Alturiak 2, 1489
Dre'zel my love,
While Talyth, Taimen, and I waited for Duke Ulder to emerge from the miniature tower of conjuration, JoJo, Rock-Rowan, the Shield Guardian, and Princess Skullcrusher waited outside of the actual Tower of Conjuration.
Hanging from the ceiling above the spiral staircase, I could see the four giant hands pacing around the dais where the three-foot replica rested on the pedestal.
Only moments after Duke Ulder had entered the tiny doors, they flew open, and something tiny shot out. It was a tiny goat, not much bigger than my thumbnail, but as it flipped through the air, it grew to the size of a normal mountain goat, landing gracefully on its feet, a familiar cloak billowing around the scruff of its neck.
The four giant hands grew rigid, snapping to attention.
The goat dashed down the stairs below me, bleating urgently in Common, “I think we should go. I got the info we needed.”
I drew my bow, but while the four giant hands swirled angrily, they did not exit the upper chamber.
Scaling the walls, I followed Talyth down the stairs, past the immaculate classrooms. Princess Skullcrusher had dashed up the stairs to carry Taimen down.
When we reached the bottom, JoJo—almost ten-feet-tall—was waiting there holding the door open for us. Once we had all exited the tower, joining our larger companions, the goat smugly explained that he had succeeded in recovering the necessary ritual step, which was to: "Second, summon a flame in the palm of your hand."
The voice coming from the goat did not sound like Duke Ulder, but went on to offer to Talyth that the wizard Damorith was a chronomancer and might have an artifact or method of rescuing Xadriia before her trial. Then he revealed that Duke Ulder was a false identity he had assumed for gruesome and convoluted reasons, but had to sacrifice his identity for the sake of the trial, along with his associated memories. He claimed his real name was Gosse, but refused to provide any details of what was in the miniature tower or how he handled the trial to recover the ritual step. He did share that he was really from Athkatla, but the impoverished part, which—for some reason—Taimen seemed proud to have already known.
Talyth surmised that Gosse was under the influence of a polymorph spell that would probably conclude in an hour. As Taimen stroked Gosse’s fur with her metallic tentacle-arm, it briefly flashed with radiance.
As we proceeded toward the arboretum, we passed a monumental building on the right with eight tusk-like towers embedded in its walls, their spires arching over its shattered roof. Eight stained glass windows depicted a wizard casting a spell, each from one of the eight schools of magic.
Just before the arboretum was a colossal building with many lofty turrets in a state of disrepair; the ground below was littered with rubble. A giant-sized door at the base of the structure stood slightly ajar.
The arboretum consisted of a canopy of golden leaves crowning the trees inside a sunken basin. The trees grew in stark contrast to their bleak surroundings, their branches swaying even though the air was deathly still. In the center, a single oak tree towered above the others.
Beyond the aboretum stood the thin Tower of Divination, its walls etched with intricate designs of hands and eyes. Silver light flickered from a high window, above which a large, carved eye animated and blinked as it appeared to watch us. Parts of the roof appeared to have been shorn off.
Taimen peered into the doorway of the colossal building where a library was filled with labyrinthine shelves stacked with books. Rolling ladders provided access to the higher shelves beneath a battered rotunda. The sole occupant was the mummy we had freed from the Caves of Hunger, apparently the premise’s librarian.
Once Talyth cast a Detect Magic ritual, we all entered the library. There was a creaking sound as a giant penguin—almost as tall as Talyth’s shoulder—appeared from around a shelf, pulling a cart piled high with tomes and scrolls. The books nearly fell as it clumsily knocked the cart against the corner of the shelf.
Hushing us with a linen-wrapped finger, the mummified librarian warned us that no pets were allowed within, but acquiesced when Talyth insisted that the goat was her service animal.
The penguin shrieked with fright as Taimen gazed intently at it, as she always did when probing one’s mind, prompting another hush from the librarian.
JoJo attempted to befriend the foreign beast, who introduced himself as Kingsport, and was clearly terrified of the hulking giant before him, and insisted he must hurry and deliver the books to his master.
Surveying the contents of his cart, I saw that all of his books were about fiends, covering their history, types, appearance, abilities, motivations, etc.
Turning to Taimen as if in the middle of a conversation, the librarian declared, “The penguin? No, that is merely the pet of the patron that haunts my halls.”
“You don’t like him?” Talyth asked.
“No, he’s quite kind,” the librarian emended. “A very polite young fellow. An odd man, and I do worry about the hair he might leave on the pages…he’s a handsome fox-like creature.”
Changing the subject, Taimen began to lay on her charms, showing some consistency in her interest in mummies.
“...This is a repository of the knowledge of the mages of Ythryn,” the librarian shared. “Countless invaluable tomes. I have neglected it, but I am relieved to see that the wind and rain have not reached it. Some of the pages have turned brittle in the cold, but I think most of the tomes still survive.”
When asked about Damorith, the librarian shared, “Damorith used to come here many times,” but was unaware of his current whereabouts, adding, “His offices were in the Tower of Conjuration. When Iriolarthas evicted him from Ythryn, he would have seized his notes.”
As I trailed the penguin and his cart of books, I watched the creature surreptitiously slip a small parchment into the folds of my armor before continuing to drag his book-laden cart deeper into the maze of shelves.
Once no one was watching, I peeked at the parchment, which simply said, “Help me.”
By the time I caught up with Kingsport, he was within sight of some desks, one of which was occupied by a handsome and well-dressed fox-like creature who hunched over an open tome while many others were stacked high on the desk around him and all the nearby tables.
As I approached, the fox-like creature sniffed the air, sensing my presence. Adjusting his spectacles as he turned toward me, he gave an insouciant gasp and said, “What business does a drow have here in the lost city of Ythryn? Are you here to help Scrivenscry? The more, the merrier, my friend.”
In a pathetic attempt to appear nonchalant and not out of place, I had turned towards the shelves and began rifling through the books, opening one as if it might be what I had been looking for. Turning to face the creature as if I hadn’t noticed him, I answered, “Books.”
“An obtuse answer, but an honest one,” Scrivenscry chuckled. “Makes no matter to me. As you may have noticed, I’ve cordoned off this area. I’m particularly interested in all things fiendish, so if our interests do not align, then I think that we may not be academic rivals, so to speak. Scrivenscry brooks no rivalries. What book are you looking for? Perhaps my assistant could assist you.” Stretching his neck to peer down the shelf where Kingsport had wandered during the monologue, Scrivenscry shouted with an impatient clap, “Kingsport!”
I glanced back at the book in my hands, which described how the Netherese wizards in Ythryn had used enormous mimics as beasts of burden and tools for construction, even incorporating them into the buildings themselves.
Closing the book with what I hoped was a satisfied expression, I responded, “I believe I have found what I was looking for,” and turned to leave.
“Oh, that’s a shame,” Scrivenscry bemoaned. “It was so nice to have company. Scrivenscry enjoyed getting to know you. And what was your name?”
“Frizzt,” I answered, caught off guard by the simple question.
“I’ll lock that one away,” Scrivenscry grinned broadly, displaying his many canine-like teeth. “Perfect.” Then his expression changed to one of frustration, as he demanded with more claps, “Kingsport, back to work!”
Intercepting Kingsport as he rushed to attend to his master, I asked, “What help do you need?”
“Uh,” the penguin sighed, “I’m afraid I was promised a life of enlightenment, but I was turned into this, a lackey for Scrivenscry. I have served him for an eternity. He is a cruel, unpredictable master. I just want to be free.”
“What hold does he have on you?” I asked.
“I cannot disobey him,” Kingsport revealed. “I’m under the effect of a Geas. I’m unable to disobey his wishes.”
“I see,” I responded. “I will speak with my companions and see what we can do.”
Returning to Talyth, I explained what I had learned.
After pondering her options for a minute, Talyth walked over to Kingsport—who was wandering the aisles looking for more tomes—and tapped the penguin, casting Remove Curse. “Now you’re free,” she quietly informed him.
Kingsport’s eyes welled with tears, and he sniffed, “Tell me to hurt a book.”
“Hurt a book,” Talyth repeated.
“This is no book for keeping,” Kingsport screeched, as he picked up one of the tomes on fiends and began tearing the pages out of it with his flippers. “That felt good!” Looking around, he muttered, “Kingsport shall make an escape. Kingsport shall go!”
As he waddled toward the door, he continued, “Ah, the great outdoors, finally. I’ll find safe harbor outside. I’ll make it to the surface.”
“Wait!” Talyth cried. “There’s so much bad out there. It’s not safe!”
Kingsport was confused, and while they were discussing what he should do, it was discovered that I may have put myself in danger by giving Scrivenscry my name. After hearing what a foul creature Scrivenscry was, Talyth contemplated killing him, to which Kingsport practically begged her to do.
“Kingsport, you’re tarrying,” Scrivenscry shouted from behind the many shelves. “Kingsport!”
“No shouting in the library,” the librarian uttered as he staggered over. Then his jaw dropped. “Who ripped that book?”
Suddenly, Scrivenscry was casually sitting atop a nearby bookshelf, smugly shaking his head in disapproval. “My, my, my, Kingsport. Damaging my research materials. It seems that someone has subverted my orders.” As he twiddled his thumbs, sparks began to grow in his hands.
Acting quickly, Rock-Rowan stomped toward Scrivenscry, picking up a nearby cart and tossing it into the air. The cart crashed down on Scrivenscry, who seemed unfazed.
JoJo approached the librarian and asked him politely for permission to fight in the library. “Please do,” Kingsport pleaded in fear as he waddled out of sight behind the bookshelves.
Taimen flung a Firebolt, but it went wide, fortunately sizzling out against the black stone ceiling and not starting a fire in the library. Gosse began hacking, and a Lightning Bolt shot out from his goat-shaped mouth, blasting Scrivenscry, who again emerged mostly unharmed.
“Not bad,” Scrivenscry chided. “Now let me show you what I can do.” The sparks in his palm became a bolt of lightning that arced toward Gosse, who leaped vertically out of the way on his goat legs. The lightning then split, blasting Taimen, Talyth, and JoJo.
“This is getting fun,” Scrivenscry teased as he scampered away atop the bookshelf.
Climbing up the bookshelf, I peered over the top and loosed three arrows. The first arrow hit the mark, but the fox shrugged it off and cast Shield, blocking the next two.
Then, rising into the air, Talyth waved one of the ripped pages tauntingly at Scrivenscry and cast Banishment, and with a faint popping noise, he was gone.
After a minute, she returned to the ground and confirmed that Scrivenscry had been banished to his home plane. Talyth had saved the day once again.
Kingsport returned, clapping his flippers, and handed Talyth a tome about Iriolarthas’ descent into madness after Ythryn’s descent.
As Talyth studied the tome, Gosse transformed from a goat to his previous form. Then, in an accent very different from Duke Ulder’s, he claimed to remember having met Levistus in the Tower of Conjuration, where he refused to give the archdevil his soul or help free the archdevil from imprisonment.
We perused the library as we caught our breath. I learned that, by law, every mage was taught the prestidigitation cantrip and was obliged to use it to keep the city clean, which they demonstrated in the House of the Arcane, the nearby eight-spired building.
After casting an emotional Sending to Xadriia, Talyth cast a Sending to Vellynne. Afterward, she shared that Vellynne claimed to be resigned to the arcane blight’s transformation and would not reveal her location.
Rowan cast Locate Creature to find Vellynne, detecting the necromancer-turned-nothic north of the spire of Iriolarthas.
We all agreed to try to find her and gathered our things. By the time we left the library, JoJo was over ten feet tall.
Beyond the House of the Arcane, with its eight tusk-like spires arching over its collapsed roof, we passed the ruins of a collapsed tower covered in thousands of crawling gray hands, the Tower of Necromancy. North of the Spire of Iriolarthas was a smaller tower shaped like an axe blade; its walls scarred by fire, lightning, and acid, a red light shone from a slender window high overhead.
Finally, we reached a sixty-foot-tall obelisk of black stone, its surface covered in arcane runes. On one side, a thin crack stretched from its base to its middle. It was cordoned off by eight magen; five wielded greatswords, and three wore robes. In our minds, we heard their voices as we approached, “Greetings, adventurers. I’m afraid the obelisk is closed to tourists.”
Rowan detected that Vellynne was moving through the snowy dunes north of the obelisk, and we followed, giving the obelisk a wide berth.
North of the obelisk, swaths of ice enveloped much of the city. Spotting Vellynne in an icy crevasse, Rowan told us to hang back and snuck into the frozen slopes. Stealthily, I followed behind, just close enough to keep an eye on Rowan.
Slipping on the icy terrain, Rowan slid thirty feet into a crevasse and found Vellynne, no longer a woman, but a hunched, misshapen humanoid with scaly skin, long claws, even longer jagged spines protruding from her back, and a single eye that dominated her face, pushing her, now-useless, eye-patch to one side.
Rowan made a peaceful gesture, but Vellynne nervously skittered away. After some hesitation, Vellynne extended a clawed hand. Grasping it gently, Rowan reached forward and gently led her out of the crevasse. Vellynne followed tentatively, shuffling with a jerky, awkward gait.
“Why have you come?” Vellynne growled in response to Talyth’s gentle greeting.
“I might be able to help you,” Talyth replied. “Can I try to help you?”
“I do not need help,” Vellynne insisted. “I came to see the faces of those I knew, one last time. I’m where I need to be. I’m where I’m wanted. I am…finding things.”
Reaching out and touching Vellynne’s clawed hand, Talyth subtly cast Lesser Restoration, but nothing happened. Talyth looked shocked by her rare occurrence of impotence. Vellynne recoiled and skittered up the wall of a nearby building. Facing us briefly, she reached out a clawed hand and let out a cry before turning and leaping into the building, disappearing in its darkness.
As we returned, disheartened, to the library, we felt eyes upon us. As we circled the Spire of Iriolarthas and Skydock Spire came into view, we saw black sails rise from the top, forming an encircling crown.
We returned to the library, and Talyth created a Tiny Hut and cast a Sending to Ma for Taimen. JoJo was too big to fit in the Tiny Hut and had to find a space large enough to lie down.
When we all woke, JoJo was over eighteen feet tall, and I felt ill, as if the air itself was cold and toxic. Except for Taimen, who looked haughtily down her long snout, the others said they also didn’t feel well, but they seemed fine, simply gawking as I choked on the air until I coughed up blood. My skin felt clammy, and my vision was foggy. As I clutched myself for warmth and squinted to focus, everyone just stared at me. I was in no condition to fight, which seemed obvious in their expressions. They could see how useless I was becoming and were ready to abandon me.
Taimen was the first to speak, “Hey, you look like you’re getting sick. Do you want me to lay on hands?” she sneered sarcastically, waving her perverted, metallic tentacle menacingly.
“I’m fine!” I coughed. There was no way I was going to give her the pleasure of trying to save me, only to undoubtedly blame me later for somehow bringing this on myself.
“You know I can read your thoughts,” she threatened, with her hands on her hips.
“You can’t read my thoughts!” I insisted, certain that this evil bitch would never risk reading my mind and facing the reflection of her own morality.
Then she finally did it! After all this time, she stared at me with her stupid dragon eyes bulging the way she did whenever she read someone’s mind. “This bitch can too read your mind!” I heard her voice in my head.
“Now you read my mind?” I thought, accusingly. “What do you want from me?”
“What do I want from you?” she sneered in my head. “I want to cure you from turning into a nothic, you asshole!”
“Sure you do!” I thought, knowing that this was just some ploy. Would she claim afterward that her noxious god made her do it?
Gosse, if that’s his name, began spouting off fabricated explanations, no doubt more lies to make himself sound superior.
“Frizzt, you should let Taimen help you,” JoJo suggested.
Glancing at this overgrown child, who presumed to give me advice as if he were some font of wisdom, who might as well be swinging a rattle rather than a sword, who now feigned interest in someone other than himself, I could barely contain my rage. “Quiet, you big baby!” was all I said…all he was worth.
“You don’t want me to help you?” Taimen taunted out loud, “I won’t help.”
“You’ve never helped me before,” I pointed out.
“I have too,” she pondered, but then realized it was true, admitting, “Okay, you may be correct,” proud of her deep-seated selfishness. How did this reject of a dragonborn ever think she would suffice to raise a wyrmling just because she stole the egg?
“You should accept her offer,” Gosse imitated.
“Like I’m going to take advice from you?” I replied. Was this wannabe duke seriously peddling guidance, as if I would accept anything from this king of lies? Seeing that I would not be so gullible, he turned his attention from me and began conspiring with that mummified librarian.
In frustration, Taimen slapped Rowan with her metallic tentacle. Rowan was the only one who showed any semblance of normalcy, but they were always a moody oaf whose father issues made them so afraid of their own skin that they were constantly changing into something else.
Talyth approached me reluctantly and offered to help. Was she oblivious to the irony of her source of power, or did she just refuse to accept it? How long would she continue to pretend that she could persuade her evil god to change her ways? She was just the same naive child I risked everything to help escape from the trouble she had brought upon herself and her loved ones; always trying to save everyone around her to compensate for the harm she had done. Meanwhile, she dragged us all down this treacherous path just to convince herself that she was a good and worthy person.
“Grow up, Talyth,” was all I could muster for this pathetic child who depended on her evil benefactor to carry her weight.
Seeing the disdain in my eyes, she reached out for affirmation like a child reaching for a dismissive parent, softly touching my cheek. Her hand felt rough. Then I saw it was filled with something. It was diamond dust, and as it fell upon me, I felt a change. I was no longer cold. The air was no longer hard to breathe. And the world around me came into focus. I could see the concerned expressions on my companion’s faces. The paranoia faded with the diamond dust, and I was left with only vague recollections of the hurtful things I had said to them, to the people I had grown to care for over the past month; the people I had risked my life for and who had done the same for me countless times.
With relief and shame, I pulled Talyth in and wrapped my arms around her, clinging to her for a long while. When I pulled away, she asked, “Do you really think I need to grow up?”
I could tell by her expression that I need not answer, but I did, insisting, “Watching you grow makes every past decision worthwhile.”
Talyth cast Greater Restoration on Rowan as well, and with our afflictions cured, we discussed our next steps.
The librarian suggested we might want to visit the Wellspring of Answers, which contained the remains of a telepathic entity resulting from five wizards' failed attempt to unite their minds to achieve enlightenment. He said one could use the meditation benches to tap into their minds and receive some insight granted by whatever plane-shifting aberrations they became.
We agreed to head to the arboretum to acquire wands of the nether oak for the first step in the ritual.
A canopy of golden leaves crowned the trees inside a sunken basin. The trees grew in stark contrast to their bleak surroundings, their branches swaying even though the air was deathly still.
Vents spaced around the basin’s perimeter emitted a puffy gray vapor, which rose and condensed into a cloud and dispensed rain before dissipating. An illusory hemisphere above the arboretum projected a false weather system.
In the grove’s center, a massive oak with golden leaves and a gnarly face towered above the other trees.
While the others approached the tree’s gnarly face, I circumambulated the arboretum, hiding in the shadows near the grove’s perimeter to the rear of the tree. From the shadows, I heard rustling in the grove and spied prickly blights stalking around the fabricated garden, oblivious to my presence.
As Rowan approached, the huge oak tree animated, with a slow greeting, “Hello there, little one. I smell druid magic on you. Usually, it’s the wizards of Ythryn that come to sample my wood.”
“Nah, it’s just me,” Rowan replied, congenially.
It stomped its stump in the dirt, “And a giant, and a drow, and a dragon, and a human!”
“Don’t worry about them,” Rowan persisted. “I do have a question for you. What can I do to get some of that bark?”
“You look to be a fell bunch,” the tree replied. “I only offer my wood to those who can promise to do darkness. What will you do? I must know—relish in what deviousness you plan.”
Rowan hesitated, and the tree grew impatient, demanding, “You don’t know what evil you plan?”
“I know,” Rowan insisted.
“Then tell me!” the oak bellowed. “You must understand, I don’t give my prized branches away for mere fisticuffs. If you must craft a wand from my heartwood, I will freely give it if you convince me you have some devious purposes. Something truly shocking…scandalizing!”
Rowan managed to convince the tree that their patricidal intentions were evil, and a twig fell at their feet.
Taimen recounted bargaining with the hag for purely selfish purposes, knowing that the hag would eat babies. A twig fell at her feet.
Retrieving the decapitated head of Bjornhild Solvigsdottir, JoJo tossed it at the oak’s trunk, explaining, “That’s my mother’s head.”
“For ripping your mother apart, I shall give you my wood,” the oak replied, and dropped a large twig at JoJo’s feet.
“I agreed to help the demon prince Levistus from his icy prison,” Gosse claimed.
“You wish to free that one entombed in Stygia so that he might rise and slay the archdevil Asmodeus?” A twig shot out like an arrow at the dirt by Gosse’s feet.
“And you,” the oak turned to Talyth, “what nastiness would you get up to should I yield my wood?”
“Um,” Talyth stuttered, “I work for Auril.”
“The one who’s trapped me here so I might never feel the sun on my branches?” the oak admitted, “Oh, she’s bad! And what shall we do with this gift?”
“I want to kill a bunch of elves who I used to live with,” Talyth muttered, struggling to be convincing. “But I want to kill them. I’m really blood thirsty!”
“Say it with more conviction,” the oak replied, and a sap-covered twig fell at her feet. “Go well and clear out the elves. Thank you for visiting m—”
Listening in, I had silently closed the distance and finally made my presence known behind the tree. Holding my magical axe easily and knowing I only needed a single swing, I was eager to cut down this despicable tree. I just needed a reason; something to justify the risk a battle might incur.
The oak’s face manifested in the bark in front of me. “Hello there—,” it stopped short, eyeing my axe. “What are you up to?”
“I also seek a wand,” I stated. “I have killed many, and I will kill many more.”
“But be they good,” the oak questioned, “or be they evil?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I replied.
“Whoa!” the oak gasped. “That’s so genuinely evil. To slay for slaying's purpose. You are as evil as Baal himself. Take my wood and go and cause chaos.” The oak dropped a twig at my feet.
After retrieving the twig, I reluctantly covered my axe.
The grove blights trailed us as we departed the arboretum.
As we walked from the arboretum, I found myself beside Taimen and said, “I did not mean most of what I said.”
“The hell you didn't!” Taimen snorted. “I don’t care what you think about me, drow! It doesn’t concern me. Only the will of the sea queen! You can go back to your hole in the ground.”
Six black robed and armored figures emerged from the Tower of Divination. One of them stepped forward, his hand held up for us to halt. He had a patch over one eye, but his face was familiar.
“Huarwar!” JoJo was the first to recognize him.
“Greetings,” the familiar man replied.
“You owe your mother an apology,” JoJo insisted.
“You know my mother?” Huarwar asked.
“Yeah, she hired us to find you,” JoJo explained.
“Hello. We’ve been looking for you,” Huarwar explained. “It seems our interests might align.” He went on to maintain that he had not abandoned his mother but answered a greater calling. He admitted to working for Avarice, who had claimed the Spydock Spire and was searching for a way to pass the barrier to the Spire of Iriolarthas to find an artifact from within the tower. He refused to specify what artifact they sought, only that it wasn’t the mythallar, but admitted that their goal was to free Levistus.
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