“Bring us three gifts of great worth,
That all have, but none can own.
One is seen but never heard,
Grows trees and pales bone.
One is the Mother to give,
But shared freely by all.
One is the reason we live,
Or why we choose to fall.”
“What this means, you must figure out on your own, though I am not certain if it will even work now that the monument has been corrupted.” The druid grimaced then as if considering a difficult choice.
“There is another who may be of more aid. A drow . . . she lives alone near the hills to the south. Here is dark magic, so we steer clear of one another. If anyone knows about curses, it would be her.”
When Kail’ithal didn’t have any more information to give, Ren retrieved the poems from his inventory and gave them to her.
“Do you know this person?” Ren was hoping that she did because the signature on the poem seemed similar to her name.
Kail’ithal took the poems with shaking hands as she read them, a single tear run down her cheek. “These poems were written by my son, El’athal. This Aimon must have been someone he loved dearly. I am glad that he got to feel such love, even if it cost him his life.”
Ren didn’t know whether to laugh or not that he misunderstood El’athal’s name. He thought she was a girl, but who knew that she was a son?
These elven names were really confusing.
Instead of saying his surprise about her son’s gender, Ren only asked, “Why are you so sure that your son is dead?”
Kail’ithal then explained, “I know. A mother knows. My El’athal is dead, but his spirit has not yet returned to the Elven Father. If you find his body, I bid you, take me to him, so I can perform the Wise Mother’s rites and grant him peace.”
As long as the players wouldn’t attack her, Kail’ithal could give them direction to the Yil’Quessir Ayin or the Dark Witch’s hut and lets them go on their way. If the players need a place to rest for the night, she lets them camp in the clearing, assuring them that the dark elves’ magic would keep the shadows at bay.
But instead of taking the offer, Ren preferred to go on his way even though it was so dark. He had full HP and MP anyway, and he had to finish Anansi within the allotted time before he was forced to log out.
There was no more proceeding forward since he knew the path was blocked in the Dark Elven territory until the quest [Rescue the Dark Elven Prince Zeroth] was cleared. So his best bet was to retrace his steps and go back to Eldermill.
After giving his thanks, Ren retraced his steps and went south from Eldermill. This is what he didn’t like about doing a quest. It took a lot of back and forth, here and there, to get things done.
Ren’s heart skipped a bit when he noticed the shadows moving in the darkness. He knew he had to act fast before they could strike. Without hesitation, he drew out his staff and cast a spell under his breath.
A beam of light shot out from the tip of his scepter, illuminating the area and revealing three figures cloaked in black. Ren could sense their malevolent energy and knew he was dealing with dangerous opponents.
The shadows didn’t waste any time and lunged at Ren, their sharp claws gleaming in the moonlight. Ren dodged their attacks with ease, moving with grace and precision. He countered with a spell that sent a burst of flame at one of the shadows, causing it to shriek in pain and retreat.
The remaining two shadows hissed in anger and renewed their attack. Ren weaved through their blows, evading their sharp claws with precise movements. He sent a flurry of magic missiles at them, striking them both in quick succession.
The shadows staggered back, clearly weakened by Ren’s spell. But they weren’t defeated yet. They lunged at him again, their movements becoming more erratic and desperate.
Ren knew he had to finish this quickly before they could regain their strength or other shadows appeared in the dead of night. They seemed to be more of them at night here.
Ren focused all his energy and cast a powerful spell, summoning a bolt of lightning that struck the shadows with a deafening crack.
The shadows dissolved into smoke and vanished, leaving Ren standing alone in the darkness. He took a deep breath, feeling the adrenaline coursing through his veins.
He quickly moved from one area to the next and avoided all the shadows and monsters that he could avoid while swiftly moving from place to place until he eventually reached the Red Hills.
It was longer than he thought. About four hours of travel, and by the time he reached the Red Hills, it was already five in the morning.
Ren sighed. If he knew that this was going to happen, he should have went back to Eldermill and hired a hog rider or any beast rider that would take him to Red Hills.
The Red Hills south of Eldermill was home to a renowned – in the right circles – hexcrafter. Often referred to as “the Dark Witch,” Viscendra. She was a Drow who possesses mystical powers.
And she was the drow that Ren was looking for to get the [Demon’s Metamorphosis] that Anansi wanted.
Ren wasn’t naïve to think that Viscendra would just hand it over to him. He was sure that there was something she wanted too, or even more.
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Ren found his way to the Red Hills easily enough – the tall, rocky, brown-red hills were hard to miss. Once there, he did not have to walk far before he began seeing strange symbols carved into the tree trunks and occult idols hanging from branches.
