Cape Varna, June 22nd, AE 420
It is swiftly decided that despite Sir Brennen’s oncoming bout of stir-craziness, this latest twist in Kentfield’s movements will have to be researched.
“Research,” Brennen mumbles, twitching slightly.
Upon arriving in Cape Varna, they enlist Tolaro’s help once more. They want to find a scholar at the university who specializes in the Planes. The next morning, Tolaro introduces them to an elderly high elf named Selenar, and they explain the situation. He has no knowledge of a Plane where elves of such a sort live, but he offers to research the subject for them. Meanwhile Gavin finds a sage with a specialization in military history, and tries to research this from the armor/history angle. He learns that the elves of this world never really used bronze armor, going more or less directly from leather forms of armor to chainmail made from iron and steel.
Jovah does some reading up on the plane shift spell, which he can cast. He learns a great deal about the manufacture of the tuning forks used in the spell; each plane has an associated tone that must be struck, and many planes require exacting specifications for their tuning forks, as even the specific harmonics come into play. The same note with differing harmonic frequencies might get you to entirely different places.
Aris spends his day learning the spell shadow spray from Johann’s spellbook.
Later that day, Selenar comes to see them at Tolaro’s house. He carries two books under his arm; one is moderately old, while the other looks quite ancient.
“I think I may have found something here,” the elven sage says. “It’s somewhat of a convoluted trail, I’m afraid, but the pieces match.”
He sets the newer book on the table.
“After speaking with you, I realized that there was something about your story that struck a bell,” he says. “I thought I remembered reading something like that once. So I went looking through my books, and found this. It’s a work of fiction written by an elf named Silgar, written about a hundred years ago.”
“Fiction?” Corwin asks. “Oh, brother.”
“There are a number of matches with this tale and yours. The story is of an elven hero who stumbles into another worlkd of elves, elves who are more like Fey than elves here. They wear armor made of bronze, and the King of the Elves in the novel has a banner of a griffon in flight, just like the one you saw.
“Now here’s the interesting part. This novel was supposedly based off the journals of an actual elf who travelled to this place, which is called the Kingdom of Caer Sidi in the novel.”
“Cool!” Gavin says. “Is this elf still alive?”
“No,” Selenar says. “He died about two hundred years ago. He had been institutionalized, as he was quite insane.”
“Somehow, I just knew that was coming,” Brennen says.
“However,” Selenar continues, “I searched for most of the day, and found the original journal. Many elven adventurers and people of note bequeath their diaries and journals to the Univeristy, and apparently he did as well. It’s probably how Silgar found them, and wrote his novel.”
“I looked for the portions of the journals that mentioned Caer Sidi, and found this.”
He sets down the older book, and opens it to a book-marked page. In the margins of the page are a drawing of a banner of a griffon in flight, and a drawing of a tuning fork. It also includes specifications for the manufacture of the fork; a core of bronze, covered in a thin layer of copper.
“If he wasn’t utterly insane and making it all up, this seems to indicate a method for reaching this place. I know an instrument maker who can craft this tuning fork for you. He’s done this sort of work before.”
The party decides to go with this information, and Jovah commissions two forks; one to reach this new Plane, and one to get him back home. The others purchase some more concealing clothes, concerned that their steel armor and weapons might draw attention where they are going.
“Aris,” Gavin asks. “What does it mean that these elves are more fey-like?”
“Well, the Fey are unpredictable. They frequently do not have the same sort of concerns about good or evil that we do. Be careful not to promise anything. And whatever you do, don’t take anything from them.”
“Well, you should be telling that to Jalea,” Gavin responds.
“No, I mean even if offered,” Aris replies. “Because then you owe them.”
“Oh,” Gavin says.
The next day, Jovah picks up his two tuning forks, and they prepare to make the journey. The eight party members link hands, and Jovah casts plane shift. There is a blinding flash of light, and when their heads clear, they find themselves in the depths of a primordial forest. The animals of the forest grow quiet, then slowly resume their ordinary noisemaking.
“Did you hear that?” Soldago whispers.
“I heard something…” Reana replies. “It almost sounded like… laughing. Quiet, high-pitched laughter. I could be imagining things though.”
“No, you’re not. I heard it clearly,” Soldago says. “It was nearby, and I heard some rustling through the underbrush too. But its gone now.”
“I was afraid of that,” Aris says.
