Felinxtrath obviously had massive creative control over this world as it came into being; power sufficient to create finery and pomp fit for a king – so he did so.
“And here it is,” Shaddar thinks with his eyes creasing with delight, “All for me.”
Piles of gold nuggets, glass dishes overflowing with richly-colored, dark gemstones, and racks of finely-crafted armor and weapons are immediately visible. All of it arranged to impress those who might be on hand to witness the grand opening of the treasure chamber.
And it works. Shaddar’s small force of hobgoblins is impressed. Even the slaves are murmuring to one another at the sight. Shaddar, however, is not dazzled for long by such trinkets. He strides into the room, casting his eyes about for something more. Works of incomparable artwork line the walls interspersed with further piles of riches. The artwork is of high quality, but to Shaddar’s eyes it is nothing but refuse; each piece has Felinxtrath’s repulsive features on it somewhere, ruining the lot. As for wealth? Ho-hum.
“Surely this is not all? I am certain that my dead master would have made himself something even more impressive and powerful than mere riches. They must around here some–“ His thoughts stop and he makes a satisfied slurping noise as he sees what he knew must be here.
A blood-red settee is draped with exotic and rare magical items. Some Shaddar recognizes, some he does not, but all of them glow with power to his magically attuned eyes.
He grips a rod that is inscribed with a pattern of thorns and drops of blood.
“I recognize this!” he thinks with amusement, “The high illithid has one back home!” It is a rod of withering – the slightest touch while held in his hand to one who displeases him will suck strength and vitality from them. Sometimes the effect permanently ages the victim or can even kill them. A fine tool for punishing unruly minions or weakening foes.
A pair of rings goes onto his hand at once. One of them is quite clearly a ring of mind shielding that will prevent anyone from prying into his thoughts.
“A useful item for my master to put here, as he expected to be surrounded by curious illithids in this place,” Shaddar thinks. The other ring is odd – he has never seen it’s like. The magic contained within it is strong, but unknown to him. The three bright rubies set into the surface pulsate with stored power, so he will keep it for himself until he learns of it’s true utility.
The next item that Shaddar takes is fascinating. It appears to be a gold and mithril chainmail headpiece that drapes onto his tentacles and buckles securely behind his head. Shaddar dons the item and can clearly feel the magical protection the tentacle shield offers as he experiments with it. The metal links do not hinder his movements in the least, either. He practices a tentacle strike with them and is quite pleased to see that small needles emerge from the tips of the armor and ooze a thick liquid. Poison? Of some kind, clearly. Oh, but this is marvelous!
Next, Shaddar sees a glorious robe. Too glorious, really.
“Felinxtrath had not an ounce of style,” Shaddar thinks as he examines the gaudy garment. It seems to be made of woven, enchanted gold thread, encrusted with gems – fit for a deity of vanity. He picks the robe up and decides to take it anyway. Who knows when he might need to pose as his dead master?
Underneath the robe he sees something that he has only heard rumors of. The most powerful magical item ever made by illithid hands!
“It was only a myth!” he thinks excitedly. But Felinxtrath has made it into a reality in this world. The staff of the Master Illithid! It has the look of blackened oak, but twisted into a bundle of tentacle-like branches. The top of the staff consists of a floating human skull with a perfectly centered hole melted in the forehead. The bottom is shod in iron and covered in dangerous-looking hooks and barbs. Shaddar picks the artifact up reverently and feels a surge of magic power as he grips it tightly.
“Oh, yes!”
There are other small, but powerful magic items on the settee, but Shaddar is far too pleased with his new staff to bother with trying to identify them right now. They get scooped up and put into an inside pocket of his voluminous robe for the time being. He may find a use for them later.
Once he has taken the finest items for himself, Shaddar returns to order that his hobgoblin minions stop digging in the piles of gold nuggets and instead equip themselves with the magical breastplates and short swords that were obviously put here to outfit his master’s bodyguards. They gladly do so and soon his minions look much more impressive and dangerous.
Shaddar commands that the paintings of Felinxtrath be torn down and used as privy paper by those who feel the urge to assist him in expressing his anger with his old master. (“Privy paper? What’s that for?”) They do not understand his anger, but gleefully participate in the acts of destruction and ruin.
Shaddar turns to face his thrall. Toothsnatcher has found a belt that magically augments his already prodigious strength to an unbelievable degree and is flexing his muscles while grunting.
“It is all as I expected,” Shaddar says with satisfaction.
Kug looks at Shaddar in awe. “How did you know this was here, master?”
“Do not question or doubt me,” Shaddar says softly, “All that I desire – all that we desire – shall come to fruition.”
“Yes, master!” shouts Kug happily. His men pick up the cry, repeating it with upraised fists, filled with gold.
“Yes, master! Yes, master! Yes!”
“Yes, master! Yes, master! Yes!”
Shaddar nods regally and waves at them to pack up the loot and turns to Toothsnatcher who is snorting and having bitter thoughts.
“You are displeased with our fortune?” he questions mentally.
“I wanted a new axe!” the minotaur grunts, “The little hobgoblins all got some shiny new swords, but I find nothing here that suits me.”
Shaddar is feeling quite generous and grandly speaks aloud in a sympathetic tone: “I too wish that you had found a new axe in this room. Something deadly-sharp, unholy, and terrifying to behold. Something that you could use to protect me and punish my enemies with.”
One of the rubies on Shaddar’s unknown ring flares into brightness and turns into a glowing vapor. It sifts down to the floor and forms into the shape of a massive greataxe then disappears – leaving an awesome weapon right at the minotaur’s feet.
Toothsnatcher bellows in surprise and backs away from the axe as if it is a trap, but Shaddar raises his hand to calm his thrall.
“It’s fine,” he says, while looking at the ring that the mist came from. Where there had once been three rubies there are now only two. And he understands. “A ring of wishes! Excellent! One wish has been spent, and not without gain. Two remain. I will have to watch what I say carefully from now on.”
Shaddar picks up the weapon and the blade begins to sizzle as if lard is frying on the head. It is impossibly light and perfectly balanced – even Shaddar’s untrained hands can fell that.
“Toothsnatcher! Here is your new weapon! Just as I wished!” he proclaims.
A dark red steam wafts from the blade and Toothsnatcher looks the weapon over before taking it from his master’s hands. The downward curves of the double-bited head are formed into horns; the shaft forms a bellowing bull’s head. The edge is gently serrated and looks razor-sharp down it’s entire length on both blades. The huge haft is wrapped in leather that was quite clearly made from human flesh. The thing oozes evil and destruction.
Toothsnatcher now bellows in gratification as he raises the huge war axe above his head. The hobgoblins crowd around him and make appreciative noises as they see it.
While his minions celebrate in Toothsnatcher’s good fortune, Shaddar touches the brainmate to question it. There is one thing more that he wants to find in this ruin and he hopes the brainmate will know where it is.
“What is wanted, Supplanter?”
“I seek the stored knowledge that the pygmy illithids of this city gathered over the course of thousands of years. Where is it?” Shaddar asks.
He is dismayed to hear the reply.
“The knowledge should have been kept in this building, but it is all gone!” the brainmate replies with irritation. “I will be unable to complete my task of studying knowledge retention!”
Shaddar is disappointed, but hopeful that someone stole it and that it was not burned by the city conquerors. Surely the invaders would not have known it’s true worth?
No matter. If it is not here, it is not. And if the knowledge is not here, then he has collected everything that he needs from this place. His decision made, Shaddar leaves the chamber in a huff. He is resolved. They will leave at once.
Toothsnatcher follows him faithfully back into the main hall of the building of records where the slaves were left huddled together. The mere sight of Toothsnatcher’s mighty new weapon causes the slaves to begin to wail anew.
“Look! Look! That axe is cursed!”
“So be we all for entering this dreadful and forbidden place!”
“This is all so wrong! Wrong, I say!”
“Someone save us! Save us from these hideous demons!”
Kug whirls to face the humans who are straining at their bonds and yells, “You dare to insult the master? Punishment time, lads!”
The hobgoblins rush over to slap and kick the slaves around until their bothersome outcries alter into whimpers of pain and defeat. Shaddar approves, but does not wish to see his minions go on to excess.
“That is enough,” Shaddar says. The hobgoblins stop at once. “I do not want them so injured that they can not walk out of here under their own power,” he continues.
Shaddar motions the last couple of hobgoblins from the treasure chamber and then shuts the door by broadcasting the mental command that will seal the chamber once again.
As the huge door swings shut one of the hobgoblins squawks, “We didn’t get everything! Don’t you want all of it, master?”
Shaddar shakes his head. “We have what we need for now. If there is need, perhaps we shall return, but all that is left is mere wealth. We have that aplenty in Big City. Why tire ourselves, our horses, or even our slaves with an unnecessary burden?”
Much laughter ensues at this statement. It is not lost on the slaves that the consideration for their burdens comes after Shaddar mentions the horses.
“How delightful to have slaves who are at once so eminently aware of their situation and as yet unbroken to it!” Shaddar thinks with satisfaction.
It takes several days to climb uphill to reach the bottom of the Well. The slaves are tired and must take their rest more frequently. Shaddar can see from the hobgoblin’s thoughts that they are glad of this excuse to travel at a slower pace – they are tired too.
He is resigned to the weakness of the lessor races and attempts to act with stoicism, befitting his race. Shaddar uses the time to ponder and plan in consultation with the brainmate.
One thing is clear: This world is a dimensional trap. Felinxtrath built it so that none that were placed here could ever escape. How was he going to get out? When Shaddar asks the brainmate the answer is less than comforting.
“The trigger to end the experiment and travel home was when Felinxtrath consumed the brain of the oldest living pygmy illithid,” it informs him.
“But there are none left alive!”
“Indeed…”
“Then how will we return?” Shaddar asks with a furrowed brow.
Silence and feelings of consternation are the only reply.
Chapter 1 < Chapter 44 Chapter 46 >
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