Beginnings

The Obsidian Labyrinth: A Chronicle of La'as Xan

The transition from the silver void of the Ethereal was always jarring, a sudden, sickening return to the crushing reality of gravity and mass. For me, La'as Xan, this sensation was amplified. My people, the Githyanki, glide through the Astral Sea, and to feel one's own weight—to fall, even briefly—was a brutal reminder of the diminished world Inwe, my Queen, now sought to conquer.

"Think your way through," we had been commanded. One moment, we were pure thought, pure purpose; the next, we had landed, my body heavy and unfamiliar, surrounded by oppressive darkness.

Next to me, I could sense the familiar heat of Qenthal, the Drow. Her allegiance to Inwe was one of necessity—the great, devastating cataclysm of Ragnarok had broken both our races, leaving us to scavenge for power in a world where the old gods were only broken statues.

Qenthal, ever practical, produced a lamp. Its small flame banished the suffocating dark, revealing the truth of our arrival: a chamber locked in a frozen moment of divine catastrophe. A shimmering silver circle encircled us, etched with broken, damaged runes. Above, the stone ceiling depicted the final moments: Thor grappling with the Celestial Dragon.

The walls were a gallery of Ragnarok's bloody aspirations. On one side, the Bifrost Bridge was shattered, a raging Fenris mid-stride. Opposite, a chilling portrait: Loki, the trickster, in the foreign guise of an assassin, clutching Heimdall's head—the drip of blood rendered in morbid detail. But my gaze, and then Qenthal’s, was drawn to the final wall: the formidable figure of Hel, her gaze burning with red light, her foot pushing against Yggdrasil. The tree was beautiful, spreading its great, dying branches across the chamber's high ceiling.

As I approached, seeking the source of Hel’s deadly gaze, a sudden, powerful pull seized me. My pouch of precious Astral essence, the very energy of my home plane, strained against my belt, desperate to feed the dying wood. This chamber was no mere monument; it was a hungry trap, stuck in time, capturing the instant the Astral links were broken, perpetually yearning to update. I snatched the pouch away and secured it deep in my backpack.

Qenthal, meanwhile, had been captured by the very thing Hel looked at. Her red eyes held Qenthal, stunned. When she finally recovered, she joined me opposite the Bifrost Bridge. It was there, within the pigment of the red bridge, that she found the hidden door. To open it, I pressed against Fenris’s sculpted paw. The claws closed on my hand, sharp as daggers, but the basalt slab groaned open.

The Serpent’s Trap

We entered a dark, downward-sloping passage. A serpentine carving ran down the apex, its tail ending in a dagger point above our heads. Qenthal’s step was met with an ominous noise. Moments later, the floor dropped away, revealing a twenty-foot gap—a Dwarven security measure, crudely refitted.

I secured a rope to Qenthal, but as she attempted to cross, the rope snapped! I watched in terror, but the Drow's natural grace and a burst of mental effort slowed her fall just enough for her to cast a web and arrest her descent. I lowered a new line and hauled her up, resolving that I needed to master my own latent psionic powers. I relearned my spider climb ability, crossing the gap with Qenthal on my shoulders before disabling the lock.

We stepped into a room guarded by the carved lower jaw of a dragon. Looted Dwarven skeletons lay strewn before larger-than-life statues of Dwarf kings. One statue, crowned with a gem-studded amber coronet, drew my full attention. This was a relic of power, perhaps the legendary Crown of Positivity.

I dared to take it. The instant my Githyanki hand touched the stone and amber, I felt a devastating drain of energy; the gems flared, and I staggered back. The crown was too valuable to leave. I secured it upon my head, leaving a Githyanki scroll—a silent boast of our presence—at the statue's base.

As we looked toward the far end, towards a tapestry depicting the room's silver circle, the skeletons obeyed a forgotten command. They reassembled, coalescing into monstrous, animated Dwarven forms. Qenthal stumbled, but I surged forward, cutting two down before obliterating the others with a concentrated wave of dweomer. I revived my unconscious Drow companion—we needed her skills.

Behind the tapestry, Qenthal discovered and opened another hidden door, leading to a corridor containing the Codicil of the 1st Age. This ancient book described how a portal's location could be fixed in time. While we rested, Qenthal noticed that the lectern holding the book could be moved, revealing a secret hinge. Stairs led straight up.

The Oriental Warrior

The climb was long. Forty feet up, a solid, dwarven-sized door blocked our path. It was locked, but lacked a keyhole. It resisted my immense strength.

“Give me time,” Qenthal sighed, opening her books to memorize a spell for unbinding the lock. As she studied, a faint, metallic ting echoed from behind the door. I hammered on the door—silence.

Qenthal opened the door with her spell, revealing a thirty-foot-square chamber lit by a stained-glass window. Six serpent-like figures held a font of water in the center, and a table was set for a dinner long forgotten. I noticed the tapestries: one depicting Dwarven heroes, the other showing an oriental man kneeling by the font, receiving a clear gem from a hand that emerged from the water.

The moment we stepped in, six-foot spiders dropped from the ceiling. We reacted instantly, but then a sharp pain registered in my back—an arrow! I located the source: the stained-glass window. As Qenthal finished off her foe, a new figure appeared outside, stabbing a spider through the broken glass with a sword.

Qenthal confronted him through the glass—a purple-clad oriental male warrior with a bow. He introduced himself as Sinigawa, claiming to have been trapped in an adjacent shaft and happy to join forces.

Qenthal found yet another hidden door, this time behind the tapestry depicting Iki Moko, the oriental warrior's likely inspiration. Sinigawa, demonstrating a practiced ease, effortlessly unlatched the door Qenthal could not open.

The Cleansing Storm

We listened: two large creatures conversing in a guttural language beyond our understanding. Sinigawa did not hesitate. He kicked the door open and rolled into the cavernous room, blades ready.

Beyond lay a shrine occupied by colossal green, horned creatures—like orcs bred with giants—presided over by a Shaman. The ceiling bore symbols of dead gods: the Sun, Yggdrasil, the Anvil, and a carved book.

As Sinigawa rolled, he unleashed his mind, blasting the Shaman and sending a stunning echo through our own heads. Qenthal leaped past him, engaging the enemy, but was swiftly surrounded and badly hurt. I plunged into the fray, declaring our purpose—“We are for Inwe!”—before cutting down the first fool who challenged me.

The battle turned against us swiftly. Magical missiles struck me, and the Shaman retaliated, throwing a sphere of burning red light that weakened me. Qenthal was staggered. Sinigawa healed her, but we were still outnumbered.

Seeing the odds, I used my Githyanki ability, phasing out to bypass the melee. I then phased back, raising the Crown of Positivity upon my brow. I felt a tremendous, positive surge of energy. A cone of searing steam erupted from the crown, instantly killing the Shaman and three of his larger foes.

The tide had turned. Qenthal fought with renewed ferocity, and Sinigawa, displaying a devastating tactical mind, created mirror images to protect himself. He killed one foe; I finally felled my own target. The last two creatures turned to flee. Qenthal shot one down. The final giant made a break for it, but Sinigawa stepped back, allowing him a moment of false hope, then buried his blade in the creature’s back. The fight was over.

The Orb of Dragor

We took a necessary respite, dividing the small treasure—gems, gold, and useful scrolls. As a trio, we heaved on the carved stone doors. They groaned open, revealing a highly polished black room with doors in the corners and a central pedestal bearing a magical object: the Orb of Dragor.

With a loud crack, the Dwarven warrior reliefs came alive. I ignored the danger and surged forward, grabbing the orb. A terrifying flash of insight flooded my mind: two baboon heads—Demogorgon!—and the realization that this was a Palantir. I crammed the orb into my backpack.

The fight was swift and brutal. Qenthal was struck and collapsed, unconscious. I ran back, hauling her body to a corner and healing her with my mind. Sinigawa, seeing the danger, conjured a pattern of dazzling lights that paralyzed one golem. I imitated him, trying a similar spray of colour, and it worked on the remaining one.

With the immediate threat gone, Qenthal, recovered, spotted a set of stairs. We fled upwards, hoping Sinigawa followed. We found a lift shaft, but its chains were snapped. Using a Potion of Flying, I soared up, carrying Sinigawa’s tiny familiar for reconnaissance.

After a long ascent, we found the top. A staircase led us through a winding mine path until we were deep inside the complex. Suddenly, we heard the faint, distant sounds of battle. Qenthal, ever the cautious scout, dimmed her lantern.

Creeping up the stairs, we found a few looted Dwarven skeletons. The battle sounds stopped. I moved forward with the light, only to hear the dreaded scuttling of a spider. A creature phased in, biting me before attacking Sinigawa.

This was no ordinary beast—a Phase Spider. It kept disappearing, attacking from the deep shadows around the pillars. We combined our attacks, focusing our mental strength to track the creature. Finally, locating its ethereal path, we unleashed a combined mental assault, crushing its wicked mind and killing it.

After a long rest to recover our psionic strength, I saw a new light in the distance. We moved cautiously until we were close enough to see the skirmish: a human-sized figure and two Dwarves engaged with several larger figures. An arrow flew from their ranks, striking a Dwarf. The human cast Faerie Fire, revealing the enemy: Hobgoblins and larger Orc Giants.

"They can guide us out if we help," I declared. We had found allies, or at least temporary tools.

Sinigawa conjured rocks to strike the Orc Giants. Qenthal and I fired Magic Missiles, felling the largest giant. Our help was seen. Sinigawa’s next missile killed another foe. One hobgoblin attempted to flee, but I, La'as Xan, surged after him, cutting the creature down with a single, decisive blow.

The Key of Kagrash remained hidden, but we had the Orb of Dragor, a foothold, and a new, mysterious ally. The world of Olga was now a part of Inwe's tapestry. Our hunt continued.