It was supposed to be a simple summoning, a lesson for a couple of wizardry apprentices,
part of the curriculum of the Indoulur academy for applied magic, one of the few such places
in the city of Halagard which took on apprentices every year, part of the innovative new wave
of arcane studies in the nation of Halruaa approved by the council of elders and even
the temples of both Azuth and Mystra.
In a heavily warded chamber constructed from bricks of rare, faceted obsidian, the light
of thick candles reflected back from the thin layer of lead coating the back of each and
every brick, the chamber door was almost indistinguishable from the inside when it was closed and sealed.
So well protected, occupants would actually run out of breathable air if they remained
inside the sealed chamber for too long and suffer from pressure sickness if they used
spells to create fresh air.
Archmage Galrin had inscribed the magic circle himself, it was perfect, a little different
from the current fashion, but that was to be expected of a human of Laerakondian heritage,
born under the blue sun of Abeir centuries ago, his reputation as a master of conjuration
and diabolism was thoroughly justified, but even so, what the students were going to witness
today was only performed once a year and only those apprentices who were in their last year
of study could attend.
Two such students stood in place, each also within a circle of protection and equipped
with amulets belonging to the Archmage that had spell warding properties well beyond the
apprentices own abilities.
They may have been gifted in the art and well on their way to becoming full wizards in their
own right, but, they were also the children of some very important families in the magocracy
of Halruaa and there would certainly be serious repercussions for the academy if anything
were to happen to them which could not be remedied at any cost.
Archmage Galrin took his place, drew his silver dagger and cut into his finger, then caught
the spilled drops of blood inside the chamber of a finely crafted vial made of solid ruby
gemstone, not very large, purpose-made for just this one task.
His eyes locked on the centre of the summoning circle as his mind, his highly disciplined
mind, took the various mental components of the spell, which he had been reciting over
and over like a fragment of a song, stuck in his head all day, one part was the music,
another part was some of the lyrics, and another, and another, as a sixth level spell, there
were six different trains of thought he had to maintain constantly until such time as
it was time to bring them all together.. he raised his hands, the ruby vial entered his
focused line of sight and was caught on one cord of the weave, floating into the centre
of the circle before him, his left hand twitched smoothly from one to another of the gestures
for each of the first three parts of the spell, his mind assembling them as he drew on the
weave, his fingers seeming to pluck a tone, and a colour from each strand as his watching
apprentices paid close attention, detecting all elements of the magic in the room.
His second hand fluttered and clenched as the last three somatic components kept the
timing with his mental effort and finally, he spoke the last, the verbal component, the
chorus of the song which resonated down each cord of the weave and tore a very fine hole
in reality within the exact centre of the circle, turning the ruby vial into a fine
mist of glittering scarlet dust, the blood... the blood was supposed to turn into a discrete
cloud of steam and take shape as an infernal spirit... but it did not, not this time.
The apprentices broke out in a cold sweat like someone just put a loaded crossbow to
their throats.. they had studied this spell thoroughly, and this was not what was supposed
to happen... the blood was not turning to mist, it was gaining in mass, rapidly.. it
went from droplets to a ball the size of a small fist, to a splay of forked lines, a
circulatory pattern, and suddenly, in the blink of an eye, bone, flesh and scarlet,
leathery hide.
Somehow, the archmage had accidentally brought forth an actual devil from the Nine Hells,
from the looks of it, an Imp of some kind, bloated, unhealthy looking, distended veins,
a torpid belly, small wings clawing at the air, it dropped heavily to the stone floor
and vomited green bile.
No words were spoken, this was a shocking situation, but the archmage was well prepared,
he immediately reached for a pocket in his robes that contained the small, ivory tusk
of a celestial Hollyphant, an object he knew that no true imp could bear to touch and brought
to mind the four mental components of a spell of Banishment.
It was over in a few moments, there was a reek of sulphur in the air, an unsightly green
splatter on the floor and the memory of the popping noise the imp made as it vanished
back to its own plane of existence.
The archmage turned, finally, to regard his students, each was wide-eyed but ready, they
clearly thought this was some unexpected but planned test.
They were wrong about that, but still, why waste a perfectly good mystery?
"And that, is how you deal with the unexpected, what else would have worked as a spell component
for that banishment?"
Both apprentices reached into their robes, one drew out a large white feather, an angel
feather, the other held a small silver chalice inlaid with the preserved bones of a saint
of the church of Ilmater, family heirlooms no doubt.
The archmage nodded, thoroughly satisfied with their preparations.
"Excellent, I confess I know not what manner of Devil that was beyond clearly being an
Imp, but I am sure there is one book in the library of this academy which holds the answer,
perhaps one of you knows it?"
The apprentice Verdando Rodolphon nodded his head and glanced at the other apprentice,
but Dwelligr Serkwell drooped his shoulders a little and sighed, he did not know the book.
Without a word, Verdando checked the floor runes and went to open the door and step out
of the chamber, but was halted by a raised hand from the archmage.
"Hold a moment, if you please Dwelligr, gather us a sample of the creatures vomit in one
of my pale blue apothecary flasks and once done, summon acid to eradicate the rest"
Dwelligr moved to the circle centre and crouched to scrape up some vomit with the edge of his
own silver dagger and get as much as he could inside the blue glass flask, but, as he drew
the blade across the flat rim of the bottle opening, a single droplet of the foul-smelling
stuff dropped onto his exposed skin, and he immediately crumpled to the floor like a puppet
with its strings cut.
The archmage stepped back, so sudden was the effect!
He froze a moment, what manner of poison was that?
No imp sting would incapacitate that fast.
More importantly, though, the apprentice was wearing an electrum periapt of proof against
all manner of toxins, the delicate chain around his neck visible to all.
So what had happened to him?
Was it a curse of some kind?
"Shall I get help?" asked Verdando, the archmage did not respond, he simply stepped into the
circle and took two steps to crouch down next to the fallen apprentice and get a better
look at the slop on the floor.
The apprentice did appear to be breathing, perhaps he was just sleeping?
He reached and gripped the ear of his apprentice, twisting it painfully, and indeed, there was
a response, the young man twisted on the floor and one hand shot up to grab at whatever was
hurting his ear, the contact was only momentary, his wrist brushed against the archmage's forearm,
and he to, slowly crumpled to the floor, with a clatter of all the rings, amulets, charms
and various components attached to his enchanted robes of many eyes, which all blinked once
and then, remarkably, closed, every single one, all at once.
Verdando had seen many things in his time as a wizardry apprentice, but that spooked
him, he had never even heard of anything that could do that to a robe of many eyes and he
knew, without a doubt, that the archmage was thoroughly protected from any form of poison,
and yes, most certainly any low-level enchantment that would induce sleep, plus, Dwelligr had
stirred, but he was still lying on the floor.
"Dwelligr?
Can you hear me?
Make a sound if you are awake..."
A low moan came from the fallen apprentice.
This was good, he was merely paralysed.
He decided on a course of action immediately, stepping around the large circle, but not
crossing inside, he took mental aim and focused his will on the remaining vile syrup on the
floor, drawing on a very basic, beginner spell he attempted to reduce its temperature and
immediately encountered resistance, this could mean two things, it was either resistant to
magic or, it was or contained living material.
He relaxed the magical pinch he was applying, rubbed a small spot in the centre of his forehead
out of habit, and refocused his will as he locked his gaze on the archmage's arm, another
sort of magical pinch of the weave and there was a slight movement in the fabric of the
robe, a ripple that passed along the skin and a wiggling of the various bracelets and
rings, whatever loose skin, dead hair, dirt, dust or ink smudges were to be found there,
simply lifted from the surface and flowed down and away, off the tips of the archmage's
fingers, then gathered up into a tiny ball and dropped into the splatter of infectious
slop on the floor.
The archmage did not stir.
After a moment, relaxing once more, rubbing his forehead and refocusing, the same process
was applied to the other apprentice on his arm.
They should now have been free of any contamination, so, gingerly, he used his simple spell of
prestidigitation to attempt to clean the floor stones of any contamination, hoping to at
least gather up the fiendish fluid and move it away from the wizards, he was pleased when
the stuff did appear to be vanishing instead, just as the normal dirt and chemicals did
on his laboratory bench after he finished his alchemy lessons and cleaning up his workspace.
He was about to cross into the circle and go tend directly to the fallen men, when he
suddenly gasped, clutched his chest for a moment, and then crumpled to the floor.
Within three hours, the air had grown quite stale, all three men were dead.
Investigators from the temple of Azuth, all experts in the field of abjuration and divination
magics, later determined the cause of this most unfortunate accident.
The nine hells are home to many exotic and terrible beasts, many native to the twisted
and war-torn planes all Hodge podge together long ago into the interconnected network of
realms that form the layers of the hells, but, as cosmic enforcers of law and order,
the fiends who dwell there also travel extensively to other realms of existence, far and wide
across the multiverse and have brought back such a dizzying array of otherworldly, strange
and frequently deadly creatures that it is a lifetime's work just to categorize all the
different kind of parasites to be found in the rank and file troops of the fiendish armies.
Imps, the spies and toadies, are quite often sent into exotic environments first, their
ability to remain undetected and cover ground quickly makes them a perfect match for this
role, so, they tend to suffer the most from the widest selection of horrific vermin, diseases
and parasites, so much so, that there is a specific variety of Imp, developed somewhat
organically over the eons, who is a specialist in infested, bloating, breeding, terribly
nasty afflictions called a rot imp, and their vomit is the stuff of nightmares.
Contained inside the infested bile, a particular breed of abyssal snail, so tiny as to be almost
invisible to the naked eye, the swarm of abyssal snails attack any living thing they come into
contact with, not just with a potent neurotoxin, ten times the strength required to kill an
adult human if the snails were of the normal size of a common garden snail.
Very careful collection and study of enlarged specimens has revealed that these are some
alien variety of marine cone snails.
The cone snails use a hypodermic needle-like modified radula tooth and a venom gland to
attack and paralyze their prey, not only could these ones lash out with a long flexible tube
called a proboscis tipped with the wickedly sharp, barbed tooth, but it seemed like they
could eject the whole tooth with an explosive chemical burst, firing it like a microscopic
dart, and its throat is simply backed with such barbs, ready to replace any lost.
The creatures are so small, they just absorb nutrients as a dead animal decomposes around
them, spawning egg cysts that can survive for quite some time until some scavenger or
other animal disturbs them and becomes infected as the cysts burst and release their eggs
all over the new victim.
The anatomy of these snails is also quite unique, their mouthparts are so massively
overdeveloped that they make up seventy percent of the creatures body mass, its head is more
like a hammerhead shark, very wide with dark eye patches on either side, the body extends
back in a very long, tapered cone shell, dark in colour, and for this reason, the researchers
have called them the axe head snail.
In the exotic markets of the City of Brass, Sigil's foggy street stalls and thousands
of squalid little shops, sometimes even the bustling trade caverns of the largest cities
of the Underdark, you may find tiny, very heavily enchanted, boxed, warded and extremely
expensive vials of either powders or black fluids containing thousands and thousands
of egg cysts.. this is the legendary axe poison, one of the most lethal toxins in the multiverse,
not just because it is packed with millions of variant peptides forming the exotic conotoxins,
which is like getting bitten by thousands of different species of snakes at once; But
also because the micro darts cause tremendous damage, ripping open any cells in their path
as they are explosively ejected into the victim, many getting into the bloodstream, causing
heart and even brain damage, such as cardiac arrest or massive strokes.
So, a combination of poison, and a wicked physical assault, is something very difficult
to protect oneself against, and, the axe poison is not simply an inert chemical, it is alive.
As far as anyone knows, this was the only incident of it appearing on the world of Toril,
and only one sample of the Rot Imp's vomit was ever collected, now very securely stored
in the basement laboratories of the Temple of Azuth in the city of Halagard in the nation
of Halruaa on the southern coast of the continent of Faerun.
It is under heavy protection, constant surveillance and the outer trunk containing it is enchanted
to teleport itself and its contents to a secure, secret location if it is ever disturbed without
the correct deactivation of its protective magics.
It's only a matter of time before somebody steals it of course.
My name is AJ Pickett, I make videos about roleplaying game lore and occasionally spin
completely made-up tales of nightmarish poisons from strange planes of existence, also, this
answers a long-standing running gag from my livestreams for the long time watchers of
my channel... now we know what axe poison really is.
Thank you for listening, feel free to postulate on what sort of game statistics you would
give this lethal substance in the comments section down below, and I will speak to you
again, very soon.