Tom O’Bedlam
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Descent into Tarin-Tiran, Chapter 18
🕑 Added 2022-07-28 09:55:04 +0000 UTC‘How much do you know?’ Nilsiir asked briskly, striding about the room as it reshaped itself to their will.
If Robin’s perusal of potential high level illusion spells was correct, Nilsiir was likely employing [Supreme Mirage] or something similar. [Supreme Mirage] was an illusion so encompassing it could even fool the sense of touch, and had an inherent quasi-reality to it, such that even someone who saw through the illusion or was otherwise immune to its effects could successfully climb, say, an illusory ladder conjured by it.
It was at least a Tier 7 effect.
Robin wanted that knowledge, that power. And while he would be unable to wield it for some time at his current rate of progression, he had no doubt that someday, someday it would be within his grasp.
Especially if he could convince Nilsiir to teach him.
‘We’ve seen pieces of the invasion, many of the illusions you encoded recording the final days of Tarin-Tiran,’ Robin began. ‘The hobgoblin army of Urkhan—‘
‘We ran into their descendants on the surface,’ Vance broke in to add. ‘Were you responsible for the curse of wild magic that afflicted their spellcasters?’
‘Did that last? Excellent!’ Nilsiir beamed.
It wasn’t lost on Robin that the illusion didn’t directly answer Vance’s question. Something to file away for later.
‘We’ve seen the mage, Leivniz, at the head of the army. She used to be an influential figure in the city, right? Oh, and a few glimpses of Melusk. He was some kind of politician or councilor, maybe a merchant, right?’
‘Yes,’ Nilsiir’s lips drew into a sharp and distasteful line. ‘Traitors, the both of them. Though Melusk was by far the worse of the two. He was a true disciple of Urkhan, for all he worked in secret. The Iron-Handed god may pretend that he always conquers through main force alone, but he has no compunctions about slow corruption from within as a mean of achieving his goals. He’s always been sneakier than people realise.’
‘You talk about him as if you’d met him,’ Savra marvelled.
‘That’s because I have. I was one of Rhyth’s Disciples. Not the first, obviously. I’m not that old.’
Robin’s [Bardic Lore] pinged helpfully. Disciples were the faithful of the gods, of any class or profession, that closely embodied the deity’s personality, ideals, or portfolio. Or sometimes they just vibed with their divine patron, like a hyped-up sugar-daddy type relationship. Though those instances were less common, and, if the ballads were to be believed, almost always tragic, in the end.
Disciples had vastly enhanced powers, always something relating to the deity in question’s main portfolio or areas of influence, and were often used as go-betweens to carry messages to other deities or to intervene in affairs on the deity’s behalf.
‘So, you’ve gathered a fair few pieces,’ Nilsiir said. ‘Allow me to try and fill in a few of the gaps.’
An illusion bloomed before them all with a wave of Nilsiir’s hand. It was Tarin-Tiran, the city in miniature, presumably as it had been in the glory days.
‘Tain-Tiran was a marvel, and not even I know the full history of the place. It began as a Church of Rhyth, however, that much is known, a church turned to a flying citadel. Eventually the citadel settled here, at Rhyth’s decree, at the edge of this land, and grew outward and downward and through, becoming the city as I knew it. The city that would fall to the treachery of Urkhan.’
Nilsiir’s face grew thunderous.
‘We were tricked and that was the city’s undoing.’
And Rhyth’s, Nilsiir’s voice whispered in Robin’s mind.
The bard held himself very still, betraying no reaction. Was he getting a more involved version of the story? And how was Nilsiir doing this? Some kind of figment, in all likelihood, that class of illusions seen only by the spell’s target.
‘Melusk,’ Savra said, ‘he was the traitor that betrayed you from the inside.’
‘Yes. We do not know how Urkhan turned him, but it was likely his vanity and ambition. Then Melusk went to work on Leivniz, and preyed upon her love for order and precision. Tarin-Tiran was a joyous, free place, but not one that was overly given to hierarchy and strict order.’
It was messy. No surprise there. But Robin had seen the architecture, the magical achievements. The place had also been a wellspring of pure creativity, art, and beauty.
‘But we were the Church of Rhyth! The preeminent specialists in illusion and misdirection is all of this creation. We should have seen what was happening, before it was too late.’ Nilsiir’s shoulders slumped. ‘But we did not. And so Tarin-Tiran fell.’
And so did Urkhan usurp the greater portion of Rhyth’s power and cast our god into the Outer Dark, to become Lost, harrying and slaughtering the clergy across all the lands until our power was broken, scattered, and also all but lost.
Robin’s mind fizzed with the revelations Nilsiir was bestowing upon him. The story of Tarin-Tiran spun before his eyes, illusion and with Nilsiir’s commentary over it. Threaded through it all, however, was the conversation the illusion cast directly into Robin;’s mind, where there was no chance of it being overheard.
Will you take up a quest from me, Robin, to restore some of what Tarin-Tiran was, that I may secure it against Rhyth’s return? For our god is a canny one. His will moves unseen throughout the world, even now. I can sense it in you, in the journal of the one you call Red, and even in the sentient dungeon calling itself Ruprecht.
Oh yes. That was an easy one. Rhyth had already been kind, helping him survive, begin to thrive, even, and the chance at more power was alluring in its own right.
Good. We will discuss in more detail soon, but for now, here is an advance upon my goodwill.
Knowledge flooded Robin’s mind, mystic words and sigils, gestures and the ways in which they all combined to reproduce the effect Nilsiir was using even now.
Congratulations! You have learned the spell [Lesser Figment]!
But the knowledge didn’t stop there. The secrets to how the sentient illusion was casting and manipulating multiple illusions at once also exploded into Robin’s mind. It was, of course, a trick, ways in which to quickly shift the mind to keep both illusions moving by alternating attention. Like spinning two plates at once, you had to get something in motion first.
Congratulations! You have gained the [Effortless Illusions] peculiarity!
And then, as if that were not enough, the experience galvanised something in his mind and heard the characteristic ding! of a level notification.
He’d have several more choices to make as soon as he could spare the attention.
Fascinating, came Nilsiir’s voice. What a curious illusion enchantment you are under. Useful though, from what I can see. Combined with some form of guardian spirit? How delightful! Though it is not of Rhyth’s devising. I would know if it were.
Wait. What illusion? The notifications he saw? Robin had long suspected they were a form of illusion only he could see, a figment, but an enchantment that caused them?
His mind whirled. Too much information, too quickly.
Nilsiir seemed to sense it.
I shall now reward your companions as well, as they seek knowledge themselves. Rest. Think upon what you have learned. We will speak more in this manner soon.
Robin felt the High Priest’s presence withdraw. His mind screamed at him from a dozen angles and unanswered questions but he shoved htem all aside.
The important thing was that he levelled and he had choices to make to secure his power. He wanted to get to it while Nilsiir was distracted. The High Priest had been helpful, true, but they were also the High Priest of a trickster, and therefore there was only so much trust Robin was wiling to extend on so short an acquaintance.
He pulled up his character sheet. The knowledge granted by Nilsiir was there all right. His level and available pool of spell points had also increased. Everything seemed to be in order.
Robin quickly selected [Metamagic Focus: Duration] for his peculiarity. If he had access to Nilsiir’s tutelage, it would be useful in the near future, if not immediately, and it was required for some of the more advanced tricks he should soon have access to, as soon as he advanced to Tier 3.
Which was suddenly quite a bit closer.
Robin briefly swore at how he hadn’t been able to fully optimise his experience expenditures to boost his skills, but there wasn’t much he could do about it so he set the irritation aside.
There wasn’t even enough experience over the level cap to increase his Deception up to his new maximum!
Whatever.
Spells. He wanted to review the specifics of [Lesser Figment] but who knew how long he had until Nilsiir’s attention returned to him? No. Better to make a choice from one of the spells he was already considering.
[Phantasmal Mouth] would do. Good for messages and distractions and the additional permanency option was a nice extra. Done and done.
Robin scanned over his options once more. There wasn’t much else he could do right now. He closed out of his interface and focused back on what the party was doing.
Vance and Drev were comparing notes on the magical knowledge they had received. Jhess was…playing with a bit of shadowstuff in her hands? Just what had the illusion revealed to the rogue!?
Savra looked disgruntled, but there was a glow about her that suggested she had somehow regained a measure of her divinatory powers. Robin hadn’t seen light with that particular quality since before they arrived in Tarin-Tiran. Perhaps Nilsiir had shown her a way around whatever quality of this place blocked divinations.
‘Now,’ the illusion said, ‘if you are agreed and willing to delve a bit deeper into the dungeon, you may help me solve the problem of Silinir’s madness.’
‘The living dungeon?’ Savra glanced at the illusion.
‘Yes. Though before he became this living dungeon he was my friend and a guardian spirit of the land that came to be the guardian spirit of the city. He has subverted several mechanisms intended to keep the city safe from invaders and changed countless other runic structures that control the magic of this place.’
‘Is that why there is so much wild magic everywhere?’ Drev asked, curiosity glimmering in his eyes.
‘Partly,’ Nilsiir said evasively. ‘There is, as you mentioned, a curse involved as well. But Silinir’s efforts are not helping matters. And if left unchecked he might one day consume the entire continent. He was, after all, first a spirit of the land. His power is…deep.’
‘What do you want us to do?’ Jhess asked.
Robin squinted. She was suddenly very accommodating. Something was up there.
‘Restore some of the runes to their original function. Now that I have stabilised this area, I can ensure Silinir does not reclaim them easily. Then I can keep the dungeon in check and resume my stewardship of the ruins.’
And see to their eventual restoration, when Rhyth returns.
Robin felt a smile well up inside himself at the thought.
‘I can promise you more knowledge and even some of the lost treasures of the city as payment,’ the High Priest continued. ‘There is much that is still here, untouched. I can guide you and your living dungeon ally along hidden ways that Silinir does not yet control.Though there will be great danger, I will not lie to you about that.’
‘That’s something, at least,’ Savra said drily.
Nilsiir just grinned impishly at her.
The party fell into a debate. It wasn’t a long one, however. They could all see the advantages here. Though Savra and Jhess showed a few signs of resistance.
‘Well?’ Nilsiir asked. ‘You have delved into the subterranean reaches of Tarin-Tiran. Are you ready to go deeper still and learn some of its oldest secrets? To uncover some of its lost treasures?’
Fuck yes!
Here Endeth the tale of Descent into Tarin-Tiran
