Mero looks through the piles of scrolls arranged by his satyr friend. He quickly lost interest in looking through Phenilias’ personal notes and administration of his sales. What does draw his attention is the smallest stack of parchment.
(Arcana 7)
“What are you looking at?”
Bruqs leans towards the sorcerer. He sees the various glyphs and sigils drawn in different colours of ink. He assumes the papers have something to do with magic, but he hasn’t seen any scrolls like these before in his life, let alone the mysterious writings on it.
(Arcana 12)
“These are all spells.” Mero answers without looking away from them. “I have seen these symbols before. My former master had books full of these. Flaming sphere, cloud of daggers, witch bolt… These are all relatively easy spells to learn, nothing too complicated and nothing that requires rare components.”
He stops talking as he lies down all pieces of parchment but one. The deep red swirling lines drawn on it seem like a cloud of some sort. Slightly darker squiggly lines sprout out of the cloud, resembling something like tendrils or tentacles.
“I have never seen this spell before”, the golem says, amazed by this fact, and he looks what’s written above it. “It’s called ‘Zhylech’s grasp’. Fascinating!”
That name triggers something within the hunter’s memory.
“That’s Achalion’s twin”, he shouts out in excitement. “If I remember correctly, he’s the Father of Chaos.”
Mero looks at the spell, gobsmacked and shaking his head with disbelief.
“This spell is unique! Nothing like this exists in our world. This place has forms of magic of its own. This is so exciting! I need to know more about this. I’m going to take this with me. I’ll give it back to Phenilias when we find him, I promise.”
No one objects, not out loud anway. They’re all too busy searching through the premises: Oslando is looking over the vials on a small table near the desk and Lyssa’s mind is still occupied with fantasizing about her new pet pit. Dargothoth doesn't care enough to respond, even though he heard the sorcerer loud and clear, and Bruq’s attention has shifted from the pile of paper to the closet they most likely fell from.
“He has so much stuff”, the hunter mumbles. “I don’t know where to begin!”
Bruq is right. The entire cupboard is loaded with stuff, only a few spots are free, but only because its content has fallen onto the floor. There are loads of books, one even dustier than the other, all with titles that speak to his imagination, some more than others: ‘Abaddonian Hierarchies throughout the Ages’, ‘Architectural Wonders: Twenty to Discover’, ‘Ascendence of the Archdemons’, ‘Aximedes’ Bestiary’, ‘Azmal: The Legendary Tale of the All-Hoarder’, it just keeps going and those are only the books starting with the letter ‘a’.
Separating the books when going to the next letter of the alphabet are some little trinkets and knick knacks, Bruq’s greatest hobby and weakness. The quills and crystals are not remarkable enough to distract him from the jar standing on his eye height. A small colourless square made out of jelly sits inside and moves around very slowly, thumping one of its sides repetitively against the glass. If it wasn’t for small bits and pieces of bone and metal stuck in it, the jar would have been easily mistaken for an empty one.
(Intelligence 8)
“Look”, Bruq says, “it’s one of those slime creatures that roam through dungeons. You’ve heard about these before, right?”
He looks at Lyssa and Dargothoth, who both stopped their own investigations to see what the satyr is staring at.
(Intelligence 17)
“This species of ooze is called a gelatinous cube. The upper levels of the catacombs my former of clergy was full of them, only a lot bigger than this one. They’re nearly invisible for those who raid or invade the unlit halls and when they walk into the cube, they get absorbed. After that they suffocate before their bodies are slowly dissolved. They’re mindless creatures, but they form a great line of defense.”
Bruq stares at Dargothoth. Normally, hearing something like this would instill fear in his heart and make him wonder why he’s keeping someone like this in his company. However, these few days have blunted his susceptibility to horrid stories like this one.
“They’re really useful.” Dargothoth continues. “Our clergy had an alliance with the Cult of Juiblex, the Lord of Nothing and demon lord of all shapeless monsters. We provided undead guards for them and they gave us all kinds of their minions: grey oozes, ochre jellies, black puddings. They don’t sound like much, but they were the bane of every trespasser.”
(Wisdom 5)
Bruq nods understandingly and turns away to look at Lyssa with his eyebrows raised. Instead of making eye contact, the siren is occupied with the jar as well, not blinking as she keeps staring intensely at the gelatinous cube.
“I know that voice”, she says without looking away. “I heard this singing before.”
She tries to swallow down the anxious feeling beating in her chest.
“Three chests hiding in front of my eyes,
but only from one you may claim your prize.
Unlock one to fulfill your desires and greed.
Word of advise: only to use when in need.”
As she mumbles these words melodically, Bruq and Dargothoth recognize what she’s singing and look at one of the metal objects floating inside the ooze. A brass key is slowly rotating around its own axis and mesmerizes Lyssa in the same manner as it did before in the church when the siren met the singing key for the first time.
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