School of Sorcery

Chandagnac said:

In the next room, it appears that most of the original decorations have been removed or destroyed. Instead, there is a deep pool of stagnant water which stretches from one side of the room to the other, wide enough that it would be difficult to jump across to the other side. A wooden plank, barely long enough to span the expanse, serves as a precarious bridge. And, just in case you thought that swimming across might be an option, you catch sight of a couple of mutated monstrosities lurking at the bottom of the pool: creatures with tentacles, bulbous eyes, and too many teeth.

'Ah yes, I've heard about those: the wondrous creations of our school's Department of Life Magic,' Philander says sardonically, peering into the depths of the pool. 'Because who wouldn't want a ghastly abomination whose mere existence is an offence to all the gods? It's the latest craze! All the fashionable ladies are buying them!' He grins. 'You're sure you don't want one, Venta?'

Her green skin turns sickly pale. 'I hope you're joking,' she says.

'How are we going to cross?' asks Isolia, examining the wooden plank. 'This doesn't look safe.'

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Looking at Venta, you ask, 'Could you send your Illusory Double into the pool? I want to see how those creatures react to it.'

'I suspect that I won't like what I see,' she replies, shuddering. Despite her misgivings, she proceeds to do as you asked, conjuring her incorporeal doppelganger into existence and making it jump into the pool with the tentacle monsters.

The unholy abominations don't react violently, angrily or hungrily. Although they seem irritated by faux-Venta invading their living space, they don't lash out at her; they try to avoid her, sculling sluggishly out of the way whenever she gets too close to them.

'I think they're sick,' says Venta, letting her illusion fade away.

'Yeah, whoever made them was a sick freak,' Phil agrees.

'No, I mean that they're ailing.'

'Nah, they're not aliens,' says Phil, pretending not to understand. 'They were created by someone using life magic. I thought I'd explained that already.'

'Oh, you. Always making fun of me.' Venta rolls her eyes. 'The creatures in the pool are on the verge of death. That's what I meant to say.'

'They were made – given life – by someone who didn't care about them. Just as an experiment,' says Isolia, crouching down by the side of the pool. There is a note of sadness in her voice. 'Cast aside, unwanted and forgotten about.'

Considering that Isolia used to be a penniless street kid who was tough enough to survive for years on her own, you're surprised by how soft-hearted she seems sometimes. Is she honestly upset about how these horrible monsters have been mistreated? If so, why?

'Well, yeah, that's what the Department of Light Magic does,' says Philander with a shrug. 'Unlocking the secrets of life itself. How are they meant to do that if they don't experiment?' He sighs exasperatedly. 'I can't believe you're getting soppy about this, you two!'

'None of us can change what we are, who we are, or how we were made,' says Venta. 'You know that as well as anyone, Philander.'

'Back me up here, Dory,' says Phil, turning to you. 'There's no point in getting upset over a few tentacle monsters who're probably better off dead. Right?'

What do you say? (Choose one)
[] "I agree with you, Phil."
[] "I agree with Venta and Isolia. There's a right way to do things. And this isn't it."
[] "This is a very strange argument. I'm staying out of it."
[] "Let's just move on. I'm going to cross the bridge."
[] "Phil, why do you keep arguing with Venta? Is it because you fancy her?"
[] Don't say anything.
[] Say something else (write in).

Changing the subject, you say, 'While I walk across, will one of you hold on to the edge of the plank, keeping it steady for me, please? I'll do the same for you when I reach the other side.'

'I'll do that,' Phil volunteers.

'Venta, you're good with the Barrier spell,' you say. 'Can you use it to brace me while I'm crossing the plank – while any of us are crossing the plank – as an extra safeguard against falling in the pool?'

'I can certainly try,' she says with a nod.

As you step onto the plank, feeling it shift unsteadily underfoot, you consider using your Quickness spell to speed up your movements and get this over quickly, but you decide against it. If you want Venta to be able to use her Barriers to help you, it would be best if you didn't move faster than she can react. That's just common sense.

You keep moving forwards, step by step. There are times when the plank shifts alarmingly and you feel sure that you're about to be thrown into a pool of stagnant water, but you manage to stay upright. Finally, after what was probably only a few seconds but felt like it was a lot longer, you reach the other side.

Before you signal for your teammates to follow, you examine the jagged edge of the pool where the other end of the plank rests. There are rough bumps and sharp points where someone smashed through one of the ancient floor tiles in order to dig a hole for the Explorers and Archaeologists Club's obstacle course. It is crude work; whoever did it clearly wasn't being at all subtle or careful. It seems likely that the uneven edges and raised lumps are the reason why the plank seemed to move unpredictably while you were trying to cross.

You use the Mend cantrip to repair some of the damage and give the plank a smooth surface to rest on. It seems to work well enough. Phil crosses the bridge without any trouble. Isolia scurries across as easily as if she'd done this a thousand times before. At last, while Venta is crossing the bridge, you cast the Barrier spell to give her some extra protection against falling into the scummy pond, just like she did for you. Before long, you've all made it to the other side, with no real problems arising along the way. It's fine.

In the next room, you see four rows of stone sarcophagi, each one decorated with the carved likeness of a Wranni warrior from antiquity. Most of them are bearded, clad in scale mail, wearing peaked helmets and ferocious expressions, and they are armed with swords, axes, or spears. On the walls, at repeated intervals, you see the painted image of a plant seedling growing out of a skull.

'What's with the skull-shaped flowerpots?' asks Phil. 'Dory, you like gardening, right? Have you got any of those?'

'Uh, I don't think they're flowerpots,' you say uncertainly.

Venta looks sickened. 'It's a symbol of the Forgotten God. This is a sacred place,' she mutters. 'We shouldn't be here.'

'I don't think it's possible for us to defile this place any more than the Explorers and Archaeologists Club already have,' says Phil. 'Don't worry about it.'

'What does the symbol mean?' asks Isolia. 'I… um, I don't know much about the Forgotten God.'

'After death, new life,' says Venta. 'The Forgotten God isn't just the god of death. He is also the god of reincarnation and new beginnings.'

'Alternatively, it means that death is an entirely natural and necessary part of life,' says Phil with a crooked smile. 'There are plenty of plants which thrive on the decayed remains of animals and other plants. Animals eat those plants, we eat the animals, we nourish the plants when we die, and the Wheel keeps on turning.'

'Yes, well…' Venta takes a deep breath. 'There's a reason why a lot of people think the priests of the Forgotten God are creepy.'

On the other side of the room, there is a corroded brass bell hanging from the wall. There is a sign attached to it which says, "Ring in case of apocalypse", written on a piece of cardboard tied on with string. Presumably, this was added by a member of the Explorers and Archaeologists Club who thought it was funny.

At the very end of the room, past the rows of sarcophagi, there is a set of stairs leading up to a large and impressive stone door. Surely there can't be much more to this tomb than you've seen already? That must be the door to the last room: the end of your quest is in sight!

What will you do? (Choose one)
[] Ring the bell.
[] Ignore the bell. Move on into the final room. Let's get this silly obstacle course over with!

Chandagnac said:

'Well, yeah, that's what the Department of Light Magic does,' says Philander with a shrug. 'Unlocking the secrets of life itself. How are they meant to do that if they don't experiment?' He sighs exasperatedly. 'I can't believe you're getting soppy about this, you two!'

'None of us can change what we are, who we are, or how we were made,' says Venta. 'You know that as well as anyone, Philander.'

'Back me up here, Dory,' says Phil, turning to you. 'There's no point in getting upset over a few tentacle monsters who're probably better off dead. Right?'

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'I agree with Venta and Isolia,' you say. 'There's a right way to do things. And this isn't it.'

Phil looks a little surprised that you've disagreed with him, but he doesn't argue. He merely nods, conceding the point.

Chandagnac said:

On the other side of the room, there is a corroded brass bell hanging from the wall. There is a sign attached to it which says, "Ring in case of apocalypse", written on a piece of cardboard tied on with string. Presumably, this was added by a member of the Explorers and Archaeologists Club who thought it was funny.

At the very end of the room, past the rows of sarcophagi, there is a set of stairs leading up to a large and impressive stone door. Surely there can't be much more to this tomb than you've seen already? That must be the door to the last room: the end of your quest is in sight!

Click to expand...

Click to shrink...

You step past the bell, deliberately ignoring it. Either it's the trigger for another puerile trap set up by the Explorers and Archaeologists Society, or the message attached to it should be taken seriously. As Phil muses, 'It's not the apocalypse yet, so I guess we shouldn't ring the bell?'

'There are old legends of the final battle when demons will attempt to destroy all of Creation once and for all,' says Venta, examining the carvings on one of the sarcophagi. 'It's possible that the men who were laid to rest in these coffins have not yet returned to the Wheel; they are not truly dead, but waiting to be called upon to fight one last time.'

'Calling upon undead warriors to fight sounds like necromancy to me.' Phil indicates the skull-and-seedling symbols which are inscribed on the walls around the room. 'I thought the Forgotten God was very much against the use of necromancy. Isn't that kinda hypocritical?'

'Teryn the Ghostlord, one of the Forgotten God's most exalted servants, is the god of necromancy,' Venta reminds him. 'Necromancy can raise armies of the undead, destroy people's souls, or bind them in eternal servitude. Or it can be used to mend damaged souls, lay tormented spirits to rest, or extend someone's life so that…' She laughs self-consciously, realising that she has gone into lecture mode. 'Well, who doesn't want to live forever? The point is, necromancy is a powerful tool, which must be used responsibly.'

You march on, up the steps, until you reach the large stone door. It swings open as soon as you apply any kind of pressure to it, moving almost without a sound, as though sliding on greased wheels. Through the doorway, it is too dark to see. The light from your glowstone seems too feeble to penetrate the murk. Straining your eyes, you see only vague silhouettes. Your imagination fills in the details, making them elaborate and monstrous: the phantom shape of something huge horrible lurking in the darkness.

Before you can frighten yourself too much, your teammates join you at the top of the steps, adding their lights to yours. With them, you advance into what you hope will be the final room in this 'obstacle course'.

In the centre of the room, there is another sarcophagus, similar to those you saw earlier, but the carved figure on this one is clearly a king, clad in ornate armour, with a spiked crown on his head and an arrogant snarl on his face.

Sitting on top of the sarcophagus, as if the ancient king were holding it in his hands along with his sword, there is the treasure you came here to retrieve: a cloak pin shaped like a sextant, the emblem of the Explorers and Archaeologists Society. For you, it means 'mission accomplished'.

As you rush forward to grab it, you notice the enormous skull in the corner of the room. A giant skeleton has been divided up between the four corners of the room: in one corner, the skull, as you have seen; opposite, there are the shoulders, spine and ribcage; in another corner, there are the hips and two vast tree-trunk legs; and in the last corner, the arms. Is this some kind of trophy buried with the ancient king, you wonder? You remember the paintings you saw on the walls of the entrance chamber: a Wranni king tricked a giant into drinking so much mead that he fell into a stupor, then murdered him and stole his lands. Was this the giant from that story?

Glowing blue light shines in the giant's dead eye sockets. You hear a voice issue from nowhere in particular. 'Ah. Who is this? More intruders?' There is a rumble of distant laughter. 'I suppose my previous visitors must have disabled the alarms that were meant to rouse my jailors. Now, they will wake when the bell rings, but not before.'

'Who are you?' asks Isolia, glancing wildly around, squinting into the darkness as though expecting this to be some kind of trick.

'I am Garanhedd the giant. Garanhedd who was the god of this land, architect of hills and mountains, meadows and plains, fertile forests and river valleys…' As his words fade away, his voice becomes a long-drawn-out sigh. 'Ahhh. Son of Oanna the earth-goddess, I was the ruler of all I surveyed, from one horizon to the next. Until I was murdered.'

'You were killed by the Wranni,' you realise. 'They wanted your land, so they tricked you and killed you.'

'Yes. King Belorhiof thought himself so very clever. He came to me offering tribute: a dozen barrels of fairy mead. I welcomed him into my halls, gave him the benefit of my hospitality, but as soon as I let my guard down… he struck off my head. Claimed my lands for his own. But it profited him little.' A harsh hissing sound issues from somewhere near the skull. 'My loyal subjects rose up against him. His people were assailed by packs of wolves, by bears and mountain lions, by stampeding deer and cattle, by flocks of birds, and by all the little beasts of field and woodland. More than that, my friends and allies sought revenge. From the mountains and hills came the trolls and kobolds: gods of rocks and stones and little pebbles. At the head of an army of carrion birds came Mawroth the mercenary god, father of crows, mightiest of all warriors. There were the gods of pestilence and decay: Odans, lord of dust; Skraelen the rat-god, bringer of disease; Juiblaz, lord of putrefaction; and Laeryllis, who sometimes appears as a lovely lady and sometimes as a corpse infested with white worms. Soon, Belorhiof's vaunted warriors had been whittled down to only a few, his people were starving and they couldn't find a single drop of water that hadn't been contaminated with foulness, and they were reduced to cowering in the ruins of the palace they stole from me. It should have been over very quickly.'

'I'm guessing it wasn't,' says Phil, who knows how this kind of story goes. 'They found a way to fight back, didn't they?'

'They called upon their gods to save them: Strashan the storm-god; Lissa the spring maiden; Nyssa of the harvest; and Astran of the summer sun. Not for the first time, there was war among the gods. And while they fought, I was forgotten.'

'I'm sorry to hear that,' you say, more out of politeness than anything else. 'Is there anything we can do?'

Garanhedd is silent for a moment. Afterwardly, speaking slowly and ponderously, he says, 'Gods don't die in the same way that mortals do. Our roles and responsibilities are fixed. We are part of how the world works: we are not meant to die, go around the Wheel and endlessly reincarnate.'

'You could if you wanted to,' says Phil.

'But I don't want to,' says Garanhedd. 'I am not truly dead. After I was murdered, my friends and allies planned to bring me back to life. They would have succeeded too, if not for the interference of that arch-meddler, the Forgotten God. Even so, my resurrection was only delayed, not prevented. You can help me with that, if you wish.'

'What would we have to do?' asks Isolia, narrowing her eyes and looking sceptical.

'Put my bones back together. A simple enough task.'

'And how will you reward us?' asks Philander.

'I am a god. Not one of the greater gods, but certainly a regional power. When my bones are once more clothed in flesh, I will have power enough to grant you whatever boon you may wish. What would you like?'

'These bones are huge,' says Venta. 'Won't they be too heavy for us to lift?'

'I suspect you'll find them strangely light and easy to move,' says Garanhedd. 'Of course, they're not real bones.'

What will you do?
[] Grab the sextant-shaped cloak pin and your teammates. Flee the tomb as quickly as possible. Confront Simony Bidwell and demand an explanation.
[] Agree to aid Garanhedd the giant in his resurrection. Assist your teammates in putting his (fake?) skeleton back together. Wait until his bones are "once more clothed in flesh" and then ask him for a reward.
[] Go back into the previous room. Ring the bell to wake the undead King Belorhiof and his Wranni warriors. Ask them for their side of the story.
[] Do something else (write in).