Newly equipped with magical purchases from Wheloon’s black market and a substantial amount of gold from the mysterious priest Tunaster, a hum of optimism ran through the group the next morning as they discussed their plans to investigate the Temple of Mystra.
“You never know – we could learn enough to be able to finally stop these abductions from happening,” Ember stated cheerfully on the way. Even Torvald, a skeptic who believed optimism only to be fit for fools, agreed, although he did not voice it.
The Temple of Mystra lay just outside of town. Built on the ruins of another ancient temple, the stone structure stood larger than most other buildings within the town walls. For all of its largesse, the design was quite simple; no carvings or other decorations adorned the surface. A single stone statue of a woman stood by the door, her head adorned with a circlet of seven blue and white stars connected by a cloudy mist. She seemed harmless enough, but Agril couldn’t shake the feeling that her eyes seemed to follow them as they passed through to the courtyard.
Several people, a mix of ordinary folk and priests, stood in the courtyard, which was open to the sky above. They walked on a floor of obsidian slabs richly decorated with white stars, and saw that they were encircled by more statues of the goddess, all with arms outstretched towards the heavens. Donation bowls, most with a modest amount of coins, sat at each statue’s feet.
A quick glance around and Naivara’s gaze settled on a priest, whom she determined to be the most likely candidate to assist them in their quest.
“Sir,” she said, gaining his attention with a quick stride in his direction, “we are travelers, come to see your new temple. What can you tell us about its purpose?”
The priest smiled and offered that he was relatively new to this particular temple himself, but its purpose did go beyond worship of the goddess Mystra. It was here that people could find help if they sought it, but it was not necessarily a place of learning or research like one might find at other temples. He also briefly examined the magical sphere that Ember showed to him, but he said there was nothing more he could tell her about it.
“Perhaps another here can assist you – I will go and fetch him from the Middle Temple. His name is Delnyn Fembrys.” With that he withdrew within. After a longer wait than expected of nearly half an hour, Delnyn emerged and greeted them. Ember offered the sphere once more, but he was no more helpful than the first priest.
Naivara continued her questioning: “What do you and your priests do in this temple, exactly?”
“We help people,” he answered simply, a smile crossing his face. “I can show you more, but your group must undergo a spiritual cleansing ritual before I do so. You would have to spend a day and night within the temple walls and fast from food and drink.”
Ember assured the group that cleansing rituals were not unheard of in various religions, so it was not that unusual for the priest to request this of them. This did not sit so easily with Torvald, however.
“Why would you turn away a priest of Mystra?” he demanded gruffly.
Delnyn started a bit at this but quickly regained his composure. He pulled his shoulders back, saying, “Tunaster was not a true believer. Let us leave it at that.”
Torvald huffed but did not reply. The group agreed to partake in the cleansing ritual, and another priest, with direction from Delnyn, led them inside.
Inside the Middle Temple they were led to what looked like a private shrine. The priest bade them farewell, with the promise to fetch them the next morning. The room itself was quite bare, furnished only with pallets for sleeping and a privy. The only light came from candles, as solid stone walls barred sunlight from entering.
Perhaps he did not like the feeling of being enclosed, but Torvald’s stomach clenched when the monk closed their door. “I’ve lived amongst monks before, and these men cause a sense of unease within me…” he thought to himself. As his companions seemed comfortable with the arrangement, he didn’t press the matter. He would come to regret his silence.
The group set shifts for watches, but the night passed uneventfully. The next day, in what they assumed was morning, Delnyn reappeared and said they must next complete a cleansing ritual. Agreed that this was their best chance to find answers, the party agreed. Delnyn opened a door that revealed a downward staircase; although it was lit by torches, they were unable to see where it led. As they descended the large wooden door closed with a soft thud behind them.
At the bottom they found a circular room, and at its center lay a round altar, colored purple. On top sat a small silver cube, unassuming in nature. No markings decorated its surface, giving no clue to the casual observer as to its true purpose.
Delnyn spoke sharply, breaking the group’s wary silence: “Now, it is time to cleanse your souls.” His words echoed within the small room as he lifted the cube and manipulated it in a way that defied its façade of simplicity. Ember was reminded of how her own sphere moved, but she had never been able to achieve such results as this.
A flash of bright green light burst from the cube so bright they had to shield their eyes. They opened them again to find they were now in a different room, still stone, but with eight sides. Two doors lay on opposite sides of the room, and Delnyn led them towards a door which was painted with a black disc on a purple border. “Enter, and a priest on the other side will cleanse you.” Sensing no reason to distrust their guide, the group walked through the door into a long hallway, and they heard an ominous “click” behind them of the lock being put into place.
At first glance the hallway appeared to be made of worked stone, but the walls felt oddly flat. Thinking not much of it, they proceeded through the door at the other end of the hallway and found a circular room. Precisely eight candles, eerily burning with black flame, illuminated four figures spread around the room and one in the center. All chanted in unison in a speech unknown to the newcomers.
Suddenly, the figure in the center broke the chant. He said, “Welcome. Are you here to pledge your souls or sacrifice your bodies for our cause?”
Stunned, the group recoiled. Torvald exclaimed, “Explain yourself!”
“What is there to explain? The question was plain enough,” he replied.
Naivara asked, “What if we say no to your request?”
“‘No’ is not an option,” the figure said, face carefully blank. Enraged, Torvald began to charge, but Naivara held him back.
She pressed, “What happens if we pledge our souls?” Torvald couldn’t believe this was happening - why didn’t she understand they were in danger?
The dark figure smiled. “If you choose to fulfill either request, you will help our mistress, the Mistress of the Night, fulfill her destiny.”
Torvald spat back, “If you let us out you will keep your lives.” Naivara blocked his way again as he said, “We are not fulfilling either request! Isn’t this a temple of Mystra? Does she go by Mistress of the Night now?”
The figure shook his head. “Oh, she would be very upset by that - you are far from Mystra’s temple now.” His arm circled in the air and Torvald felt the restraining effects of his spell almost immediately. After a momentary lapse he gathered his strength and broke free, charging at the infuriating figure at the center of the room.
Naivara thrust her rapier forward, which the figure nimbly dodged. The cultist took advantage of her distraction and wounded her with his scimitar. Spurred to action, Agril cast a spell and unleashed an arrow that sprouted thorns in flight, striking the cultist to their right. Undeterred, he slashed back with his scimitar but Agril nimbly avoided the attempt.
Torvald followed Agril’s lead, focusing his attention on the figure to their right. He cried, “By the power of ice!” as he raised his mighty great sword and struck the cultist’s head from his body in one blow.
Ember removed a star from her robe and shot it in the direction of the leader. Five glowing darts emitted from the star and struck him in his chest, burning holes straight through. Dumbfounded, he fell to his knees then forward onto the floor; he would not rise again. The room suddenly lightened as the candle flames turned from black to a yellow-orange glow.
Another cultist took a wild swing at Torvald, which he parried cleanly. Naivara was not so lucky as she attempted to attack with her rapier and missed, and she took another blow as she moved back towards the door. The remaining cultists moved together.
Defending furiously, Torvald’s arm was slashed but he continued to fight. At his side, Agril cut open another’s middle but in the process he left himself vulnerable; he buckled as the cultist drove his scimitar into his side. Before he could strike again Torvald ran the cultist through with his sword, twice for good measure, burying his blade up to the hilt in his body.
Two cultists remained. Ember, almost felled by one man’s final desperate attempt to overcome his attackers, responded by launching a star from her robe in his direction. He gave a startled cry as it burst through his body, sending him crumpling to the ground. Naivara promptly took action against the remaining assailant, putting an arrow neatly through his throat. Clutching at his neck he gasped briefly for air, then fell silent and joined his fellow companions in death.
Naivara and Ember didn’t waste any time; immediately they searched the bodies for anything useful that might help them understand what had just occurred. Other than a maul which Naivara kept for herself, they found nothing to reveal who these men were or from where they came. Torvald, still breathing heavily and with blood spatter dripping down his face, bent over the leader and sliced off an ear to keep for a trophy.
Ember, in a far more practical sense, began looking around the room for any hidden writing or secret doors. She felt a loose brick in the wall which she could sense was magical. After hesitating for a moment, she pushed it. Her whole body split into millions of tiny pieces and she disappeared. What choice did her companions have? They must do the same to discover what had happened to Ember. In an instant they were gone.
They all were transported to an unfamiliar small room and found Ember poking around some empty bookshelves on the walls, evidently unharmed. The room was square, holding a few empty bookshelves and a desk with a wooden door on one side. A whole wall was almost entirely covered with a stained glass composition, reminiscent of the world they knew as their own, but marked with ancient cities that had long since passed out of memory. Ember could sense that the map bore magical properties for it emitted a certain kind of glow, and it was much older than any of them could ever guess.
Finding it difficult to determine the purpose of this map, they decided to see what lay on the other side of the door. Again they came to a long hallway, on the other side of which was a door that led to the octagonal room they had entered after the flash of green light. Finding nothing of note, and no other way out, they headed back to try their luck again with the enchanted map.
Frustrated, Torvald knocked over the empty bookcases, but only a bare stone wall stood behind them. He poked at the map and nothing happened. Ember held her magical sphere next to the map, but again, there was no change. Finally, in an uncharacteristically observant moment, Torvald noticed a small island in a vast sea on the map which had a single fingerprint, where the rest of the surface remained smooth. With no other alternative to devising an escape, the group decided to press the island on the map.
One by one their bodies disappeared into the air, and one by one with hours in between, they came to reappear in the room with the purple table and small silver cube. Shaking off the sense of entrapment that had followed them ever since encountering the cultists, they took a short rest to recover their strength.
After a little while, Ember pulled out her magical sphere, but as before, it didn’t change. Torvald grabbed the silver cube and placed it in his pack; perhaps these two objects were related, and they would soon find someone who could tell them how and why. For now, they headed back up the staircase but of course, the door was now locked. Torvald unsuccessfully attempted to kick it down, but Naivara brushed him aside as she pulled out her set of lock picks. It took several minutes but the lock yielded with a satisfying “click.” Smiling, she held her arm out to Torvald. “After you,” she said. Grunting, Torvald strode past her and led the group through the door.
They were back in the Middle Temple. Finally freed and rage seething anew, Torvald charged at the nearest priest as he drew his sword. “WHERE IS DELNYN??,” he screamed. Convulsing with fear and nearly falling to the floor, the priest cried out and quickly pointed a finger in the direction of Delnyn’s office. Wildly sweeping his sword, Torvald marched across the hall and burst through the door, his companions close on his heels.
“Eep!” was the only sound Delnyn had time to emit before Torvald shoved his way behind the desk. He grasped Delnyn’s hair to pull his head back and pointed his sword at the hollow in his throat. “Explain,” he said through clenched teeth.
Delnyn blinked as if to gather his thoughts, then held up a surprisingly steady hand and said, “Stop.”
Torvald’s mind felt fuzzy for a moment, but a shake of his head cleared any effect of the spell Delnyn was trying to cast. “I need you to explain,” he stated again with the same intensity, stressing each word. “In five…four…three…two…one…”
“It was all Nadania’s idea!!” Delnyn exclaimed at once. “I was just doing what she wanted. She may be in her office here at the temple now, but I’m not sure.”
Sensing that he was telling the truth, Torvald pressed, “Who is the mistress of this temple? It certainly isn’t Mystra!”
“Shar,” Delnyn sighed, his shoulders drooping in defeat. They all knew of Shar, and recoiled at the sound of her name. She was an evil goddess of death and trickery, mistress of the shadow weave, forever trying to kill the goddess Mystra and take over her domain of light and goodness.
“Are the other priests in this temple servants of Shar or of Mystra?” Torvald asked.
“They are here to serve Mystra, as far as they know,” Delnyn replied. “How did you get out?”
“We will ask the questions here,” Torvald snarled. “Where were we?”
Delnyn hesitated for a moment, then took another look at Torvald’s face, which convinced him it was in his best interest to answer. “You were in…an extra-dimensional pocket of sorts. While not technically inside the cube, it helps most to think of it that way. Some of these objects, from ages long ago, are keys that can transport us to other dimensions. The sphere your elf possesses is similar to these.”
Naivara asked, “Can you tell us anything about the Circle of Eight?”
“Truthfully, I cannot. I do not know what that is.”
Torvald circled back, “Is Naidania here?”
“She may be, as I said before. But I cannot be certain,” Delnyn answered.
This seemed to be the last straw for Torvald. Before Naivara or Ember knew what was happening, Torvald slashed his sword across Delnyn’s throat with a frenzied howl. Eyes wide, his life spurted away onto his desk and his body slumped forward. As with the cult leader, Torvald cut off Delnyn’s ear as a prize.
Torvald’s companions were completely in shock by how quickly the situation turned. “Why would you do a thing like that?” Naivara hissed. “How can we leave unnoticed now, with a body in our wake?”
“He deserved death,” Torvald said flatly.
Naivara drew breath to respond, but decided against it. After all, there was nothing to be done about it now. The group left Delnyn’s office quietly and the priests didn’t seem to pay them any mind, save the one whom Torvald threatened with his sword, who shied away noticeably.
They tried the door to Naidania’s office but it was locked. Torvald drew his sword again to try and break through, but the elves held him back and convinced him to sheath it. “Besides, I have keys!” Ember said brightly, holding up a ring that she had removed from Delnyn’s office. It only took a moment to find the one that fit, but there was nothing that greeted them on the other side. Only some simple furniture and a fireplace adorned the room, A search revealed no hidden compartments or useful information.
With no other leads to follow, they decided to make a hasty retreat from the temple. So that they were not unfairly accused of attacking Delnyn unprovoked, they spoke to a pair of priests and explained briefly what had happened to them at Delnyn’s bidding.
“So you see, Delnyn tried to have us killed as a sacrifice to the goddess of death,” Naivara finished. The priests looked appalled, but also skeptical - after all, were they not all there to serve Mystra?
“We can’t offer proof, but we need you to trust us,” Ember said.
“How do we know we can trust you?” a priest replied.
Agril reached into his coin purse, saying, “We are sorry for causing you this trouble. Please, let us make it up to you.” In total they offered the priests 100 pieces of gold as a donation to the temple. The priests wavered, but in the end it was enough to convince them to allow the group to leave without further incident.
Exhausted, they made their way back to the inn. Upon entering, Asanta, one of the sisters that kept the inn, did a double-take and strode straight over.
“Where exactly have you all been?” she demanded.
“What do you mean?” Torvald said.
“You’ve been gone for two months! Did you not notice the passage of time, hmm?”
Astounded, they had no answer for her; they could hardly explain that they had been trapped inside an ancient mystical cube dealing with forces of darkness. They settled up an enormous bill, but thankfully their horses had been well cared for in their absence.
Needing to spend one final night at the inn, they went to sit down for a meal and found Tunaster already at a table. “I have been waiting for you!” he exclaimed. “Was your journey into the temple successful?”
Not in the mood for cordiality with the man who sent them unwittingly into a temple to deal with forces of evil, Naivara snapped back, “Can you tell us why we were gone for two months?”
Quickly masking his face to hide his hurt, Tunaster said that he could offer no explanation.
Torvald added brusquely, “The temple apparently is dedicated to the evil goddess Shar, we were sent to another dimension to be dispatched by her priests, and Delnyn was evil and so is Naidania.”
Clearly shaken by this news, Tunaster’s stoic face fell. “Can you offer proof?” he said. Torvald showed him the cube. “How does it work?” he asked, perplexed. They explained it could be manipulated to take people into another dimension.
Needing time to process what he had learned, Tunaster took a long drink from his mug. Setting it down he said, “I am glad I know the truth. We can deal with those traitors Delnyn and Naidania now. Have you confronted Delnyn about any of this?”
“Delnyn won’t be a problem,” Torvald answered. “He tried to kill us so I killed him. We left him in his office and we…settled things with the priests.”
Brow furrowing, Tunaster said, “I see. Well, I cannot say that I am entirely surprised. May I ask, would you be willing to part with this cube so that I can show it to my brethren? To further aid our investigation of the evil doings in this temple?”
The group discussed the matter and decided Tunaster could be trusted. Torvald handed over the cube, but before he let go, he said, “What about the rest of our money, priest?”
“Ah, of course. You have certainly earned it,” Tunaster said. He gave them 25 rolls of coins bound in leather, as well as a star sapphire. “To be used in dire need, when all other escape is hopeless,” he concluded. Naivara pocketed the gem, sensing it wouldn’t be long before they would have need of it.
They bade farewell to the priest one last time and ate their meal in silence. With weary feet they trudged to their rooms and passed a night of deep, undisturbed sleep.
