SpellgardWhere the southern edge of the high, broken region known as The Fallen Lands meets the western edge of Anauroch, a serpentine, rocky ridge rises from the sands. That ridge is crowned by a vast, grand castle, Spellgard.
Once the abode of Lady Saharel, of the High Mages of Netheril (a ruling elite in that kingdom of sorcery), Spellgard was called Saharelgard, and was a rich storehouse of wealth, mighty magic, and luxuries of dress, decoration, furnishings, and food.
Today it is a ruin, largely stripped of its riches by time, thieves, and abundant mosses, molds, and fungi that grow in its halls. It is a huge place of turrets, archways, balconies, and mile upon mile of interlinked stairs, galleries, and chambers. A few areas, such as the Fountain Hall, are unspoiled and luxurious.
Spellgard sits atop a well, and is cool, dim, and damp inside. This makes it ideal for fungal growth, a popular destination for desperate, parched desert folk, and a strategic "last known water" stopping-place for outsiders about to plunge into dry Anauroch.
Spellgard is said to be haunted by the Sorceress of Saharelgard, now an archlich. Saharel is said to be good in nature, but not welcoming to intruders, and not at all pleased to meet Zhentarim or any visitors who attack her on sight or despoil her halls.
A little known, one-way magical gate in a cellar-cavern of the High Castle in the High Dale (which pierces the Thunder Peaks to link Cormyr and Sembia, in the Dragonreach lands) leads to a grand inner hall of Spellgard.
Anyone taking this magical transport must step out over the reeking cesspool of the High Castle at just the right place, and in just the right direction. A misstep means a very unpleasant submersion in the pool; the proper step takes the user instantly into a cold, shadowed hall, lit by glowing mosses: Archmitre Hall, in the center of Spellgard.
The Hall is tall and dark and gloomy. Dark archways gape in walls all around, and moss hangs from stone balconies above. There is no other sign of life. The floor is an uneven tumble of marble, the stones punched upward as if by an angry giant from beneath.
Cold breezes blow from somewhere unseen, and dust is thick in the air. The only furnishings are stone seats, carved into the walls in little curl-ornamented niches.
A surprising number of adventurers have explored Spellgard's ways, in search of the great magic that must lie hidden here. If any have found powerful sorcery, no word has been whispered around the Realms of it. A few adventurers who survived the trip have spoken of large numbers of cunning, stealthy gargoyles hunting them around the castle, as they hunted for treasure.
An explorer today will find mushrooms and luminescent mosses growing here and there about the empty stone chambers. The torn, dusty cobwebs seem spun long ago, by now vanished spiders. Yet there is a silent, watching feel to the place.
Room after room is empty save for little heaps of collapsed wood, gilt, and stone, where furniture has fallen before relentless passing years. Here and there are the scars of long-ago battle: scorched, blackened areas on the walls and floor, shattered stone panels, and buckled flagstones. Mold, moss, dust and rot overlay everything, and silence reigns.