An age seemed to pass as Torvald and Agril rested to recover from their wounds. After a full day and night in the Mighty Mace, they finally felt well enough to continue with their quest. Their next task was to find the man that the merchant at the black market had told them about: Leodor.
Following the directions they had been given, and getting just a bit lost along the way, they found themselves in a wealthy part of town in front of what could only be described as a palatial estate. On either side of a story-high wrought iron gate stood a pair of carved stone elves, fully equipped with armor and weapons as if at any moment their master would call upon them to defend his home.
Not in the least intimidated, they strode boldly to the front door and lifted the metal knocker up and down on the great oak surface. They heard the knock echo within, and moments later, a halfling greeted them from the other side.
“How may I help you?” he asked, brow raised in curiosity.
Ember replied, “We are seeking your master, Leodor.”
As if these requests were everyday occurrences, the halfling opened the door the rest of the way and gestured for them to enter. “This way,” he said. He led the party to a sitting room and promised to return with his master. “Should you require anything else, I am called Adelhard,” he added, closing the door behind him.
Looking around, they could see that the walls were covered floor to ceiling with bookshelves, and every inch was occupied with books or trinkets. An impressive collection indeed. Naivara broke the silence first: “Torvald, don’t kill anyone.” Everyone rolled their eyes, momentarily distracted from the splendor of the room.
“Then maybe don’t let any more young women get killed while you stand by and ask questions,” Torvald shot back.
Naivara drew a breath to respond, but at that moment the door opened and Leodor entered. All eyes followed him across the room as he nodded towards them and took a seat in a large armchair by the fire. Taking a moment to survey the faces of his guests, he said at last, “What is it that I can help you with?”
Naivara said, “We were referred by an acquaintance of yours in Wheloon. Can you tell us anything about this sphere?
Ember pulled the sphere from her robes and placed it in Leodor’s outstretched hand. He looked at it for several moments and said, “This is an old artifact, used by wizards in ages past as a makeshift tower. One can enter into them and find a multitude of rooms for wizards to study and practice their craft. The usual rules of time do not operate within the walls; time can be sped up or slowed down as the wizard chooses. Not many of these have been found, and I cannot say to whom this sphere may have belonged. These are not always without danger; wizards would take great care to ensure no undesired guests would disturb their chambers. It is also possible for individuals to enter without meaning to, and to become trapped within the walls without the knowledge of how to exit.”
Torvald asked, “Do you know how to get in to this one?”
His eyes never left the sphere while he responded. “No, at this moment I do not. I would require time to study the object,” the Elf replied.
Naivara said, “We can leave the sphere with you so you can figure out how to get in and who it may have belonged to.” The rest of the group murmured their assent. Leodor pulled a tassel hanging from the wall to summon his servant.
Encouraged by the knowledge Leodor seemed to possess, Torvald shifted to another burning question: “What can you tell us of the Circle of Eight?”
Leodor’s eyes widened and Adelhard entered the room. Passing the sphere to his servant, he leaned back in his chair and pressed his fingertips together contemplatively. “This…will be a long and interesting conversation. I suggest you make yourselves comfortable.” As they all found seats, Adelhard left and returned promptly with food and drink for the travelers. The quality of the refreshments matched the finery of the estate, for they could not recall having anything more delicious in their lifetimes.
Leodor packed a pipe with tobacco and struck a match. Carefully puffing, he exhaled in satisfaction as he placed the pipe between his teeth. “Now, where to begin…” he mused. Over the years, he explained, many had tried to claim the mantle of the Circle of Eight, but none had succeeded. If there was a group operating under that name as they claimed, that news certainly must not be good. Torvald recounted their adventures thus far, leaving out no details. Leodor seemed a bit surprised when Torvald told him of the rituals, as groups in the past had never attempted such a thing. “I need to confer with my comrades about this matter, for it is very serious indeed, potentially world-ending” he said, brows creased with deep worry. “In the meantime, I do not think seeking out magical places as you had planned will be the most fruitful. We will determine a better course of action for you.”
Ember then pulled out the dark sword to show to Leodor. Hand wrapped in a cloth, he took it from her to examine. He produced a pearl from his robe and cast a spell, casting silence over the room for several minutes while it took effect. Putting the pearl away he said, “I am surprised you have carried the sword this long and come to no more serious harm. It is one of eight Wizard Swords, one for each school of magic made by the wizard of that school. Yours is the Conjuration sword, which I can see by the marking on its hilt. A single wizard with his sword is very difficult to fight, but a group of wizards with swords such as these would be able to take a stand against something as powerful as a deity.”
“This is very troubling, indeed. To make this sword requires the Book of Vile Darkness, and the fact that the Circle of Eight has access to this book is nothing short of catastrophic. Only a source of good can completely unmake this sword. At least we know that with this sword in our possession, the Circle of Eight has one less with them, although because you are carrying this sword, they are able to track your movements,” he continued. One who possesses a Wizard Sword can tell where the other Wizard Swords are located. It sounds likely that this is how you have been tracked.
“It vexes me that the Princess Alaxador has mixed herself up in this evil quest for power. From what you have said, she is in possession of the Illusion sword. It was I who tutored her in the arcane arts; she always showed an interest in the darker aspect of the arts, but I had hoped it was purely academic and she would have stopped at a theoretical knowledge of these evils.” He paused for a moment and stared into the fire, clearly wounded that the princess betrayed his teachings.
“Nevertheless,” he began again, “you must find a way to put an end to this. I believe your only option that would give you a fighting chance is to destroy the Book of Vile Darkness. There are six copies, each created by Vecna, the Master of Secrets. The book is unlikely to be in Cormanthor, so I would not continue in that direction. This book radiates evil, so nothing can grow around it. It is more likely to be kept in a place where it would be difficult to stumble upon by accident. For example, if it were kept in a forest, it would be easy to find because the forest would die around it. It needs to be kept away from living things to be fully hidden.”
“The book speaks of an entitiy known as Atropus, which is both a place and a being of destruction. It is the size of a planetoid and it is entirely composed of the undead. The surface is rocky and barren, black stone slick with putrid black slime, inhabited by horrific and unspeakable creatures. Some think this place was created when Ao made the first gods, made of the rotting amniotic fluid of the god of death, or perhaps it was Ao’s mistake that arrived dead upon creation. It is very likely that the goal of the Circle of Eight is to summon Atropus and bring its destruction down upon us,” he concluded.
They stood for several moments in solemn silence, taking in all that Leodor had told them. Their quest, challenging before, now loomed before them as a daunting expedition, with a goal no less than saving the world from complete and utter annihilation.
Torvald was the first to speak, “What of the purple sunburst on the hands of the savages who destroyed my village? Are they related to this?” Leodor said that that was the symbol of Cyric, the god of lies, trickery, and strife, who also murdered the goddess Mystra and caused the spell plague. He did not know if they were related to the Circle of Eight or not. He added that he would not be surprised if thier goals aligned and they were working together.
Varzand, however, was someone they should not approach lightly, he said sitting up. “Varzand Ayellin is his full name, and he is a human, albeit a very powerful one, who can raise the dead. If he is involved, then Lorlumid and Faerora are too, and if Faerora is around then Faltorin will also be, as he follows her like a lost puppy. That Roland is also with them, which comes as a surprise; he is skilled in divination and there are very few who can remain truly hidden from him. I only can because of decades of practice. Who the other two are I cannot say, but they will not be pleasant if these six are involved. They are a mixed bunch but together they will be formidable foes to face. Faerora is a half elven female, Faltorin is a half elven male (and completely besotted with Faerora), and Lorlumin is a halfling male,” he explained.
“Where is it that you suggest we journey next?” Torvald asked.
Leodor stroked his chin. “Well, I would not suggest going to Corminthor forest as your group had intended. You will be looking for a decent-sized plot of land with nothing currently living in the vicinity. I might suggest trying the Anaroch desert to the northwest, where it is said that a Netherese floating city fell. It is said that people have found powerful objects here before, and many adventurers have journeyed there. Furthermore, I know that the Princess Alaxador has always been fascinated by the Netherel, so she may feel a certain connection to that place,” he mused.
“I must caution you though, that there are powerful wizards who possess swords like the one you brought here. If you are not careful to accrue more allies and take the time to strengthen yourselves before you engage with them, this quest will claim your lives,” he stared down his nose at the members of the party, eyes locking with each one to convey the gravity of their situation.
Torvald asked, “If these beings are ones of utter darkness, would it not be helpful to find beings of pure light and goodness to help us destroy this sword?”
Leodor nodded. “Yes, finding a being of pure good to help would be a great asset to you. You would need to travel to another plane of existence to find a being like that. It would take a being of pure good to help though, something like an Angel. I could help you to get to another plane, but I would not be able to help you return. Is that clear?”
They nodded, knowing that this was their best option for overcoming the evil of the Circle of Eight.
“Good,” Leodor said taking thier silence as agrement. “Give me some time to prepare what I will need to send you there. I suggest you make your way around the city of Daerlun to find materials that may help you, and return to me in a few days.” They murmured their thanks to the Elf and made their way back into the city, minds steeled to the task before them.
