NSQ-01: Istus Soothsayer’s Plight

A prophetic side quest for the Temple of Elemental Evil campaign, this encounter ties into the Noble Ambitions arc by offering cryptic visions and warnings connected to the ancient evil rising in the Flanaess. The priestess of Istus offers riddles, omens, and truths hidden in shadow—pointing toward the fate of the adventurers and the dark forces to come.

Setup

After the PCs complete their audience with Lady Elinor (NA-03) and prepare to depart the city, one or more of them may be drawn toward the Elven Enclave or within the B2 Trader’s Market. There, within a vibrant silk-draped tent outside the chapel of Istus, they encounter the mysterious soothsayer.

She offers a cryptic reading, asking for coin and commanding attention with her unnerving gray eyes and ethereal presence. She chooses a character that seems to have an aura of Fate, she calls it out specifically—otherwise, she addresses the PC in riddles of fate.

Scene Description

The tent is thick with incense and strange candlelight. Layers of violet and gold silks hang from the ceiling. The soothsayer draws out a crystal skull inscribed with silvery runes, whispering in an unknown tongue as silvery liquid swirls within a scrying bowl. A faint chorus of voices speaks in unison, unintelligible but undeniably sentient.

The Reading of Fate

The Baklunish soothsayer beckons you forward, her silken sleeves whispering as she moves aside a fold of the tent. The heavy drapes fall closed behind you, muffling the noise of the street outside. A strange stillness settles in the cramped chamber, which is awash in flickering purple light.

You see a low table draped in layers of embroidered silks—amethyst, crimson, and gold—stitched with curling spirals and strange constellations. Dozens of stubby tallow candles burn at the edges of the space, casting flickering shadows across the hanging fabrics. The air is warm and smells of melted wax, myrrh, and lavender smoke.

She glides into the seat across from you and gestures, her fingers heavy with bangles and gemstone rings, the nails painted black and curved like talons.

“Sit,” she says softly. “And watch closely—few have seen what you are about to witness.”

She places her hands around a wide silvery bowl, etched with flowing Baklunish runes that shimmer faintly even in the dimness. Then, with a reverent motion, she reaches beneath the table and lifts something wrapped in blue velvet.

Unfolding the cloth, she reveals a crystal skull, slightly smaller than life-size, etched with withering silvery runes that shift like living script along its surface. The temperature seems to drop slightly.

From within the skull, you hear a faint chorus of whispers—a dozen voices murmuring in unison, overlapping, never quite intelligible. You cannot tell if they’re speaking in many tongues or one that your ears cannot grasp.

As she lifts the skull over the bowl, the silvery liquid within begins to spiral upward, circling the skull in thin strands of floating mercury-light. Her eyes begin to glow with the same pale radiance, and in a voice not entirely her own, she chants:

“By recall’s light and wisdom’s might, the past shall point toward the future…
Behold! The true power of Istus, the Lady of Our Fate.
There are few left with the knowledge to create an artifact with such... potential.”

She smiles—something between sadness and triumph—and her voice lowers.

“’Tis world... So many heroes, so many lives. I watch them come and go, and they pay me no mind.
No one notices an old woman.
But you... your destiny is not here…”

She closes her eyes briefly. The swirling silver strands dim and descend, the whispers fading into silence—yet her voice continues in a deeper, more personal tone.

“You… are different. You see the realm. You see the petty peasants… but soon, you will see much more. I seek only them who want to know the truth. Them brave enough to stand against the storm when it come and defend the realm.
My auguries shine light upon that truth. When you are ready, gather your companions… and return to them.”

She shifts in her seat and turns the skull gently, as if realigning the voices within.

“Can you feel it? That ill wind… blowin’ from beyond the green horizon. These lands of gnome and man—they call to me. They’ve seen much to chill the blood.
The Old One… a deep hunger, a heart of fire. Always they promise freedom to the realm... but now, something worse comes with the turning of the seasons. It already changes this world to its liken.
And if what it wants can’t be found… it will take… everythin’.”

Her eyes, glowing faintly still, fix on yours. She speaks with quiet weight.

“Want to know its name…?
Mmm… The one who brought this ruin worships at the desecrated altar of black stone.”

She touches the surface of the skull again, and the runes flash briefly.

“All you think you know—about your life, your death—is only the beginning.
With your heart still beatin’, you’ll walk them cursed halls and see them with new eyes. Bring order to chaos and face the Demon of Venom… when you raise the priest’s skull of the One Who Never Sleeps.”

Her hand releases the skull, and the glow subsides. She folds her hands before her as the tent’s shadows still.

“All I can do is show you the way. I traveled to another world… and you will do the same. Take these words for the journey. If you read them right, they’ll whisper what has been—and what is yet to be.
Whispers that might just help you save a companion’s life.”

She leans back, her expression weary now, as if the weight of time had returned all at once.

“Now off on your journey. The door is open. The raving madman is waiting.
And our time… it tricklin’ away…”

DM Interpretation Hints (for your reference only)