May 30, 2025: Two Battles from the Deck of Many Things

On the lawn of the quad, the hexmates battle the nosferatu in the moonlight. Five friends surround the nosferatu, which snarls at them with savage fury.

High above them, in their hexroom, Alister rages. They reach beneath the elegant side table of carved cherry wood to bring their dagger down into the middle of the Deck of Many Things. The knife blade pierces the cards, and the deck bursts, dissolving into ruby splatters, momentarily blinding Alister.

They do not see the flash of lightning from outside the window, but they startle at both the sharp crack of thunder and the explosion of the tiny table as the Deck vanishes. From the space the Deck occupied, a rolling wave of chaotic wild magic leaves in its wake to spread out over the Strixhaven campus.

⚔

On the grass, the hexmates and the nosferatu flinch as lightning strikes the top of the hex tower. Before the friends resume fighting, the creature spews a shower of blood, coating Reyna and Hester in disgusting, clotted goo. Immediately following this, the nosferatu tips its head toward the moon, and the group gasps as many of its wounds close. It drops its yellow eyes back to them and hisses.

Reyna, at the ready, lashes out with a Mind Whip. The nosferatu parries the arcane energy but not before the spell opens a slash across its neck and shoulder. Frustrated, Reyna charges, obsidian blade in hand. She stumbles, missing the nosferatu entirely and instead slamming into the wall. She surprises herself and everyone present by continuing to run up the brick face another three yards, her boots sheathed in wild magical energy from the destruction the Deck of Many Things by Alister.

In their turn, each friend feels the effects to lesser and greater degrees. Hester feels herself lucky in the combat against the black-clad nosferatu. Her hexmate, Beckaylee, is less fortunate. She is engulfed in searing light, burned by the radiant flash. Those close to KFC, feel the prickle of the acidic blood droplets still in the air from the nosterafu’s disgusting attack. Hester and Reyna, sodden by it, feel steam begin to rise from their bloody clothing. Up in the hex, Alister has yet to discover they can only shout when they speak.

And KFC becomes aware of a weight on her hip. The magic item predicted by the Deck of Many Things arrives in a velvet bag hooked to her belt. She plucks out a delicate golden diadem—its spiral design covering the base of the centerpiece, an amethyst fixed in the center rests across the brow. KFC removes the headband and places it upon her head, where the tiny gold crown contracts to fit snugly around her skull.

KFC's eyes grow wide as the headband settles against her rust-colored plumage. The barbarian has known only the primal satisfaction of beak and claw against her enemies. But now something profound stirs within her. A fog seems to lift from around her and is replaced by cascading waves of understanding.

She cocks her head to one side—a gesture still distinctly avian—and experiences the peculiar sensation of thinking deeply for the first time. The world around KFC snaps into sharp focus, no longer a series of thoughts of violence or insects to devour, but a complex tapestry of cause and effect, strategy and consequence. Part wonder, part trepidation, KFC realizes she can no longer return to the blissful simplicity of her former existence.

Enraged, KFC inscribes the sigil of one of the few spells she has mastered. A throb of arcane energy builds behind the Witch Bolt. The evocation power magnifies the devastating effects of the lightning by many times. A blinding flash of blue-white light as bright as the recent lightning bolt blinds the hexmates. Each is nearly knocked to the ground by the earth-shaking tremor that follows.

What remains of the nosferatu lies at the bottom of an immoderately deep hole that has been blown into the quad's otherwise flawless lawn.

⚔

From her hiding place in the Witherbloom Tower cellar, Debbie hears the clomping of cloven hooves treading over the fallen door. From behind her, a tremulous voice squeaks, "Who is there?" The pale face of a robed Witherbloom apprentice peers from around a timbered beam. His face brightens. "You're Debbie Tylstine, the Prismari musician!"

Debbie can only nod. Above them, heavy feet tread across the floor. She hears the door to the cellar at the top of the stairs yanked open.

The thin-faced youth says, rather officiously, "I'm Professor Willowdusk's Research Assistant. Corbell, Nelson Corbell. I'm conducting experiments on the  decay acceleration of negative arcanic energies. I'm authorized to be here, but I'm definitely not supposed to have company." Corbell pauses a moment. Debbie is instead listening to heavy feet slowly descending the stairs. Corbell clears his throat. "Do you have something to eat for me? I can let you stay if you’re bringing me food."

Debbie looks at the fellow, bug-eyed. She seizes him by the elbow to walk him into the room he emerged from. "Do you have any other way out of this cellar? To the sewer tunnels, maybe?" Corbell shakes his head, suddenly aware that there is something large approaching. The pair becomes aware of the faint but ever-increasing odor of brimstone. His eyes widen.

"Then, any place to hide?" hisses Debbie.

Corbell nods his head, then grabs back a heavy curtain. Its rings scrape with metallic jingling as he pulls it back to allow them both to enter before tugging it closed. The sound makes them wince— it is louder than either like.

From the main part of the cellar, a door open followed by the scrape of heavy hooves crossing the floor. A deep, threatening voice bellows, "Debbie? Debbie, come out and I promise to kill you quickly!" The steps move closer to the curtained closet, and the stench of brimstone fills the space.

The wave of wild magic that began with Alister stabbing the Deck of Many Things suddenly rolls through the cellar. Debbie's fingernails flicker blue as arcane energy slips away from her at this particularly inconvenient time. Beside her, Corbell has grown a set of massive, beaver-like teeth that curl past his soul-patched chin.

And on the other side of the curtain, the devil cries out. The pair hears what must be the devil's trident clattering to the flagstones. What might be swearing is muffled by the curtain's thick velvet. Debbie risks a discreet peek through the gap.

The devil pulls up their now oversized trousers, clutching them around their waist to prevent them from slipping off. They seize their weapon from the floor and, hunched over, back out of the cellar. In the final moments before the cellar door slams shut, the devil snarls toward the curtain, "I'll be back for you, Debbie! You'll see! You'll regret this!"

⚔

The hexmates, regrouped, decide that the safest place for Debbie is the Strixhaven chapel. This domed, ten-sided marble temple, small next to the Biblioplex but grand in its own right, rises impressively. Its steeple reaches gracefully into the moonlit night, and the bells will chime at the midnight hour, which is nigh. The friends remain alert.

Within, four columns hold up the dome over a central altar. Smaller altars to each of the nine gods and goddesses of the land are centered in niches on each of the nine walls. Backless benches allow the faithful to face the main dais as a large group, or the altar to their particular deity. 

Above each of these smaller shrines hang the golden symbols of the deities they represent. Before the elegant tabernacles of each, offerings—flowers, incense, and lit candles—spread across the surfaces. All faiths, all beliefs find representation here, and the hexmates know only some of the gods: Lathander, Sune, Silvana, and Helm. The others and their followers remain unknown to them.

Debbie stands on the white tiles before the central altar while her hexmates secret themselves behind the columns. They hear the click of cloven hooves coming up the marble steps, then the echoing creak of the great double doors of the tenth wall as they swing open.

Framed against the night sky, the red devil draws itself up to a full twelve feet of height. Debbie briefly notes the creature wears what looks like a length of rope holding up its baggy trousers. A smile flickers across her face.

The devil smiles back at the musician. Its mouth stretches disturbingly wide and is fills with what seem to be hundreds of needle-like teeth. It speaks in a deceptively mild, resonant basso: "I am Orestes, horned devil of the fiery Second Circle of Hell, and servant of Dispater. Prepare to die, Debbie Tylstine. The Deck of Many Things has bound you to me and only the death of one or the other of us will end this decree."

As Orestes steps across the threshold of the temple toward Debbie, their skin seems to grow more red. The odd tattoos that cover it—possibly writing in some infernal language—begin to glow with a pallid blue light. Steam begins to rise from Orestes' arms and shoulders.

If this causes the devil pain, they do not show it.

Before the creature gets too far into the sanctuary, Reyna steps from behind the nearest column to bowl a Storm Sphere spell across the slick marble tiles. A tiny, grey cyclone has emerged from her palm and spins toward the devil, inflating in size and intensity as it crosses the forty feet of floor. When it is twenty feet across and sounds like a hurricane, it engulfs Orestes, stopping just shy of Debbie.

Within the sphere, Orestes flails their massive arms and lashes their tail as they are buffeted by the surrounding gale. Grimly, Reyna points a finger delicately at Orestes. For a moment their eyes meet—her lavender pair and the goatish, orange orbs of Orestes, which widen in surprise as Reyna releases her lightning bolt.

Orestes' arched outline ignites in blue. Steam joins the smoke that now blow from the surface of the devil's body. The creature struggle to make their way from within the confines of Reyna's spell.

Debbie follows this by attacking with a missed that carries the blessed water as its payload. Unfortunately, the bolt embeds itself in the wall, the water skin of holy water dangling harmlessly from it. It is soon joined by Reyna’s obsidian dagger.

Alister looks to the walls and the holy symbols of the various deities that hang over the altars. As a fey with their own pantheon, Alister recognizes none of the symbols. He races toward one shaped like a golden flaming sword. Tearing it down from the wall, he rushes at the devil, hoping to skewer him with the golden holy symbol. With a mighty heave, Alister pitches the golden weapon at Orestes, who bats it away. The sword clatters to the floor beneath the swinging waterskin of holy water and the obsidian blade thrown by Reyna.

Smiling his too-many-toothed smile, Orestes grins at the druid, “Did you think to slay me with my own god’s weapon? Tempus is, after all, kin to all Dispater’s children.”    

KFC, eyes newly alert to tactical advantages, scans the room, praying to spot some advantage over the enormous devil within the temple.