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Rank:Bronze Member
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From: USA
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(Date Posted:04/19/2009 12:03 PM)
The Wizards Three
Once more the three
by Ed Greenwood
Artwork by Dan Burr
As I was lighting the fire in the study that night, I suddenly felt the
weight of watching eyes. I lifted my head and caught sight of two eyes
staring out of the flames at me. As I recoiled, a mouth appeared below the
eyes to grin at me.
It was Elminster, of course.
I sighed and backed away, beckoning him into the room. The Old Mage rose up
through the floor like a ship moving inexorably down a canal, and strode out
of the flames past me, sniffing. "Is that coffee?"
I nodded, and held out the breastplate of my armor for him to help with; I'd
no wish for Mordenkainen or Dalamar to find me there when they arrived.
Elminster grinned at me as the unseen hands he'd conjured up laced and
buckled and adjusted, and the armor speedily encased me. "Ye look a mite
testy tonight."
I sighed, and gestured at the flames he'd appeared out of. "As I get older,
El, I find my fondness for surprises is fading."
The Old Mage raised his eyebrows and my helm at once. "I fear ye're
definitely not archmage material."
I raised my own eyebrows, just before the helm came down over them. It
smelled of old oil and rust, as usual. "How often are archmages surprised,
given all they know?"
Elminster chuckled. "Not often enough. Mages who start trying to avoid
surprises seldom advance much farther in Art. They become too cautious, and
lose the burning hunger for magic that warms the heart of all true wizards."
I coughed, importantly.
He smiled. "Aye, that did sound pompous." As his magic lifted me gently
onto the hooks on the wall where I was wont to spend such evenings, he
added, "Ye'd be surprised just how often even old, longbearded archmages
know astonishment'
Those words soon proved prophetic.
Elminster barely had settled down in his accustomed seat, steaming coffee
mug in hand, when the stone chimney wall beside the fireplace sparkled and
flashed. out of the stones where the twinkling lights danced strode
Mordenkainen, Lord Mage of Greyhawk.
He made straight for his chair, but as he passed me turned his head slightly
and gave me a wink.
In the darkness inside the armor, a cold sweat broke over me. I swallowed
hard. Well, now at least I knew who'd lowered my visor last time. More
than that: I was still alive-at least, so far.
"Well met," Elminster said. "Coffee?"
Mordenkainen leaned forward, sniffed, and shook his head. The Old Mage
waved a hand, and a decanter of wine sailed out of the shadowed far end of
the study to halt at Mordenkainen's elbow, accompanied by a pair of glasses.
Mordenkainen poured, and extended one glass towards Elminster, who shook his
head and nodded at the third, empty chair. "Dal's thirsty, and I doubt
he'll be any fonder of this coffee than ye."
Mordenkainen turned to look at the empty chair just as a sudden explosion of
swirling motes announced the arrival of Dalamar, looking cross.
"Can't anyone fool ye, Old Mage?" the elf inquired, taking the glass with a
polite nod to Mordenkainen.
"Aye," the Old Mage replied dryly, "but most are ladies I want to be fooled
by."
Dalamar sighed.
Mordenkainen looked at him. "How long have you been here?"
"Long enough to sit down before you came through the wall," the elf replied
smoothly. "With the stink of spell-battle all over you, I notice!'
Mordenkainen stiffened, and then nodded slowly. We all saw one of his fists
clench.
"Gloomy times on Oerth, it seems," Elminster said, green sparks drifting
lazily up from his pipe. "How goes it with you?"
Mordenkainen looked into the depths of his drink for a moment and then said
softly, "I watch and wait, as always"
"While men and orcs carve each other up all over Oerik, as always,"
Elminster added.
Mordenkainen gave him a long, expressionless look. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"I see no end to war on Oerth, even with so much death this last time.
It's a matter of betting among my more cynical colleagues, just how soon the
swords'll be swung again."
"Given thy known distaste for joining armies and hurling land-shattering
spells," Elminster said, puffing more smoke towards the ceiling, "would ye
like any battle spells?"
Mordenkainen looked up at him. "I never thought you'd dare to make that
offer so openly here, given who we are."
Elminster shrugged. "War finds even the doorsteps of archmages-and I think
we can trust each other enough, now, to talk of such magics." He looked at
Dalamar. "Am I right?"
The Master of the Conclave of all the wizards of Krynn nodded and opened his
robe. "I expected this subject to come up sooner, Old Mage. This far from
home, I am never unprepared for battle." On the inner side of the robe were
an array of ivory plaques; Dalamar's slim fingers touched one, and it
instantly became an array of rolled-up scrolls, splayed like a bunch of
flowers.
The elf's face split in a sudden grin. "Spells, anyone?"
There were chuckles. "Let's play at this as if at cards;' Mordenkainen
suggested, and set down his glass. A scroll suddenly appeared in his hand.
He turned to Elminster. "Yours, Old Mage?"
Elminster made a beckoning gesture at the ceiling, and a moment later a
scroll fell out of nowhere onto the table. He unrolled it, revealing
identical parchment pages, and passed them out. "This one's called
slowspell; I think ye'll see why."
"Mine is shadow bolt," said Dalamar, passing out his own scrolls.
"And mine is-ahem-Mordenkainen's involuntary wizardry," Mordenkainen added.
"It forces a memorized spell out of the mind of an enemy wizard, and visits
its effects on him' "
Both of the other wizards winced, and Dalamar's face lost some of its color.
"You can do that?" he asked softly. "What mage-of any world-can stand
against you?"
Mordenkainen held up a hand. "It can unleash only a random spell. No
amount of research, over the last twelve winters, has allowed me to
influence what spell it seizes, in any way."
Dalamar rolled his eyes. "Thank the various divine ones who govern magic
for that," he said. He shuddered, and then said briskly, "My spell is far
less powerful, but probably more useful, from day to day. It's a blasting
bolt that hampers the target even after you harm it."
Elminster nodded. "Mine is a defensive magic, against spell-casters. It
delays a spell from taking effect-for a very short time."
Dalamar raised his eyebrows. "Useful, but I think Mordenkainen wins the
first round. Have you something a little more powerful to offer, Old Mage?"
Elminster nodded, and waved an empty hand. A moment later, it held a
sculpted crystal swan, which promptly melted away, its wings turning into
two identical parchment scrolls. He preferred them with a flourish. "This
one is called bloodstars, and is rather more spectacular."
"Ah, good," said the elven mage, unrolling his eagerly.
Mordenkainen took his with a frown. "Ground-shaking explosive magics may
awe foes," he commented, "but they're often less effective than less
powerful, but, sneakier spells."
Elminster nodded. "There's a saying-on this world, surprisingly-'Always
remember to pillage before you burn."
Mordenkainen chuckled. "Wise barbarians, these."
He looked at Dalamar, but the elven mage merely shrugged. "Most sneaking
spells work very well, but in only a few situations. Raw power, on the
other hand, can blast through many obstacles, and so serve a wielder more
often."
"Sloppy," Mordenkamen snorted.
"Wasteful," Elminster sighed. Then they both grinned at Dalamar, who had
stiffened. He'd leaned forward, obviously about to ridicule their pompous
reactions. He looked coldly at them both for a long moment, then closed his
mouth, sat back, and shook his head. I saw his mouth crook in amusement.
"Can we agree, great lords," he said delicately, "that styles of
spell-battle do involve personal preferences-and can engender neverending
arguments?"
"We can," the two men said in grave chorus, and Mordenkainen handed out
another pair of scrolls.
"This one's for use against undead;' he said, "and is known as Bonebind."
Elminster let the scroll float in the air in front of his nose, and scanned
it thoughtfully. "Hmmm," he said slowly, "this will be very useful in a
little project I'm planning " His gaze slid sideways. "And thy spell,
Master of the Conclave?"
Dalamar looked back at him suspiciously, but could find no sarcasm or
derision in the Old Mage's expression or tone, and after a long moment
answered, "Again, nothing subtle. Rather, something tried and true: acid
bolts."
The table and the air above it were now quite crowded with scrolls. Through
the drifting airborne parchment came a trio of slowly-floating plates,
drifting in from the kitchen. Dalamar warily surveyed the one that settled
to the table in front of him. "What's this?"
"Cold lasagna," Elminster replied. "A specialty of this world."
"Made by your, ah, hidden apprentice?" Mordenkainen asked. His eyes
flickered towards me (I quaked inside the armor, trying not to make it
rattle) and then flashed away again.
"Oh, I wouldn't call him that," Elminster said smoothly. "Let us call him a
scholar. A friend of his made this, I believe, a man who holds the office
of lawyer."
"Lawyer? What's a lawyer?" Dalamar asked.
"An agent for thieves and the like, widely used in this world to keep folk
from using their swords. They fence with words, not blades," Elminster
replied.
Mordenkainen grunted around a forkful of lasagna, "If I know anything about
such envoys, most of them doubtless will soon be bigger thieves than those
they represent."
"Your sight is keen," Elminster agreed in dry tones.
"Whatever his crimes," Dalamar put in, "he makes good lasagna." He turned
another plaque into scrolls, and held them out.
"And this time?" Elminster asked.
Dalamar flushed (his lips and the tips of his ears turned red). "Ah, acid
storm."
"I've heard of, but not encountered that one," mentioned Elminster.
[Editor's Note: This spell is detailed in the Tome of Magic.] The elven mage
nodded, and took a large forkful of lasagna, frowned, made a gesture, and
there was a sudden sizzle and a waft of the aroma of delicious lasagna
drifted across the room. My stomach growled, but luckily Dalamar chose that
moment to say, "I was right-it is better hot."
Elminster shrugged. "Like blasting spells are to a mage, sometimes."
Dalamar raised an eyebrow. "Does that mean you've a blasting spell to
share!"
Elminster nodded. "Ye could call it that. "Tis known as a tempestcone."
Mordenkainen looked interested. "Oh? I've something a little more
pedestrian called lightning storm."
Dalamar chuckled. "Only one of us would call such a spell 'pedestrian '
"' Then his face froze and he made a sudden gesture. Motes of light swirled
around the fork on his plate, and then died away.
"What befalls?" Mordenkainen asked sharply, as the elf drew hastily back
from the table.
"My fork!" Dalamar said, voice tight. "It looked at me!"
"And the magic you cast?"
"Repulsed," the drow said tensely, "which requires great magical power!"
"No living thing can enter this place without my leave," Elminster said
slowly, alarm in his own eyes.
Mordenkainen looked at him, and then back at the fork. "So whom did you
give leave to enter?" Without waiting for a reply, he murmured something
under his breath and opened his hands.
The fork glowed, but nothing else seemed to happen, and the radiance
slowly faded.
Dalamar chanted something, and light leaped and flashed from his fingers.
The fork was outlined in fire, but seemed unharmed, even as the lasagna
beside it vanished in smoke and ashes, and the plate beneath it flew apart
with a sharp crack.
"Not a fan of lasagna?" Elminster asked, raising an eyebrow.
"No more destructive magic, please," Mordenkainen put in firmly, "until we
know what we face here." He turned to Elminster and added very quietly, "You
know who this is, don't you?"
"Aye," Elminster said quietly. "I believe I do."
Dalamar paused, one hand raised to hurl another killing spell. "Well?"
"Don't cast that spell," Elminster replied softly, "if you would live."
The fork rose smoothly from the table, floated sideways to hang beside
Elminster's face, grew silver lips that kissed his cheek, and then
lengthened toward the floor with frightening speed.
Dalamar hissed, moved his hands rapidly, and then stopped, staring.
The swirling silver beside Elminster coalesced into a fire-eyed woman
whose long silver hair curled around her shoulders with a life of its own.
She wore dark robes, and stood tall and slim at Elminster's arm.
Mordenkamen bowed. "The Simbul, Queen of Aglarond, I presume?"
"I am. Well met, Mordenkainen of Oerth,"
The Lord Mage of Greyhawk inclined his head. "The pleasure is shared,
great lady."
"Well met, Master of the Conclave," the Simbul said almost challengingly,
to Dalamar. The elf stared at her, fury in his eyes.
"How long have you spied on us?"
The Queen of Aglarond raised one shoulder in a shrug. "I don't know if I
approve of such secret meetings, and the magical knowledge that may be
spilled inadvertently in them," the Simbul said softly, looking around at
them.
"It is not your place, lady, to approve or disapprove," Dalamar said
coldly, and the rings on his hands winked in unison.
Mordenkainen turned swiftly to him, and said in a voice of cold iron,
"Work no magic, if you would live."
Dalamar drew back. His eyes darkened as he asked carefully, "Are you
threatening me?"
"No," said the mage of Greyhawk, in a voice whose silky menace matched his
own, "I'm trying to keep you alive, Dalamar. This lady mage can overmatch
you easily. I believe she could best any two of us, in open spell-battle."
Dalamar stared at him, and then back at the Simbul. "Is every mage in
Faerun more powerful than the Master of the Conclave?" he protested,
sounding like a small, petulant boy who's just been told he can't have a toy
that he'd assumed was his.
"No, lad. Just enough that ye dare not misbehave. Good advice to any
mage, come to think of it." The Old Mage's eyes twinkled. "Now sit ye down,
have a drink, and put thy nose back into joint."
"A very good idea," the Simbul agreed
softly.
Dalamar glared around at them all, and then shrugged. Mordenkainen
uttered a snort that sounded suspiciously like a stifled chuckle and sat
down.
"So, Witch-Queen," Dalamar said coldly," are you planning on joining-or
spying on-every one of our gatherings, from now on?"
The Simbul met his eyes, and held them with her own. Silence fell, and time
passed while I trembled in the armor, sweat running off the end of my nose.
Then Dalamar shivered, his skin decidedly pale, and looked away.
"No," the Simbul said simply. She flashed a wicked grin and added, "Not now
you've repeatedly put me in your mouth."
Dalamar paled still more, and involuntarily clapped a hand over his mouth.
She'd had endless chances to work magic
on him from within-or prepare him for some future doom.
The Simbul leaned forward, and said quietly, "You have my word, Dalamar,
that I intend no ill toward you, and did not intend to intrude here. I used
a spell to take me to Elminster, and found myself warded out to the kitchen,
so, of course, I came in to see why. I won't intrude again." She looked all
around the study, stopping almost imperceptibly when her eyes swept across
mine (inside the armor, I gulped), and added, "Unless you ask me to. Since
you seem to be trading spells, I'll leave one."
She blew the astonished Dalamar a kiss, and snapped her fingers. A
dainty, ribbon tied scroll appeared between them, and then was blown in the
elf's direction. The Simbul turned to Elminster and murmured, "Later, Old
Mage," and melted into empty air without haste or sound.
Mordenkainen shook his head with an amused air, reached for his glass, and
looked at Dalamar.
The Master of the Conclave had unrolled the parchment. He looked up from
it with amazement and a little fear in his face, and said, "It's called
Alamanther's return. It allows the caster to duplicate the effects of any
spell he's just seen cast-without knowing the spell."
"See meteor swarm, cast meteor swarm?" Mordenkamen inquired, eyebrow
arched.
Elminster nodded. "Life as a mage grows more and more dangerous with each
passing day," he told the ceiling. His pipe drifted down from it to his
mouth, but thankfully, the ceiling did not answer.
For your campaign
After the get-together just recounted, I managed to get enough information
out of Elminster to relay relevant AD&D game details of the wizard spells
discussed before you, to wit:
Shadow bolt (Evocation)
Level: 2 Components: VS
Range: 5 yds./level CT. 2
Duration: Instant. Save: Special
Area of Effect: One creature
This spell creates a bolt of gray, shadowy force that leaps from the caster
to a target creature. If the target is within range and visible to the
caster as casting is completed, the bolt cannot miss. If not, the bolt is
wasted. If another creature deliberately blunders into the bolt, it suffer
the spell's full effects; the bolt vanishes after it strikes a living
creature.
Any being struck by a shadow bolt must make a saving throw. if it fails, the
victim suffers 1d6 points of damage plus I point per level of the caster.
On the round after the bolt hits, the victim is wracked by pain and suffers
a - 1 penalty on Armor Class, saving throws, attack rolls, and ability
checks. After that round elapses, the spell's effects end. If the saving
throw succeeds, the target takes only ld4 hp damage total, and does not
suffer from the pain effects.
Slowspell (Alteration)
Level: 2 Components: VS,M
Range: 0 CT. 2
Duration: Special Save: None
Area of Effect: Special
This spell can affect an area centered on the caster, another creature, or a
stationary area itself. Whether this area is stationary or can move with
the caster must be determined during casting. If used to affect an area,
slowspell protects a sphere of 10' radius per level of the caster.
A slowspell causes spells cast at a protected being or area to be delayed in
taking effect, depending on the level of the mage who cast the slowspell.
The magic won't take effect for one round if the caster is 8th level or
less, for two rounds if the caster is 9-12th level, or for three rounds if
the caster is 13th level or greater. A powerful caster can choose during
casting to shorten the delay. (A 13th-level wizard can choose to cause only
a one-round delay, for example.) The delay can't be lengthened beyond three
rounds by any known means. A slowspell has no effect on magic cast or
wielded by the being it protects, but if cast on an area, a slowspell
affects all magic in that area, from any source.
Once cast, a slowspell remains ready indefinitely. It is activated by
contact with appropriate magic. When activated, the slowspell delays the
spell that triggered it and all others it contacts until its duration runs
out. A slowspell lasts for one round per level of the caster, or two rounds
after coming into contact with a dispel magic spell, whichever occurs first.
A slowspell cannot be made permanent. Casting this spell requires any
faceted gemstone (which is consumed in the casting).
Acid bolts (Evocation)
Level: 4 Components: VS
Range: 60 yds. CT. 4
+ 10 yds./level Save: None
Duration: Instant.
Area of Effect: Up to two creatures
This spell summons two teardrops of flesh-corrosive force that dart forth
from the caster's hands to strike their targets unerringly.
Each target must be a single creature that the caster can see and
distinguish from others during casting, though a bolt will follow a fleeing
target out of the caster's view. It will dodge around obstacles and other
creatures, even those who move to intercept it. The caster cannot aim the
bolt at specific body parts, areas, or carried items.
Any being struck by an acid bolt suffers 4d4 points of damage. Undead and
nonliving objects (even wood and cloth) are unaffected by an acid bolt.
Mordenkainen's involuntary
wizardry (Enchantment/Charm, Necromancy)
Level: 5 Components: VS
Range: 60 yds. CT. 5
+ 10 yds./level Save: Special
Duration: Instant.
Area of Effect: one spell-casting creature
This spell forces a single, randomly chosen spell from the mind of a single
spell-casting being. Without the target doing any casting (or the use of
any material components), the spell takes full normal effect on the target
being; if this is impossible due to the nature of the spell, the target
being takes one point of damage per spell level (for instance, warp wood, a
second-level spell, does two points of damage), and the spell is lost. The
target gets a saving throw vs. spell with a - 3 penalty to avoid all
effects; if this succeeds, the involuntary wizardry has no effect, and is
wasted. it is also wasted if cast on a being that can't cast spells.
Mordenkainen's involuntary wizardry can't trigger the use of a magical item.
Bonebind (Necromancy)
Level: 6 Components: VS,M
Range: 10 yds./level CT 6
Duration: 1 rd. Save: Special per level
Area of Effect: One undead/level
This spell requires a bone from any creature, held in the caster's hand. It
can affect only undead.
The effects of a bonebind are automatic on all chosen undead of 7HD or less
with corporeal forms. Such undead are curled into a ball (if more than one
undead is affected, they are all gathered into one tightly-packed sphere)
and held helpless, immobile and with their special abilities in stasis,
until the spell expires or the caster frees them by an act of will.
Typically, this "boneball" is rolled off a cliff, into an obstacle or fire,
or conveyed into the midst of foes, whereupon the caster ends the magic,
freeing the undead to fight.
Against incorporeal undead and all undead of 8HD or more who don't turn as
"Special," a bonebind acts only as a slow spell.
Bonebind also has additional effects against certain types of undead. When
cast on a vampire, it forces the vampire into corporeal form and traps it in
that form for the spell's duration (so that it must remain solid, visible,
and can't fly). A bonebind spell prevents a banshee from wailing while the
spell is in effect, and protects the caster from the aging effects of seeing
a ghost. In the latter case, the spell makes the caster glow with a white
radiance, but has no effect on the ghost or other undead present. To be
effective against aging, it must be cast within one turn after sighting the
ghost.
Corporeal undead of 7HD or less get no saving throw against a bonebind.
Incorporeal undead and all undead of 8HIJ or more save vs. spell with a - 1
penalty, but are allowed a saving throw every second round after the spell
contacts them. Whenever one succeeds, they break free of the spell. Liches
and vampires are especially susceptible to bonebind spells, and save with a
-3 penalty (every second round until free, as a6ove). "Special" undead are
immune to bonebind spells.
Bloodstars (Evocation)
Level: 7 Components: VS,M
Range: 0 CT. 7
Duration: 1 rd. Save: None
per level
Area of Effect: Special
This spell creates seven star-shaped, spiked fields of whirling, sparkling
force from seven drops of the caster's blood. These bloodstars move about
(MV FI 22, MC: A) in response to the caster's will. All seven can attack
separate targets, although a bloodstar can't move more than 90' away from
its caster.
A bloodstar strikes targets at THAC0 4, and its razor-sharp points of force
slash through all armor and nonmagical barriers to inflict 4d4 points of
damage. (Due to the "energy aura" exuded by a striking bloodstar, a single
being can suffer damage from only one bloodstar in one round.)
Once a particular bloodstar has drawn blood, the caster can make it explode
on any subsequent round, dealing 3d6 hp of damage to all creatures within
10'. The caster is immune to all effects of his own bloodstars, which pass
through him as though he does not exist. A wizard can grapple with a foe,
hold him in one place, and bring already-existing bloodstars slashing
through them both, harming on1v his foe.
Lightning storm (Evocation)
Level: 8 Components: VS,M
Range: 40 yds. CT 9
+ 10 yds./level Save: 1/2
Duration: 1 round
Area of Effect: 70'-diameter sphere
This spell creates electrical discharges within a spherical area. Bolts of
lightning leap repeatedly about within this area, regardless of the presence
or location of metal, water, or other conductors. All beings within this
area take 6d12 points of damage (unless immune to electrical damage), and
all items must make a saving throw against electricity. The magic prevents
lightning from travelling along conductive paths out of spell range; a man
in full armor and a bather in a moat, both just outside the spell's area of
effect, will be unharmed.
The caster of a lightning storm is unharmed by the spell (even if he stands
in the center of the storm) or by any other electrical attacks or effects
during the spell's duration. The material components include a shard of
glass, a scrap of fur, a piece of silver, and a flint.
Alamanther's return (Alteration, Evocation)
Level: 9 Components: VS
Range: 60 yds. CT 4
+ 10 yds./level Save: Special
Duration: Special
Area of Effect: Special
This spell allows the caster to duplicate the effects of any one spell he
has ever seen cast-even if he does not know how to cast the spell, lacks the
necessary material components, and is ignorant of even the spell's name.
The duplicated effect cannot be a magical-item discharge, psionic effect,
natural spell-like power, or a priest spell. The damage, extent, and
duration of the duplicate spell match exactly those of a chosen casting that
the caster saw. The target of the spell is up to the caster; it need not
duplicate that of the observed casting.
A return can't be used to duplicate any spell available to the caster. A
spell that was cast once from a scroll, which then faded, isn't "available;'
but any spell studied, copied into a spellbook, or researched by the caster
would be considered "available," even if the spellbook is presently
inaccessible and the spell isn't memorized. (This prevents a mage from using
a return to forever duplicate the high-damage effects of an especially
successful fireball or other favorite spell.)
The name of this spell comes from the mage who devised it, Alamanther of
Aglarond, and his habit of using it to hurl nasty spells used on him right
back at those who cast them.
Tempestcone (Alteration, Evocation)
Level: 9 Components: VS
Range: 0 CT 9
Duration: 1 rd. Save: None
per level
Area of Effect: One creature
This spell creates a shadowy, upright cone of force surrounding the caster
or one creature touched by the caster. The cone comes to a point a few feet
above the recipient's head, and extends to the floor (or, if the caster is
flying, failing, or otherwise removed from a solid surface, to just below
the lowest part of the caster's body). The tempestcone moves with the
caster, and seems to be a faintly-shrieking, tumultuous chaos of whirling
winds and shadowy clouds (hence its name). Its only effect is to "drink"
all magic coming into contact with it (including magical-item charges and
spells cast by the caster it is protecting), and transforms them into magic
missiles.
The caster is unharmed by the whirling cone of winds (and is unaffected by
all incoming spell effects); the magic missiles created by a tempestcone
whirl around the cone until hurled unerringly at targets within 140' by the
being enveloped by the cone. The protected creature can hurl the missiles
even if it isn't a spell-caster; a mental command is all that is needed.
The missiles are identical in all respects to a magic missile spell.
A tempestcone creates two magic missiles per spell level absorbed, each
doing 1 d4 + 1 hp damage and flying unerringly at MV FI 24 (MC: A). If the
projectiles pass more than 140' from the cone, or are unused when the spell
expires, they fade away harmlessly. Magical-item discharges for which no
spell equivalent exists are considered sixth level for purposes of
generating magic missiles.
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Dellan Pinegrove of the Vesve Forest, Keeper of Rary's Castle |
