#11 - A Friend Lost, and a Wish Granted

As they made their way into the forest, the wind whispered through the branches of the trees, making an ethereal sound that seemed to echo all of the beings they had witnessed through the centuries. The High Forest had once been home to the Sun Elves but they had long since moved on to their eternal home across the sea. Now a group of wood elves inhabited the forest, trying to reclaim it and rid it of all the evil creatures that had taken hold. Outsiders generally were not met with open arms, Taman explained, so it was best to be wary of any potential encounters. It was a five-day journey through the forest and they must be on their guard. Naivara asked if she, as a wood elf, had a chance of being treated with less hostility than the others. Taman said perhaps, but only just, and it was best not to rely on that for protection in the forest.

“It seems that you know quite a bit about these woods, Taman. Have you made this journey before?” Naivara asked.

“No, this is my first time as well,” he replied, brushing a low-hanging branch out of his way as they walked. “I am on this journey to make my oath to Bahamut. It is a test of mettle to get there, and only the truly devout can accomplish this task. The exact location of the temple is unknown, and one must prove his worth before it will reveal itself. Many have sought it and died in the attempt; Bahamut must judge you well to consider you worthy,” he added. “I have been traveling for quite some time. Home is the town of Luskan on the Sword Coast, known for the pirates that frequent the town.”

Pressing on, he said, “These woods are full of danger. Orcs and gnolls roam freely and attack without warning.” Seeing the puzzled looks on their faces, he explained that a gnoll was a humanoid creature with the head of a hyena, merciless, with a taste for flesh of their victims. They nodded, understanding, and carried on. The first day passed uneventfully and they assigned watches as they made camp. The night passed much the same and they woke with relief that no creatures had found them in the night. An eerie silence followed them in the forest as they continued. Occasionally they would see a rabbit or squirrel pass through the brush, but nothing lingered in the open. Soon they would know why.

Naivara was the first to sense it. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and, a split second later, she heard shrill cries and large forms whooshing through the branches on their left flank. She barely had time to think “Gnolls!” before dodging an early blow. They were surrounded. As the creatures snarled and brandished their weapons, Taman bravely stepped forward and swung his sword hard, but to no avail. The gnoll nimbly dodged and made room for two others to attack Torvald, who stood ready with his icy greatsword. He parried their spear thrusts but one managed to strike, landing a glancing blow on his arm. Eyes alight with fury, Torvald swung his sword back around and cut deep into the shoulder of the one that hit with its spear. The creature roared in pain as ice crystals formed in the wound, but it still stood.

Good pupper?

From behind Torvald, Ember cast Firebolt in hopes that it would finish the gnoll off, but alas it did not. It pulled out a bow and fired an arrow which grazed past her leg. Taman remained locked in battle with another, crying out with effort as he struggled to finish it off. Naivara aimed her bow at the one that Torvald struck; her arrow found its mark in the gnoll’s belly and it crumpled to the ground. She dashed back into the bushes for cover so they could not return the favor.

They could see now that a party of six gnolls had attacked them. One fired his longbow at Taman but his armor was too strong for it to penetrate. Taman struck a crushing blow to one creature and it slumped forward, but amazingly it still held its spear, ready to tilt until the bitter end. Torvald was surrounded at this point and could not hope to escape unscathed; as he fought two others, a third gnoll jabbed its spear into his side beneath his arm. Torvald gave a shuddering cry and clutched his side, flailing his sword wildly, desperately trying to retaliate. The gnolls tried the same with Taman, striking between his plates of armor, but Taman was ready and managed to twist his body away before the spear could go as deep.

Naivara emerged from the brush and this time nocked a poison arrow into her bow. She aimed at the beast that had struck Torvald and let the arrow fly. It hit the gnoll’s upper leg and she could see the black poison pulse through its veins, but it appeared that it would take more than a poison arrow to bring it down for good. Cursing the gnolls, she hid again to make ready for her next attack. Taman raised his sword above his head with both arms and cleaved clean through the neck of one of the creatures; blood spurted as it fell frozen to the ground. Torvald took another blow and the party could tell he was growing weaker by the minute. But he surprised them all, summoning his strength to cast Burning Hands. A gout of flames burst forth from his fingers and the gnoll before him was engulfed in flames; it gave a piercing shriek and writhed on the ground, then lay still.

Ember cast Magic Missile and three glowing darts struck one of the beasts, which only seemed to anger it further. It rushed at Torvald and thrust its spear straight into his midsection before Torvald had a chance to block. They watched in horror as Torvald’s eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed, still as death on the ground before them. Naivara’s fingers felt numb with shock as she fumbled to shoot another arrow from her bow; it missed and the gnoll smiled wickedly, ready to sink its teeth into Torvald’s flesh. Seeing this, Taman emitted a guttural yell and thrust his sword into the gnoll before him, but it was not enough to bring it down. Ember cast Witch Bolt and a blue streak of light crackled toward one of the remaining gnolls, but it moved at the last moment and avoided being hit. It managed to fire an arrow back at her and she recoiled as it struck her shoulder. Naivara steadied herself and shot an arrow at the gnoll standing over Torvald. So distracted by bloodlust, it had no time to dodge and the arrow lodged itself in the beast’s neck. The claw-like hands went to its throat, and it gurgled and then lay still.

Two gnolls remained. One was hurt and knew it stood little chance, which made it all the more savage. It threw its head back and laughed, then rushed at Taman with its spear. Taman was ready. He cut down the spear then turned and brought the sword down where the gnoll’s shoulder met its neck. It cried out in pain and its blood shone black in the light from the sword; it twitched a moment on the ground and breathed its last. Knowing that she must end the fight to get to Torvald, Ember deftly took a star from her robe and threw it at the final gnoll. Her aim was true - the star struck the gnoll between the eyes and it fell, landing with a soft thud on the forest floor.

Panting with effort but not wasting a moment, Taman whispered, “No,” and ran to where Torvald had fallen, dropping his sword and shield on the ground. Ember and Naivara followed and anxiously waited while Taman checked to see if Torvald lived. As he knelt he could see the blood that soaked the ground, and he knew that there was nothing to be done. Taman bent his head over Torvald’s face and heard his shallow breaths. Torvald’s lips moved in an effort to speak, but none could tell what he meant to say. Taman laid his hand on Torvald’s chest, head bent and eyes closed. They saw his hand rise and fall, slowly, with longer times passing between each breath. Finally, with a small shudder, the hand ceased to rise.

Torvald was dead. Ember laid her head down and wept on Torvald’s chest and Naivara knelt beside her. How could their friend, their companion, be truly gone?

After several moments, Navaira said that they would need to bury his body before more gnolls tracked his scent and found them here. They nodded and began to look through Torvald’s possessions so they could make use of what he no longer could. Ember took his book of poisons and Navaira shed tears as she realized that Torvald had carried a healing potion. What a waste of his life that he had not thought to take it when he was wounded. They kept his sword as well, unsure of who would be able to wield it as Torvald had. Taman shook his head and turned down the elves’ offer of Torvald’s gold, picking up a discarded gnoll’s shield to dig the grave instead.

It was midday by the time the grave was dug, and Torvald’s body lay next to it with gold pieces covering his eyes. They stood in silence for a time, delaying their final goodbyes. Taman said, “Torvald died protecting his friends. There is no greater sacrifice than this. We must remember him as he was, and fulfill our quest to honor his sacrifice.” The elves agreed and Taman bent down to place Torvald’s body in the grave.

“Wait!” Ember cried suddenly, and Taman stopped. “We have the gem! The one from Tunaster” she exclaimed.

Naivara gasped, “Of course! Use it, Ember. Bring back our friend.”

Ember took a deep breath before easily crushing the gem in her hand. It was easier than she expected she thought aa the dust settled in her palm. She opened her eyes and realized that everything was frozen, everything except her. Naivara and Taman stood unmoving. She looked around and saw a woman with long dark hair and robes of midnight blue in front of her. Ember knew somehow that this was the goddess Mystra.

The Goddess of Magic

The goddess spoke, “What can I do to help you?” Her voice seemed to float in the wind, a musical lilt containing the echoes of a thousand voices from ages past.

“Can you bring back our companion Torvald?” Ember asked.

Mystra paused to consider. “Torvald’s soul has moved on, claimed by another. Another, however, may take the vessel.” The Goddess closed her eyes for a moment in seeming concentration. After a brief moment she moved her arm gracefully in an arc above her head. “May it be so.”

Then, as suddenly as she had appeared, she was gone. Naivara and Taman looked from Ember’s hand and the crushed gem to her face. “Well?” Naivara said.

Out of nowhere, Torvald’s body gasped and he sat straight up, the gold pieces from his eyes falling to the forest floor. Ember saw a beam of green light come from thin air and enter into his chest. It sprout as an ethereal plant was growing, then faded and Torvald turned to stare at them.

Taman said, “What is this? Wh... what just happened?” and backed away.

Ember replied, “Don’t worry. Our companion has returned to us, but he will not be the same as he was before.” Torvald grunted as he rose, brushing the dirt and leaves from his body. The party gathered their belongings and silently continued on their way. The sun faded and they made camp for the night. The man that was once Torvald lay down to sleep, and the rest of them wondered what kind of man would greet them come morning.

#10 - A Change of Plans

Taking in all that Leodor had said to them, the party proceeded to explore the town of Daerlun to acquire supplies for their quest. Finding that the weapons they possessed were more than adequate, they made sure to stock up on other provisions they would need in the days ahead. It was back at the Mighty Mace that Agril took them by surprise.

“Friends, I must share my thoughts with you,” he began. Their heads turned in his direction - Agril was normally a stoic and quiet man and their curiosity was piqued. “I…have been having some reservations about this quest. Alternate planes of reality, angels, evil swords…it’s all too much. I fear that I may be in over my head.”

Torvald replied, “Wait, what are your aims now? We could use your help with this quest. What about your friends that were murdered by the orc bandits?”

“It is true that I had been accustomed to the adventuring life before I fell in with your group. But we simply traveled the land, taking one fight at a time, with no cares or worries about saving the world as we know it. I am thinking of parting ways with your company,” he admitted. “You are all my friends but I do not feel that I am up to undertaking this quest.”

Torvald considered, then said, “We can’t rightly ask you to come if this is not what you want. We have valued every minute of your company but we will not be offended if you choose to leave. Why don’t you sleep on it and let us know when you decide?”

Agril nodded, relief washing over his face as he saw that his friends would not take offense at his departure if he chose not to remain with them. He waved off Naivara’s offer of gold, as it was never about the money for him.

The next morning, Agril was not among them as they sat down to breakfast. They all exchanged sad looks, wondering if Agril had left before dawn. Then suddenly, Agril entered through the inn’s front door, shoulders squared. “I feel that my part in your quest is not quite over. I will stay with you a while longer,” he said. They all thanked him, and Torvald gave him a hearty pat on the back.

Their hearts were light as they made their way back to Leodor’s home. The summer sun brightened their path, and all appeared to be peaceful and quiet. Adelhard led them to the same room where Leodor was waiting for them. He greeted them briefly then began to explain where they would be going: a plane called Mount Celestia. As he described the plane Adelhard bobbed in and out serving food and drinks as he had before. Then, without warning, the room around them exploded in fire, and shattered objects flew at them from every direction. Ember recognized it at once - it was a Fireball spell!

Naivara groaned as she lifted her head from the rubble on the floor. Glancing around, she saw that Adelhard was dead, pierced through the heart by a long wooden splinter. Agril appeared to be unconscious, but Torvald, Ember, and Leodor stirred, meeting her eyes in shock. Leodor shook his head as if to clear it and said, “Things must be much more serious than I imagined. Come, quickly! Follow me further into the house.” Torvald scooped up Agril’s body in his arms and they did as he bade. Leodor, made a few quick motions with his arms, and muttered under his breath, and the group arose.

They rushed past the windows in the hall, seeing that the stone elf statues at the gate had come to life and were now locked in combat with would-be intruders. Leodor ushered them through a heavy door down a stone staircase, where he immediately began casting a spell. A glowing circle opened in the floor in front of them: a teleportation circle.

The teleportation circle comes to life

The house shook around them and Leodor urged, “Go! The people on the other side will explain everything. I will take care of Agril here.” With little other choice, Naivara, Torvald, and Ember walked into the glowing circle, and all noise suddenly ceased. They were enveloped by complete blackness, unable to move or speak. Finally, after an unknown amount of time had passed, they landed on their feet in a sandstone room lit by torches.

Two figures stood before them. One was a man with fair skin, black hair, and ice blue eyes with a piercing gaze. The other was a half-elf woman with yellow-bronze skin, black hair, and soft brown eyes. Immediately the man raised his arms and cast a spell around the newcomers. The half-elf explained they were now in a Zone of Truth, unable to lie, and asked who they were and from where they had come. The party gave her their names and explained they had come from Leodor’s house in the Prime Material plane. The man, confused, asked where Leodor was. Torvald said that Leodor remained behind to deal with the intruders and the attack upon his home. They couldn’t say who it was that launched the offensive, but it killed the halfling Adelhard and gravely wounded their companion Agril, who had to remain behind.

Satisfied with their answers, the man and half-elf glanced at each other and nodded. They introduced themselves as Ander and Mei, respectively. “Follow us,” they instructed. They led the group into a large circular chamber occupied by five others. A translucent stone in the ceiling above them let in a soft glow of natural light, giving a dreamlike appearance to the faces that stared back at them. A stained glass mosaic depicting their planet Faerun adorned the wall, an intricate display of artistry that hinted at the wisdom and knowledge of this group. Ander gestured for them to sit at the table in the center of the room. One of them leaned forward and interlocked his fingers, resting his elbows on the table. “Now, will you tell us what brought you here?” Ember, Torvald, and Naivara exchanged glances, tacitly agreeing that nothing should be left out, and described the events of their quest thus far.

As the story progressed, it was apparent that their listeners grew increasingly concerned by the minute. Brows furrowed and arms crossed, one woman closed her eyes and began muttering to herself, which only Naivara noticed; no one else paid her any mind. Another man said, “These are troubling times. An attack on Leodor is brazen and foretells of a greater evil to come.”

“Perhaps the gods have sent them,” a third ventured. Then, turning to face the newcomers, he said, “We are the true Circle of Eight. We were forced underground when the Netherel fell. When Netheril feel, it was presumed the Circle fell with it, however that was not the case. The circle felt that going underground would be a wise choice. You sit at the same table that Tenser, Melf, Leomund, Mordenkainen, and even Karsus once sat. This other group wishes to take the name but they lack the resources. Leodor is our eighth member.”

A woman said, “This new group needs to be dealt with. However, we ourselves cannot intervene directly, for we would certainly be found out. The task, it seem, is up to you.”

They nodded grimly. Torvald asked, “Can we stay here to recollect ourselves?”

“Unfortunately you cannot. This is a sacred place with few exceptions made for outside visitors.”

Ember said, “What about Leodor? Should we go back and help him?”

“No, we’ve already sent assistance. He will be alright, I assure you. Besides, I’m sure he has already destroyed the teleportation circle that brought you here to prevent anyone from following you.”

Ander said, “We know you had discussed going to Mount Celestia to find the Book of Vile Darkness, but we believe that destroying your sword is now the best course of action for you. Finding that book is another matter entirely and much more difficult to accomplish. The outer planes are not to be trifled with and it may end in disaster if you attempt to leave ours and return. There is too much hanging in the balance for a risk as large as that. You shall seek out Bahamut, the god of justice and the dragon god. He will surely be able to assist you.”

“The Temple of Bahamut lies in the Greypeak Mountains. However, you must be tested before you can enter the temple, and you will need a guide to help you there. There is someone we know who was already planning a pilgrimage to the temple on his own, but now he will guide you. You will find him in the town of Secumber, and there your true quest will begin,” he concluded. Ember, Torvald, and Naivara were not the sort to back down from a challenge and voiced their determination to see their quest through to the end. The imposter Circle of Eight must be stopped.

The female elven wizard Elora pointed to Secumber on the stained glass map on the wall. As if pulled by an invisible force, the party all placed hands on her as she touched the map with her fingertip. They felt the lurch of teleportation as they left the secret lair. They landed in an ordinary-looking room in what appeared to be an inn. Elora, brushing the dust from her skirts, walked out into the taproom and greeted the innkeeper, who directed her to another room off to the side. The door was open, and inside they could see a man with shoulder-length blonde hair and gray eyes. His features aligned in such a way that made him quite pleasant to look at, and there was a certain gravitas that drew them to him as well.

He looked slightly startled as the whole group followed Elora in and said, “Elora, I did not expect to see you here.”

“Yes, I had not planned this either, but my need is urgent. This group needs to get to the Temple of Bahamut as soon as possible. Can you take them with you?”

He paused for a moment, choosing his next words carefully. “Yes,” he said, “but I cannot guarantee their safety, or that the Temple will admit them.”

“That is sufficient. They can take care of themselves and know the risks,” Elora replied. Turning to the party she said, “This is Taman. He will be your guide.” Turning to leave, she handed Naivara an object wrapped in cloth, and said “This will help avoid unpleasantness the next time that we meet.” Naivara wasn’t sure what she meant by this, but accepted the proffered object nonetheless, making a note to examine it later.

Taman took a seat at a table in the corner of the room and asked for their names. Naivara and Ember offered simple introductions, but Torvald embellished, saying he had formerly belonged to a militia, and was known as Torvald the Terrible. Taking a bite of bread and a sip of wine, Taman said, “Very well. As for me, I have traveled much, spending time in the High Forest, Highmoor and have traversed the length of the Sword Coast. Our destination will be the Greypeak Mountains, and we will have to go through the High Forest to get there. There are no roads that will take us to where we are going, so we will need to travel overland on foot. The forest is the safer than the mountains, which isn’t saying much, as both places have many creatures that will test our resolve,” he said completely unconcerned, draining his cup. “We leave tomorrow at first light. It is best to recover your strength tonight while you can.” Although none of them would admit it, the group did harbor some trepidation after hearing Taman’s description of the way ahead. They left the taproom and found their own accommodations for the night.

The next morning, the party spoke and hoped that someone would take care of their horses back in Daerlun. None, liked the idea of leaving them behind, but they trusted Agril to remember the horses. As they finished their breakfast, Taman appeared dressed in full plate mail with a shield and a sword; there was no mistaking him for anything but a fighter. “Time to leave,” he said simply, and they all left the inn.

Taman, their guide

They headed northeast and followed the Unicorn Run River for some time, passing an uneventful few days, after which they still knew very little about their guide. He was the quiet sort who reserved his speech unless he deemed it necessary. He kept them moving at a quick pace, and the group followed him without complaint. They reached a bend in the river and forded it, careful to avoid falling into the strong current at their feet. The High Forest loomed ahead of them - they could feel the age and power of the trees seeping into their bones; somehow, it seemed to call to them. It harkened back to ancient times when the land was completely covered in trees as far as the eye could see. Far in the distance stood the snow-capped Greypeak Mountains, clouds enveloping the highest of the peaks.

The Greypeak Mountains sit a distance away behind the High Forest

Taman turned to the group and said, “Be aware that in this forest are more than ordinary creatures; Fey and Silvan beings roam free. Rarely do humans travel here, for the threat posed by these beings is too great a risk. And while it is unlikely, there is a chance we will encounter elves here too, and they will not necessarily welcome visitors in their realm. Are we all resolved?” he asked. Nodding solemnly, the group acknowledged the dangers they were about to face. Forming a single-file line behind Tomman, they stepped out of the meadow and into the waiting woods.