After the excitement of the battle wears off, Shaddar orders his hobgoblin minions back to the task of breaking through the sealed archway.
There are four different layers of brick, each done with a different style of work. This indicates that on four different occasions someone returned to this place to further seal whatever lays beyond. Shaddar’s tentacles twitch with anticipation and other facial signs of speculation.
When the workers finally break through the last layer of the wall a rush of foul air blasts dust and brick chips into the hobgoblin’s faces. Coughing and sputtering they back away from the hole.
“It has not been disturbed in all this time. Nor has the chamber been breached anywhere else – otherwise there wouldn’t be the buildup of stagnant air pressure,” Shaddar thinks.
Shaddar walks forward to be the first to enter this new area. His minions follow him with trepidation, murmuring many questions as they see what lies beyond.
“I’ve never seen anything like it!”
“The curves hurt my eyes!”
“What is it?” Many of the hobgoblins ask and think this question as they stare with wonder.
Shaddar puts his hands on his hips on the other side as he surveys the scene that he can see in the dim light. He decides to grace his minions with an answer to their primary question.
“It is the ruin of an illithid city,” he says softly.
The humans and hobgoblins go very quiet as he answers them – none of them have any idea what the word ‘illithid’ means.
Shaddar narrows his eyes as he walks over to a toppled plinth. It is… shorter than it should be. He takes stock of all he can see from this perspective and concludes that the shift in scale is nearly universal.
“Apparently those mummified illithid pygmies were not freaks in this place, but the norm,” he thinks. “How odd.”
He strides forward to what must be the remains of the amphitheater – the sport arena where the finest performance eaters would show off their skills to the mental roar of illithid crowds.
“This way,” he says confidently. “We will make a central camp and then spend some days here – exploring.”
The hobgoblins stay quite close to him, as this alien place and the heavy sensation of trespass that they feel here frightens them. Toothsnatcher is undisturbed, naturally. The human slaves sink further into despair as they see how comfortable Shaddar is in this awful (to them) place.
The arena is a bit odd. Shaddar expected a perfectly round building, but instead the arena has a flat section that instead of seats has a single raised dais with a lonely throne in the center of it. Behind this ornate seat is a large bas-relief. Shaddar snorts in disgust and spits a glob of corrosive slime to the floor as he recognizes the features of Felinxtrath on the central figure. He is surrounded in the artwork by scores of pygmy illithids who are in the attitude of worshiping him, offering him brains, scrolls of knowledge, and treasure.
“Did my old master’s ego know any boundaries?” he wonders.
There is quite a bit of Qualith writing here and Shaddar steps forward to read it. He is a bit nauseated as a result…
“Behold his tentacles, how long and powerful they are! They curl around the whole world with a gentle and final embrace! Truly they are the sign of his authority and all shall obey.”
“All of our labors are for he who will come: The Avatar of the Elder Brain who dwells in the Great Beyond!”
“Apply yourselves or face his wrath! For these are the things which he wishes to know: Alchemy, Exercises of the Mind, Magic, and the combination of slaves with mental power to make life for those of the race comfortable and easy. Do not fail him – for the Tall, Resplendent One will not show mercy on the weak!”
And so on…
Shaddar’s tentacles make a rude gesture. He stoically reads it all the way to the end and is very surprised when reading the last passage activates a magic mouth spell.
The arcane, recorded message speaks: “You are not welcome here, Destroyer! Return! The world is broken!”
Shaddar laughs aloud and thinks, “Return? But I have only just arrived! No. I’ll go where I please. But who left such a message? Another illithid? One of these pygmies?”
Fascinating. Apparently reading the wall was a trigger for the message. More interesting than the message is the way in which it was left. Only an illithid could trigger it. Who left it? Well. Another bit of the puzzle to ponder on.
He turns from the gaudy scene to oversee the formation of the camp. It does not take long with his encouragement.
After the camp is established, they investigate their immediate surroundings at Shaddar’s insistence.
One thing is certain even from their meager explorations: the city did not go quietly. The signs of conflict are everywhere. Since it has been thousands of years (if the legends Shaddar has heard can be trusted), there is not much in the way of bodies that has not moldered into dust. However, broken weapons, armor, and damage to many walls, doors, and even roadways are evident. Shaddar is amazed at the size of some of the huge claw marks he finds – whoever attacked this city had some powerful monstrous allies or summoning magic. In major street intersections the area is torn up completely – obviously scenes of heavy fighting.
The victors were not kind to the city.
Statues have been pulled down. Mosaics hacked apart with claw and blade and club. He even finds that many of the places where Qualith writing used to be carved onto walls was smashed to illegible fragments. He does find several places where the writing is intact, if a bit too low to the ground for comfortable reading. Nothing earth-shattering – just the standard kinds of sayings meant to encourage and please passers-by:
“Remember always the future destiny of our race.”
“Serve for the greater glory of the master race.”
“Increase in knowledge and power – as is correct and proper.”
Ho-hum. Nothing Shaddar has not read himself in his own city for his whole life. No. None of this answers the riddles of this world.
Near the arena is a small slave pit, naturally enough. All the cell doors have been smashed open. Every single one. Despite the passage of millennia, the hobgoblins can feel the emotions that once filled this place in particular.
“Bad juju here,” one of them mumbles as he reads faint scratches in one cell wall. The writing is a mad jumble of curses and nonsense that were painstakingly etched into the stone over what must have been years.
There is nothing to learned here, so they retire to rest and prepare for more activity tomorrow.
The settlement is large for an illithid city and Shaddar is only able to explore a handful of areas before the hobgoblins are exhausted. Shaddar is a bit frustrated, but not so impatient to uncover the city’s secrets that he is willing to wander without thralls or slaves to guard him. They return to the arena for the night. He is in such a good mood that he orders the slaves to be well fed and watered as well. Since this will take longer than he expected, might as well try to make them last.
Shaddar is optimistic, despite the lack of progress in answering his questions during the first day.
“This city is too vast for the invaders to have destroyed everything,” he thinks. “We will find what I seek in another quarter of the city.”
At this point, Shaddar feels he understands a bit more of what the purpose of this entire experiment was. Felinxtrath was building a whole civilization with one aim: to develop knowledge and power over the course of the time-compression in this dimension and then absorb that power into himself. In this manner his megalomaniac ex-master would quickly outstrip his rivals in the prime plane and become the leader of the city and favorite of the Elder Brain.
“My initial surmise was too simple,” Shaddar confesses to himself, “Felinxtrath was not after easy food. He wanted easy power. A way to accelerate the development of illithids in a way that will greatly increase our race’s goals of conquering the universe. Quite devious, really. I must give my hated mentor this: the plan is bold and seems to have worked up to a point.”
His tentacles writhe with emotion. This world has been altered rather dramatically at least once, why not once more? For his own benefit?
“Felinxtrath failed when he died, no matter what his plans for this world were. But I can capitalize on what he started and steal all of the results! Yes! And all of the power!”
Chapter 1 < Chapter 41 Chapter 43 >
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