Shadow's Test of High Sorcery - Part One

05 Hiddumont 348 AC (05 Elient 1342 DR)

Menathradon of House Magus arrives to take Shadow, Romulus, and Ra'ziir to their respective Tests of High Sorcery.

Menathradon nods to Ra’ziir and motions for him to join Romulus and Shadow. He asks the group to join hands in a ring. A moment later, each individual member of the group finds themselves alone at the edge of a forest. The autumn air is damp and smells of rain. No leaves remain on the skeletal branches of the dead trees as they reach for the sky. A low fog curls around the adventurers' feet and boughs. The smell of decay is thick in the air, leaving a greasy feel inside of your noses and a foul taste in your mouths.

Despite over a decade spent on the road, facing dangers of every sort, a chill runs down your spine and goosebumps rise along your arms. In the far distance, a pair of black towers, illuminated from within by a sickly blue light stands, looming over the treetops. A narrow, rutted road leads into the dark forest.

Moving forward, the formerly dead forest transforms, becoming full of life with vibrant green leaves, ferns, grasses, and colorful blooms. It is nigh impossible to tell if an illusion of decay has been lifted or an illusion of health has taken hold. Small birds flit to and fro, ground squirrels and rabbits scurry through the underbrush, and deer can be seen moving through the boughs at the edges of your vision.

A gentle breeze carries the fragrant aromas of the flowers to you, driving out the rotted scent and leaving you feeling refreshed. A low rumble can be heard behind as the trees move to block the path back out of the woods, leaving only the trail ahead.

Shadow continues forward, sure that he is being watched. Spewer silently agrees with his master, both ever alert for potential ambushes. The breeze gently stirs the tree branches above, causing their leaves to rustle, a sound that is soon joined by groans and whispers. It is then that the drow notices a ghostly hand in the shadows just off of the path. Skeletal fingers curl, beckoning the dark elf to follow.

Shadow isn't foolish enough to do so and ignores the skeletal fingers, continuing past them. A short time later, he begins to hear the singing of what at first sounds like children.

🎶🎵 "Four hopeful mages enter the woods, three get scared by the ghosts, two enter the foreboding tower, and one dies with only vain hopes!" 🎵🎶

A moment later, the source of the song comes into view. Tiny faeries, each no more than a few inches tall, leap and dance, their feet digging into a defacing a strange symbol carved into the ground. They all giggle and cackle, until they notice him, all five heads turning to face him simultaneously.

"Ahhh! Here comes a hopeful mage now!" one of the faeries laughs.

"How long do you think he will last?" another asks.

A third chimes in, "Poor thing, going to his death and doesn't even know it."

"If he was smart, he would turn around and go back!" adds a fourth.

The last one stops laughing, his face serious, "No. He could survive, if he eats THIS!" The faerie steps aside, revealing a small white plate with a golden edge. A small piece of fluffy white bread, fresh and sweet-smelling, sits in the center.

Now that the tiny fey have stopped dancing, Shadow notices that the symbol they were stomping on flickers with eldritch light and he can feel powerful energy radiating from it.

Ignoring the faeries and their bread, Shadow looks more closely at the symbol. He has never seen it before and doesn't not recognize its meaning. However, he can see the marks that the faeries left with their dance are weakening whatever power the symbol contains. Spewer's head perks up and through the mental link Shadow shares with him, he can hear "Please, adventurer, stop these terrible creatures from destroying me. I promise to reward you richly."

"I am the power behind symbol, projecting my power into this world with markings like this, waiting to make my triumphant return." The voice is sultry, its tone invoking images of hedonistic pleasure. "My servants are already hard at work, preparing the way. Help me and you shall be rewarded with power and prestige in the days to come. The cruel dance of the fey is a curse, meant to harm me and sap my strength!"

The little faeries begin chattering excitedly, overlapping voices shout, "He's TALKING to it! Don't listen, foolish want-to-be wizard! Get away!" The faeries rush in swarming over the symbol, their tiny feet stamping and stomping, further defacing the lines.

The symbol's voice becomes garbled under the assault but it is obvious that it is still trying to speak.

"She is the Temptress!" cries one of the faeries.

"The Dark Warrior!" shouts another.

A third calls out, "The Avaricious One!"

The fourth fairy speaks more calmly than the rest, "It is a sigil of the Chromatic Mother."

Shadow replies, “She sounds dangerous.  Come little Fey dance once more and fear not my intentions are good.”

The fey dance continues to dim the sigil until its blood red light fades. "Hope you were paying attention to the steps - we won't be helping you again!"

The drow points to the towers, “Tell me about the towers instead. That is my destination.”

"That is want-to-be-wizards go to die," one of faeries giggles.

A chorus of agreements join the initial response followed by "Have fun!" "Watch your step!" and "Don't get killed!" before the tiny creatures fade from view.

Polished silver and gold arches loom over the trail. The gate's metal is twisted in ornate patterns that reflect and glint in the light. The courtyard is filled with dust and overgrown weeds pushing through gaps in the cobblestones. There is no one in sight but as Shadow reaches out to push the gate, it swings open on its own, allowing entrance. The curtain wall surrounding the towers forms a triangle decorated with depictions of the moons in different phases.

The towers themselves are crafted from black stone and etched with glowing stained glass and arcane runes. Despite his near-silent walk, Shadow's footsteps echo in the empty courtyard, leaving footprints in the dust. Spewer suddenly tenses, warning his master of possible danger and the dark elf spins, hand dropping to the hilt of his rapier. He does not relax when he sees that a young half-elven woman is standing before him. She looks around nervously, wringing her hands and shifting uneasily from one foot to the other. She is wearing a threadbare, brown robe belted with a piece of rope festooned with pouches.

"H-h-hello, I'm sorry if I startled you. I was just... well, I mean, I have been waiting for...I, are you... are you also here for the Test of High Sorcery?" She slaps her forehead with the open palm of her right hand. "Oh, duh, Kyrian!  Of course he's here for the Test. You wouldn't have made it through the woods otherwise. I am. Or at least I think I am but I have been waiting a really long time and was starting to think that I was the only one here. Or that maybe they had forgotten about me."

Kyrian extends her right hand and introduces herself. "It's nice to have someone else here. It's been scary waiting here alone. I mean, I've been scared about the whole 'taking the Test even though it might kill me' thing ever since I found out that DYING was an actual possible outcome! Sorry, I get nervous and tend to ramble. I'm just anxious to find what we're gonna find waiting for us when we get inside."

“Well met, Kyrian.  My name is Shadow.  I am here for the Test. How long have you been waiting?”  Shadow surreptitiously passes his fingers through the motions of a spell to reveal magical auras and concentrates on the girl. He finds neither active spells nor any kind of magical items.

Kyrian is quiet for a few moments, "Well, I'm not sure what time it is but I arrived sometime this morning. Have you ever had to do anything like this before?"

Shadow's mind drifts back to Sorcere, the often-deadly wizard school he attended with equally dangerous and ambitious fellow students. How many of his peers had never woken up because of a poisoned dagger in their sleep? Or a poison? He echoes the sentiment he shared with Ra'ziir earlier, "I am not afraid of any Test of Magic."

Kyrian scratches her head, disappointed in herself that you seem more confident than her. But then she perks up, her eyes sparkling with excitement, "You really seem to know what you are doing! I'm only taking the Test because magic is the only thing I'm even ok at. My parents, and their parents were all mages so...expectations, you know? What is it that makes you so confident? I mean, there has to be something that motivates you, right?"

“Many of the fellow students at the school of Wizardry I attended did not live to take the test.  Some were killed by other students and some were killed because the failed.  Just making it to the test was enough to give you the confidence to go forward.  You have to go into this with some confidence or you will surely fail” Shadow says to the young wizard.  “Are you up to travel to the tower with me?  Have you been closer?  Shall we?”

"Your school sounds simply awful! What a horrible place! If you survived that, this should be easy for you! Let's go!"

Kyrian walks along beside Shadow. The large wooden doors of the Tower creak open as the two wizards approach. As the pair enters the Tower, they are greeted by two red-robed wizards, their eyes taking in the details of dress and demeanor of the two arriving Aspirants. A group of a dozen or so would-be mages are assembled in the large antechamber, some quietly meditating but most gossiping quietly amongst themselves. Shadow notes Romulus speaking excitedly to a small knot of hopefuls, gesturing with his hand and scimitar while his spotted leopard, Macula lounges indolently at his feet. The halfling nods toward Shadow as he continues to tell whatever story he is in the middle of.

A wealthy-looking human man looks over at Kyrian and snickers to his three companions. The half-elf bows her head, turning away as the man and his cronies swagger in her direction.

"See, boys, we have this Test in the bag. They'll let anyone in of this one is here. Isn't that right, stable-girl?"

Kyrian retreats, attempting to hide behind Shadow.

"Ah, yes, little mice who don't know what they are getting themselves into, should run and hide in their holes. The Test is for real magic-users only." A cruel smile spreads across the man's face, "You'll be ripped to shreds."

“This little one is not worth your trouble.”  Shadow steps up and in front of Kyrian.  “Bolstering you and your comrade’s confidence at the expense of the weakest one amongst you is a disservice.  Perhaps you should aim higher and prove your strength with a more powerful opponent.  Allow me to put it in layman’s terms for you Punch Up not Down, you poser.”

The human mage's fists tighten as his face flushes red with rage. He begins to take a step forward, "I'll show you punching, you..." he pauses when he notices that his cronies aren't backing him up. He looks at Kyrian and then to Shadow, "Looks like the little mouse has got herself a guard dog!" He then turns and stomps away. His "friends" linger for a moment and follow after.

Ra'ziir arrives just as Shadow runs off Darien and his cronies. He hears the girl exclaim, "Oh, thank you! It means a lot that you helped me! And if I can, I will find a way to return the favor!"

Ra’ziir nods in acknowledgement to Romulus and then makes his way toward Shadow and the half-elven woman, greeting the Drow with a wide smile “I’m glad to see you’ve made it Shadow! And you’ve met someone along your journey here it would seem.” Ra’ziir smiles genuinely at the Half-Elven woman, extends a hand, and introduces himself.

Kyrian smiles, introduces herself, and shakes Ra’ziir's hand.

Romulus joins Shadow and Kyrian a moment later. "I threatened to polymorph our friend into a mouse for Macula to hunt a few minutes ago. He kept calling me a 'kender'. I should probably find out what those are before we go too much further.

The dining hall features a blazing hearth. The center of the chamber has a long table surrounded by chairs with enough seats for each Aspirant. Supper is hot and fresh, again with enough for everyone to eat and drink their fill. While the food is wonderful, some of it well-known and familiar, other items are unknown amd exotic, their is an underlying sense of tension. Some Aspirants speak quietly to each other. Several look down at their plates as a condemned man eating his last meal before being executed. Kyrian leans toward being one of the latter while Romulus eats several rounds of dinner before mentioning dessert. The pompous bully, once again in the company of his allies, seems unfazed by his earlier encounters and can heard boasting loudly that by this time tomorrow, he will be getting fitted for his robes.

Before long, pages from the Tower arrive to escort everyone to the private rooms. The suites are small but surprisingly elegant with hardwoods, silks, and fine leathers in their appointments. Pleasing herbal and citrus scents permeate the room, along with old parchment and nutmeg.

Moonlight spills through a stained glass window near a luxurious four-post bed, giving the room an ethereal glow. A small hearth keeps the room warm despite the autumn chill. Near the hearth, a claw-foot bathtub has been drawn with steaming hot water. Soft towels and vials of multicolored bath saltsf fill a rack nearby the bath.

A simple bookshelf rests along the right greystone wall, stuffed with books of every shape and size. Between the bookshelf and the bed sits a round obsidian study table with a single wooden chair. Dozens of names have been carved into the table. The only object on the table is an inert scrying orb held in a platinum base that resembles a dragon’s claw.

The page, a rail thin, bald man in gray robes clears his throat, "Tonight may be your last night and time is short. Use it wisely." He then backs out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him.