ADVENTURE 28: NOT-SO-SILENT LUCIDITY
PC Roster:
Game Session Date: 24 October 2018
- - -
It was a pleasant afternoon. The conscripts had no particular task that needed attending to, so they had been left to go about their various ways; after all, if they were needed, Skevros could summon them at once through the rings they wore, which allowed a message spell to be broadcast to each member simultaneously. As a result, Orion was sitting by one of the fountains of the capital city, watching in amusement as her ghost dog Carl danced into and out of the water, a puzzled expression on his face that he wasn't getting wet. In many ways, Carl was still getting used to the idea that he was a ghost now, and that many of the rules that had applied to him in life were no longer valid.
But then Carl's head popped up from the fountain, he looked all around him, and he began barking furiously. Orion leaped to her feet and her hand went to the hilt of her flaming short sword, but she saw nothing out of the ordinary - nothing that would set Carl to barking so frantically. That only caused her to worry all the more, for she was well aware that Carl's ghost-vision extended into the ethereal plane; were there more of those phase spiders about, ready to strike?
Galen was nearby, running an errand for Skevros to start to pay off the debt he'd incurred in promising a magical drink-producing jug to the hill giant Gumruk. He heard Carl's barking and had the same reaction as Orion: hand to sword-hilt, looking about for danger and seeing none. Still, he crossed the square over to the fountain, the sword of Zehkar out and ready for action should it be needed.
The other conscripts were unaware of Carl's panic. Daleth was in his room above the Enchanted Flagon, studying his spellbooks; across the hall from him, Kaspar sat in silent meditation, honing his mastery of the mind. Syngaard was eating a late lunch with Cori, one of Mama Kat's working girls, as the brothel didn't usually see much business until later in the evening.
But regardless of their respective locations, all of the conscripts - as well as every other inhabitant of the city - abruptly heard a loud scream. It was the scream of a multitude of voices, a choir of screams, in which each of the conscripts could hear their own distinctive voices in the mix.
But the screaming wasn't all that everybody heard. Orion, standing by the fountain, heard Syngaard's distinctive voice yelling, "Gonna kill me that damn halfling!" Turning to look, she saw Syngaard rushing down the street in her direction, his morningstar in one hand and his javelin of returning in the other. His scarred face held an expression of hatred and disgust. Beside him, struggling to keep up, was a shambling, canine form covered in frost; with a start, the halfling recognized it as Carl's physical remains, as he appeared when he died from the cone of cold spell cast by Arcturus, the Azure Glade's Guildmaster of Divination.
Any suspicion Orion might have had that this was an illusion was broken by the fact that Galen saw it, too. He instinctively focused his senses to see if the pair detected as evil, and was instantly brought to his knees by an overpowering sensation of pure, absolute evil that emanated not just from Syngaard and the zombified remains of Carl but from the entire area at once. Through his pounding headache, the paladin realized he would be unable to rely upon his reading of auras while this all-pervasive evil was about; this was many times worse than the first time he'd tried reading Serenity's aura up in Ashfall. And the sense of evil seemed to leech the brightness of the day as well; shadows fell over the city as the sky darkened as if overcast, although it remained as cloudless as mere moments before.
Back in their rooms, Daleth and Kaspar had their own troubles, for immediately after the choir of screams they each felt their bodies shrinking. All of their clothes and gear shrunk down with them to no other effect, but their skin hardened, their hair lengthened and grew lighter, and in a mere moment each had taken on the appearance of Dow, the porcelain homunculus Skevros had crafted for his late daughter many years ago. Neither elf had been particularly fond of the homunculus - truth be told, she seemed rather creepy to them - so finding themselves suddenly trapped in her body was unnerving, to say the least.
Still, no matter how this thing had happened, it was likely Skevros held the answer - or could at least reverse the process. As he was in the Enchanted Flagon below (or at least in the extradimensional space accessible from the storeroom of the tavern), that seemed to be the first course of action. Of course, as the elves were now only a foot tall, the simple act of opening the door was somewhat problematic, since the doorknob stood well over their heads.
Kaspar's monk training came in handy; with a running start, he ran up the door and grabbed onto the doorknob, twisting it with a practiced motion and kicking the doorjamb with his foot, opening the wooden door. He dropped back to the floor and was about to duplicate the process on the door leading to the back stairs behind the building when the door to Daleth's room opened and Daleth-as-Dow dropped down from his own doorknob.
"You too?" each elf asked in unison, surprised to see the other afflicted in the same way. But Daleth-as-Dow still wore his wizard's robes and Kaspar-as-Dow wore his monk's robes and tenryutsume, and each still had their respective abilities. As one, they turned to the exterior door, Kaspar got it opened, and they started hopping down the back stairs, looking for answers.
Back at Mama Kat's, Syngaard underwent a similar transformation. One moment he was eating cheese and bread with Cori; the next, there was a chorus of screams and he felt his body shrinking in an all-too-familiar way. "Damn that halfling!" Syngaard cursed, hating the high pitch of his halfling voice. His immediate thought was that Orion had somehow spiked his food or drink, sneaking in a potion of reduce person like she'd done once before in a misguided attempt to get him to empathize with the life of a halfling by experiencing it for himself. But this time there was something different about the experience: all of his gear reduced in size with him as before, but his feet somehow didn't seem to shrink quite as much as the rest of him - they were tight in his boots. Worse yet, both feet were itchy, as if a layer of fur grew from their tops. "Dammit!" he cried. "I'm not just a halfling - I'm a blasted fur-foot! I'm gonna kill that damn Orion!"
Then Cori gave a shriek and Syngaard looked over at her, but saw only the counter - they'd been on opposite sides before his transformation and now he wasn't even tall enough to look over the counter to see her! He had to back up until she was in view - and Syngaard got another shock once he did. Cori's lustrous, red hair was now matted and dirty; her delicate facial features had been replaced by a fearsome countenance with warts sprouting here and there. Syngaard gave an involuntary shout of terror upon first seeing her, causing Cori to scramble to the nearest mirror, where she shrieked in horror at her own appearance. Neither of the two had ever seen a sea hag before, but they were looking at one now.
The fact that they'd both been transformed - and into different shapes - seemed to get Orion off the hook; for the life of him Syngaard couldn't figure out how (or why) the halfling could have turned Cori into a witch. There was only one course of action that Syngaard could see, and that was getting to Skevros to make some sense of it all. He steered Cori into her bedroom, telling her to lock the door and stay put until his return. "I'll get this fixed," he promised her, hoping he could do just that - there was no way he wanted to live the rest of his life as a damned halfling! Once Cori was settled, he dashed out the brothel door and into the street, heading for the Enchanted Flagon as quickly as his stumpy little legs could take him.
Over by the fountain, Galen and Orion were both puzzled by the sudden appearance and demeanor of the bloodthirsty fighter, for as soon as he was in range he hurled his magic javelin at the halfling, screaming curses all the while. She dodged the weapon, and it returned to his hand as he ran towards her. Not wanting to hurt her adventuring companion, Orion decided to focus on the zombie Carl instead. Leaping onto the back of ghost Carl, she reached into her bag of blades and pulled out a throwing dagger, which she threw at the frost-covered dog shambling to catch up to Syngaard. But by then the bald fighter had reached Orion and Carl, and his morningstar came swinging at her head. She ducked at the last moment, but the weapon-head crashed painfully into her shoulder. Thinking Syngaard might be some sort of undead imposter, Galen focused a blast of positive energy through his illumium scabbard and into the fighter's torso. Had he been undead, the healing energy would have eaten into him like acid; the fact that it had no effect at least informed the paladin that Syngaard was not undead.
Frantic to escape Syngaard's wrath, Orion had Carl shoot up into the darkened sky, high enough to be out of reach from the fighter's morningstar at least. "We need to find Skevros!" the halfling called down to Galen. "He might be able to make some sense of this!"
"Go!" agreed Galen. "I'll catch up!" And the ghost-dog flew at best speed down the road, with Syngaard running furiously behind and below, ignoring the paladin in his effort to slay the mounted halfling.
Galen figured he'd have to fight his way past the zombified Carl, which wasn't likely to be too difficult. But then other difficulties made their presences known, as spilling out of doorways and alleys came a multitude of creatures: zombies, skeletons, even a few mind flayers. One pointed up at the sun; distracted, Galen followed its gaze and saw with a shock that the sun had been replaced with a blood-red eye - at the very least, it had been turned red with a brighter center that gave it an eyelike appearance.
A zombie stretched out a hand and grabbed Galen by the shoulder. "Whaa--?" it moaned, and Galen resisted the instinctive urge to strike out at it with his longsword. He held the creature at arm's length. "Are you a local inhabitant?" the paladin asked, getting a nod to the affirmative in reply. Figuring that these were all just townsfolk somehow transformed, Galen called out in a loud voice, "Everyone return to your homes! Stay off the streets while we figure out what happened and get this magical effect reversed!" Immediately, skeletons nodded and returned to their homes; mind flayers turned around and went back the way they'd come, some of them still looking down at their purple fingers in disbelief; zombies shuffled off down the street headed back to their dwellings.
But zombie Carl remained. Orion threw a tanglefoot bag down at him as she and ghost Carl passed by overhead. The bag exploded upon impact, covering the zombie dog in sticky goo and more or less gluing him in place where he stood. Galen tried his scabbard trick on the dog and got much better results than he'd gotten with Syngaard, as the dog apparently was an undead creature. One smiting strike with his blade and the undead thing was slain. Then the paladin ran after Orion and Carl - and Syngaard, who threw his returning javelin up at the halfling as he ran - making his way to the Enchanted Flagon and hopefully an end to this city-wide transformation (which, for whatever reason, had left Galen and Orion unaffected).
Daleth and Kaspar had finally managed to make it down the back steps, go around the corner of the building, and get the front door open. Skevros was in the tavern all right, but he was slumped up against the back wall by the bar, being menaced by a pair of ghosts. "This is your fault!" berated the ghost of a young woman. "My death is on your hands!"
"Why did you do it, Daddy?" asked the second ghost, that of a young girl about five years of age. With sudden insight, Kaspar realized these were the ghosts of Skevros's wife and daughter. But then, having figured that out, Kaspar was unsure of what to do next; would Skevros appreciate it if his adventurers started attacking the spirits of his loved ones?
The route from Mama Kat's to the Enchanted Flagon took Syngaard, running for all he was worth on his oversized, itchy, halfling feet, right past the Temple of Pelor. That gave the fighter an idea: he could ask Father Rayburn or Father Rupert about fixing the transformations - they were both fairly powerful clerics. And maybe he could get a resolution to this nightmare quicker than he could by racing across the square over to the tavern. With that thought in mind, he approached the temple doors and opened one, stepping quietly inside.
The first thing he saw were the four headless bodies laying in pools of blood on the floor. Without their heads he couldn't tell who they might be, but they were all male, and each wore the robes of a cleric of Pelor. Whatever was up, this wasn't good!
The next thing he noticed were the three figures in the back of the temple. All three wore darker robes and had their backs to him, facing the altar, but the central figure must have stood about nine feet tall, with two human-sized figures beside him. Syngaard narrowed his eyes and made his way toward the figures, traveling quietly down the central aisle between the pews, ready to duck behind a pew if either of the three figures gave any indication that they might turn and spot him. Syngaard had his trusty morningstar in hand, and was disheartened to think that at its present size it wouldn't be able to dish out near as much damage as it would normally.
Syngaard was even further dismayed when a voice appeared in the back of his head. <And just what is your purpose, little halfling?> the voice asked. In the dim light of the temple, Syngaard thought he saw a tentacle waving from the front of the central figure, the giant. A flood of thoughts rushed into Syngaard's brain: These were those mind flayer dudes, like the two they'd recently fought in the caverns below the orphanage! They were probably behind the transformations somehow! And worse yet, that big guy just called me a little halfling! He tightened his grip on his morningstar and got ready to charge.
Orion and Carl rushed into the Enchanted Flagon, the two homunculi having left the front door wide open. Orion made out the inhabitants in a glance; she had no trouble identifying Kaspar and Daleth by the garments they wore, even though each otherwise looked just like Dow. Right behind Orion came Syngaard, face contorted in hatred and morningstar raised to strike at the mounted halfling. Kaspar wasn't sure what had gotten into Syngaard, but he wasn't about to let him attack Orion; he struck out with a cobra-swift strike of his arm, powered by his tenryutsume, hammering into the fighter's leg. Kaspar was pleased to see the tenryutsume's powers were apparently not reduced by the sudden change in size. "Leave her alone, Syngaard!" the elf monk warned.
Orion grabbed up another tanglefoot bag and hurled it at the bald fighter, trapping him in place. Daleth prepared to cast a spell at the attacking fighter, when Skevros - via the sudden appearance of a trio of his adventurers, two of them somehow in the forms of his former homunculus familiar - was alerted to the oddities of the situation. Ignoring the ghosts of his family for now, he cast an arcane sight spell, allowing him to see magical auras. Sure enough, his tormenting spirits were both magical in nature - likely illusions - as was Syngaard. Kaspar and Daleth were also sporting magical auras, but given their transformations this was expected. He also got indications from Orion centered on her known magical items: her short sword, bag of blades, breastplate, bracelet, ring, and ioun stone - that was undoubtedly her. He was about to broadcast his findings to the others when Syngaard's voice rang out from the ring the king's adviser wore on his left hand: "Skevros, I dunno if you can hear me, but I'm fighting three mind flayers in the temple of Pelor, and I think they're behind all this weirdness!"
That statement, called into his ring as he ran down the central aisle of the temple, was finished by the time Syngaard reached his target: the central figure of the three. The trio turned as one at Syngaard's approach, and sure enough, these were mind flayers, although the central one was not only nine feet tall but also had an extra set of facial tentacles, these two being much longer than the other four. Syngaard's morningstar went crashing into the ulitharid's leg, and as he'd expected the smaller size of the weapon - and the hand that wielded it - meant a lesser amount of damage behind the strike.
C'thorlumbrox's mouth was hidden beneath his six tentacles and the illithid mouth structure was not designed for smiling in any case; nonetheless, the ulitharid's mental "voice" denoted a tone of amusement. <Are you going to single-handedly strike us down, little halfling?> he asked.
"Stop calling me that!" Syngaard demanded as one of the longer tentacles wrapped around his torso and lifted him in the air, so that C'thorlumbrox could get a better look at his diminutive opponent. "Turn me back to human, or I'll kill the lot of you!" Given the less-than-impressive combat abilities Syngaard had just demonstrated in his halfling form, this was a boast without much power behind it.
Back at the Enchanted Flagon, Skevros announced, "I have no combat spells prepared!" just as Galen burst in through the front door. "Syngaard will likely be dead by the time it would take me to prepare them. So gather yourselves together; I have the means to transport you to the temple of Pelor."
"Even though the city's warded against teleportation?" asked Orion.
"Even so," agreed Skevros, and cast the wish spell he always kept on hand for emergency use. A tear rolled down his cheek as he recalled it was this very same spell that had killed his wife, in her desperate attempt to wrench him off the evil path he'd been traveling, those many years ago.
The group now found themselves standing in the central aisle of the temple of Pelor. Two mind flayers stood to the sides of the altar in the back, and between them stood an even taller version of a mind flayer, halfheartedly grappling with a struggling, bald halfling he held in one long tentacle. Even with the size difference, the group had no difficulty identifying Syngaard by his equipment - and his vocabulary. Although, oddly enough, shortly after the group's appearance, Syngaard also appeared - in his human form, and unhindered by the goo of the tanglefoot bag - in the back of the room, a look of hatred aimed directly at Orion.
One of the mind flayers spun about and faced the group, unleashing a blast of mental energy their way. Kaspar and Orion were both stunned by the mental assault, freezing instantly in place. Daleth cast a magic circle against evil spell upon himself - and suddenly, both he and Kaspar resumed their normal elven appearance, although the monk was still stunned into immobility. Perhaps just as importantly, the looming of figure of Syngaard started to fade like a ghost, still visible in the back of the room with his arm raised and ready to hurl his magical javelin at the female halfling, but frozen into immobility.
C'thorlumbrox made the mistake of trying to reason with Syngaard. <I have no desire to kill your party> he informed the fighter, <although my two compatriots seek vengeance for their recent deaths at your hands> - and sure enough, the two mind flayers accompanying the ulitharid were none other than Quixagoth and Ixloth. <I'll make a deal with you: I'll let you go help your friends slay the two mind flayers again, as they've already served my purpose. I will even end the effect that has overcome your fair city. In return, you will allow me to leave unharmed.>
"No deal!" called out Syngaard. "You killed Father Rayburn and Father Rupert!"
<They were necessary to power my experiment> replied the ulitharid, not understanding why this should be such an issue - these surface-dwellers were so emotional! <I needed the heads of four clerics of the sun god, whose fears of a diminished sun could power the effect I needed.>
"You turned me into a damned halfling!" cried Syngaard.
<An unfortunate side effect of the experiment> explained C'thorlumbrox. <I can easily-- > But he was cut off by Syngaard's dual response: an insignificant blow from his morningstar, which did nothing but eat into the added protection afforded the ulitharid by a false life spell, and the more deadly effect of his words. "This big guy's trying to cut a deal with me!" he thundered. "He'll let us cut down the other two if we let him live!"
Quixagoth didn't believe the halfling's pitiful attempt to sow discord among the illithids. He ran up and grabbed Daleth with a tentacle, wrestling him into position so he could grab on with his other three facial appendages and rip the brain from the elf's skull. Ixloth, however, seemed unnerved by the accusation, and turned toward his leader with a puzzled - and distrustful - look in his eyes.
Galen realized that these mind blasts could easily take out the entire group in mere seconds - the last time they'd fought mind flayers, they had taken on Ixloth and Quixagoth one at a time; now they were facing them together at once with the addition of an even more powerful member of their twisted race! Without any hesitation, the paladin called out to the plane of the Beastlands as he raced to aid Syngaard, and his faithful dire lion companion immediately answered the call.
Burt leaped at Quixagoth, ripping him to shreds with the powerful swipe of a clawed forepaw. Daleth finished him off with a blast from his wand of magic missiles, holding it up under the base of the illithid's tentacles and activating it before the mind flayer had a chance to pry open the wizard's skull. Ixloth, in the meantime, fired a psionic mind thrust at Galen, staggering the charging paladin by the strength of his mental power.
"I promise I won't kill you if you let Syngaard go," said Galen, thinking to himself that he wasn't promising that Syngaard or one of the others wouldn't kill him. But the sound of mental laughter suddenly blossomed in the back of the paladin's mind. <You forget> said C'thorlumbrox, <I can hear your very thoughts!>
But Syngaard, while struggling to free himself form the ulitharid's tentacle, saw Orion and Kaspar frozen in the stunning grip of a mind blast. He'd experienced such an effect himself down in the caverns below the orphanage, and knew how long those two would be out of action. He also had a sinking feeling that C'thorlumbrox was toying with them, and that he could easily slay all five of the heroes if he put a mind to it. "You want a deal?" Syngaard suggested. "Start with an offer of good faith. Release those two from the mind blast's effects, and turn off whatever's affecting the city."
<Easily done!> replied the ulitharid, setting Syngaard back down onto the floor as he sent a psionic wave of dispelling magic at Kaspar and Orion. They found they could once again move, while Syngaard found himself back in his human form. The other Syngaard - a psionic manifestation of Orion's fears of retaliation for her potion of reduce person prank - winked out of existence.
<Master?> whimpered Ixloth in fear. <You just returned us to life - why abandon us now?>
<You have proven yourselves unworthy, seeking vengeance for your recent deaths at the hands of these surface-dwellers instead of focusing on the experiment. Prove your worthiness to live, if you can - I will render no aid.> Ixloth turned to face his foes, but was quickly brought down by the teeth and claws of a bloodthirsty dire lion and the smiting strike of the sword of Zehkar.
Syngaard's relief at being turned back to human form again was short-lived, to be replaced with a fury against the one who had been responsible for his transformation in the first place - and the deaths of four clerics of Pelor, the god Mezz had revered in life, and whose wooden holy symbol Syngaard had faithfully worn around his neck every day since his wife's death. His morningstar now back to its original size, he turned, ready to attack the ulitharid who had caused all of this trouble. But C'thorlumbrox held up a restraining hand, biding the fighter to hold off his attacks. <I propose a halt to combat, to explain myself!> he mentally declared to all present, and Galen put a restraining hand upon Syngaard's shoulder. "Let's hear what he has to say," suggested the paladin.
<The manifestation of your collective fears was an unintended side effect of the experiment we performed upon the sun> C'thorlumbrox explained. <We wish to eventually learn to block the sun's rays, that we might have darkness fall upon the planet and we might walk upon the surface once more, rather than keeping to the bowels of the Underdark.>
"Nothin's stoppin' you from strolling around today," snarled Syngaard.
<We find the brightness distasteful.>
"We won't help you to destroy the sun!" declared Galen. "Nor escape, that you may cause it further harm!"
<You need have no fears upon those fronts. This was but an initial experiment, as I have stated. I will take the results back to the Elder Brain of my city, and it will cogitate upon the matter for decades, centuries - even millennia. Your sun is safe for a good, long time.> A quick look out of the temple's windows confirmed that the sky was back to its regular brightness; the unnatural red-eye sun had been restored to normal.
"That's just making it someone else's problem," argued Orion. "Why shouldn't we just deal with you now, and be done with it?"
<Two reasons: one, you lack the power to destroy me; I could easily slay the lot of you without undue difficulty. But perhaps more importantly, we share a common enemy, for I sense the power in your longsword, and we - my people, the illithids - are opposed to the brother of Zehkar and would see his plans brought to ruin.>
"You speak of the Mithral Mage," replied Kaspar.
<I know him by his true name, but yes.>
"You know the Mithral Mage's real name?" asked Orion. "I thought all knowledge of his name had been magically erased."
"All existing traces of his name were erased, to prevent others from learning it," replied Daleth, who had studied up on the matter with Skevros. "It didn't erase it from the minds of those who already knew it."
<Precisely so.>
"So what are we doing?" asked Galen, looking around at his companions. "If we give this guy a pass, I'm honor-bound not to attack him. Do we let him walk?"
Kaspar thought it over for a moment. "I would say...yes," he decided. "We cannot pass up an opportunity to gain allies in our fight against the Mithral Mage."
"I agree," added Daleth.
"Stupid elves," muttered Syngaard.
"I agree as well," said Orion, gaining her a glare from the bald fighter.
"It would seem our best course of action," pointed out Galen.
Syngaard pointed to the dead bodies of the four decapitated Pelorian clerics in the front of the temple. "Bring them back to life," he demanded, indicating this was a prerequisite to gaining his agreement.
<That I cannot do. Were they mind flayers, I could reactivate their life forces with the psionic crystals we gathered below. Alas, they are mere humans - and thus outside my ability to affect.>
Syngaard spit out a promise: "I ever see your stupid, squiddy face around here again, I'll kill you!"
<So noted> replied C'thorlumbrox, and Syngaard didn't miss the smarminess behind the mental sentiment, as if the ulitharid was amused at the human fighter's delusions of his fighting prowess against so powerful a foe. But the creature departed through the back doors of the temple, heading to the area which had until recently - when they discovered a secret passageway that led to the Underdark directly below their floor planks - been the Pelorian orphanage; the orphans had been immediately moved to different housing upon the discovery.
"I'm surprised the temple clerics haven't sealed up the entrance to the Underdark," commented Orion, watching the ulitharid leave.
"They might have, only to have it undone by the mind flayers," offered Kaspar.
"Or been mentally tricked into thinking they had done so in the first place," suggested Daleth.
"Now that the skirmishes with the devils have finished up in the Baator's Breath Mountains, the church of Hieroneous will have the clerics at hand to raise the slain Pelorians," promised Galen.
It wasn't much in the way of a victory, but it would have to do.
- - -
Ugh! This was probably my least favorite adventure thus far in the campaign. (I'm not a fan of halflings, if you couldn't tell.) But four of us (all but Orion) leveled up as a result of this adventure, so that was a plus.
Incidentally, we'll be on hiatus for the next two weeks, due to Halloween next Wednesday and a class field trip to Washington DC that will take Joey out of the mix the following week.
PC Roster:
Daleth Stormsea, elf wizard 7
Galen Thorne, human paladin 9
Kaspar Hardstrike, elf monk 9
Orion Nightsky, halfling rogue 9
Syngaard, human fighter 9
Game Session Date: 24 October 2018
- - -
It was a pleasant afternoon. The conscripts had no particular task that needed attending to, so they had been left to go about their various ways; after all, if they were needed, Skevros could summon them at once through the rings they wore, which allowed a message spell to be broadcast to each member simultaneously. As a result, Orion was sitting by one of the fountains of the capital city, watching in amusement as her ghost dog Carl danced into and out of the water, a puzzled expression on his face that he wasn't getting wet. In many ways, Carl was still getting used to the idea that he was a ghost now, and that many of the rules that had applied to him in life were no longer valid.
But then Carl's head popped up from the fountain, he looked all around him, and he began barking furiously. Orion leaped to her feet and her hand went to the hilt of her flaming short sword, but she saw nothing out of the ordinary - nothing that would set Carl to barking so frantically. That only caused her to worry all the more, for she was well aware that Carl's ghost-vision extended into the ethereal plane; were there more of those phase spiders about, ready to strike?
Galen was nearby, running an errand for Skevros to start to pay off the debt he'd incurred in promising a magical drink-producing jug to the hill giant Gumruk. He heard Carl's barking and had the same reaction as Orion: hand to sword-hilt, looking about for danger and seeing none. Still, he crossed the square over to the fountain, the sword of Zehkar out and ready for action should it be needed.
The other conscripts were unaware of Carl's panic. Daleth was in his room above the Enchanted Flagon, studying his spellbooks; across the hall from him, Kaspar sat in silent meditation, honing his mastery of the mind. Syngaard was eating a late lunch with Cori, one of Mama Kat's working girls, as the brothel didn't usually see much business until later in the evening.
But regardless of their respective locations, all of the conscripts - as well as every other inhabitant of the city - abruptly heard a loud scream. It was the scream of a multitude of voices, a choir of screams, in which each of the conscripts could hear their own distinctive voices in the mix.
But the screaming wasn't all that everybody heard. Orion, standing by the fountain, heard Syngaard's distinctive voice yelling, "Gonna kill me that damn halfling!" Turning to look, she saw Syngaard rushing down the street in her direction, his morningstar in one hand and his javelin of returning in the other. His scarred face held an expression of hatred and disgust. Beside him, struggling to keep up, was a shambling, canine form covered in frost; with a start, the halfling recognized it as Carl's physical remains, as he appeared when he died from the cone of cold spell cast by Arcturus, the Azure Glade's Guildmaster of Divination.
Any suspicion Orion might have had that this was an illusion was broken by the fact that Galen saw it, too. He instinctively focused his senses to see if the pair detected as evil, and was instantly brought to his knees by an overpowering sensation of pure, absolute evil that emanated not just from Syngaard and the zombified remains of Carl but from the entire area at once. Through his pounding headache, the paladin realized he would be unable to rely upon his reading of auras while this all-pervasive evil was about; this was many times worse than the first time he'd tried reading Serenity's aura up in Ashfall. And the sense of evil seemed to leech the brightness of the day as well; shadows fell over the city as the sky darkened as if overcast, although it remained as cloudless as mere moments before.
Back in their rooms, Daleth and Kaspar had their own troubles, for immediately after the choir of screams they each felt their bodies shrinking. All of their clothes and gear shrunk down with them to no other effect, but their skin hardened, their hair lengthened and grew lighter, and in a mere moment each had taken on the appearance of Dow, the porcelain homunculus Skevros had crafted for his late daughter many years ago. Neither elf had been particularly fond of the homunculus - truth be told, she seemed rather creepy to them - so finding themselves suddenly trapped in her body was unnerving, to say the least.
Still, no matter how this thing had happened, it was likely Skevros held the answer - or could at least reverse the process. As he was in the Enchanted Flagon below (or at least in the extradimensional space accessible from the storeroom of the tavern), that seemed to be the first course of action. Of course, as the elves were now only a foot tall, the simple act of opening the door was somewhat problematic, since the doorknob stood well over their heads.
Kaspar's monk training came in handy; with a running start, he ran up the door and grabbed onto the doorknob, twisting it with a practiced motion and kicking the doorjamb with his foot, opening the wooden door. He dropped back to the floor and was about to duplicate the process on the door leading to the back stairs behind the building when the door to Daleth's room opened and Daleth-as-Dow dropped down from his own doorknob.
"You too?" each elf asked in unison, surprised to see the other afflicted in the same way. But Daleth-as-Dow still wore his wizard's robes and Kaspar-as-Dow wore his monk's robes and tenryutsume, and each still had their respective abilities. As one, they turned to the exterior door, Kaspar got it opened, and they started hopping down the back stairs, looking for answers.
Back at Mama Kat's, Syngaard underwent a similar transformation. One moment he was eating cheese and bread with Cori; the next, there was a chorus of screams and he felt his body shrinking in an all-too-familiar way. "Damn that halfling!" Syngaard cursed, hating the high pitch of his halfling voice. His immediate thought was that Orion had somehow spiked his food or drink, sneaking in a potion of reduce person like she'd done once before in a misguided attempt to get him to empathize with the life of a halfling by experiencing it for himself. But this time there was something different about the experience: all of his gear reduced in size with him as before, but his feet somehow didn't seem to shrink quite as much as the rest of him - they were tight in his boots. Worse yet, both feet were itchy, as if a layer of fur grew from their tops. "Dammit!" he cried. "I'm not just a halfling - I'm a blasted fur-foot! I'm gonna kill that damn Orion!"
Then Cori gave a shriek and Syngaard looked over at her, but saw only the counter - they'd been on opposite sides before his transformation and now he wasn't even tall enough to look over the counter to see her! He had to back up until she was in view - and Syngaard got another shock once he did. Cori's lustrous, red hair was now matted and dirty; her delicate facial features had been replaced by a fearsome countenance with warts sprouting here and there. Syngaard gave an involuntary shout of terror upon first seeing her, causing Cori to scramble to the nearest mirror, where she shrieked in horror at her own appearance. Neither of the two had ever seen a sea hag before, but they were looking at one now.
The fact that they'd both been transformed - and into different shapes - seemed to get Orion off the hook; for the life of him Syngaard couldn't figure out how (or why) the halfling could have turned Cori into a witch. There was only one course of action that Syngaard could see, and that was getting to Skevros to make some sense of it all. He steered Cori into her bedroom, telling her to lock the door and stay put until his return. "I'll get this fixed," he promised her, hoping he could do just that - there was no way he wanted to live the rest of his life as a damned halfling! Once Cori was settled, he dashed out the brothel door and into the street, heading for the Enchanted Flagon as quickly as his stumpy little legs could take him.
Over by the fountain, Galen and Orion were both puzzled by the sudden appearance and demeanor of the bloodthirsty fighter, for as soon as he was in range he hurled his magic javelin at the halfling, screaming curses all the while. She dodged the weapon, and it returned to his hand as he ran towards her. Not wanting to hurt her adventuring companion, Orion decided to focus on the zombie Carl instead. Leaping onto the back of ghost Carl, she reached into her bag of blades and pulled out a throwing dagger, which she threw at the frost-covered dog shambling to catch up to Syngaard. But by then the bald fighter had reached Orion and Carl, and his morningstar came swinging at her head. She ducked at the last moment, but the weapon-head crashed painfully into her shoulder. Thinking Syngaard might be some sort of undead imposter, Galen focused a blast of positive energy through his illumium scabbard and into the fighter's torso. Had he been undead, the healing energy would have eaten into him like acid; the fact that it had no effect at least informed the paladin that Syngaard was not undead.
Frantic to escape Syngaard's wrath, Orion had Carl shoot up into the darkened sky, high enough to be out of reach from the fighter's morningstar at least. "We need to find Skevros!" the halfling called down to Galen. "He might be able to make some sense of this!"
"Go!" agreed Galen. "I'll catch up!" And the ghost-dog flew at best speed down the road, with Syngaard running furiously behind and below, ignoring the paladin in his effort to slay the mounted halfling.
Galen figured he'd have to fight his way past the zombified Carl, which wasn't likely to be too difficult. But then other difficulties made their presences known, as spilling out of doorways and alleys came a multitude of creatures: zombies, skeletons, even a few mind flayers. One pointed up at the sun; distracted, Galen followed its gaze and saw with a shock that the sun had been replaced with a blood-red eye - at the very least, it had been turned red with a brighter center that gave it an eyelike appearance.
A zombie stretched out a hand and grabbed Galen by the shoulder. "Whaa--?" it moaned, and Galen resisted the instinctive urge to strike out at it with his longsword. He held the creature at arm's length. "Are you a local inhabitant?" the paladin asked, getting a nod to the affirmative in reply. Figuring that these were all just townsfolk somehow transformed, Galen called out in a loud voice, "Everyone return to your homes! Stay off the streets while we figure out what happened and get this magical effect reversed!" Immediately, skeletons nodded and returned to their homes; mind flayers turned around and went back the way they'd come, some of them still looking down at their purple fingers in disbelief; zombies shuffled off down the street headed back to their dwellings.
But zombie Carl remained. Orion threw a tanglefoot bag down at him as she and ghost Carl passed by overhead. The bag exploded upon impact, covering the zombie dog in sticky goo and more or less gluing him in place where he stood. Galen tried his scabbard trick on the dog and got much better results than he'd gotten with Syngaard, as the dog apparently was an undead creature. One smiting strike with his blade and the undead thing was slain. Then the paladin ran after Orion and Carl - and Syngaard, who threw his returning javelin up at the halfling as he ran - making his way to the Enchanted Flagon and hopefully an end to this city-wide transformation (which, for whatever reason, had left Galen and Orion unaffected).
Daleth and Kaspar had finally managed to make it down the back steps, go around the corner of the building, and get the front door open. Skevros was in the tavern all right, but he was slumped up against the back wall by the bar, being menaced by a pair of ghosts. "This is your fault!" berated the ghost of a young woman. "My death is on your hands!"
"Why did you do it, Daddy?" asked the second ghost, that of a young girl about five years of age. With sudden insight, Kaspar realized these were the ghosts of Skevros's wife and daughter. But then, having figured that out, Kaspar was unsure of what to do next; would Skevros appreciate it if his adventurers started attacking the spirits of his loved ones?
The route from Mama Kat's to the Enchanted Flagon took Syngaard, running for all he was worth on his oversized, itchy, halfling feet, right past the Temple of Pelor. That gave the fighter an idea: he could ask Father Rayburn or Father Rupert about fixing the transformations - they were both fairly powerful clerics. And maybe he could get a resolution to this nightmare quicker than he could by racing across the square over to the tavern. With that thought in mind, he approached the temple doors and opened one, stepping quietly inside.
The first thing he saw were the four headless bodies laying in pools of blood on the floor. Without their heads he couldn't tell who they might be, but they were all male, and each wore the robes of a cleric of Pelor. Whatever was up, this wasn't good!
The next thing he noticed were the three figures in the back of the temple. All three wore darker robes and had their backs to him, facing the altar, but the central figure must have stood about nine feet tall, with two human-sized figures beside him. Syngaard narrowed his eyes and made his way toward the figures, traveling quietly down the central aisle between the pews, ready to duck behind a pew if either of the three figures gave any indication that they might turn and spot him. Syngaard had his trusty morningstar in hand, and was disheartened to think that at its present size it wouldn't be able to dish out near as much damage as it would normally.
Syngaard was even further dismayed when a voice appeared in the back of his head. <And just what is your purpose, little halfling?> the voice asked. In the dim light of the temple, Syngaard thought he saw a tentacle waving from the front of the central figure, the giant. A flood of thoughts rushed into Syngaard's brain: These were those mind flayer dudes, like the two they'd recently fought in the caverns below the orphanage! They were probably behind the transformations somehow! And worse yet, that big guy just called me a little halfling! He tightened his grip on his morningstar and got ready to charge.
Orion and Carl rushed into the Enchanted Flagon, the two homunculi having left the front door wide open. Orion made out the inhabitants in a glance; she had no trouble identifying Kaspar and Daleth by the garments they wore, even though each otherwise looked just like Dow. Right behind Orion came Syngaard, face contorted in hatred and morningstar raised to strike at the mounted halfling. Kaspar wasn't sure what had gotten into Syngaard, but he wasn't about to let him attack Orion; he struck out with a cobra-swift strike of his arm, powered by his tenryutsume, hammering into the fighter's leg. Kaspar was pleased to see the tenryutsume's powers were apparently not reduced by the sudden change in size. "Leave her alone, Syngaard!" the elf monk warned.
Orion grabbed up another tanglefoot bag and hurled it at the bald fighter, trapping him in place. Daleth prepared to cast a spell at the attacking fighter, when Skevros - via the sudden appearance of a trio of his adventurers, two of them somehow in the forms of his former homunculus familiar - was alerted to the oddities of the situation. Ignoring the ghosts of his family for now, he cast an arcane sight spell, allowing him to see magical auras. Sure enough, his tormenting spirits were both magical in nature - likely illusions - as was Syngaard. Kaspar and Daleth were also sporting magical auras, but given their transformations this was expected. He also got indications from Orion centered on her known magical items: her short sword, bag of blades, breastplate, bracelet, ring, and ioun stone - that was undoubtedly her. He was about to broadcast his findings to the others when Syngaard's voice rang out from the ring the king's adviser wore on his left hand: "Skevros, I dunno if you can hear me, but I'm fighting three mind flayers in the temple of Pelor, and I think they're behind all this weirdness!"
That statement, called into his ring as he ran down the central aisle of the temple, was finished by the time Syngaard reached his target: the central figure of the three. The trio turned as one at Syngaard's approach, and sure enough, these were mind flayers, although the central one was not only nine feet tall but also had an extra set of facial tentacles, these two being much longer than the other four. Syngaard's morningstar went crashing into the ulitharid's leg, and as he'd expected the smaller size of the weapon - and the hand that wielded it - meant a lesser amount of damage behind the strike.
C'thorlumbrox's mouth was hidden beneath his six tentacles and the illithid mouth structure was not designed for smiling in any case; nonetheless, the ulitharid's mental "voice" denoted a tone of amusement. <Are you going to single-handedly strike us down, little halfling?> he asked.
"Stop calling me that!" Syngaard demanded as one of the longer tentacles wrapped around his torso and lifted him in the air, so that C'thorlumbrox could get a better look at his diminutive opponent. "Turn me back to human, or I'll kill the lot of you!" Given the less-than-impressive combat abilities Syngaard had just demonstrated in his halfling form, this was a boast without much power behind it.
Back at the Enchanted Flagon, Skevros announced, "I have no combat spells prepared!" just as Galen burst in through the front door. "Syngaard will likely be dead by the time it would take me to prepare them. So gather yourselves together; I have the means to transport you to the temple of Pelor."
"Even though the city's warded against teleportation?" asked Orion.
"Even so," agreed Skevros, and cast the wish spell he always kept on hand for emergency use. A tear rolled down his cheek as he recalled it was this very same spell that had killed his wife, in her desperate attempt to wrench him off the evil path he'd been traveling, those many years ago.
The group now found themselves standing in the central aisle of the temple of Pelor. Two mind flayers stood to the sides of the altar in the back, and between them stood an even taller version of a mind flayer, halfheartedly grappling with a struggling, bald halfling he held in one long tentacle. Even with the size difference, the group had no difficulty identifying Syngaard by his equipment - and his vocabulary. Although, oddly enough, shortly after the group's appearance, Syngaard also appeared - in his human form, and unhindered by the goo of the tanglefoot bag - in the back of the room, a look of hatred aimed directly at Orion.
One of the mind flayers spun about and faced the group, unleashing a blast of mental energy their way. Kaspar and Orion were both stunned by the mental assault, freezing instantly in place. Daleth cast a magic circle against evil spell upon himself - and suddenly, both he and Kaspar resumed their normal elven appearance, although the monk was still stunned into immobility. Perhaps just as importantly, the looming of figure of Syngaard started to fade like a ghost, still visible in the back of the room with his arm raised and ready to hurl his magical javelin at the female halfling, but frozen into immobility.
C'thorlumbrox made the mistake of trying to reason with Syngaard. <I have no desire to kill your party> he informed the fighter, <although my two compatriots seek vengeance for their recent deaths at your hands> - and sure enough, the two mind flayers accompanying the ulitharid were none other than Quixagoth and Ixloth. <I'll make a deal with you: I'll let you go help your friends slay the two mind flayers again, as they've already served my purpose. I will even end the effect that has overcome your fair city. In return, you will allow me to leave unharmed.>
"No deal!" called out Syngaard. "You killed Father Rayburn and Father Rupert!"
<They were necessary to power my experiment> replied the ulitharid, not understanding why this should be such an issue - these surface-dwellers were so emotional! <I needed the heads of four clerics of the sun god, whose fears of a diminished sun could power the effect I needed.>
"You turned me into a damned halfling!" cried Syngaard.
<An unfortunate side effect of the experiment> explained C'thorlumbrox. <I can easily-- > But he was cut off by Syngaard's dual response: an insignificant blow from his morningstar, which did nothing but eat into the added protection afforded the ulitharid by a false life spell, and the more deadly effect of his words. "This big guy's trying to cut a deal with me!" he thundered. "He'll let us cut down the other two if we let him live!"
Quixagoth didn't believe the halfling's pitiful attempt to sow discord among the illithids. He ran up and grabbed Daleth with a tentacle, wrestling him into position so he could grab on with his other three facial appendages and rip the brain from the elf's skull. Ixloth, however, seemed unnerved by the accusation, and turned toward his leader with a puzzled - and distrustful - look in his eyes.
Galen realized that these mind blasts could easily take out the entire group in mere seconds - the last time they'd fought mind flayers, they had taken on Ixloth and Quixagoth one at a time; now they were facing them together at once with the addition of an even more powerful member of their twisted race! Without any hesitation, the paladin called out to the plane of the Beastlands as he raced to aid Syngaard, and his faithful dire lion companion immediately answered the call.
Burt leaped at Quixagoth, ripping him to shreds with the powerful swipe of a clawed forepaw. Daleth finished him off with a blast from his wand of magic missiles, holding it up under the base of the illithid's tentacles and activating it before the mind flayer had a chance to pry open the wizard's skull. Ixloth, in the meantime, fired a psionic mind thrust at Galen, staggering the charging paladin by the strength of his mental power.
"I promise I won't kill you if you let Syngaard go," said Galen, thinking to himself that he wasn't promising that Syngaard or one of the others wouldn't kill him. But the sound of mental laughter suddenly blossomed in the back of the paladin's mind. <You forget> said C'thorlumbrox, <I can hear your very thoughts!>
But Syngaard, while struggling to free himself form the ulitharid's tentacle, saw Orion and Kaspar frozen in the stunning grip of a mind blast. He'd experienced such an effect himself down in the caverns below the orphanage, and knew how long those two would be out of action. He also had a sinking feeling that C'thorlumbrox was toying with them, and that he could easily slay all five of the heroes if he put a mind to it. "You want a deal?" Syngaard suggested. "Start with an offer of good faith. Release those two from the mind blast's effects, and turn off whatever's affecting the city."
<Easily done!> replied the ulitharid, setting Syngaard back down onto the floor as he sent a psionic wave of dispelling magic at Kaspar and Orion. They found they could once again move, while Syngaard found himself back in his human form. The other Syngaard - a psionic manifestation of Orion's fears of retaliation for her potion of reduce person prank - winked out of existence.
<Master?> whimpered Ixloth in fear. <You just returned us to life - why abandon us now?>
<You have proven yourselves unworthy, seeking vengeance for your recent deaths at the hands of these surface-dwellers instead of focusing on the experiment. Prove your worthiness to live, if you can - I will render no aid.> Ixloth turned to face his foes, but was quickly brought down by the teeth and claws of a bloodthirsty dire lion and the smiting strike of the sword of Zehkar.
Syngaard's relief at being turned back to human form again was short-lived, to be replaced with a fury against the one who had been responsible for his transformation in the first place - and the deaths of four clerics of Pelor, the god Mezz had revered in life, and whose wooden holy symbol Syngaard had faithfully worn around his neck every day since his wife's death. His morningstar now back to its original size, he turned, ready to attack the ulitharid who had caused all of this trouble. But C'thorlumbrox held up a restraining hand, biding the fighter to hold off his attacks. <I propose a halt to combat, to explain myself!> he mentally declared to all present, and Galen put a restraining hand upon Syngaard's shoulder. "Let's hear what he has to say," suggested the paladin.
<The manifestation of your collective fears was an unintended side effect of the experiment we performed upon the sun> C'thorlumbrox explained. <We wish to eventually learn to block the sun's rays, that we might have darkness fall upon the planet and we might walk upon the surface once more, rather than keeping to the bowels of the Underdark.>
"Nothin's stoppin' you from strolling around today," snarled Syngaard.
<We find the brightness distasteful.>
"We won't help you to destroy the sun!" declared Galen. "Nor escape, that you may cause it further harm!"
<You need have no fears upon those fronts. This was but an initial experiment, as I have stated. I will take the results back to the Elder Brain of my city, and it will cogitate upon the matter for decades, centuries - even millennia. Your sun is safe for a good, long time.> A quick look out of the temple's windows confirmed that the sky was back to its regular brightness; the unnatural red-eye sun had been restored to normal.
"That's just making it someone else's problem," argued Orion. "Why shouldn't we just deal with you now, and be done with it?"
<Two reasons: one, you lack the power to destroy me; I could easily slay the lot of you without undue difficulty. But perhaps more importantly, we share a common enemy, for I sense the power in your longsword, and we - my people, the illithids - are opposed to the brother of Zehkar and would see his plans brought to ruin.>
"You speak of the Mithral Mage," replied Kaspar.
<I know him by his true name, but yes.>
"You know the Mithral Mage's real name?" asked Orion. "I thought all knowledge of his name had been magically erased."
"All existing traces of his name were erased, to prevent others from learning it," replied Daleth, who had studied up on the matter with Skevros. "It didn't erase it from the minds of those who already knew it."
<Precisely so.>
"So what are we doing?" asked Galen, looking around at his companions. "If we give this guy a pass, I'm honor-bound not to attack him. Do we let him walk?"
Kaspar thought it over for a moment. "I would say...yes," he decided. "We cannot pass up an opportunity to gain allies in our fight against the Mithral Mage."
"I agree," added Daleth.
"Stupid elves," muttered Syngaard.
"I agree as well," said Orion, gaining her a glare from the bald fighter.
"It would seem our best course of action," pointed out Galen.
Syngaard pointed to the dead bodies of the four decapitated Pelorian clerics in the front of the temple. "Bring them back to life," he demanded, indicating this was a prerequisite to gaining his agreement.
<That I cannot do. Were they mind flayers, I could reactivate their life forces with the psionic crystals we gathered below. Alas, they are mere humans - and thus outside my ability to affect.>
Syngaard spit out a promise: "I ever see your stupid, squiddy face around here again, I'll kill you!"
<So noted> replied C'thorlumbrox, and Syngaard didn't miss the smarminess behind the mental sentiment, as if the ulitharid was amused at the human fighter's delusions of his fighting prowess against so powerful a foe. But the creature departed through the back doors of the temple, heading to the area which had until recently - when they discovered a secret passageway that led to the Underdark directly below their floor planks - been the Pelorian orphanage; the orphans had been immediately moved to different housing upon the discovery.
"I'm surprised the temple clerics haven't sealed up the entrance to the Underdark," commented Orion, watching the ulitharid leave.
"They might have, only to have it undone by the mind flayers," offered Kaspar.
"Or been mentally tricked into thinking they had done so in the first place," suggested Daleth.
"Now that the skirmishes with the devils have finished up in the Baator's Breath Mountains, the church of Hieroneous will have the clerics at hand to raise the slain Pelorians," promised Galen.
It wasn't much in the way of a victory, but it would have to do.
- - -
Ugh! This was probably my least favorite adventure thus far in the campaign. (I'm not a fan of halflings, if you couldn't tell.) But four of us (all but Orion) leveled up as a result of this adventure, so that was a plus.
Incidentally, we'll be on hiatus for the next two weeks, due to Halloween next Wednesday and a class field trip to Washington DC that will take Joey out of the mix the following week.
Last edited:
