The Jewel in the Skull

“It was my crowning achievement! It should have shown them all that Pandit Freud was just a crazed charlatan, obsessing only about the most simple of biological functions, ignoring the wider world and its infinite fractal nature, in his perverted pursuit of fleshly perfection. While he was busy with cutting up our experimental participants for his base interests, I managed to create a work of sublime beauty. A construction that was only intended to serve the simple need of water and waste disposal for our city, but it became so much more. Through my vision, and the simple application of basic sorcerous science, the city’s plumbing became a monument to my findings regarding the true nature of consciousness and reality itself. Trickling down through miniscule pipes, the fresh clean water of a multitude of mountain springs coalesced into a reservoir above the city, filling our minds, bodies and souls with cleanliness and the inspiration of the beyond, while beneath us, our waste was washed down into the primordial ooze, along with our unfulfilled desires failed dreams and nightmares.” Pandit Jung took a deep breath, looking around, before remarking, “In the case of my mentor, this was not just figuratively speaking. His waste was often caused by his failed experiments, some of whom were quite nightmarish, even to us.”

“I managed to harness the strength of the beautiful symbolism of this system into raw power, fuelling my mentor’s experiments. Of course, he couldn’t stand this. Here he was, pandering his flawed theories to our people, while all the while, secretly needing the fruits of my superior thought to even conduct the most basic of experiments. The situation was untenable. The adventurers’ arrival was the catalyst for the events that followed. He knew he had been weakened by us having to negotiate with the subderro, and so he had to get rid of me. He cast me out to fend for myself. I was captured by the Broken Lance Orcs, who tormented me with their pitifully banal tortures. I must admit, I was certain that I would die a rather nondescript death at the hands of the orcs, before I was acquired by your agents.”

Pandit Jung rubbed the manacles on his wrists. He eyed the self-dead pig in the corner with a gluttonous gaze.

“So you want me to map out my masterpiece? Yes there is a way directly into the treasure chamber from these tunnels, but do you think that this way is actually a feasible way to sneak into the city? I mean, there is something I didn’t tell you…Freud found a way of controlling the most heinous of the waste feeders. He inserted a scrying gem into its forehead. You would need to trick it into the vortex before he uses it to kill you.”

Interlude in Febril - The Mad God's Amulet

Szandor was not in the best of moods, Istvan realised. Having been his number one “problem solver” for the last few years, he had developed the skill of leaving a room before the fiery bolts of death appeared into a scientific discipline. Unfortunately, he had a nagging suspicion that Szandor would take an early exit in the worst possible way, so he just stood there, his eyes fixed squarely on the oddly shaped jewel hanging from a copper chain around Szandor’s neck.

“So let me get this straight,” Szandor was building up momentum. “Not only did you fail to see how letting Bodush and his merry band of hapless do-gooding idiots wander around with the disciples of Thereanthor, who have been talking for time immemorial about how to summon their master back from the pit,” Szandor took a deep breath. Why did his sentences have to be so long? “No, you had to report back to me how this was brilliant as it kept them from seeing our hand behind the scenes of the recent attack on Febril,”

If only he would finish this sentence, maybe there was a chance of giving an answer that would allow Istvan to avoid instant immolation, but no. “Not thinking about how this could lead to the most dramatic political upheaval since the Forbidden Lands became forbidden!” Istvan took a deep breath to say something, but Szandor kept droning on.

“And now, when I have finally found a way to save all of the ingrates of the furnace coast from being ruled by an infernal overlord you tell me that you have lost them? You tell me that they flew away? In a HAMSTER SHIP? If I wanted to appoint a household jester, I would go to the bard’s guild! I managed to capture a Derro, do you know how much hassle that was? Do you know how many hours I spent in the temple library, pretending to read about antique waste disposal systems, while researching how we can get rid of Zatark, only to find out that the only reliable way of getting that done is in the hands of some insane, flesh fetishising derro tailors with delusions of grandeur? Do you even care that my dire cats are starving, because even in his captivity, Pandit Jung managed to get hold of needles and threads and are using the rat-population in my dungeons to feed his compulsive need to create new and interesting life-forms, well do you? Of course not, nobody appreciates my sacrifices, nobody realises what I go through to keep the Furnace coast safe. All they talk about is that I am some sort of creepy old man, nly interested in dusty old artefacts. I hear them gossiping endlessly about my simple pleasures. I think I deserve some recognition.”

Szandor motioned to one of army of identical female servants who was bringing in a tray of dried fruits. Istvan breathed a sigh of relief. Szandor’s anger at him had been channelled into general disgruntlement with the world, so any immediate danger had passed.

“Right, let me know when Bodush, or any of his compatriots are spotted. I need adventurers stupid enough to go into a Derro infested hell-hole, and I know only of one group that fit that description that have the capability of making it out of there alive with the item I need to save the world. Without the Mad God’s Amulet, we have no hope, any of us.”