As he passed by the guardsmen and into the building, Ulor threw a sinister glance at the captain, briefly reshaping his lingering illusion into three pairs of hovering, eye-like spheres of darkness and green flame which gazed malignantly at him before fading. This tiresome man had proved a nuisance for long enough, and it was much to his good fortune that the primal invoker had stepped forth with a credible document. His unsubtle attempt at soliciting bribery, irritatingly pointless as it was, would have yielded him something very different from gold. But, at last, his power to provide an obstacle had ceased, and he could be consigned to the inchoate abyss of oblivion. The path was clear, and the transterrene quest beckoned.

Having followed the vexingly enthusiastic gnome and stepped into the chamber within, he rapidly appraised his surroundings with an indifferent sweeping look, briefly fixating on the General's figure and the surface of the desk before reverting to his usual vacuous stare as he stood leaning upon his staff. He appeared oblivious to the greetings, as though having sunken into a new chasm of darkling meditation. However, he abruptly returned to animation as soon as he noticed the teacups being filled, deftly lifting one of them and withdrawing with it. As though divining his thoughts, the octopus contracted its tentacles, then stretched them out to its full length, propelling itself up from Ulor's shoulder. Strikingly, however, it did not arce downwards and collapse to the floor in a viscid mound, but remained preternaturally suspended in the air, slightly waving its limbs, akin to one of its mollusc kin afloat in the oceanic waters. It careened over forwards, bringing itself into a horizontal position, and writhed forth a few steps, seemingly swimming through the air as though it were liquid.

Transferring the hold on the cup to two of the fingers otherwise clutched around the staff, Ulor reached out with his now free hand and, seizing a hold of his familiar's globular body, gently turned it over at a sharp angle, in such a manner as to place it with its head downwards, its tentacles still oscillating with their tips towards the ceiling. Then, holding the cup over the creature, he carefully poured its contents into the latter's beak. The octopus seemed to swell as it drew in the tea, though that could just as well have been an illusion caused by its vibrating motions; then, once the transferral was complete, it redressed itself and floated upwards, to the higher end of one of the walls, where it attached itself to the stone surface and remained watching the room from its newfound vantage position.

After having thus employed the time other members of the party had spent questioning the General, Ulor turned to the official himself, speaking out in a harsh half-whisper.

"Pillars that whisper appear from the night unending. Strange forces are at work, and they must be sounded. But first... What divine orders do there reside in this city?" As he awaited the General's reply, he prepared to delve into his memory, evoking the remembrance of his days as an acolyte of the god and the knowledge on religious sects he had learned in the gloomy halls and libraries of his youth. It might have been they could prove useful to him presently, after all.