After a night in the crumbling tower Geoff understood things better. He couldn’t explain how he knew what he did, yet he was certain of his knowledge. The long nosed bird that had been caught in the magical conflagration now touched Geoff’s consciousness and magical talent similarly to what wizards experience with their familiars. Geoff suspected that wizards enjoyed a much more cordial relationship with their familiars than he was experiencing with his. While the stirge followed all his instructions and was fully under the control of Geoff, the creature’s mental communications were full of anger and threats of recrimination. It wasn’t until Geoff fell asleep that he came to realize that somehow the wild magical surge that obliterated Ilrin Sharadin, cast his soul or consciousness or both into that of the stirge. When Geoff woke up the next morning, the tower was still cloaked in a huge swath of dark smoke that still flowed from the un-stoppered urn. Not sure how he gained all the new knowledge, he now realized that the urn had taken on some divine property. The phrase “greater than gold” echoed in his head whenever his stirge wasn’t interrupting.
Geoff’s morning was spent ignoring the taunts and screams of the Ilrin/Stirge while trying to find something to stop all the smoke and nothing seemed to work. Ilrin/Stirge was taunting him for being unable to stop the smoke, muttering about chaos and the divines. For at least an hour Geoff ignored him. Geoff’s Sorcerous blood was pounding in his head; the more he handled the urn, the greater his head ached. Angry at the constant barrage of hatred from his new familiar, he ordered the creature to him and mounted the stirge, telling the creature to fly him above the smoke. Once above the haze of smoke, some fifteen to twenty feet, Geoff’s head began to clear, the pain receding. Ilrin/Stirge still held the urn in its rear talon; smoke trailing as he flew. Geoff had been unable to find a way to separate them or to stop the smoke from spilling out. Soon the sorcerous Halfling rogue heard noises below him, the voice’s owners hidden by the black smoke. Geoff wasn’t surprised that others in the vicinity were now investigating, probably quite confused at not finding a fire or even feeling heat.
With his head clearing and strangers arriving to investigate, Geoff commanded his new familiar to continue flying North West towards Waterdeep. Ilrin/Stirge continued on about chaos and the divines while Geoff’s attention was diverted by the new experience of flying and a bird’s eye view of the North. Geoff had reduced the voice in his head to mere background noise until he was shocked from his reverie hearing Ilrin/Stirge insult him for ignoring wealth greater than gold. At that moment, Geoff of Triboar, knew why he travelled to Waterdeep. He would traffic in knowledge greater than gold. Ilrin/Stirge now became silent, staying that way for at least two or three minutes. When the Ilrin/Stirge spoke again Geoff realized he wasn’t speaking about chaos and the divines. The familiar was identifying the urn as Divine Chaos.