolve to poke their toes at the false floor, having seen the highland blade pass through it. The druidess and thief agree to descend first, and Nme’an would wait above. Following the darkened steps, Beorae holds out her everburning torch to reveal a large iron cage taking up half of a larger room. On the wall near the foot of the stairs, a metal wheel protrudes from the wall at chest height. The bars of the metal cage are bound closely together, scarcely wide enough for an arm to fit through their criss-cross pattern. A young woman in roughspun burlap stirs on the other side of the cage, pulling tangled dirty hair away from her grime smudged face. The man and half-elf notice that despite her unkempt state, the young woman is quite beautiful. All that is in the cage with her is a wooden bowl and a chamber pot.
“Please, help me…” she pleads.
Beorae scans the room for magic, and finds three auras: one on the metal bars of the cage, one all within the cage, and another coming from the imprisoned woman. She recognizes the magic in the bars to block teleportation, but the other two are unfamiliar towards her. While Beorae made her magical scan, Themp’s mind for mechanisms sorts out that the wheel on the wall is the locking device for the cell door. Suspecting the girl to be subject of the verse line, “though she would do you harm…”, she advises Themp that the two of them should head back upstairs to confer with Nme’an. They ignore the prisoner’s cries not to leave her. After a brief discussion with the other two, the paladin wards himself with a protective spell against evil and proceeds down into the dark. Holding up a Lit gauntlet, he listens to the prisoner’s pleas to open the prison doors. His questions receive evasive and incomplete answers, and he senses a wickedness in her heart. But his sympathy for one in such a dire state wins over his decision. Nme’an offers to open the cell if she can promise to not attack him or any of his friends, and once she is free, she must help them solve the puzzle above. Groaning that she knows nothing of any puzzle, scrambles back to the darkest corner of her cell, furthest from Nme’an’s light. She reemerges with something glittering in her hand: a dazzle diamond the size of a man’s fist.
“I will give you this, if you let me out,” she says. “I don’t know anything about a puzzle and I fear you would kill me if I could not help you.”
The knight presses on, hoping to gain her aid in the puzzle upstairs, but again she refuses.
“Open the door!” she demands, “Do you want this or not?!” She shakes the great jewel in her hand, its prismatic angles shimmering from the half-elf’s light.
Nme’an acquiesces, confirming that once she is free, the woman in rags must turn over the gemstone. She frantically agrees. He turns the wheel, and once the cage door is unlocked, the woman springs out with surprising speed, desperately bounding for the staircase up. The knight is quick to react and sidesteps to block her escape, and she collides into him. Scampering up the stairs, she shoulders past Themp, who also tries to get in her way. In the commotion, Beorae notices a sparkling refraction on the stairs below, but Nme’an and his light are already on the move in pursuit. He gives chase down to the dining hall, where he sees her about to leap down the other flight of stairs to the library. He calls after her, and as she turns to scream a retort, the knight notices her form begin to change somewhat. But she vanishes downstairs before he can discern any detail. Soon her bare feet slapping on stone fade to silence, as she reaches the bottom level of the tower. Sir Montague pokes his head out of his room, wearing a look of confusion. Nme’an, having let the woman go, decides that it is best to have his former mentor with them in case the woman should return with harmful intent.
Back in the Room of Attainment, the druidess holds up the apple-sized diamond. When Nme’an returns, he guides Sir Montague to wait near the stairs, and Shark receives instructions to guard the blind man. The three proceed to the magical gong with the large jewel in hand. The alchemist’s daughter first inspects the clay canisters and urns to find an assortment of various materials, most of which are already broken into small pieces. She finds chips of mica, shards of obsidian, ash, chunks of granite, and a fine powder of unknown substance, though it reminds her of ground bone. Before they place the diamond in the iron bowl, she tests her theory by placing shards of obsidian into the bowl. Themp takes the mallet and strikes the gong perfectly, and the hunks of black glass shatter into a sparkling dust. Beorae empties the obsidian back into its container, and places the diamond inside the bowl. This time, Themp needs to strike the gong a few times, as the resonation breaks the gemstone into shards, smaller and smaller until reduced to dust.
Together, the three walk over to the bronze statue. This time, Beorae reaches up to touch the Illusion surrounding the statue cowl. Her hand passes through it, and rests on a hard, somewhat rough surface, and she finds that the bronze cowl covers the massive skull of a cyclops, fabled seers of the giantfolk. The second the diamond dust is poured into the hourglass, the jaws of the skull move!
“You have until the dust runs out to ask three questions.” A booming voice echoes out from the statue.
“What is in the locked chest?” asks Nme’an.
“The key.”
“Where is the spellbook we seek?” the knight follows up.
There is a long pause, as the sparkling sand trickles away. “That answer… is beyond my sight. Ask another.”
“What is the next step?” Nme’an asks.
“The chest.”
Nme’an rolls his eyes, and Themp interjects just as the last pinch of dust passes through: “How do we unlock the chest?”
“Knock thrice…” The strong voice fades to an echo. The diamond dust is not in the bottom of the hourglass -it seems to have disappeared after the neck of the timepiece.
“Well, shall we?” Beorae gestures to the locked chest. “I defer to your expertise in lockpicking, Master Burglar!”
“This better not blow us up,” The scoundrel jokes with a casual saunter up the box. However, the worry is not completely gone from his mind, since both half-elves detected an Evocation spell on the chest yesterday. He lands three deliberate knocks.
The locked latch springs open! Inside, the three see a tiny, glimmering key. Picking it up, the key appears to be reformed from dust of the diamond. Next, the three search high and low. But nothing escapes the sharp eyes of Beorae Sevenstone, and the tiny keyhole is discovered on the wall beside the gong. Inserting the key and turning opens a short passage into the masoned stone. It leads to a small circular room. Carved into the stone floor is a large, circular narrow groove. Within the circle, many thin, angular channels and straight lines form an eleven point star, among smaller circles, triangles, and lines of strange runes. Nme’an tries to read these magical runes, but he is able to gather little more than this to be a summoning circle. In an alcove shelf rests an elegant silver pitcher. A light, rolling vapor rolls out of the pitcher’s mouth, emitting a soft white glow. Beorae takes the pitcher and begins to gently pour the swirling liquid into the channels of the summoning circle.
“Wait,” says Nme’an. He steps away and goes to Sir Montague asking if he would come with them. The older knight shakes his head.
“I think I will stay here and rest, where there is food to strengthen my bones,” he says, facing in Nme’an’s general direction. “Whoever it was that escaped, I doubt will be coming back. And if she does…” Sir Montague shrugs, and adds with a wry smile, “I do not think she would harm a blind cripple.”
“Go,” he urges the Knight Lieutenant with a hand on his shoulder. “Fulfill the quest that I cannot. Find the book, save the King.”
The three and Shark regroup under the summoning circle, and the druidess empties the pitcher. Every groove and channel is filled and the floor glows softly, but nothing yet happens. Beorae realizes that this magical transporter requires some of her own power to fully activate. She utters a druidic chant, and the silvery vapors swirl and spiral around all who stand in the circle. A sudden flash and a lurch!
Beorae, Nme’an, Shark, and Themp stand over a copy of the circle, but on an entirely different floor. This level is open and flat, save for a thick center column, and all around are other circular grooves if similar design, but each one with unique shapes and runes within.
“This must be The Spoke,” says Themp, “The intersection between all the levels of the eight schools of magic.”
The other two who can read magical runes find this to be correct; each circle is attuned to a floor in the tower with a corresponding focus: Abjuration, Conjuration, Divination, Enchantment, Evocation, Illusion, Necromancy, and Transmutation. However, they find ten summoning circles, including the one they appeared upon. Gathering over the tenth, they discover the carven runes to read its destination: The Master’s Library.
Excitement buzzes through the three, and they step onto the tenth circle. With an educated guess, Nme’an uses an orison to refill the silver pitcher, and the water transforms into the glowing liquid used just moments before. Beorae takes the pitcher and begins to pour. Themp draws his blades.
“We don’t know what is on the other side,” advises the street rat, “Best to be ready.”
Nodding at the advice, Nme’an draws a sword and readies his shield.
Beorae is halfway finished with the circle when the glowing liquid in the grooves turns black, and the vapor form inky coils in the air. Themp immediately hops off with a yelp, followed by the half-elves and the tiger. Shark scrunches his nose at the smell. The druidess stops pouring, and the corrupted liquid eventually evaporates. Not finding any dirt or debris in the channels of the tenth circle, the half-elves put their heads together, recalling what they know from their study of arcana and extraplanar travel. Themp even weighs in, noting some similarities between the summoning circles, and intricate locks he has sprung in the past.
“One thing harder to pick than a complex lock is a complex lock that is jammed,” he adds, “And from what we have learned, that explanation seems to match what is going on here. But we should go to the Conjuration floor, to see if we can learn how to fix this circle to the Master's Library.”
The blinding light from the summoning circle fades, and the three plus Shark adjust their eyes to a dimly lit room. Long and narrow, the room is walled with bookcases, and furnished with desks and chairs designed for reading and study. At the far corner of the room, is simple wooden door and next to it on the wall, a metal lever fixed in the upward position.
The bookshelves are enchanted similarly to those in the library downstairs. None of the books appear to be magical. However, sweeping the room, the simple wooden door glows ablaze with light blue runes with the detection spell passes over it.
The runes seem to ward against any extraplanar creature from worlds aligned to specific behavioral and worldview dispositions: simply put, this door cannot be opened by creatures summoned from planes that are infused with the essence of order or chaos. Upon closer inspection, the door and threshold appear to be made from darkwood. It does not appear to be trapped in any way, but there is a simple wooden mechanism inside the door to lock it from the side of the study room. It is found unlocked. In the ceiling beyond the wooden door, is a rectangular shape of stone that does not match the size of the masoned blocks that make up the magical tower. The rectangle is the width of the doorway and nearly one foot thick. Themp figures out that the metal lever drops the stone slab, blocking off the corridor entirely.
The bookshelves appear to be related to the magical school of Conjuration in various ways, each category focusing on different aspects of this branch of magic. There is a section on extraplanar languages. Section Two covers Conjuration spells used to teleport distances great and small. Another, Section Three, focuses on the summoning of creatures, from wild animals to insidious devils. The Fourth Section deals in the conjuring of non-living energy and matter. Section Five appears to cover extraplanar portals and the innumerable worlds beyond.
The section on extraplanar languages has dozens of books that include translation guides as well as written lessons in learning a given language. The languages featured are: Abyssal, Aklo, Aquan, Auran, Celestial, Ignan, Infernal, Necril, Sylvan, and Terran. One of the books from Section Four discusses the magical theory of healing spells, and another book is on conjuring water and ice. A book from Section Five outline the creation of portals and dimensions customizable, according to the power of the spellcaster.
Nme’an finds in Section Three a thick book titled, Monsters Astride: A Horizon Walker’s Notes. Leafing through the pages reveals it to be a large collection of extraplanar creatures, none of which are native to the Material Plane. The entry for each creature is short and concise, usually accompanied by an illustration, but gives pertinent information, such as a creature’s strengths, weaknesses, general behavior, and plane of origin. A few creatures are recognizable, known only by common folklore: angels, demons, dragons, and genies.
In Section Two, Beorae spots a rather thin book that appears to be a collection of cautionary tales featuring the mishaps of improper or careless teleporting. Each account typically has an unhappy ending, with mages reappearing without a limb, or dying immediately after being shunted into solid rock. Following each story is a facet on the mechanisms in teleportation magic that explains to the reader how to avoid each mishap in the future. The illustration of a white teleportation circle turning black and smoky catches her eye as familiar. The following entry tells of a mage who attempted to teleport into a castle throne room that was warded against interdimensional travel. The mage ignored the obvious signs of darkening sigils and rising smoke that the spell was amiss, and proceed with her incantation. The effect of her attempts were similar to that of whiplash: joint and muscle pain, and exhaustion. To overcome a ward that blocks teleportation, one must first divine knowledge of the spellcaster who raised the protective spell and decipher the exact warding abjuration spell used. The entry further instructs to remember the magical law of Gorlomun’s Foil when the counterspell to a ward is not apparent. Beorae recalls from her studies downstairs that Gorlomun’s Foil is: “Every magical shield and lock can be unmade by the perfect spear and key,” one of many Laws of Magic as observed by researchers for generations.
Beyond the enchanted wooden door is another door, this one a heavy slab of cold iron with silver tracery. A few iron handles along the edge of the slab indicate strong locks to keep something contained on the other side, and these handles are found in the unlocked position. The silver and cold iron door is enchanted to ward against any extraplanar creature from worlds aligned to particular moral dispositions: that is, the door cannot be opened by creatures summoned from planes that are infused with the essence of good or evil. Also, it seems that the detect magic spell cannot penetrate the closed iron door.
The three are nervous about passing under the stone block that hangs above the enchanted corridor. None of them want to be squished or trapped on the other side. They work together to push a table underneath that part of the hallway, reasoning that the table will hold open a crawlspace if the stone drops unexpectedly. Themp decides to test the strength of the table, and pulls the lever on the wall. The stone crushes the wooden table to splinters! It takes the combined strength of Themp and Nme’an to push the lever back up, and when it does, the gears and chains within the walls clank as the stone raises and recesses back into the ceiling. Then, Themp has an idea. Using a few select shards of wood, he jams the lever to prevent it from being pulled down. With that assurance, the adventurers cross the corridor to the next room.
Pushing the heavy cold iron door open, the three find a small room with a table, and three strong wooden doors with iron bands on the opposite wall. In the corner directly across from the door they pushed open, the image of a green cobra glows on the stone wall. Themp notices that runes mark every scale of its belly and expanding hood. The mouth of the glowing image opens and its eyes glow a menacing yellow. He lowers into a defensive position just as a sudden jet of green shoots out of the cobra’s mouth! The spit acid splashes at Beorae’s feet, and the three quick jump into action. Nme’an steps forward with his shield ready, presenting himself as a target. Themp dives and takes cover behind a wood table. Beorae and Shark hang back, hoping that the magical trap aims for the knight. In the chaos, the druidess notices engraving on the wall near the door they just walked through. It says: For any emergency during experimentation, notify the Master Conjurer. In the event of uncontrollable summons, evacuate immediately and activate the magical wards.
Behind the wood table, Themp sees that the three strong doors do not appear to have locks, just a simple metal latch to open or close them. However, large black words burned onto the table and wooden doors draw the attention of the thief and the other two. From the acid that was flying through the air, it is fortunate the letters are still legible. The message nearest to them, on the table, DO NOT ASCEND, mimicking the warning found on the table at the first floor of Ithalgol’s Keep. On the first door, THE TOWER IS SEALED, on the second door, TO CONTAIN A GREAT EVIL, and on the third door, AND BAR WHO WOULD FREE IT.
Nme’an closes in on the spitting image of the cobra, and Themp rolls to a safe corner, from which he can reach the runes. Acid splashes all over the knight, running between the plates of his armor and burning his skin underneath. Themp is not successful on his first try to disable the trap, but fortunately the snake has very poor aim, and its third acid attack shoots over Nme’an’s shoulder onto the wall. Meanwhile, Beorae and Shark explore the nearest of the three strong doors. It opens to a long, narrow corridor, and the scoundrel and paladin catch up with her as she reaches a large room. In the large room, there is a curious finding beside a wide circular stone dias: a wooden table and a chess board with clay game pieces. By the look of it, there is a game in progress, in the final stages with just a few pieces remaining for each opponent. Both Beorae and Themp recognize that the black pieces (a king, rook, knight) could achieve checkmate in three moves. The white pieces (a king, queen, bishop, and pawn) could achieve checkmate in two moves if the player sacrifices the queen. Beside the game board is a note written in a flowing, elegant hand. It says:
Greetings Master Conjurer,
That fire elemental was a bit of a surprise! A shame it did not oblige me an explanation.You have not been keeping up with our little game! Was it not you who wagered my summoning quill against my defeat? I have not seen a move from you in years! Decades! I thought you wanted this enchanted reed to rewrite your traveling circles? Do recall, your defeat binds you to ten years of servitude, but fret not, my slaves are the fattest and best dressed on my plane! My last move was to capture your second rook, as you may notice. A king without his castles! In your long absence, I decided to make this game a little more fun, to speed it up for my own amusement. I hid the quill you seek inside one of the game pieces. But have a care! You can only choose one game piece from the board. If you choose correctly, the pen is yours! Incorrectly, and I shall come to collect you. I shall grant you one hint, to give you a sporting chance: Which chess piece is my favorite?
This was a fun game, my good friend. I hope all is well.
~Shaitan Ghebzaaee the Powerful
The three discuss the meaning of the letter, the game, and game pieces. Beorae remarks that shaitan are a type of genie, closely attuned to the Plane of Earth. Nme’an supposes that the “summoning quill” might be what they need to fix the summoning circle of the Master’s Library. However, none of them are eager to enter into the genie’s game, with enslavement as the consequence for losing. They decide to search the other rooms before coming to a decision.
Opening the other door reveals a small room inside. A low circular stone surface is centered in the room, and an orange rune glows dimly on the circle. Themp senses that they are traps that trigger a summoning, which give the three pause until Beorae detects the strength of the magic to be very low. Nme’an steps into the room, in hopes of whatever is summoned, can provide the answer to the genie’s riddle. The orange rune brightens, and a small spirit of fire coalesces on the dias. With white hot eyes and a fiery roar, it throws itself at the knight! The fire elemental’s little fists smash against Nme’an’s shield and armor to no effect.
“It’s so cute when it’s angry!” one the adventurers comments.
When the fire spirit does not respond to their questions, Themp runs back to the Conjuration study. He hurries back with an armload of Ignan translation guides, and dumps them on the table. He and Beorae leaf through the pages to find something to calm the fire elemental, and rather quickly they are able to get it to stop attacking. The fire spirit crosses its arms angrily and spits out terse answers to the following questions. Unfortunately, the fire creature knows nothing of the genie’s favorite gamepiece. The Thaleniel Champions try again with the second room marked with an orange rune, and that summoned fire elemental furiously denied even knowing what chess was. Back in the larger summoning room, Beorae reads the letter again.
“I have a guess, maybe,” she ponders, “It says here that he takes good care of his slaves… Maybe his favorite piece is the pawn?”
The other two agree that the idea sounds plausible, but no one feels confident enough to remove the pawn piece from the chessboard. After some reluctance, Beorae takes decisive steps up the board. “I’ll pick it up, since it was my idea...”
Themp and Nme’an ready themselves for a fight, taking defensive positions around the stone dias. They are determined to defend their friend and keep her from being taken as a slave, no matter how generous the master. The druidess plucks the pawn from the board!
The air is still. Seconds stretch on, and nothing happens. Beorae notices the other chess pieces crumble into clay dust. Breathing a sigh of relief, she examines the pawn and finds that the base opens, revealing the nub of a quill inside. As she pulls on it, a reed pen, much longer than the pawn itself, comes out. Immediately, the pawn crumbles to dust as well. Red runes along the shaft of the summoning quill glow with strong conjuration magic. Now that they have a means to correct the summoning circle, their next step is to learn exactly which spell is warding their destination against teleportation.
The three head to the floor focused on divination magic. Entering this level reveals a large room in complete disarray. Great lengths of cloth lay strewn all over the ground, tables smashed and damaged books everywhere. Loose pages and parchment cover the floor. Near the far walls, a few damaged doors barely hang onto their hinges. At the center of the large room, a wood pedestal lays knocked over, and near its top side, a scattering of shattered hunks of crystal. Scanning the mess, there appears to be a faint aura of divination emanating from the scattered crystal pieces.
Random patches of soot mar the walls. Some of the cloth seems to have holes burned through it, and one of the brass door handles droops from being partially melted before cooling. Some objects appear completely disintegrated, such as one desk that rests lopsided on three legs and a pile of wood dust where the fourth leg should be. Beorae notices the unique grain of the table to be agarwood, which tugs at her memory as familiar. She resolves to consider it later, after the rooms are checked for danger. Themp kneels down to attempt to piece the chunks of broken crystal together. Nme’an and Beorae sifting through the wreckage reveals a metal tube with a leather sling and a clasped lid on one end, a hard scroll case. Something solid rattles around inside. Unlatching the clasp, the lid reveals an oak wand carved with simple runes. The half-elves determine it to be a wand of Augury, a basic divination spell known to priests that yields answers limited to “Weal”, “Woe”, “Weal and Woe”, and “Unclear”. This wand appears to have 8 charges left. The scroll case must be built to fool detection spells from finding magic items inside.
In one of the smaller rooms, the mess continues. Rows of shattered fine, smooth porcelain, with a few surviving delicate handles suggesting that the broken countertop once held about a dozen teacups and saucers. Inside a cupboard missing a door is a collection of dried leaves of varying sizes, shapes, and smells. Three jars appear to have avoided the destruction, but the rest of the tea leaves are scattered and mixed together. Neither half-elves detect any magical auras in the room. One of the undamaged jars of tea, when it is opened, also contains dried stalks of thistle, from spiny leaves to the bristling, purple pedals. The other jar contains broad green leaves that give off a grassy smell. The third jar contains dried lavender.
Entering another room kicks up a thick cloud of ash, and Beorae quickly steps out, doubled over from a coughing fit. Inside, burnt wooden boards are nearly buried by large mounds of ash and soot. Whatever was in here, burned hot and quick, and left nothing of value behind. Nme’an enters, and despite the billowing ash, he searches the burned room and uncovers a pair of wire-rimmed glasses with circle lenses. The lenses are in need of a thorough cleaning for the fire they survived, but otherwise seem to be in good repair. While the mages are unable to identify the magic within them, Nme’an puts them on, and finds that if he can concentrate on a magical item for a few moments, the magical properties of that item are revealed to him. Among the hundreds of paper sheets covering the floor and debris, one sheet gives off a magical energy. It appears to be a magical scroll. Reading over it, the scroll appears to be the instructions and incantations required to cast a spell that aids in locating an object. If the spell is given general terms, the spellcaster will be alerted to the direction and distance of the nearest object that fits that description. However, searching for a specific item requires a specific mental image, much to Nme’an’s frustration, for he had hoped to use the scroll to find the fabled spellbook of Ithalgol.
The third door falls off from the slightest touch. Beyond, into the small room, there is burnt wooden furniture -remains of two chairs and a table. On a shelf on the wall, there is a drawstring leather pouch and a long narrow wooden box undamaged by the flames. In the stiff leather pouch, a collection of flat, oval shaped pieces of bone. Taking them out, there are six bone tokens, and each side bears a simple rune different from the other side. Overall, there appears to be only three runes among the six bone pieces. These rune-bones are not magical, but seem to be useful components in some divination spells, and that could make them valuable to the right mage. When Nme’an sees runic bones, he recognizes them as the necessary pieces to use in the casting of the Augury spell. In the wooden box, there are two sections: one contains a few sticks of fragrant incense, and the other section contains oils, powders, and thin wooden sticks to create more incense. Then Beorae remembers her recipe for incense, and returns to the broken desk to gather agarwood dust, and to the tea room to collect the dried thistle pedals.
The three find little else of value in the divination floor. Themp finds partial success in piecing the crystal back together, its original shape appears to be spherical, like the crystal balls used by fortune tellers in common folklore. Unfortunately, he reaches a point where he would need paste or glue to keep the pieces together. They agree to visit the level of the tower devoted to Abjuration magic. Nme’an turns toward the summoning circle, and the glasses he wears causes the magic circle to glow blinding white with powerful magic. Even though he is quick to look away, he is still seeing spots after removing the glasses. Thankfully, the spots subside after a few moments, and now the paladin is wary of looking at items enchanted with powerful magic.
A few emptied pitchers and stomach lurches later, the three take their first steps into the floor dedicated to the study of Abjuration. Surprisingly, this level is also a disaster of disarray. Bookshelves toppled over, with old volumes scattered and damaged across the floor. Two doors lead away from the large study. One of them bears a simple reading table and chair, however the back of the chair is shattered to pieces on the ground. Nme’an scans the room for magical auras, and finds only one, just beyond the unopened door. The magic is strong enough to blind him, if he were to look directly at it with the glasses. However, after concentrating, he identifies it as another summoning circle. Removing his glasses and opening the door, the knight lieutenant reads to runes to find that this particular magic circle teleports mages to a level called the “Dueling Floor”. While he is eager to test his mettle on this floor, Themp points out that they need to be researching what type of ward is preventing the group from entering the Master Library.
But the druidess has not been idle. Leafing through many books in the demolished study, she uncovers a likely explanation: a powerful Abjuration spell known as Forbiddance. This spell blocks all forms of extraplanar travel, not just Teleportation, but also spells like Ethereal Jaunt and Shadow Walk. However, it does not bar physical entry. Furthermore, the warding spell can be attuned to a specific worldview, such as the code of honor upheld by the Order of the Dawnflower, or perhaps even the fluid ethos of a hardened criminal. An addition to the spell allows for a specific password or phrase, in order to allow those of a differing creed to enter. Anyone who attempts to enter the warded area without the predetermined alignment or password risks great harm to themselves.
“I don’t think eight guesses is going to be enough to find out the password, if there is a password…” Themp comments dryly, gesturing to the wooden wand found in the Divination room.
“Well, if I correctly understand everything that I have read,” Beorae says, “We should have what we need to repair and activate the summoning circle, with the Summoning Quill. The only uncertainty we have is how badly we might be harmed for not having the right password, or morals…” she trails off, keenly aware that her two companion's beliefs represent very different sides of the law, even though the pair are good-hearted in their own way.
"We can use healing spells afterwards, but that does us no good if we don't survive the teleportation in the first place," replies Nme'an.
"The password is key. It allows people with different beliefs to enter the area warded by the Forbiddance spell," Beorae says. "Let's start with rewriting the summoning circle, so that all we have left is to figure out the password."
Stooping over the circle of arcane geometries and lines of runes, the druidess takes the magical reed and begins to draw. The red runes on the shaft of the quill glow brightly, and the summoner is able to trace out the design that religns the circle to the Master Library. Outlining the final runes, she feels the reed in her hands grow warmer and warmer, and once she finishes the last arcane marking, the summoning quill bursts into a small flame. She is able to avoid a burn on her hand, but now all that remains of the magical reed is a small amount of grey ash.
The three put their heads together to try to come up with a password. Soon the conversation turns to what questions should they use for augury spells. At last, their line of questioning begins to delineate towards doubts whether the fabled spellbook is even in this magical tower, and if pursuing the prince is the worthier goal. Many serious questions are unanswered by their reasoning, when suddenly Beorae has a realization: if the crystal ball they found could be repaired, hopefully it could provide better answers than the limited omens of the augury spellcasting.
“But how are we going to repair it?” asks Themp, recalling his attempts to rebuild the shattered ball earlier.
“Using this,” answers Nme’an, as he lays the pieces on one of the bookshelves enchanted to repair and preserve the ancient books within Ithalgol’s Keep.
At first, nothing seems to happen as the hunks of crystal rest on the shelf. Themp tries moving them around, and he finds two pieces sticking together. It seems that the crystal will not move itself into the proper place to reform a ball, but if correctly assembled, the crystal will fuse and become a single piece once again. The three work together to complete this puzzle, until at last the three of them step away to see a transparent crystal sphere with many cracks distorting the light. Many of the larger fractures close and seal, although a few of the faint surface cracks never do close completely.
“I thought it was going to be bigger,” Themp comments. “I’ve seen fortune tellers use a crystal ball the size of their head.”
“Maybe the real ones are actually this size,” Beorae replies with a grin. “Either way, I get the feeling, by these cracks, that the magic in this crystal ball is not as strong as it once was. With any luck, we can still get the answers we are looking for…”
Using an inkling of her own magic, the druidess puts her hands around the sphere and asks: “What is the password to the Forbiddance spell warding the Master’s Library?”
The transparent ball swirls with grey cloud, until an image begins to appear at the center. Beorae maintains her focus as the other two watch closely from over her shoulder. The visage of a sheet of yellow parchment, with an inkwell in the corner appears. Presently, a hand moves into view, dipping a feather quill into the ink and writing on the black sheet. The hand is old, with thick digits stained with ink. The penmanship is bold and blocky, but clearly in the common tongue. When the hand moves out of sight, the page reads: Your first names combined, rearranged, to spell out the answer to this question: What must this sealed tower be to Ithalgol?
The image evaporates after a moment, and the grey vapors in the crystal ball dissipate. The crystal is clear once more, but the answer the three receive is puzzling.
“Our first names?” says Themp doubtfully.
“Who else?” answers Beorae, already setting blank parchment on a nearby desk.
“It’s suspicious that someone already knew that we were coming…” Nme’an mulls over the answer from the crystal, “...and knew our first names, at the very least.”
Using the parchment, the three write out the letters of their first names, and work together to find an anagram for all the letters. Hope... Home... Arena... Thorn…? The three find many combinations of letters into new words, but none of them seem answer the question of the puzzle.
“Don’t forget ‘A’,” Themp smiles, “And ‘Be’.”
“Mason?” Nme’an adds to the list of words.
“No ‘S’...” Beorae corrects him absentmindedly. She frowns, deep in thought. “Here’s one: ‘Permanent’...”
“‘O Permanent Bee Ham has all the letters,” one of them offers.
“Oh! So does ‘Be A Permanent Home’!” another exclaims.
The three agree that the most recent guess makes the most sense for the question that appeared in the crystal ball. Themp suggests that they confirm their idea by asking the crystal ball if the answer is correct. Beorae turns to the crystal ball and repeats the question. However, something went wrong in the use of the rebuilt magical sphere, and a large crack grows through the center of the crystal, threatening to split the ball in half. This time, setting it on the enchanted bookshelf did not repair it as before. Nme’an suggests that they use an augury spell, especially since they are looking for a yes or no answer in the first place. Using the magic wand, the knight takes up the runic bones and casts them with the question: “Is ‘Be a permanent home’ the password to the spell that wards the Master Library?”
The markings on the bones answer, Weal, in affirmative. The three and the tiger gather excitedly onto the repaired summoning circle. As Beorae activates the magical transporter, they utter the password. In a flash, the three feel a lurch in their gut! But as their vision clears, an enormous room begins to materialize. Bookshelves from the floor to the high ceiling cover the walls, and a number of studying desks and high-backed comfortable chairs furnish this room of scholarship. Mountains of books, cascades of books, more books than any one person could read in a lifetime fill this library. Ladders on rails allow readers to access the books on the higher shelves. The room is utterly silent.
Nothing appears out of order, as the four carefully take in their surroundings. Nme’an and Beorae find no magical auras in this library, save for one strong source of magic on the opposite side of the room. At the far end of the study are closed double doors. On a table next to the door, is a single sheet of parchment, yellow with age. The page is so old and fragile, a mere touch might cause it crumble. The magic appears to be just on the other side of the double doors. Even without his friend's magical senses, Themp has a bad feeling about what waits on the other side of the wooden doors. Beorae reads the writing on the single sheet aloud without touching it. In a hand with blocky lettering, it says:
Greetings, travellers from Thaleniel. If you are reading this, then you have ignored my warnings and overcome the challenges I prepared in the lower levels. Consider this note my last warning: Beyond these doors is the entrance to the final test and you must enter willingly. If you fail, you cannot proceed. If you pass, there shall be no turning back.
~Noe
The three consider the note and its implications. Themp points out that the handwriting reminds him of the writing hand in the crystal ball. Examining the magic aura beyond the door, Nme’an points out that the magic is similar to that of the summoning circles, but it does not appear that the destination is within the tower -a teleportation circle. Determining that the doors themselves are not the triggers to any kind of trap, they pull the doors open to find a tiny antechamber, no larger than ten feet across. Opposite to them, ten feet away, another set of double doors. Unlike the summoning circles downstairs, the floor is flat masoned stone. It takes the suspicious and keen eye of the thief to find the faintest circle traced over the stone floor, like dim silver thread over grey. There appears to be no way to reach the doors without touching the teleportation circle. Together, they talk amongst themselves, wondering if they are supposed to open the far door without springing the trap. One of them takes a book and throws it at the doors in hopes of knocking them open, but to no avail. The textbook bounces off the far door and lands on the invisible circle spread across the gap. The book settles on the floor.
“Whoever this ‘Noe’ person is,” Nme’an reasons, “He appears to know that we were coming... knew that we were coming, centuries ahead of time.”
“And whatever this final test is, we must enter it willingly, or so the note says,” adds Beorae.
“Is the teleportation trap the final test?” ventures Themp.
“I don’t know,” says Nme’an, “But I don’t like not knowing where it teleports to.”
“I agree,” the druidess says, casting an uneasy look at the unassuming area of the stone floor. Her concern suddenly turns to Shark, who might not understand the importance of not walking over that part of the floor. She looks around the library, and realizes that the day of reading, searching, and problem solving has taxed her mind. “I’m going to take my mind off of this for awhile, I need a break. Shark and I will be over here, training.”
The druidess steps away from the double doors, the ancient note, and the invisible circle. After pushing some furniture to clear an open space for Shark’s training, she digs into her pack to find some of Feline’s Felicity gifted to her by the folk of Axton. In searching, she uncovers a large, semi-transparent white crystal in her bag. Beorae squints, trying to remember where she found it, and decides to leave it on a table to sort out later.
The paladin and rogue look at each other, and both decide to spend this time to read and relax. Themp is still curious about the tower itself, and the mages who used it as a center of learning ages ago. Nme’an sees the crystal Beorae set down and decides to examine it with the magical glasses. The crystal appears to contain a large air elemental, trapped in a solid form. If the crystal is broken, the spirit if air will come out, and serve whomever broke the crystal for a short time. He relates this information to the others in the library, while Themp is scouring the bookshelves for where to begin his research.
At the end of three hours, Beorae and Shark mastered the last of a long list of commands and tricks. Happy with their progress, the fire-haired half-elf announces to her companions that the grey tiger is now fully combat trained. Such a feat is usually accomplished by training experts over four to six weeks, however, Beorae’s talent and innate connection with the large cat accomplished the task in just over one week.
There are so many books in the room, but the Paladin has had his reasearch for the time being. Instead, Nme’an primarily watches over the others as they relax. He is not entirely distant, he participates briefly in Shark’s training and answers an odd question or two from Themp, but more often than not he remains alone as a passive protector keeping out of the others’ way unless he is needed.
When he opens a book at random, he finds the exposition of advanced theories of transmutations slightly dizzying and a little out of his depth. It becomes clear that the people who used this library were already quite familiar the rudimentary concepts of magic covered in the floors below. Nevertheless, the rogue continues his research.
Eventually, he finds a history section, wherein divulges the history of the dwarves, elves, hobbits, human, and orcs, as well as a dense transposed copy of gnome oral traditions titled, Gnomish History: a study on the factual basis of common tall tales. Themp soon realizes that even the most recent history in the library is now hundreds, if not thousands, of years old. He finally discovers a copy of a geographic history of the continent, and glances inside. Although unrelated to his search, he learns that the barren, dry wastes known as Armaag’s Plain used to be densely wooded, part of the Carenthir Forest, and the jungle north of the Komat Mountains used to be a hot, dry flatland suitable for farming. Additionally, he finds that the lake for which he built the catamaran used to have no island in the center, and the legend describes a powerful mountain titan who hurled a massive shaft of stone from Komat to smite a fleeing foe, and the great stone spike drove its victim deep into the bottom of the lake. It was not until a centuries later that a wizard of renown, Ithalgol the Wise, straightened the spike and used it as the support of an island. After the island was formed, Ithalgol and his followers worked to erect a building around the titanic weapon. Themp remembers the warm walls of solid stone that are always at the center of each floor he visited, and comes to understand the foundation of Ithalgol’s Keep. Unfortunately, that is where the tale of the tower goes cold, and the book further explains how flat farmland grew into swamp and jungle: a legacy of a cloud titan slain by the stone shaft. According to the legend, it was claimed by long-dead mystics that one day the cloud titan will be freed, citing the anecdote of rain slowly wearing away the rock of a mountainside. Clearly, Ithalgol placed no value on such superstitions and saw the ancient stone for what it was: a strong foundation on which to build his dream, a center of learning for all peoples.
Themp later finds a few shelves of records, concerning the operations within the tower and summary of periodical council meetings, a group of leadership over the tower called the Council of the Mystic Arts. The subject of most meetings appear to be rather boring, delegating administrative tasks, maintaining and reconciling budgets, noting the progress of students, and the coming and going of staff throughout the decades. Once and awhile, the summaries make note of a staff member away from the tower on educational pursuits. The thief notices that in all of these meetings, Ithalgol the Wise serves as the Headmaster of the tower, and presiding over the masters of specific disciplines of magic. If Themp correctly understands the dates of these council summaries, they span over four hundred years of operation, and interestingly, Ithalgol attending a majority of them. The logbooks do not identify the races of the attendees, however the only humanoids capable of living for that long would be an elf, and even then, an elder of their kind. Over the years, the records make mention of an expansion of staff, including an artificer, a resident druid, and an arcane duelist. It also records the most recent new masters of long-standing positions, such as Duridel, a prolific necromancer, Noe, a wise and insightful diviner, and Eike, the legendary druid. The beginning of Duridel’s tenure was marred with some controversy, given the rumor of his bloodthirsty appetites. Nevertheless, Ithalgol and most of the staff acknowledged his expertise and sought to learn from his knowledge and experience. Eike’s renown came from her most-prized creation, Loldranost, a magical scythe that could “wake up” animals and trees to have minds of reason and employ humanoid speech. The legendary creation was a envy of mages, kings, priests, and warriors, for Loldranost was also a deadly weapon. Eike guarded the scythe closely, and was known for seeing through ruses aimed at removing the scythe from her keeping. She was reportedly eager to ease the tensions between the druids of the wild and wizards in the tower with her new position.
Finally, the archer finds the latest entries, still nearly a thousand years old. It records the absence of Headmaster Ithalgol, who was away obtaining research and information along with the head of necromancy. In these final entries, some drama unfolds. The second to last entry records the return of Ithalgol and Duridel from their journey, having learned much and optimistic towards applying their new knowledge to magical theories. However, discontent was growing among the other staff, some complained of Ithalgol’s favoritism, and others dismissed the complaints as intellectual jealousy, while a neutral few in between desired peace among their scholastic peers. This Council of the Mystic Arts meeting reported an immediate vote on the dismissal of Duridel as head necromancer. By the slim margin, the necromancer was voted out of the council, much to the surprise of Ithalgol the Headmaster. While the notetaker was diligent to exclude impertinent information of the meetings, they did make note of Duridel’s angry outburst before he stormed off. The notes record who voted in approval or disapproval, as follows: in favor of Duridel’s dismissal: Sproofers, Master Illusionist, Morkuldu, Master Evoker, Noe, Master Diviner, Brimfol, Master Abjurer, Eike, Resident Druid, Argo, Master Conjurer, Finnias, Master Transmuter, and Olm, Resident Priest. Those who voted to retain Duridel as staff were listed as follows: Ithalgol, Headmaster, Duridel, Master Necromancer, Marci, Master Enchanter, Pashnu, Master Artificer, Rasten, Arcane Duelist, Olxea, Potions Master, and Ygrett, Master Builder. The very last entry records a concern expressed by many of the masters, over the students who had not returned from a lecture hosted by the Headmaster. According the notes, the lecture took place the day prior to the council meeting. Ithalgol was not in attendance of that meeting, and had decreed that he not be disturbed that day due to the delicate experimentation he was conducting. By the boring topics of budgets and communications arising, Themp surmises that the drama over Duridel’s dismissal was no more, and the council returned to business as usual. As such, meeting also mentioned a short list of candidates as the new master of necromancy, and reviewed each candidate’s qualifications. However, the position was not filled while the Headmaster was not available to provide a vote. The notes end with the master diviner, Noe, assuring the rest of the coundil that he would use his specialty to find the absent students. Strangely, this record says nothing to the disbanding of the Council of the Mystic Arts, nor the closing of the tower, as recorded in a history book in the common library.
Themp’s endurance through the boring parts of the records are not entirely fruitless. By tracking expenditures and the funding for improvements over the centuries, as well as considering the titles of some of the staff, the diligent reader is able to deduce more details about the other facilities within Ithalgol’s Keep. For example, the floor focused on Transmutation magic includes a forge and equipment for crafting magical weapons, and armor. In addition to the levels focused on a specific school of magic, there is also a floor where artificers can create magical wands, rods, and staves. Likewise, another floor provides equipment for crafting magical rings, brewing potions, and weaving magical items such as cloaks and belts. One level focuses entirely on the assembly of magical constructs, which, evidently, requires many costly materials to complete. These floors devoted to the applied knowledge of study were built higher up in Ithalgol’s Keep than the eight levels that focused on one particular school, numbering three, not including the library in which Themp stands. If these levels are categorized by function: either study or creation, it would seem that the Master’s Library rests directly between them, and is the access point for the higher floors. Directly below the Master’s Library, and above the eight foci, are the living quarters for the staff, but the records do not include how to access them. The Headmaster had two entire levels to himself, where he conducted his research and experiments that pushed the cutting edge of arcane knowledge, centuries ago. It appears that Headmaster’s study are the top floors if this immense tower, and the most likely location of the fabled tome, if the artifact has survived the ages.
At the end of three hours, Themp's eyes are tired and his mind numb, and yet some of the questions he had are now answered. Conferring among each other, the three estimate that it is probably four o'clock in the afternoon. As long that they are mindful to use the password while exiting, Beorae reasons that they should be able to use the warded circle to transport themselves back to the lower levels if the need arose.
The Champions of Thaleniel turn in early for the night, taking rest in the large library. While they sleep, fitful dreams visit them, each a skewed reflection of a moment in their past. Details left out or eerily absent, and an out-of-place stranger annoying or harassing the dreamer with accusations and nonsense. While their bodies are rested, three wake up with foggy memories of their dreams, save for one puzzling rhyme. Neither Themp nor Nme’an bring up the subject as everyone begins to wake up and prepare for the day. Beorae is first one who recounts the riddle from her dream:
Finding old secrets of the grove
Curious, bright, a blazing fire
Of ancient spells the pupil wove
Descendant to the promise dire
Four locks, on four chains, by four keys
Friend to the animals and trees
To this, Themp comments, “To be honest, I kind of assumed you would always have strange dreams, being a druid and all…”
Noticing a similarity to his, Nme’an breaks his silence, and recites the rhyme from the dreamworld as well:
A soothing fire under the hearth
Burns if too close the faithless strayed
Scorned by kin, their compassion dearth
Turns to wrath if a just hand stayed
Four locks, on four chains, by four keys
The pillar firm in churning seas
Lastly, sensing that his dream may offer a clue to the others, Themp opens up about the verse from his own dream:
Seeking treasures warm and gleaming
Thinker, drinker; mind over might
Mirth and merry, ever-seeming
Slinker, tinker; shy from a fight
Four locks, on four chains, by four keys
Silent, the hand that no one sees
The three quickly agree that the dream rhymes describe their dreamer, though the common line is puzzling indeed. Nme’an makes astute observations of the first two lines, compared to the third and fourth, referring to what might happen should any of them choose a darker path. Beorae considers the fourth line of hers for some time, but to no revelations come to her inquisitive mind. The druidess’ eyes wander to Shark, who has claimed the top of a desk as his perch for the moment. Four locks, on four chains, by four keys… Beorae wonders if the big cat also had a dream, but grey beast gives no clue in his stoic, and possibly bored, expression.
After the half-elves prepare their spells through meditation and prayer, the Knight Lieutenant takes up the wand of Augury and attempts to learn more about what awaits them on the other side of the teleportation circle. His first question is, “If we walk across the circle but do not wish to teleport, will it activate?” To this, the tossed runic bones answer “Weal,” in the affirmative. As Beorae looks on, she offers a guess of an explanation. “The note left by Noe, says we must enter willingly. I think the magical circle will test the willpower of any who step on if they are unwilling. The note must imply that we defer our willpower to the function of the teleportation.”
The three talk it over, Themp still very uncomfortable with the idea of willfully stepping into a trap. Nme’an’s second question he puts to an Augury is, “Will the teleportation circle put us in immediate and mortal danger?” The runes answer “Woe,” that the magical passage will not instantly kill them. The answer does not wholly cure the worries of the three, nevertheless, they gather with Shark around the teleportation circle. Just before they step onto it together, Beorae chants orisons of Guidance for each one of them.
The circle itself is nearly invisible to the naked eye, but as soon as ten feet touch it, the scarcely perceivable lines blaze with green energy. An enormous circular green glyph glows on the floor. A thousand sigils seem to float, blink, and pulse in smaller circles and shapes with several angles, most prominently, an eleven-point star. The arcane geometry shines constantly moving a complex pattern, and each sigil within every shape seems to carry its own meaning entirely. The wide circumference slowly turns, and the adventurers see that the moving patterns within will perpetuate indefinitely. In a blinding flash, it is all gone.
The green light fades and the adventurers find themselves standing at the edge of a deep black pit about ten feet around, ringed in rough stone carved with runes. The pit is in the center of a large round room walled in dull crystal, not of stone like that of Ithalgol’s Keep. Four paths lead away from the large pit. Three of the pathways lead to smaller black portals also encircled by runic rock. Where the path meets the rock circle, a large stepping stone has an inscription at the base of the portal. The writing before each small portal is different. On one, it says: The Material, one other says The Noble/i], and another is written [i]The Living. On the pathway in between each portal and the pit is different glowing rune. One rune glows blue, another glows brown, and yet another glows white. The runes are twenty feet away, and the portals are thirty feet away. The fourth path leads further away from the large pit to a black portal taller and wider than the others, with a large round stepping stone at its base. There are four chains of colorful, shimmering energy bound to the circular stone threshold, blocking passage to the larger portal. On the big round stepping stone, fifty feet away from the dark pit, a large rune glows orange.
Before they have time to explore any further, the rumbly sound of flame draws their attention to the orange rune. Out of it crawls a flickering shape: a head, shoulders, arms, and torso of a man with an enormous beard, all made of fire. Where his legs should be is wispy and insubstantial as the man-sized figure floats above the rune. Its furious eyes glow white hot.
As the fiery form takes shape, the growl of moving earth and scraping rock comes from the brown rune. A rolling mound of dirt and rock tumbles out of the earthen glyph, and takes the shape of the stout man with a stringy moss beard and solid legs. Limbs thick and strong, and eyes of pure white quartz, it glowers at the four around the pit.
Even before the creature of earth is fully formed, a roar of surging water sounds from the blue rune. A geyser of water shoots up, spilling out and forming a pool of water around the rune. Out splashes the top half of a man, its rippling and shimmering skin distorting whatever is behind it, as a flowing beard of sea foam covers much of its torso. Two tiny whirlpool eyes stare cold and long at the intruders.
The howl of wind adds to the cacophony, and out of the white rune blusters a form nearly transparent, made visible only by the dust and smoke that whirls around it. Again, the head, shoulders, arms, and chest of a man float above the white rune, with a wispy beard whipping about from the winds that this creature is made of. The low rumble of a far-off storm can be heard, and the elemental’s eyes glow and crackle lightning white.
Without any warning, the four elementals charge those who stand at the large bottomless pit! Themp is quick to react, moving to give himself some space between himself and the elemental attackers.
“Shy from a fight!” he smiles, lobbing a vial alchemical fire at the earth elemental. The flames burn at the creature’s mossy beard, its rocky hands hurriedly trying to smother the fire. The archer then readies his bow.
Nme’an hefts his shield, his sword already in hand. “I’ll handle the combat, you handle the puzzles!”
Amid the barrage of fire and water, the druid’s ferocious tiger ducks, dodges, and retaliates. But the redheaded half-elf takes in the meaning of the summoning runes, the portals, and the four chains. She bolts for the portal inscribed, “The Living.” As she passes the pickpocket, he asks, “Where the hell you going?!”
“The dreams!” is all she has time to call over her shoulder before she passes through the dark, shadowy curtain. The portal appears to harden behind her, as black slate.
Beorae appears in a square room with pure white walls. Behind her there is no indication of the portal through which she passed. She has only your traveling clothes, no weapons or armor. In the center is a small wooden table, displaying a pewter cup and pitcher. The pitcher is decorated with a motif of different kinds of fish and cresting waves. The druid approaches, sniffs cautiously at the liquid inside. Finding it water that is safe to drink, she fills a cup and drinks deep.
The water is cool and quite refreshing! Looking around the room, the walls seem a little whiter, and the corners of the room a little less defined. However, her senses do not seem impaired by the water, instead, she perceives the fullness of the pitcher to be related to the room in some way. She refills the cup and drains it again. The water has her feeling invigorated, and the walls become thinner, thin enough for her to see vague shapes through them. To her astonishment, the wounds from battling the elementals close and heal. Beyond the walls are moving figures, slowly milling around. The walls are hard and no sound seems to get through them. That is when she notices a glint in the dim pewter pitcher: is her hair glowing slightly?
There seems to be enough water in the pitcher for two more cups. As there seems to be little else to do in the room, she pours herself more. As she pours her fourth, she is positive it is not just her hair glowing faintly, but her hands as well. The water has her feeling stronger and hydrated! But with the last gulp, a mist blows away from beyond the walls, and the roaming figures are no longer obscured. Scores of undead zombies stop their aimless wandering and turn to look at the drinker. Slow and hungry steps they take towards the adventurer, but they stop suddenly, bumping up against the wall that is now clear as glass. The whole horde of zombies press themselves mindlessly against the walls, eager to taste the living within! The last drink causes Beorae’s skin glow with a shimmering gold. With a ping the clear barrier shatters, and the hundred undead rush forward, trapping the drinker as they close in on all sides!
She recalls the golden light often seen with healing magic, and remembering from her studies, the source of undead power is the opposite, referred to as negative energy. Beorae realizes that these zombies should not be able to hurt her. She steps forward and touches one, and it crumbles to bones and ash!
As many as she touches with her glowing hands, just as many mindless zombies reach out to grab and bite her. All of them disintegrate to ash, and very quickly, the horde of zombies is reduced to half. Beorae presses on, destroying all of them, and in the frenzy, does not notice the roar of an approaching wave until it is too late. As the last zombie falls, she turns and sees a towering ocean wave overtake her. The druid’s glowing form goes tumbling in the surf. She rolls to her feet back in the crystallic room!
The fast moving elementals gang up on Themp, and Nme’an calls out to the tiger, “Shark, defend Themp!” The knight himself turns aside blow after blow from the air and fire elementals in his full-plate armor. The white tiger bounds up to the archer’s attackers with tooth and claw!
Nme’an follows a hunch and says to Themp, “Get through the rock portal!” before his armored form makes for the portal marked, “The Noble.” He turns one last time to see Themp diving into “The Material” portal, and the tiger’s hostile posture turns to confusion at the disappearance of his ward. The half-elf prays that they will not be long for the sake of Shark, and pushes through the portal.
Themp appears in a cave with a lantern, simple traveling clothes, and no weapons. Ahead in the underground tunnel, metallic echoes of clanking and clicking sound like a large mechanism with many moving parts. Following the tunnel, he finds a big round cold iron shield encircled with notched teeth. From the point where he picks it up, he can see around the bend in the rocky tunnel. At the end of the tunnel is a great cavern, housing an enormous cold iron machine the size of an house, towering high overhead.
Presently, two long cages suspended in the air draws the thief’s attention. The ends of the long cages are walled by a sheet of metal and bolted to the cave stone. Crammed in one cage are a host of angels and archons, garbed in white tunics and golden armor. Their beautiful faces look absolutely miserable in their prison high overhead. Screeches from the other cage snatch his gaze away, and he beholds a score of demons and devils great and small, leering down at him with glowing yellow eyes. In blackened armor, they wave their barbed weapons at the explorer with the iron shield.
“Get us out of here, worm!”
“Yes! Release us and we promise not to hurt you!” The following snickers from the hellish prisoners suggests a thinly veiled lie.
“Do not release them!” calls an angel with silver hair. “Our imprisonment is bound to theirs, but my freedom is a worthy price to prevent their havoc and destruction.”
On a placard bolted onto the machine has writing etched onto it, but the letters are too small to see without getting closer to the mechanism. Themp would have to pass under the two cages overhead to get close enough to read it, and not trusting that, he instead poses questions to the angels. “How did you end up in there?”
“I sought to rid the mortal world of a great evil, an abomination, in a place called Ithalgol’s Keep. My planar travel was interrupted, and shunted me here.” one says, gesturing to the others, “The others that I found here were likewise imprisoned for our common purpose-”
“Fie on them! Let us out!” seethe the demons with maniacal laughter, “Our travels were snagged, on our way to free that disastrous evil and spread its carnage! Damn every mortal to suffering!”
Themp considers the two accounts as he inspects the massive cold iron machine. He thinks he might have heard something about cold iron being bad for fey creatures, could it be that cold iron is also bad for creatures from other worlds? The master burglar uses his knowledge of locks, traps, and mechanisms to determine that this machine, whatever it does, is built to continue that function indefinitely. However, with some of the gears not turning as they should be, Themp estimates that the machine’s original function is impaired, and it will only be a matter of time before the rest of the moving parts slow to a halt.
Inspiration strikes, and the archer quickly finds a shaft missing a gear, and as he expected, the adjoining gears leave just enough space for his newfound shield to fit. With a bit of technique, he inserts the gear and gets the unmoving gears nearby to turn! The rest of the machine groans to life. The metal ends of the cages twist like cloth and open humming portals. The stench of sulfur and smoke spills out of the portal in the demon cage, and golden light shines out of the portal in the angel cage. Squeals of wicked glee and a heavenly chorus clash with the sound of clanking machinery, and both imprisoned parties scramble to make their escape.
In the commotion, Themp feels safe to approach the placard on the machine. The tiny letters are written in the Common tongue:
This machine protects all mortal kind from those who would intervene beyond their own world, whether they intervene in the name of good or evil, order or chaos. All mortal kind have the right to rule themselves. The races of dwarves, elves, gnomes, halflings, humans, and orcs united to construct this machine to divert any who would travel to the Material Plane to conquer or preside over the affairs of mortal kind. As such, only one born of the Material Plane may deactivate this device and send all imprisoned back to the worlds they came from.
Without warning, the metal plate on which the placard is bolted shudders and begins to clank upwards. Behind it is a dark tunnel walled in metal. Themp cautiously proceeds, lantern held up so that he might see in the darkness. Soon he finds himself stepping through a curtain of shadow, and in his hand is not a lantern, but a bow, as the crystal room with elementals reappear.
Nme’an finds himself at the base of a high stone bridge with no railing, with mountainous rock faces on either side. His armor, shield, and weapons are gone, and he wears simple traveling clothes over a thick fur cloak. Snow is gathered on the steep slopes protected from the wind. The howling current whips at the loose clothing of the dozen people who walk this narrow stone passage. Ahead of him, an old man with a tottering gait shuffles along the treacherous walkway. It looks like he may teeter over the high edge of the bridge at any moment, and an unexpected gust might seal his doom. Nme’an strides up the older man, and helps the grateful elder cross.
“What is this place? Where are you going?” the knight asks.
“We are going to witness,” the old man’s feeble voice is scarcely discernible over the wind. “We must attend the ceremony!”
They reach the other side of the bridge, to another narrow and winding rocky ledge on the cliff face, the old man seems to have surer footing now with a rock face to lean onto. Even so, his pace is slow, very slow, and Nme’an is eager to find a way to return to the aid of his companions. Excusing himself politely, the knight makes his way up the narrow walkway. At times he passes other travelers, who appear to be common townsfolk. None of them carry weapons, armor, and strange equipment, though all pull their cloaks tightly to ward off the chilly wind that seems to cut deep. Despite his heavy fur cloak, Nme’an cannot help the chatter of his teeth and tremor in his bones. After taking another switchback, he comes upon a small child who wears nothing but a thin, roughspun tunic, huddled against a nook in the rock and shivering. Her lips are blue and her skin has lost all its color.
Without hesitation, Nme’an takes off his cloak and offers it to the small girl. She eagerly bundles herself inside and takes a moment to warm herself, all the while, the half-elf feels that without the cloak he might be frozen solid in the harsh mountain wind. Speaking a prayer to Endure the Elements, he marches onward, upward. He can still feel the cold, but it is merely brisk by comparison to utter chill he felt moments ago.
At long last, he follows the rocky track to a mouth of a cave. Inside is a large cavern, where dozens of people are already gathered inside. The other side of the cave opens to a precipice, a rocky overhang. Dozens more follow in behind the Knight Lieutenant. In no particular order, deep furrows in lines of four mar the smooth surface of the cavern stone, like sharp claws of an enormous beast. In this strange gathering place, the leader steps up to a dias that overhangs a steep drop. “It is my duty and burden to elect the offering for this year. I deeply regret this decision, but it must be done so that our town is not destroyed and the rest of us might live.” The townsfolk are silent, waiting for his judgement. “As is tradition, I have narrowed my choice to those in our prison, and with a heavy heart I must say that there was only one lawbreaker serving a sentence: a cabbage thief. Emerson Slatehand, I am sorry. I wish there was another choice…” He gestures, and a man bound in irons is forced forward by two uniformed guards. Two small children cry out as he is dragged away from the crowd, but an elderly woman holds them close as they stretch their arms toward the cabbage thief. The condemned man twists and struggles, but those who hold him have a firm grip. They lock his chains to metal loops affixed to the floor of the dias.
“In keeping with the bargain, we must bear witness to the offering,” the leader mournfully announces. “I shall summon the linnorm.” He raises a hammer to sound the dull steel gong that hangs off the cave wall near the precipice. The thief slumps in his chains, defeated.
“Wait,” says Nme’an. “There must be another way.”
The leader pauses, [b] “There is none. We must offer a sacrifice, or the entire town be smote with the fury of the linnorm. Do you know what a linnorm is?”
“Yes, I do,” answers the knight.
“Then surely you understand. No one here would dare volunteer to take this man’s place, to be eaten by a ferocious linnorm. Such a brave and noble heart is a rarity.”
“I am a stranger here. I think I am meant to take his place,” offers Nme’an.
“You would do this?” the leader of the town holds an incredulous look the knight. When Nme’an nods, he gestures with the hammer to the two guards. They obey and remove the prisoner from the chains and drag him away.
The leader speaks again. “Since you make this sacrifice willingly, we will not put you in chains. This is your last chance to change your mind…”
Nme’an says nothing and steps forward onto the dais where the chained man once stood. The gong sounds, and a deafening roar answers. The ground shakes at the sheer volume of it, and massive, pale, blue-scaled claws crawl up the icy mountainside. An enormous head of a dragon on a serpentine neck rears above the precipice. All the townsfolk cry out in terror and shrink away, but Nme’an can scarcely hear them. The great dragon’s maw opens, rows and rows of sharp teeth descend on the knight. Just as the points begin to close around him, a portal opens in the creature’s throat!
Shark fights on. Snapping with teeth and lashing out with claws, he moves quick to stay out of reach of the four elementals that attack him. For all his speed, the grey tiger is battered and bruised by his many foes. Confused by the absence of his friends, he runs around the room, unsure what to do, but following his instincts to stay alive. No matter where he runs, the air and fire elementals are in hot pursuit, with the water and earth spirits trudging behind.
Suddenly, Themp quietly reappears through his portal! The earthen rune burns to soot, as a brown wisp flies to one of the chains, which crumbles to dust. In a flash, the archer’s arrow sticks out of the rocky shoulder of the earth elemental. A moment later, an armored Nme’an crashes through his portal, sword and shield in hand! At his feet, the white rune darkens to a sooty outline, and a thin white stream streaks to the white chain, which disappears. Luckily, Shark and his assailants are close by to the knight, and he moves to defend the wounded tiger.
“Where’s Beorae?”
“I don’t know!”
The three fight back against the four elementals with arrows, claw, and sword. In the melee, Nme'an takes a moment to heal some of his wounds. At last, with a roar of the sea, Beorae comes tumbling out of her portal with a surge of water. A wide shallow pool spreads over that part of the room. The druid is drenched, but returned with a shield in her hand! Her wounds from the beginning of the battle are healed as well. The blue rune at her feet turns to soot, washed away by the water, although a faint blue-green mist flows across the room. The blue chain evaporates.
A single orange chain across the larger portal remains, and the four elementals redouble their attacks!
The air elemental charges the archer, who stands dangerously close to the bottomless pit!
Themp is just quick enough to dodge the blustering winds, but now the elemental glares with white, crackling electric eyes!
Surrounded by spirits of earth, water, and fire, Nme’an sees them rear back to attack him all at once!
Ever stalwart, the half-elf paladin deflects the barrage with armor and shield.
Nme'an deflects all three elemental attacks. Both the water and fire flow off and around his armor and shield, while the rock creature impacts and reverberates off the Paladin with a heavier thud.
Seeing all three of the elementals before him, Nme'an takes a step back then reaches out his hands. The air before him warbles momentarily as the Knight Lieutenant concentrates. At the last second, Nme'an notices Beorae's tiger still attacking the water elemental.
"Shark, move!" Nme'an commands, just before a large space before him is filled with searing flames.
Suddenly realizing the danger of the deep pit, Themp quickly shuffles to his left, eager to avoid being between the dark hole and the elemental.
An arrow flashes from his bow point-blank before both his feet are firmly planted...
...which proves to be a mistake, as it wisps past the elemental's head and clatters on the far wall.
Oh, no
Beorae assesses the situation and arrives in time to see Nme'an's flames catch Shark unawares. "SHARK! TO ME!" Beorae shouts, moving to the edge of the pooling water to greet her companion.
Shark takes a parting chomp at the water elemental before running back to his master.
Beorae can tell from Shark's gait that he's significantly injured. When the cat arrives, she helps splash water from the floor over the singed bits of his fur, effectively putting out the flames. She lays a hand on the gray cat and channels what healing energies she can into him. "Hey buddy, I'm here now. Sorry about that."
The water elemental hisses with steam under the burst of flames, and tiny orange embers cling to the earth elemental after the paladin’s fiery spell passes. The fire elemental does not seem to be affected.
Meanwhile, as Themp takes aim at point-blank range, the air elemental whips at an opening in the archer’s defense!
The thief feels a hard wallop to the stomach, and it throws off his aim.
Shark bounds off to rejoin his friend, but the water elemental takes a swipe as he leaves!
Fortunately, the grey tiger is too quick for the elemental.
The water elemental’s dark eyes turn to the druid and her companion, and gives chase, sloshing for the shallow pool in which they stand. As soon as the elemental reaches the pool, it glides swiftly to the pair, gathering up much of the water and swelling in strength!
A mighty deluge impacts onto the druid's shoulder!
Quick as lightning, the air elemental whirls toward the knight, slamming him with high winds before tearing away out of reach.
The fire elemental is close behind, lashing at Nme’an with flames!
Lastly, the singed earth elemental lumbers up and tries to clobber the fully armored knight!
Despite their efforts, the spirits of wind, fire, and earth do not harm the half-elf encased in heavy steel plate.
"I require assistance." Nme'an states calmly as he places his back to the wall of the room in order to protect his flanks. Once temporarily clear of the elementals, the Knight Lieutenant says a short prayer, and the Thief, Druid, and Cat feel a slight invigoration.
Beorae quickly tries to determine the best way to damage the water elemental in front of her... What's this thing's weakness? Fire?
No, that's not it. But I've gotta get away from this water.
Beorae and Shark step back from the Elemental as Nme'an calls for help. "Kind of busy here!," she calls back.
The druidess, hand never leaving her companion's fur, channels another spell into the tiger. "Hi o taeru!" she says with conviction, followed by, "Shark, attack the Fire Elemental!" A golden shimmer seems to surround the cat as it rounds on its new target and takes off at full speed.
"Let Shark handle the Fire one!"
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Meanwhile, the druidess readies her shield, backing away from the water.
Still reeling from the hit, Themp staggers towards Nme'an, careful to keep the pit far away.
As the archer steadies his aim towards the hulking pile of rock and earth pressing on the knight, the latter's blessings wash over him. Themp can't help but grin.
The water elemental whips at Beorae as she pivots away to the other side of Shark!
A hard hit to her back nearly takes the wind out of her.
Beorae recalls that water elementals harness the fluidity and might of crushing waves. Just so, their willpower rather flexible, and easy to target with magical attacks, but in their element they are incredibly strong. Moreover, rather than having a weakness to fire, water elementals have the propensity to douse fires with a touch, both magical and nonmagical.
The creature of rock groans when Themp’s arrow sticks into its side. Shark unleashes his fury on the fire elemental, and the spirit roars in response!
The earth elemental turns to its attacker and with a chuckle like tumbling stones, stomps over the flat crystalline floor to close the gap. Nearing Themp, it rears back a rocky fist!
The fire elemental lashes out at the big grey cat!
Flames whip around Shark, and he would appear to suffer a terrible burn, if not for the druid magic that protects him.
The water elemental gives chase to the druid, although its pace slows greatly after leaving the pool of water. With the blue rune no longer providing a source, the shallow pool slowly shrinks as it trickles down the large pit. The water spirit closes in to strike the half-elf once more!
Although weakened by being away from the water, the elemental is able to whack the druid's leg before she can dodge out of the way.
Howling winds slam against the paladin and whirl away just as quickly!
It crashes into his armor and shield, but the knight is able to rebuff the assault.
"AUGH!" I think I just broke a rib...
The druidess's vision blurs and darkens for a moment before she regains full awareness of the situation. She steps back toward Nme'an, reaching into her pack for a vial, and withdraws the deep red one. With one hand she pops the cork and downs the magical healing liquid.
"This... *cough* could be going better!"
Shark lashes out at the fire elemental again.
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Nme'an catches the water elemental's attack out of the corner of his eye and abandons his defensive positioning without a second thought. He brushes roughly past Beorae and delivers a powerful slice to the pursuing water elemental.
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The spirit of flame roils at tiger’s claws that tear into its fiery form.
After Nme’an’s decisive slice, the water elemental splashes into a mere puddle!
Themp desperately dodges the rocky fist, Distancing himself just far enough to aim properly, he lets loose another arrow towards the hulking beast.
“Huh… better!” Beorae says in mild surprise as the water elemental crashes into the floor.
Themp’s arrow pierces the earth elemental squarely in the torso, through burnt up beard and rocky chest.
Furious that a sure strike resulted in not a single scorch, the fire elemental pivots and redoubles its attack on the grey tiger.
This time Shark proves too quick.
Before the earth spirit can retaliate, the air elemental blusters over the archer!
The air elemental bowls over Themp! He finds himself pushed back, his heels teetering over the edge of the pit!
The earth elemental seizes its chance!
Its shoulder of dirt lowers as the elemental charges forward, crashing into Themp. A panic washes over him as the forceful charge pushes him not just over the ledge, but all the way across the hole to slam against the pit wall. Beorae and Nme’an look on to see their scoundrel friend vanish below the mouth of the pit!
So focused on vengeance, the earth elemental's push is too reckless, and the living rock and dirt go tumbling into the mouth of the pit after the archer. A thunderous laugh mocks the two, as crackling eyes of lightning behold those not able to fly fall to their doom.
"Themp!" Nme'an yells as he sees his companion go over the edge. Nme'an throws his full strength into redirecting his motion towards the pit intending to assist his friend, but half way there the Knight Lieutenant notices the air elemental coming around for another pass. Realizing it will do neither of them any good if he too is pushed in, Nme'an continues past the darkened pit and takes a swing at the bothersome elemental.
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"If I hold this thing here can you try and help him?" Nme'an calls out to Borat as he squares his stance towards the air elemental.