Though his wound was healed, Rasmus found himself extremely short of breath. He tried to rise from the ground, but the effort was too much for him.
"Just a second, " wheezed the mage. "I ..I just need a little more rest."
Rasmus expected an extended hand from Sylgja to help him up, but instead she ignored him as she stared up again at the portrait of Master Leroung.
"Oh, not this again," he grumbled."Look, I told you, any passing resemblance I have with my Master is totally coincidental. If anything, it's the artist's fault. I mean…."
Rasmus paused as he noticed Reinhardt was staring at the picture too. "You two do look a lot alike, "commented the Infernal.
"Rasmus look!" pointed Sylgja at the portrait once again. The mage sighed and glanced up, ready to defend himself from her accusations again, but was stunned at what he saw.
The portrait was still intact, but it was different now. The man in the portrait had a thinner face, and a tired look about his features. More tellingly was that the picture's once light blue eyes, have grown sullen and dark….much like his own.
"You see it too. I'm not going mad," said Sylgja.
"What's happening?" he gasped stunned at the transforming portrait. "It wasn't like that a few minutes ago."
Reinhardt stared at Rasmus, then forcefully grabbed his head and examined his face."You look different as well. You appeared to have been drained again."
Sylgja grabbed Rasmus' chin, and used her other hand to purse his lips, before she nodded grimly as well. "Something is terribly wrong here. His features are more gaunt, more…more hollow."
Rasmus shook both of their grasping hands away. "It's the picture I bet, its some type of trap or a curse, or a cursed trap. It's clearly magical, but let me see if I can identify the type so I can reverse it."
Rasmus chanted a simple detect magic spell, and was almost instantly blinded by the intensity of his vision. The portrait was not only magical, but burned white hot with power. He also noticed an old jaundiced aura about it, similar to the one he detected on the Cacodaemon scroll. He then concentrated further to filter out the school of magic involved, but was abruptly halted by a spear shaft to the gut.
"Owww! " gasped Rasmus clutching his stomach. "Why did you do that? You broke my concentration."
Reinhardt shook his head and pointed at the portrait again. Rasmus found it hard to look since his vision had gone slightly blurry, but gasped when he realized what had happened. The picture had changed again. While still retaining the basic look of Lord Leto Leroung, the picture looked a lot more like Rasmus now. Though before he could claim it was just artistic license or a fluke that they bore a general resemblance, it was clearly a picture of himself now with a few of his lord's features to make it more creepy.
"The picture, it changed when you cast that detect spell,"said Sylgja in disbelief. "I bet that's what made it change earlier as well, when you cast those colour bursts at those floating sword and shields it triggered yours and the portraits transformation."
"Colour spray? That's a bit lowkey for someone that can command Ancient spells from the first age of magic, " chuckled Reinhardt in amusement. "Not my choice of spell, but it appeared to have work."
"That's not the point. It seems the more magic he casts, the more it drains him," explained Sylgja who then turned to a stunned Rasmus. "Look, you were complaining about being drained before, but neither Reinhardt or myself experienced it. We even used magic as well, but suffered no ill effects. It's only you that it's been draining."
"Eh? Why me. Why is the portrait attacking me? What have I done, I mean I live here, while you two are strangers. Also, what in Cheliax is that thing?"
Sylgja shook her head. "I do not know, but for now you should refrain from your magic until we discover its purpose."
Rasmus was at a loss for words. Refrain from magic? He was a mage, that was his life blood, his essence. The whole point of him being here instead of the manor on the mountains of Menador. How could he refrain from magic. "Maybe we could destroy the portrait, break the curse."
Reinhardt nodded and quickly jabbed his spear into the picture. Sylgja tried to stop him but was too late as the Arrione shield and sword reappeared. Reinhardt however quickly dispatched it with child like ease with a forceful jab with his spear, shaming both Sylgja and Rasmus. Though his blow didn't puncture the picture, it was enough to dislodge it from its perch up above and fell with a crunch to the ground, breaking its frame but somehow leaving the portrait intact.
"That wasn't that hard, was it?" smiled Reinhardt.
"There were more swords and shields when we fought it. If anything we weakened it up for you, " explained Rasmus, trying to salvage his pride. "Oh never mind. Can you destroy it?"
Reinhardt attempted to jab the canvas through with his spear, and when that failed tried several jets of ice, and even an attempt to physically rip it apart with his hands. After that he passed the canvas to Sylgja who attempted to burn it, cut it, and even channel holy energy through it. All attempts failed.
"This portrait is apparently more powerful than it seems. We should take it with us until we find a method to break the curse," suggested Reinhardt.
"We might need an archmage or a high priest," gasped Rasmus who finally with Sylgja's help, struggled to his feet despite the draining and his recent stomach wound. "I'm afraid I don't know any on a first name basis."
Sylgja forced herself to smile at that jest, but Rasmus could see she was clearly disheartened. A part of him thought that if this continues it was a terrible way to die, another part of him thought what a shame to meet such a beautiful and caring person at such an untimely moment of his life.
"I know one archmage personally, though she's a Grand Evoker not an Alteration specialist or even a Master Enchanter. She's fairly good at her craft though, so maybe she could blast the curse away. As for high priests, well I do know one, but I'm not sure of his whereabouts at the moment. Off on some grand quest I suppose. When I'm not responding to Planar Callings or Cacodaemon spells I do work for an Artificer of some skill though, he may not be able to break the portrait's curse but he might be able to divinate the portrait itself and give us an understanding of its workings," offered Reinhardt.
"That won't do me much good. You can't consult with your allies until you leave this tower, and when you leave this tower your service to me is over," gasped Rasmus.
Reinhardt nodded and smiled. "Consider it a professional courtesy then. You can't have a repeat customer if they end up dead."
Rasmus chuckled but stopped himself as it hurt his ribs. Between the stomach wound and the draining curse, his wounds were really taking its toll.
Reinhardt rolled the portrait up and stowed it in whatever extradimensional space he was using earlier.
"I know we agreed to rest, but we should press on," suggested Sylgja. Reinhardt agreed.
Rasmus didn't but he was too weak to oppose them. He had been fairly independent and pulled his own weight for most of his life, or at least he thought he did since he was unsure of his memories, and did not want to be a burden. Now he felt like a cripple as Sylgja supported him as they roped themselves up and made their way through the fog once again.
The fog was nothing now to Rasmus. It seemed odd. Before it greatly limited his visibility , but he could clearly see outwards of up to five feet now. A benefit to his draining curse perhaps? With his newfound vision he guided the group the best he could and soon they passed through the corridor and out of the fog.
The trio exited into a large circular room with several adjacent foyers and rooms attached to it. There were many books on shelves, though not as grand as those in the library. A table with numerous plants growing on it, arranged in height from shortest to tallest. Even a desk with an assortment of scroll tubes scattered around it accompanied by a patched up by plush chair. All throughout the room were strewn parchments, objects of odd but symmetrical shapes, and precarious piles of books stacked in odd patterns.
"Where are we now? " asked Sylgja warily. "What is this dump?"
"It's my residence of course," smiled Rasmus weakly as he plopped himself onto his comfy desk chair.
