Chapter 1: Year 1281, Summer

There are no windows, and when you try to open the door, it resists. Seems as though the heavy door is locked, though you don't see a keyhole.

Vlur indeed sees nothing of a trick as he examines the door. However, as he raises a fist to knock on the door, tiny gnome runs up and shoulders past you. Clearly not an Adept are we. comes the curt little voice from under the velvet hood. He raises a hand, revealing a silver band set with a single blue stone set in the middle. It glows briefly and the door shimmers into translucency. He wanders through before turning to face you. Well duskskin, you comin' in or not?

Uriel looks around at the pair of you, waiting to see if you'll follow.

Marie-Louise, as you are standing in the hall whispering your 'sweet' nothings in the minds of the students, you see several of them break into tears, rushing through the crowd to disappear around the corner. Yet others slap their heads and pivot on their heels, heading back from whence they came.

Tolwir, as you wander through the halls, searching for the class on beginner eldritch languages, you get a small whisper in the back of your head, of a strangely sweet but emotionless voice.

Tolwir, as you look around the room, you get the feeling like this isn't your classroom at all, however as the door has shimmered back to a closed portal, there is little else you'd be able to do, aside from see what strange teachings may lie within.

The room itself is kind of large, about 100 feet in each direction. The ceilings are a good 12 feet tall. The walls themselves appear to be carved of black stone, though not smooth or polished. As you enter, to the right is a set of lightly tiered seating with small desks, to the left is where the gnome stands before a lectern. On the polished floor, you can see an inlaid circle of brass with various runes around the diameter.

In addition to Marie-Louise, Uriel, and Vlur, there are another 50 students of various walks of life sitting around.

The gnome looks at Marie-Louise before smiling.

Looking away from the little girl, he peers out over the class. Good, you are all gathered today. By some wind of happenstance or perhaps nefarious finagling, I see we've picked up some attendees that are not regular students of my seminars. No matter, it is good for all to witness the kinds of powers the Magelords used to wield with impunity. As I mentioned last week, today we are going to look at a spell that even the mighty Mephanae refused to consider using. Her notes from the time indicate that this spell was ancient, even at the height of her rule. I have studied it for many years, many indeed. Though I've not tried casting it - yet. Today, that changes. You will all bear witness to a manipulation of the leyforces of Belmoor that haven't been attempted in millennia. It is rumored that an ancient god, a powerful figure named C'Thalet crafted this spell and handed it down to his champions on our plane. We'll see just what it was meant to accomplish soon enough! he says, throwing his head back, revealing himself to be quite bald, save for a luxuriously large mustache that appears to be purpley blue and shimmery. His eyes are nearly black, and he has a strange webbed tattoo over one side of his head.

The gnome stares at Marie-Louise for a moment.

He turns back to the class, drawing a wickedly curved dagger from inside his robes somewhere. Now observe! The words the champions inscribed and I have discovered detail a spell of grand binding. It was meant to exert control over the summoned creature, where they could be used to wreak havoc across the world under the caster's control. Today, I dare to call a mighty servant of the Abyss! With this spell, I will bind him to my service, it is the greatest honor I can attempt to the architect of the spell! he says, voice filled with a fervor few of you have ever heard. He strides to the middle of the circle and raises his arms over his head, chanting words in a variety of language snippets. Even if you know the composite languages, the collection is confusing and doesn't follow any proscribed pattern. With the final word, he swings the knife down, slicing through his pants and into his thigh, summoning up a weal of blood. As he flicks the droplets off, they fall to the ground and an explosive burst of light flashes from the middle of the room, swelling to encompass everyone.

As the smoke clears, you find that you are no longer in the classroom. Gone are the desks and nicely carved walls. In their place is a whorl of purple-black jagged stones. The bodies of many of the former attendees of the class lie in broken piles on the floor, their faces stretched in a rictus of death, eyes wide as if fear itself ripped life from the husks.

Some figures are missing, including Uriel. He doesn't seem to be among the dead, nor is he one of the ones left alive in the circular room with no discernible ceiling. Even those with darkvision can't seem to pierce the shadows above you.

Vlur, Marie-Louise, Revelry, Stitch Wing, Tolwir, Professor Maladrin, and a pair of half-orcs are all that remain alive.

Maladrin looks at all of you, face wide, a shock of white hair growing from the left side of his head, one half of his mustache missing.

I - the incantation - what - where in the Hells are we?! YOU! YOU MESSED MY CASTING UP - YOU - YOU PETULANT CHILD! he cries out, lunging towards Marie-Louise.