Something Wicked this way Comes...

[Barthac]

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Spot:(1d20+9)[11]

[Mr. X]

Gliding along the path, you never would have seen them... Rising up upon your great pillars of stone, however, you cannot fail to see the grotesque statues perched as though peering down upon your passage... Each different from each other, one is carved scrawny and twisted, another as though sitting on skittering insect's legs... others are larger and apish, with long arms and rounded faces... Other's still are winged, and sit as though they might, at any moment take flight to soar through the boundless reaches of the sky...

And they are many...

Rising higher to get a better look, you can now see that the mountainside is littered with the strange statues... There must be hundreds or thousands of them on the isle.

[Mr. X]

The silver disk glides ever onward, while Taalkar's pillars jut forth and recede with regular monotony...

The day is gray and cold, but the higher you climb, the more you are moved by the magnificent view over Clearwater Lake. The jagged hights of the island hold a striking, rugged, beauty, and the mirror smooth water below is such an impossibly deep hue of blue, that no ocean, or dye, or jewel could possibly be compared with it...

... And the higher you climb, the more palpable the power that emanates from the upper slopes becomes... Even by this mere distant proximity to the Font... You can only imagine what it must be like to stand within it...

It takes nearly three hours of gradual ascent before you reach the Gatehall of the College, where snow is piled in heavy drifts about the single, foreboding, tower. The path you would have followed is, by this point, completely obscured by the treacherous snow, and the freezing wind howles in your ears like some shrieking beast.

The Gate is a great single door of blackened ancient wood, bound in iron bands and studs.

In its center hangs a large, lion-faced knocker.

[LordDice]

"So hmm...You've been here before. Do we just knock or something ?" "

You'd think they'd have some kinda forewarning that folks were headed up and come meet them at the gate"

[Mr. X]

Fredric chews his lip.

"Yes... In this case. Typically we wouldn't even be here without both a written invitation and an escort, but times are such (and we are sufficiently formidable) that I imagine the usual formalities may be overlooked... I hope."

He gazes up at the tower before you.

"This tower is one of seven channelling points of the Font, to which the guardian shall be heavily attuned... I would recommend, should the need to start a ruckus arise, that you wait until we are well away from this particular tower."

He glances back down the slope.

"The Gargoyles, too, are protectors of this place, but are somewhat inconsistent in when they choose to intervene. When we came here before, it was not until a theft had taken place that they stirred... We may make of that whatever we will... In the time that I was a student here, I had never witnessed them actually move, and so am not well positioned to hazard much more than guesses."

He turns back to you.

"Finally, while Fink was saying that Master Vark has been the one throwing his weight about lately, I'd recommend asking to see Gray Greggor... He is the headmaster of the school, and has a leveler head about him. Unfortunately, he was with Star Spire's army at the battle at Beluvah, and I don't know if he has returned... If he is unavailable, then we'll need to try our luck with Master Vark directly."

[LordDice]

"Seems we'll just have to hope for the best then...Brother, try not to scare the nice wizards into thinking us enemies"


With a raised eyebrow and a look to Sid, the Large elemental glides over to the Gate. Raising his massive stone hands he pounds upon the door three times, Afterwards slipping silently into the earth beneath them.

[Mr. X]

You hear the scraping of metal against wood, as behind the door the bar is raised, and the latched released.

With a loud creaking, the door swings open.

The entry chamber within is small and dim, but markedly warmer than the outside.

A small fire crackles in a hearth off to the right, and a windowed office sits behind the far wall. Behind the window, an elderly scribe sits at his desk, tooling away with quill and ink at a large pile of parchments.

He barely spares a glance as the party enters, but it's enough to warrant a second.

Arching an eyebrow, he sits up and puts aside his quill. He mutters a quiet spell as he looks over the group with an uncertain eye...

He speaks with quiet firmness, but also with a slightly shaking tembre,

"My Lords, forgive me, you are unexpected. Would you please state your business?"

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A Spellcraft check, DC 12, may determine what spell the scribe is casting.

[LordDice]

"Apologies for the lack of forewarning Sir, but these ill times seem to sap at my manners somewhat"

"We'd like to request an audience with Gray Greggor if at all possible. Regarding a very large magically enhanced storm headed this way, the Blight and other matters"

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With a 14 in Knowledge Nature that should be a auto-success. Considering you can't crit fail a skill check I don't think

[Mr. X]

For Karazi:

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The spell the guardian cast was Detect Magic. He does a pretty good job of keeping his composure placid, but you can tell that he is likely severely impressed by the picture of power that you all present.

The old scribe's gaze darkens at your request.

"... I am afraid I must then provide you with some bad news... Master Greggor never returned from Beluvah."

He heaves a heavy sigh.

"We only recently received the letter informing us ourselves, signed by the Boy King himself, no less... Claims that Master Greggor was slain some time after the battle, as his army returned to Star Spire."

He pauses a moment to sip from a cup at his elbow.

"It is a troubled time indeed... Though Master Vark has assumed the responsibilities of governing the school, so at least we remain in competent hands."

[LordDice]

"Sorry to hear of your loss, We lost many good dwarves at Beluvah indeed. The Treachery of the Gate still demands a reckoning..."

"I suppose we will ask to see Master Vark then, I'd heard some that he might be somewhat more difficult to deal with."


"And my apologies Master Scribe, as I forgot to make introductions. I suspect you already know Frederic there, On my left is my brother Taalkar Falgen and I am Karazi Falgen.

[Mr. X]

The old man peers through his spectacles at Fredric with a raised eyebrow.

"Ahh, indeed, Mr. Chemoson, I did not recognize you."

He bows his head to you both.

"My lords Falgen, we are, of course, honored by your presence. I am certain that Master Vark shall be able to make time to see you."

Picking up a silver bell from the desk, he rings it, and a moment later, a young messenger enters the room.

"Yes, boy, please run ahead and inform master Vark that he has esteemed visitors on hand... I shall escort them to his tower presently."

The boy departs, and he turns back to you.

"My lords, might I perhaps interest you in a cup of tea, while the Master is informed of your presence?"

[Barthac]

Taalkar raises his cup as it fills of its own accord, I'm good, thanks.

[LordDice]

"I'll have to pass, never been much on Tea. Thanks for the offer though".

"Perhaps you'd be interested in this while we wait, it would be rude to visit without a gift to offer the College"

Reaching into his haversack he pulls out the first of the thin notebooks, journals of Elyne Sunrider and hands it to the Scribe

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Handing him the section containing~

... We have found a way...

... At what cost...

... The South lies a burned wasteland, those evergreen forests put to the flame by our own hand...

... The blood of the thousands... Of Men, and Ork, and Dwarf, and Elf, and Gnoll, and Goblin, and Giant... Spilled to try to stem the tide of the Blight... A tide that cannot be stopped...

... The King, The Uniter... The Banner beneath which all souls rally... Kristofan... Claimed his fathers fathers had fled one plague only so that he could find another... And that he would not flee again...

... The fool...

... And yet... We have found a way...

... Here, in these walls and protected by the Lake, by the tenacity of these Men, these wizards, and even the very gods with whom they came, we have created a Ward...

... We have created The Ward...

... With this, the blight shall be scoured from the land, and driven before our armies...

... But... The sacrifices we have made are yet not enough... More shall be required of us...

The Eight gods have hollowed the earth. Into that void must the last vestiges of the Blight be driven, and by our ward, be sealed there... And that shall require more power than we presently possess...

...

... It is times like this that I think back to Ahthosar and his flower...

... If only we had known... Trusted...

... That Nature might shun the Unnatural, and that such need not, nay, should not be saved...

... No doubt the Blight would have found a way regardless...

... But it's time is now ended...

[Mr. X]

The old man purviews the book, his eyes widening as comprehension of what he holds dawns upon him.

"Oh... Oh my lords! This is her original script! Our gratitude is unmatched, How came you by this?!"

[LordDice]

"Came across that and others sitting in a chest just a few days back. Truly some amazing books had just been sitting there, gathering dust "

[Mr. X]

The old man gapes for a moment at the thought of such priceless tomes just sitting somewhere, and is about to speak, when the messenger boy returns.

"Hoy m'lord, Master Vark will see 'em now."

The scribe catches himself, and restores his facade of duty.

"Ahh, yes... If you all will follow me, I'll show you the way."

So saying he stands, rings a bell (presumably to call a replacement), makes his way out of the windowed office, and leads you to the inner gate in the rear of the tower. Standing before it, he makes a quick, precise gesture, and you hear the rattling of numerous mechanical locking mechanisms undoing themselves... The inner gate creaks and swings inwards, and he leads you into the College proper.

--------------

The corridors that connect the various towers and structures of the Collage are cramped and small, and often steeply staired. Out the murky paned windows you can see they sit precariously upon the mountainside, their parapets and buttresses marked by rows of grotesque statues and gargoyles, and they twist and bend erratically as they wind their way from building to building, sheltering you from the gale winds, and freezing cold.

The elder scribe guides you through several buildings, and allows you to peer in on a few classes being taught, giving explanations of the various points as her goes...

"... At any given time, we house roughly a thousand students, and another two hundred or so faculty and staff.

You might be surprised to know that much of what is taught here is purely mundane. Many of our students come to us unable to even read or write, and so basic education is a large, and essential part of what we do... Even among the so talented, not every student can grow to become great and powerful wizards. But they can be provided with guidance and insight towards approaching and solving the difficult problems that life outside these walls might present them with.

Like every artform, Magical research is a journey towards greater understanding of the forces and powers that govern our universe, and those beyond.

And so much of basic education here, and even much of the higher education, has to do with how one discovers, approaches, and ultimately derives a solution to, a problem... Whether that solution is reached through known or newely contrived arcane formulae, or through more mundane means, is largely irrelevant to the philosophy of the approach.

Of course, when dealing with the questions and problems presented by the higher mysteries, a certain level of knowledge, education, and experience, is required to even approach a question, much less derive a solution..."

Through the numerous rooms and towers, the elder scribe leads you. Passed classrooms and dormitories, laboratories and offices, explaining each in turn as you go.

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Would you both please make Spot Checks?

[Mr. X]

After all you've lost, and all the work you've done, you cannot help but find it galling how lands unaffected by the war have gone on with their lives... Unknowing and uncaring of the doom that would enshroud them.

Where were these wizards when your men were getting overrun by the Blighted, or cut down by the soldiers of Great Gate

... And yet, as your boots echo off the walls of their island sanctuary, you must concede; The rest of the world, and all it's troubles, does feel far away.

Indeed, for all its cold and rough appearance, the air about the college is one of intense inquiry and inspiration... With each new classroom or study that you pass, you are met by students and teachers enthralled in deep discussion and experiment... As though some new renaissance of the arcane were taking place before your eyes...

For Taalkar:

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It is as you pass a class within what your guide pointed out was the 'Tower of Planar Mysteries', that you see it... Glimpsed at the wrist of a student, between the end of his velvet glove, and the hem of his sleeve...

... It was only for a moment... And through your fractured perception and frazzled nerves, you might have been mistaken...

... Maybe the boy just had a rash...

... A tough looking, scaly rash...

... A rash entirely akin to that which covered the Chained Man Malthos, when first you met...

... Maybe you're just paranoid...

... But you'd bet your remaining eye that the boy is Blighted.

[Barthac]

You prepare them for life outside the walls? What do ye tell them to do when an infested goblin army crests the hill? Taalkar snorts out a small laugh.

Brother, he thinks to his brother hoping he is listening,The blight is here. At least on one student. Be on guard, this towering pillar of magic might be rotten at it's core.

[Mr. X]

The old man cringes a bit at the question.

"The school does not, as a rule, prescribe the use of magic as a weapon... Despite that being the public's typical view of it. Indeed, Evocations hold the smallest number of specialists of any of the schools here, and with Master Gregor gone, we no longer have a master of the specialty on staff."

He gulps slightly,

"Though it is true, had we been training out children for war years ago, we might be better situated now."
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The old man continues to lead you through the twisting halls, towers, and corridors of the College, climbing higher and higher up the mountainside, until at last he stops before an ornate doorway.

"Well, m'lords, this is where I leave you. Through here are the headmaster's quarters, where Master Vark will be waiting for you. I'll come back to collect you, and escort you back once you're finished."

He gives a slight bow, before departing.

"Best of luck to you."

[LordDice]

Watching as the old man departs, as he gets further away he turns to his brother

You're sure it was the Blight brother ? if they've managed to infect a student here...this whole place could be infested"

"Frederic, did you notice anything yourself ? I'm tempted to cast a detection spell, how sensitive are they to others doing spellworks here. I'd rather not get thrown out instantly...but I also don't want to be dropped into a pit of Jellies by some Blighted-Madman"

[Barthac]

I'm sure one of the students had the blight and was working to hide it.

[Mr. X]

Fredric looks concerned.

"I did not notice anything myself, but I would trust either of your eyes... If the Blight has taken hold here, I shudder to think..."

He turns to Karazi,
"Simple magics are common and expected. A detection spell would break no rules, and raise no alarms... You should employ it, lest we find ourselves in over our heads."

[LordDice]

With a subdued word, a slightly flickering essence flows over his eyes as he starts looking about.

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Detect Aberration

[Mr. X]

For Karazi:

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The headmaster's chambers are sufficiently secluded from the rest of the school that you cannot determine how much of the school may be infected...

Beyond the door you face, however, are two clearly powerful auras... And one of them is clearly Blighted.

[LordDice]

With a disgusted look on his face he turns to the others "A Blighted inside with another Unblighted, Both powerful. Can't see far enough to get the rest of the school...this might've been a pointless endeavor"

[Mr. X]

Fredric's jaw tightens.

"... Pointless or no, do we dare leave the college and the Font under the influence of the Blight?"

[LordDice]

No No....you're quite right. But damn why can't we ever get a good solid step ahead of the damned things."

"I guess we'll just have to see how this plays out"

Sid flows upward from the stone beneath as he looks at Taalkar "Welp, lets get this over with"

As he finishes Sid starts to push the door open.

[Mr. X]

The door opens into a wide office.

The walls are covered thick with bookshelves, and a fire burns steadily in the hearth, staving off (somewhat) the frigid cold.

Before you a large, mahogany desk dominates the room, behind which sits a man you must presume is Marius Vark.

He is middle aged, for a human (perhaps 40), and is heavily robed against the cold, with his hood drawn up, a scarf about his neck, and gloves over his hands.

Standing at the side of the desk is a familiar face... It is impossible to mistake the elegant sword at his hip, nor to forget the barbed words with which you parted ways when last you met... It is Elias.

... But equally impossible is it to fail to notice the jeweled choker he wears around his neck as he stands stoically beside Vark... A slave collar.

As this scene settles over you, Vark puts aside his quill, and stands, bowing slightly.

"Ahh, my honored guests."

He gestures to the chairs facing his desk.

"Please, sit and be welcome. How may I be at your service."

For Karazi:

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Your spell still active, it is Vark who is clearly blighted, though it seems he has sufficiently covered himself for the infection not to be obvious.

For all:

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Please make a Spot Check, DC 15.

[Barthac]

Taalkar bristles at the sight of the collar, even though it's a twerp like Elias.

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(1d20+9)[16]

[Mr. X]

For all:

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On a stand behind Vark's desk is a thin golden circlet, with a bright, teardrop emerald mounted in it... The same emerald that had been embedded in the halfling Velorah's forehead... If it has been removed, and Elias enslaved, you can make a pretty good guess as to what has happened to her.