What happened to the Mayor?

  "And where are you off to?".  The mayor did not turn to look at who was addressing him.
  He replied, "Apparently it is up to me once again to save my city. Now are you two going to help or what?"  The two Mayor Gasgal was referring to were the erstwhile head of the now haunted Mages Guild Jallari and Ravel Dasinder, Patriarch of Boccob, god of magic.
  Jallari said, "Tell me where you are going first."
  "Nerof, you are almost 60, and I almost 70. Isn't this something we should delegate to younger, stronger adventurers?" Ravel rarely said these many words together and when he did speak most listened. As High Priest of Boccob he had insights most others could only dream. Perhaps even greater than The Oracle.
  "Did you have anyone in mind?" asked Nerof as he turned and grinned that goofy smile that has only gotten more quaint as time went on.
  "You see", said Ravel to Jallari. "I told you we were worried over nothing." Turning back to Nerof he said, "There are a few candidates. One in particular is worth watching. One is someone you may know. And the other three are honing their crafts all the time. They currently are investigating an old rumor that seems to have some truth and if they survive I would ask them. Well, I would not ask them. Currently those two idiots Sluggo and Dwizzl are at it again but this time I see bad things in their future. Clouds made of rigid ice, unyielding despite their floating appearance have obscured their future. They have been warned but I fear it will not help them."
  "All right", said Nerof. "How long do we wait?"
  Ravel replied, "If I were you I would go on holiday and wait for my missive. I know that is distasteful to you old friend but there are so few others who could help."
  Nerof thought about the situation and looked at Jallari. "What say you?"
  "I would step back and delegate, oh great Lord Mayor," Jallari winked. She seemed amused at the thought of Nerof doing something other than getting his hands dirty.
"Praise Boccob," said Nerof.

The Lord Mayor of the Free City of Greyhawk, Nerof Gasgal, swung onto his horse's saddle and grunted. Along with thirteen guards and Lathan, his henchman. "Too many things are happening, trying to distract me," he thought. "I will find Gaspar. I will find out why magic has gone. Why things that should be smooth are now difficult." He nearly swayed too far in his saddle before righting himself. He snorted his displeasure and started away.
The day was pleasant enough, hardly a bad omen. He had no time to consult any seer or oracle. This journey was probably going to end one of two ways, "My victory celebration or my death."
"What was that my lord?" asked Latham.
"Nothing Latham, just talking to myself."

  For three days and nights Nerof Gasgal trudged through the Desert of Despair. Every time he thought he was lost he noticed a trail marker or land mark of some kind. A long forgotten campsite, a broken signpost, even skeletons of those who had attempted this journey in the past. His thoughts wavered between determination and hopelessness. "This placed is aptly named," he thought. He was grateful his traveling pouches and water skins were holding up to the elements.
  On the fourth night he had found an outcropping of rock that provided much needed shelter from perceived "things" in the dark. In fact the hiking along the flat featureless plain of what he thought was sand was rather boring. The rock was actually a welcome sight and for the first time since entering the desert Nerof slept until morning.
  When he awoke he was startled to see a tiny skeleton, naked and alone, no larger than a small dog or duck. It was watching him, perched on the rock that jutted out over his sleeping bag. Nerof started to laugh when the skeleton put his bony tiny fingers to his exposed teeth and jaw in what resembled a 'shush'ing motion. Nerof fell silent.
  The skeleton then pointed past Nerof to something past the rock. Nerof slowly got up, dagger in hand to look.
Some 15 feet away there was a chariot made of bone, being pulled by six skeletal horses. It had wheels made of curved bones with spokes of bones, and a chariot floor and walls made of perfectly interlocking bones. It was sometimes hard to see against the dull white sand of the desert.
  "Clever," thought Nerof.
  The tiny skeleton jumped off it's rocky seat and ran, albeit slowly since it was so small, to the chariot and hopped in. It looked back with eyeless sockets in it's tiny skull and motioned for Nerof to join him.
  Aloud for the first time, Nerof said, "Apparently Gaspar is at least a well mannered conjurer. I hope he continues to treat the Lord Mayor of Greyhawk to a manner in which he is accustomed."
  The tiny skeleton showed no reaction but the skeleton horses reared up and if they had organs to make nose would have whinnyed and bayed. No sound same from the hollowness that was there.
  Lord Mayor Nerof Gasgal then cinched his belt, grabbed his possessions and climbed into the chariot. "If this is the way of death," he said," then let it be something I have not seen. And I never saw this."

Dark sunken eyes stared at Nerof. Gaspar's face showed his apparent age. "I wonder how old he really is," thought Nerof.

Nerof took another drink. "This wine is surprising good. Elven feywine if I am not mistaken."

"It is," said Gaspar. Dressed in a comfortable red and black robe and smoking a meerschaum pipe that resembled a tiny skeletal hand, Gaspar did not have a threatening or even a powerful countenance. He seemed tired to Nerof. He took a slow long drag on his pipe and blew the smoke into the ceiling.

"I'm not sure what I am supposed to do next so I'll just come out with it," said Nerof. "Is there a way I could pay you to find out where the members of the Circle of Eight have gone? Or why magic items and other such things have gone away from Greyhawk? I don't know where else to turn. I refuse to owe the clergy any more favors, they practically run the city as it is."

Gaspar perked up at the mention of the 'circle' but then relaxed again. "I can tell you all this for absolutely no gold or gems. I can tell you all this if you can handle the truth as I see it. Can you handle the truth and what it might mean for your city?"

Nerof nodded in agreement. "I am prepared to be unimpressed," he thought.

"Iuz has successfully found the key to defeating Greyhawk. He has found the secret to the Clorin Stone. He sent his agents, most recently the Naga called Isixix or some such shit, to disperse the stone into the mountains that feed Greyhawk it's water supply. With the help of thiose Renalsite soldiers duped into helping her she has 'de-magicked' your city and the surrounding lands. I know for a fact all the mages have been poisoned and assassinated. I know because their corpses are here."

Noticing Nerof's face and the shocked look he said, "How I obtained them is of no concern. They were already dead. I mean, really, what's an old necromancer to do besides grave rob these days?"

Nerof regained his composure and asked,"Did you steal all their belongings too?"

"Of course. If the next of kin did not want me to have them they should have not buried them with the dead. But come now, there is no one left that can use the items and better kept here than out on the black market for untrained bunglers to use."

Nerof found himself remembering how he used those same words on many occasions when dealing with the gangs of Greyhawk. A new magic item would pop up and before the gangs would fight over them he would swoop in and demand they be turned over to him for safe keeping. Never mind how he could move the items and pocket the coins without splitting the profits. Usually another street for the gang to control would be enough.

"Is that all," Nerof said. "Just Iuz? Since when was he clever enough for any of his plans tpo be able to take down one of the circle let alone all of them?"

"He has an inside man, obviously. Look to the noble families. Only one of the Directing Oligarchy would have the motive and the power to do such a thing. Any of the nobility have trade with Renalse? The Clorin Stone comes from there after all."

Nerof knew right away. "Musgrave".