The floating Isle of Lolth is only seen through clouded mists upon the lonely hills, and as though ’twere mist itself, it vanishes before the eye knows what it sees. Many a hiker wonders at the mirage; many of them feign polite credulity when they’re told the legend. There’s one bloke I know, artist chap, who set out to paint the isle. It was labelled a work of fiction, but better to say, imagination, for Lolth will not be studied by the eye. He worked what glimpses he stole into a portrait, and went mad before his brushes were dry.