The paladin’s steel blade, white hot with holy energy, runs the vampire through. Red eyes wide with shock, another shriek comes from Duridel’s fanged mouth. Black ichor seeps from the wound and sputters out of his throat, and he turns hateful eyes to the Knight Lieutenant. Gravely wounded, it seems that savage spite alone is keeping him in the fight.
But before he is able to throw himself again at Nme’an, a ball of fire engulfs him. The flames rage and crackle over his undead flesh, and he lets out another scream, but this time it falters and diminishes to a whimper as he collapses between Shark and Nme’an. The fire burns hot as his corpse lays still.
Seemingly oblivious, the last skeleton steps up to Shark, rearing back its claws!
The big grey cat is able to fend off both attacks.
With little reaction to the vampire’s demise, Nme’an turns on the remaining skeleton.
for
The Knight Lieutenant next turns his sword towards Themp and asks, ”Are you good?”
"Is he good?! I got stabbed, you know, right here!" Beorae holds her side, wincing. "And you got bitten… We should take a look at that. I think he was just a vampire spawn, not the real thing, but still…"
Keeping the flames in her hand for the time being, Beorae draws her wand and attempts to heal some of her wounds.
Nme’an bristles. ”I meant, was he back in control of himself or did I need to take him out of the fight until his mind could be healed. I do apologize for your wounds. He was stronger than I had thought.”
Upon further thought, Nme’an places a hand on his neck wound and directs divine energy to close the punctures.
The Paladin takes a look at the room and picks up his warhammer. Then he sees the charred remains of the Vampire’s scroll on the floor. He carefully stoops down to inspect it, curious if his blast of flames was worth the trouble.
Nme'an searches for any remnants of the scroll, but where he hopes to find them, there is only soft white ash scattered like dust. He doubts even a Mending spell would bring back the parchment and the inscription on it. He may never know what was written on that scroll.
However, when he looks at the charred bone remains of Duridel, he finds that the scroll case, blackened with fire, appears to have survived the battle and flames. Remaining on one of the finger bones is a small, deep yellow ring. Looking closer without picking it up, the ring appears to be made of hardened resin, with something dark trapped inside the semitransparent band.
I can choose not to move. I'm free. Themp thinks to himself, relief flooding his whole body as he lays prone on the floor, face down.
However, his friends' conversation quickly snaps him out of this moment of respite.
Oh no. What have I done?
Slowly, as if to appear absolutely non-threatening, the city boy turns around to face the friends he was so intent in killing moments ago. As the injuries and the blood spatters come into focus in his vision, he visibly slumps his posture, blood draining from his face.
"Beorae..." he says "I don't know what happened... I don't... I'm so sorry."
"Yeah… I know," she responds, but doesn't look directly at the rogue. "The vampire controlled your mind, just like it said in the book. There was nothing you could do about it. Well, vampire spawn, I suppose. He didn't try to turn into a bat or anything. I think this means that we're going to have to meet his boss upstairs." The druidess continues to heal her and Shark's wounds as she talks. "I don't relish that thought. Nme'an, can you do anything about a spell of Protection from Evil? I don't know how much more backstabbing I can take."
Seeing the hurt look on Themp's face, Beorae knows her attempt at a joke didn't land quite right. Finally looking Themp in the eyes, she adds, "Seriously, I know you'd never hurt us if you had control. We need our heads on straight for what's ahead. You okay?"
Finally, she leans over the remains of Duridel, careful not to touch anything, and holding out her fiery hand as a light source.
Standing over the remains of the vampire spawn, Beorae also notices the scroll case, a hard cylinder that is scuffed and blackened from the flames, relatively intact. These containers are common among individuals who carry scrolls, and other valuable papers, as these are designed to protect parchment from not just humidity, but also harsher elements like fire and freezing rain. The cap on this container maintains a firm seal, one that nudging with a sword or stick does not persuade open.
Eyeing the ring, it appears to be a band of amber with a brown feather trapped inside. A belt around the remains has a few leather pouches that are still smoking faintly. Teasing open with a blade, these pouches appear to be full of half-burnt spell components, some of which are still salvageable.
The room in which this battle took place appears to be a lecture hall, with tables on either side of a wide aisle. At the other end of the room is a raised platform that has a table on one side, perhaps used for magical demonstrations by the lecturer. The room leads to another pair of doorways on the end, after a right turn.
After focusing long enough, there are three faint magical auras inside the scroll case, none of which appear to enchant the cylinder itself.
On the amber ring, there is also a faint magical aura.
There is another faint magical aura, glimmering through the spellcaster’s magical senses like a tiny bead of light under the ragged remains of Duridel’s clothing. After some prodding, a tiny pale blue pearl rolls out of what used to be a pocket.
During the search of Duridel’s remains, another unexpected flicker of energy catches on the periphery of the one detecting magic: at the top of the stairs to the raised platform is a faint aura that indicates an active spell, rather than a magical item.
Three auras inside the case:
Amber ring:
Pearl:
Active spell at the top of the stairs:
As she's working, Beorae warns her companions about the curious spell at the top of the stairs.
"There's an active spell at the top of the stairs over there. I wouldn't go any closer just yet."
Nme’an unfolds his special glasses and moves to take a look at the spell at the top of the stairs.
The druid is able to identify two of the three magical scrolls on the scroll case. She is unfamiliar with the spell written the third.
Beorae recognizes the magic of her magical pearl, woven strongly into the blue pearl she inspects.
As for the amber-feather ring, the druid determines a weightlessness effect activated when falling a great distance.
Unfortunately, she is not able to discern the exact nature of the active spell at the top of the stairs.
This magical energy belongs to the Divination school of magic.
This is a Clairaudience/Clairvoyance spell, used to watch or listen to an area from a long distance away. It is impossible to say when the spell has begun, but most iterations of the spell only last a few minutes for the average spellcaster, rarely ever ten minutes.
The spellcaster is able to spot a tiny, grape-sized orb floating above the steps. Completely colorless, it is only noticeable for the slight bending of light to the objects behind it. This could be the rarely detectable magical sensor that functions in a divination spell.
Moments after Nme’an’s concentration of the peculiar magic, the active spell fades to nothing. Silence spreads over the lecture hall.
After his wounds are healed, Shark nuzzles the druid for a moment, and then turns to pace. When the druid examines the magical auras, he sits nearby in a somewhat relaxed pose, though his eyes watch Themp with a casual caution.
"Alright... let's move," Nme'an says, as he moves to the stairs and waits for the others to follow.
Nme'an approaches the stairs, and find that they lead up to a raised platform of stone, five feet higher than the floor he stands on. A sturdy table or workbench follows the corner of one side. On the opposite side, to Nme'an's right, another short staircase descends down from the platform. This appears to be a stage from which an instructor might deliver lectures, complete with a working surface likely used for demonstrations of spells or other magical academia. The floor of the stage is well worn, except for the foremost corner across from the table. This part of the masoned floor has a ten-foot wide circle that is noticeably cleaner than the rest of the stage. Nothing else of interest is on the platform.
Further to Nme'an's right, the wall leads to a double door. He does not need to ascend the stairs to reach the door; the steps serve as two paths to the platform but are easy to pass on the floor of the lecture hall. Presently, the heavy wooden doors are closed.
Nme’an carefully moves to the doors, but stops a short distance away to listen for any dangers.
Beorae picks up the Pearl of Power and stores it in a pocket, being sure to keep it separate from her first Pearl of Power to avoid confusion later on.
Deciding that the scroll case isn't itself enchanted, Beorae tosses it to Themp. "Think you can get this open?"
Finally, she picks up the ring and hands it to Nme'an. "This ring will never let you fall fast enough to become injured. Might as well wear it."
Looking at the doors, the druidess calls Shark to her side. "Let's get on with it, then."
Nme'an takes the ring and says, "An interesting find. Thank you, Bi Sevenstone."
He then gets a thoughtful look for a moment and carefully places the ring flat on the palm of his outstretched hand which he slowly tilts sideways until the ring slides off his hand and falls to the floor. It does not impact with a startlingly solid thud, nor does it waft gently to the ground. It just drops, like a normal ring, bounces, then begins to roll until he quickly stops it by stepping on it with his foot.
"Probably was not far enough..." he mumbles as he picks the ring back up and puts it on.
Themp catches the scroll case and, with a puzzled look on his face, opens it without effort.
"Didn't you just open this...? Are just trying to cheer me up by being wacky?" he asks, flashing a slight grin for a second before breaking eye contact.
"Let's." he answers, moving up the stairs by the knight.
With a soft pop the scroll case opens, revealing three scrolls inside. There are many lines of magical script on each page, illegible at a glance -the arcane shorthand of a wizard's inscription. Illegible, except for the three headings that are writ in a different language, one no less magical in its origin.
Dispel Magic
Magic Missile
Invisibility
As the Champions of Thaleniel gather near the doors, all of them hear through the solid wood: a loud, low groan of agony and momentary clinking of chains.
With his keen elvish hearing, the knight lieutenant catches the muffled chanting of many voices on the other side of the door. It is difficult to hear details, but the language is not readily recognisable. If he were to estimate, there seems to be between four to eight voices in the next room, and the loud groan sounds like it was some distance from the door.
Nme'an attempts to peer through a keyhole or a gap in the doors to get a glimpse on what is waiting for them.
With the scroll case open, the druidess holds out her hand expectantly. "Here, let me check those out. There's one in here that I couldn't figure out earlier."
Unfurling each scroll in turn, Beorae inspects the magical writing to determine what each spell is.
Finding a keyhole on one of the latches on the double doors, Nme'an is able to stoop down and try to get a look inside the room within.
Peering into the narrow space, there is very little to see from side to side, or up and down. His sight pierces the dim lighting, noticing one side of a wooden door on the left edge of his vision. On the right side, the corners of a desk. The space from the opposite wall could only be about twenty feet, and his hearing only marginally improved by the keyhole, he supposes that the chanting voices he hears come from the right. He does not see any movement, much less any chanting people, from the keyhole. The source of the dim lighting seems to come from the ground, also to the right -perhaps light from the bottom of another door beyond his sight.
After her spell, Beorae is able to decipher all three of the scrolls.
”I hear something in the next room but cannot see it or them. We need to move forward.” Nme’an says. ”They may be fortifying their position or setting traps...”
Nme'an does not sense any evil through the keyhole. Even with a cone-shaped sweep of whatever lies beyond the wooden door in front of him, he detects no wickedness nearby. The faint chanting continues somewhere inside.
"Is there any light in there or am I blind to any..." Themp pauses and shudders, throwing a sorrowful glance at Beorae "surprises again?"
”There is only light from another room. The room seems otherwise empty,” Nme’an answers.
"Wait… one of these scrolls is for Invisibility! We could make Themp invisible…"
Beorae thinks for a moment.
"Or! I suppose we could make me invisible… My goal is to get to the chair and destroy it. If I could do that without being detected, that might be a good use for it."
She looks up from the parchment at her companions, curious to hear their thoughts.
”I do not like the idea of either of you going alone,” Nme’an admits. ”Perhaps if one of us went while the other two distracted?” He thinks for a long moment then says, ”Except... our enemy has been spying on us. They know how many of us there are. Just vanishing one of us might not help... Is there some way we could use the invisibility at a more opportune moment?”
"And what if the throne is farther away than the spell can take you? No, better to have eyes on the throne first, right?" Themp suggests. "I could disguise try to disguise us as the foes we faced on the other floors. Might buy us some time to snoop around..."
Nme’an opens the door and advances slowly, quietly forward.
Nme'an is able to silence the groaning of the doors, but his heavy plate armor clangs and scrapes with every movement. As soon as the heavy wood doors part, Themp, Beorae, and Shark hear faint chanting voices from the darkness. The language is not recognizable, but the sound of it is harsh on their ears. The chants do not stop, or even falter at the sound of the paladin's entrance, whatever glimmer of hope for subterfuge that might provide.
Ever vigilant, Nme'an's first glance of the room finds no dangers. Light pours in from Themp's torch, revealing details to the entire group. The room, in fact, is rather small, and features a wooden desk, three chairs, full bookshelves to his left, and two wooden doors. One single door is directly across this small office, and the other single door is to Nme'an's right. A dim light streams from under the door on the right, and the ominous chanting emanates from there as well. No light can be seen under the door directly across from where the adventurers stand. A feather quill rests near an inkwell on the desk, and centered on the wood surface is a single sheet of yellow parchment with small writing on it.
To punctuate the moment it takes to absorb the details of this small office, another low groan can be heard through the door on the right.
Nme'an moves carefully into the room and towards the desk intending to inspect the writing on the paper.
The chanting of voices continue behind the door to the right. No noise comes from the door nearly behind the desk. Nme'an's inspection of the desk indicates that whoever sits to use this desk would be facing the double doors he just entered, for there are two drawers on one side, and two chairs to face the one who would sit at the desk. The bookcases against one wall bear titles that imply advanced magical theory.
The format of the writing appears to be a letter. The words are in a precise, flowing handwriting that is easy to read:
Greetings to The Hand, The Pillar, and the Sevenstone:
Firstly, I must thank you for releasing the ward that has bound me to this site for over one thousand years. One of very few things I could not do for myself, so for this, you have my gratitude.
I regret your loss at the entry to my keep. You have obviously endured many struggles and overcome many challenges to reach this point in your journey, so far from your homes. The object you seek, as I have divined, is a restorative spell in my spellbook for your ailing king. Truly, such knowledge should have never been locked away from mortalkind, yet such it was until now.
Certainly, rumor of my power, doubtlessly described as foul and wicked by the jealous, might create some moral imperative for you to intervene on my plans henceforth. My time in captivity was not idle, and my divinations reveal that victory is assured for myself and those who follow me. I formally relieve you of any such obligation to violence.
Allow me to return the boon you granted me, in kind: I removed the pages from my spellbook for the arcane knowledge you seek, and placed the pages in the drawer of this desk. As to preserve the nuance of my findings, they remain in the original research script of my making. You, or someone you know, must decipher them for practical application. If you take these pages and depart, you may leave my tower in peace. But if you take these pages, you also agree never to hinder my designs or endeavors, present or future.
If you should wish to achieve great power at my instruction, I invite you to join my students in the next room. A word of caution: the price of my tutelage may be too high for mortals.
Regards,
Ithalgol the Wise
Nme’an reads the note then gives a small hmmph.
”This deal is no good. We do not stand by in the presence of evil. Let us continue...” he says to the others.
"Can't we even take a look at it? Could be useful against any..." Themp pauses, pointedly avoiding eye-contact with Beorae as he shudders "strange magic they already possess."
Before the group can discuss the wizard’s offer any further, their ears catch a muffled groan, a thud, and clinking of chains from the door on the right. The chanting from the room beyond finally stops. After a brief pause, a single voice speaks out, though it is not immediately clear what is being said. The three are able to discern the words by paying close attention:
“-to join us, Ulgar. And now, a final lesson, for our liberty from this tower is at hand. It is true that vampires were among the first undead creatures to retain their mind and personality from beyond the grave, yet as immortal creatures their existence is innately flawed by their need for fresh blood. Hence my search, centuries ago, for another path…”
”Ithalgol is afraid of us!” Beorae mutters under her breath, eyes darting across the script on the page in surprise. ”And I agree, we must try to finish this here and now. Taking the pages won’t solve the real problem that ails our King. And vampires… ugh.”
The druidess reaches into her pocket and rolls the smaller Pearl of Power between her fingers, concentrating on her Faerie Fire spell.
”Let’s go. Nme’an, lead on.”
"First, some added protection for the two of you," the Paladin replies. With careful movements he touches first Themp then Beorae on the shoulder.
With that done, he readies his shield and Warhammer then pushes through the door to the room with the chanting.
Just before the Paladin opens the door, Beorae reaches into her backpack and pulls out three vials. Uncorking one, she kneels down next to Shark. ”Here, drink this,” she says, holding the vial of Magic Fang up to the tiger for him to smell. She helps her companion drink the potion and when the liquid is gone, she puts the empty bottle back in her pack and stands. In her right hand, she holds two vials of Alchemist’s Fire.
The four champions of Thaleniel open the door to an eerie visage: a laboratory furnished with work benches littered with opened texts, glass vials and tubes bubbling and fuming with alchemical fluids, and grotesque raw materials. A staircase opposite to the door recently opened leads to a pair of ornate, closed metal doors.
The room is populated by seven skeletal forms, whose flesh has long ago rotted and dried, but these former men, cloaked in black, still move as though living. One of them, the furthest from the opened door and the most prominent looking, bearing a black crown of horns and teeth, turns his pale blue-green glowing eyes to the intruders. In the corner to the left, a towering hulk of dead muscle looms above the others, with wrists bound to chains affixed to the wall. The lumpy pale face, stooped posture, and dull expression indicates this could be one of the giant folk, perhaps an ogre. Strange red shapes and designs on the undead giant’s muscled arms resemble a sinister calligraphic tattoo, in tiny runes written so close together, there is scarcely any pale skin to show. Clothed only in ragged trousers, a round silver medallion hangs on a small chain around the ogre's neck. The cloaked skeletons hold scrolls open in their bone fingers, and each of them seem to keep daggers adorned with runes at their belts. All turn to notice the Dawnflower Knight standing in the door way, and those behind him.
A spine-chilling voice emanates from the rictus smile of the crowned figure as he gestures to the living who opened the door.
“Ah, yes. To punctuate Duridel’s weakness, our visitors from the living world. This is why none of us took the path of vampirism. Willing or not, they will join us in death soon enough…”
Abject terror erases all reason from your mind. Your instinct to survive cries a single impulse in response: Run!
Ithalgol’s words were probably meant to scare her, but something in the sorcerer’s voice steels Beorae’s resolve and makes the druidess feel… pity for this once-great-sorcerer. How long must he have followed a path of anger and fear to end up like this?
”So, not vampires, then?” she mutters to her companions.
"Walking skeletons." the city boy states.
A wave of dread washes over him, but having the towering paladin standing between Themp and the frightful skeleton leader helps the scoundrel refocus on the mission at hand.
"Ok, then."
“Shark, heel!”
For being dead, the cloaked skeletons move very quickly. Two draw daggers and step forward, uttering harsh words in a strange language. Their empty bone hands make similar gestures, and then their hands glow an unearthly blue.
The two skeletons nearest to the undead ogre turn to the giant and with an arcane word and weave of the hand, the restraining shackles pop open without being touched. They move around a table, stepping closer to their master. One skeleton begins reading from the scroll in its hands, a continuous drone of arcane syllables as the runes start to glow off the page. Another skeleton quickly spins a spell, a small swirling sphere of energy coelences in a hand until it fires directly at Nme’an! The magical missile swerves around the knight’s shield and strikes him squarely in the jaw.
The last cloaked skeleton also begins casting a spell, but seems to hold the energy suspended, as though waiting for something. It turns to look at Ithalgol.
The hulk of muscle lurches forward, a string of drool trailing from its slack jaw. It raises both hands hungrily at the knight who stands in the doorway, but once he is within reach, one of the strong arms coils for a backhand towards the armored figure!
The clumsy swing whiffs in front of the paladin, sounding a meaty smack against the stone wall. In fact, it comes close to striking a nearby skeletal mage.
“I am Ithalgol the Wise, the lord of this tower, and a master of death and existence beyond. Whether you refuse my offer of peace, or seek to join our ranks, both bear the same immediate result. Surrender yourselves now to ease your passage to the other side.” With a gesture and an utterance, the deep purple robe that he wears briefly pulses with pale magical energy and returns to the dark purple hue.
Taking a black staff in one skeletal hand, he looks to the minion waiting beside him and nods. The other skeleton completes the suspended spell in its hands, though no visible effect is noticeable.
Nme’an glances at the readied spell...
...but is unable to identify it.
Instead of shrugging, though, Nme’an grips his hammer more firmly and whispers a small prayer before striking back at the hulk.
for
Themp quickly nocks an arrow and lets loose at the chanting skeleton, before it can finish the incantation.