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 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.
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.
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.
