---

Madam Portencia summarised her thoughts. “I learned something that I think I knew already, which is that old man made a deal with the devil a long time ago to save his city. But what I didn’t know is that there was a deal, and that it was going to come to fruition. I knew he was behind it, but I didn’t know why or how or what the mechanism was.”

“He also was absolutely happy to die - he was on his way,” Mak added.

“And that was the same with the Vanthampur’s, right? They were all happy to die,” Madam Portenia agreed. “It really robs that rush you get when you murder a man.”

Ma Betts asked for a summary, her eyes wide at the news both Vanthampur and Kreeg were dead. She looked worried. “This will cause some major shifts in power.”

“You don’t understand - none of us liked her when we met her.”

Ma laughed. “I don’t doubt it. I need to talk to Nine-Fingers, and soon.”

“On the other side we have gone some way toward stopping what happened to Elturel happening to Baldur’s Gate, at least for a while,” Spider added.

“Why not forever?” Madam Portencia asked.

“Well until we kill every cultist in the city.”

“Yes but how many of them are capable of pulling off something like this?”

“I think assuming we’re out of danger is a big, big, big mistake,” Spider said forcefully. “People like Vanthampur have backup plans, and more backup plans for those backup plans…”

“Oh I know. That’s the annoying bit,” Madam Portencia sighed.

“If she wasn’t unhappy to die, and neither was Kreeg - we may have played into whatever plan they had.”

“Oh shoosh. I don’t want to talk about it!” Madam Portencia said rubbing her forehead.

“I feel we did,” Mak said, slowly understanding what was being hinted at.

“I know we did,” Madam Portencia added, “I’m just trying to deny it for now.”

“So, lady, they were worshipping a lot of demons,” Morad addressed Ma Betts.

Spider started pulling out devil parts from his bag to demonstrate the truth of this. “Spider! Put them away, I’ve told you before I don’t need to see the evidence of your work - I believe you!”

“Demons in Baldur’s Gate is never good news. Tell me what you discovered about Elturel.”

“Elturel is in Avenrus - apparently the first layer of Hell,” Spider answered.

“That’s what they’re telling us, anyway,” Madam Portencia added.

On hearing this the voice spoke to Morad again. “I can help you. I can help you save Elturel”

Morad excused himself and walked to the corner of the room, sitting down and looking at the shield.

“Ok. How can you help me?”

“If a city has been drawn into Avernus, it will have been drawn for a reason: to capture all of the souls in the city so they can be used to fight the Blood War - the eternal fight between Devils and Demons.”

Morad recalled Vanthampur saying the same thing - this seemed to confirm it.

“It takes time to collect the souls - they should come willingly. So there may be time to save those souls, and save the city. But we must move quickly.”

“How do we do this?”

“It will not be easy. We will need to travel to Avernus.”

Morad was rocked by this news - travel to Hell? He turned to the group.

“Remember the old lady, saying all the people in Elturel will lose their souls, and they will go and fight, against Demons? The shield says we could get them back. And the only way to do that is to travel to Hell.”

Madam Portencia scoffed. “Right, sure. Well why don’t you go to Hell first.”

“I am willing to go to Hell!” Morad said passionately. He got down on his knees and continued, “You do not know how thankful I am. Al’Akbar has chosen me for this! We are all lucky - lucky lucky lucky!!”

“You have been chosen”

Bili nodded enthusiastically, “I agree. Let’s go!”

Morad clapped Bili on the shoulder. “Bili knows! Bili has eaten people and even he knows - we go to Hell!”

“I was about to go on holiday,” Madam Portencia rued.

“You go nowhere! You help - you very knowledgeable!” Morad encouraged.

Spider started laughing hysterically. This was insanity!

“Spider is in! Bili in in!” Morad cried, totally misinterpreting Spider’s laughter.

“Bili is almost dead,” Madam Portencia offered weakly.

“Bili have one beer, eat a person, good as new,” Morad countered, as Bili nodded in agreement.

“You’ve changed your tune on that guy,” Madam Portencia observed.

“Yes - because we go to Hell! You need a bear-man!”

“He’s not wrong,” Madam Portencia agreed.

Mak laughed, “No, he’s not wrong.”

“Let’s go!” Bili said, standing.

Madam Portencia sighed. “Sure. So - do you want me to just cut your throat, or is there some other way to do it?”

Morad paused. “Ah - good question. Shield! How we get there?”

“I do not know. But if you can take me there, the bonds that hold me will be weakened, and you can free me. Then we can fight to save Elturel.”

“Ok - shield doesn’t know, but is saying a lot of good things, but we met a lot of bad people, so I’m not sure. Says we get to Hell, angel come out of shield and help us. But you know what - could be a Demon. We don’t know yet.”

Torman, who looked shattered beyond mere physical damage, had been strangely quiet. But he spoke up now: “If we’re going to Hell, that’s where the Demons are. One more won’t make any difference.”

“Good point, good point. Lot of upside to shield,” Morad said, warming to the idea.

“Devils, not Demons,” Spider corrected. “Devils are in Hell, Demons are in the abyss. Imps are Devils, they’re not Demons.”

Torman and Morad nodded - Spider was right, but whether Devil or Demon, there were going to be plenty of them.

“Devils make deals,” Spider added.

Morad nodded. “We use the word Demon - we mean all of them. We just kill them all. Whether they deal-maker or not.”

“Semantics,” Madam Portencia said, trying to get back on topic, “In any case - let’s just entertain the idea we were going to travel to Hell. I might just know somebody who can get us there…”

She recalled the visiting Candlekeep long ago in her days travelling under the guidance of Madam Electra. Sylvira Savikas, a high-ranking mage of Candlekeep had visited Madam Electra’s wagon, her eyes twinkling with knowledge, and she laughed with delight as Madam ran through her routine.

At one point she had looked at young ‘Madam Portencia’ directly, and the young apprentice had felt herself lost in those pools of deep wisdom. Sylvira had smiled warmly and spoke kindly, encouraging the innocent youth to follow in Madam Electra’s footsteps. Madam Portencia was awestruck, and spent the rest of the time in Candlekeep learning everything about Sylvira and her ways, barely leaving her side. And she had vowed one day to return.

---

Ma Betts stood. “Let me talk to Nine-Fingers, this is all well above my pay grade. I specialise in running this borough, not in cities being sucked into Hell,” Ma noted grimly.

Before bedding down, Spider asked Ma to put out the feelers for the servants, and also discovered that Shaleen, the sewer maintenance officer, never showed up at the Harpy. Madam Portencia retired for the morning, warning that any disturbance would get a fireball in the face.

The daylight hours were spent sleeping and recovering.

After waking, Bili and Torman studied Duke Vanthampur’s ledgers. They were strangely legitimate, or at least there was a somewhat believable excuse for almost everything in there. Sure she had closed off the sewers below the bathhouse - but business was suffering due to ill effects from the sewer smells, so she naturally blocked them off. Nothing any good business person wouldn’t do. The circumstantial evidence was strong, but that was all.

Madam Portencia and Torman meanwhile investigated the puzzle box. Torman determined it was constructed of infernal iron, a substance he had seen only rarely, and something only sourced from the Nine Hells. Madam Portencia could see no way inside, but she did discover that the lock wasn’t magical - it was a physical lock of some kind, just one that seemed nigh-impossible to open. Her only hope was Sylvira would also be able to help.

“All portents lead to Candlekeep,” Madam Portencia noted, swirling her breakfast tea leaves.

“In mythology, a puzzlebox opens when it is ready to open for you,” Morad commented, “Not because you want to open it.”

“That’s just what people who can’t open puzzleboxes say,” Madam Potencia laughed.

While gathering again to eat, Ma Betts joined the table with her serious face on.

“First things first - your servants have been found. They’re alive, but scared - they’ll likely talk once pressure is put on them,” she warned. “You need to get out of here - fast - until things die down.”

“Secondly: the Duke’s untimely demise has been discovered. We’re trying to keep a lid on it but that won’t last. Once it gets out they are going to be looking for someone to blame.”

“What about the fact that the Duke is going to be found in amongst Dead Three cultists, devil worshipping stuff, and actual devils?” Spider questioned.

“You underestimate those we’re up against. That won’t ever get out - she will have been found ‘assassinated in her study’ and that will be the end of that.”

Spider nodded glumly. Politics was not a game he understood. “What about if we… take care…of the servants?”

Ma stared hard at him. “Is that what you want?”

“I want to be able to walk the streets in my own city.”

“Give it enough time and it should be safe. But I can arrange it - say the word. You will owe me.”

Spider looked at Mak who shook his head, and Spider realised he too hated the idea. “We’ll see how things sit when we come back.”

Ma Betts nodded and continued. “Now. I’ve talked to Nine-Fingers, and she’s with me: this city is going to go to hell - not your kind of Hell mind you.

“We’ve lost Ravengard, and now Vanthampur. There’s no-one left to assume the crown - Stelmane and Portyr are not likely to step into the void, they are too comfortable - or too mad - to take the bait.”

“Nothing like a power vacuum,” Torman observed.

The Baldur’s Gate locals knew both of the remaining Dukes were professional politicians who enjoyed power but would never want to expose themselves to the rigour of leadership. Bellyne Stelmane was suspected of having some significant physical problems in recent times, the once vigorous and formidable politician having become almost a recluse. And Dillard Portyr preferred working his many schemes from the background, comfortably ensconced in his manor-house.

Ma Betts turned to Morad. “Your shield says that Elturel still exists?”

“Yes. But - in Hell,” Morad confirmed, before continuing, struck by a poetic muse. “Like if you blow glass, and you put something in it. It’s still there - but in the glass.”

Ma Betts was impressed. “I understand completely what you are saying - a very apt metaphor! In which case - Ravengard could still live, would you agree?”

Everyone nodded. Spider had been chopping a huge slab of meat with a cleaver. As Ma spoke, his chopping became more vehement: he could see what was coming.

Ma Betts continued: “I never thought I’d be saying this, but we need Ravengard back. The Fist were a pain in the ass - apologies Torman but you know it’s true - but they’re a pain we can work with. An uprising of hellish forces we cannot, and we fear that is what awaits if order is not re-established quickly.”

“Then perhaps we should go to Hell,” Torman concluded solemnly.

Ma nodded. “We need leadership, and we don’t know anyone ready to step into that role. And without leadership in this city, we are going to be in big trouble very quickly.”

“Well I think it’s time for your guild to put their money where their mouth is until we can sort something out,” Madam Portencia suggested. “I would normally say this is above my pay grade,” she said glancing at Ma Betts, “But I’ve actually been paid an awful lot.”

“Oh don’t worry, we will be taking advantage of this situation,” Ma smiled. “But this situation will rapidly get out of hand - we prefer things to be in hand. So ridiculous though it may sound, maybe your shield - and Torman - are right. Maybe you should go to Hell.”

Madam Portencia continued. “Well as it happens, I know someone who knows a lot about Devils. Academically.”

“Understand that I’m not telling you to do this. I would not travel to Hell if you paid me all the gold in Baldur’s Gate.”

“In other words, you’re not paying us for this one.”

“You do not need to pay me. I go,” Morad said firmly. “Me and the shield, we go. Bili, he go. Bili ready to go now!”

Torman hefted his battleaxe and flail and rested them on his shoulder. He too was ready.

Samael whispered to Spider, “We should go too.”

“Why?” Spider asked.

“Guess.”

“I know why you want to go.”

“Exactly.”

“Well that’s not going to be particularly pleasant for me though is it?”

“You’ll learn a lot,” Samael said convincingly. “These powers you’re uncovering? You’ll discover a lot more down there.”

“No offence - but it’s Hell,” Spider countered.

“Yes. And I’m from there - you know that. I’ve been in your world for these many years - you should come to mine.”

Spider looked down at his hand, and was surprised to see he’d cut his finger. He sighed and nodded.

Madam Portencia stood. “I’ll take you to Candlekeep - that’s where my contact is: Sylvira Savikas,” she said wistfully. “We’ll open a portal, and maybe the puzzlebox too. And then we’ll see.”

---

After heated debate about the benefits of travelling via boat vs horse to Candlekeep, horseback eventually won out thanks to the increased flexibility. Madam Portencia managed to acquire a two-seat sulky and ratbag horse, much to everyone’s delight - especially Spider who hopped up next to her with glee. Morad was pleased to be back with his mount, as were Mak and Bili to see their Elks.

The journey to Candlekeep started with passage through the Basilisk Gate. As the Gate opened, Flaming Fist soldiers held back the tide of Elturgardian refugees. The party cut a path through these wretched souls, whose wails intensified as the Basilisk Gate closed behind. Desperation was etched on their faces, hunger and fear dominating their attention. Morad spotted a soup kitchen that had been set up amidst the chaos, palming a handful of coins to the grateful volunteers. “Yes, this is how we start. This is how we redeem and bring goodness” the shield whispered to him.

“I do not need to be told this, shield,” Morad muttered. “I just do good - you don’t need to tell me.”

The dirt road cut through the slums of the Outer City, past the walled neighborhood of Little Calimshan, to the great span of Wyrm’s Crossing.

The two huge bridges met at a tall, rocky island that rose from the middle of the Chionthar River. Buildings and merchant stalls lined the sides of both, making it impossible to see the river from the narrow, congested roadway that cut between those structures. Wooden drawbridges connected the two bridges to a keep situated atop the island. The flags of Baldur’s Gate and the Flaming Fist - still - waved proudly above the fortress.

Spider warned everyone of the cutpurses and beggars on the bridge, well noted as Madam Portencia’s fancy carriage drew particular attention.

Wyrm’s Crossing and Baldur’s Gate disappeared from view and the party headed down the Coast Way, a dirt road that led to such distant lands as Tethyr, Arnn, and Calimshan. Candlekeep lay on the coast several days South, and the first day was uneventful, the night spent in a trader’s inn.

---

Mid-way through the following day, a human farmer approached riding on the front of a hay-filled wagon pulled by two draft horses. The farmer gave a friendly wave as the wagon drew near. “Ahoy there! Can you tell me how much further to Baldur’s Gate?”

Madam Portencia pulled to a halt as Torman rode around behind the wagon.

“Two days away,” Torman replied.

“Two? Alas.”

“Alas? You look like at the end of two days you’ll need a drink, you’ll sell all this, and you’ll be fine!”

“Where did you come from,” Madam Portencia asked suspiciously.

The farmer waved his hand vaguely. “You wouldn’t know it, a small place to the South.”

“Try me.”

The farmer smiled weakly.

“Look,” Madam Portencia sighed, “Whatever it is, whatever the scheme is, whatever the plan that you guys have sorted out - just don’t. Alright?”

Morad was confused. “Why you not let him talk?”

Spider popped off the sulky and walked down the side of the wagon, studying the bales of hay.

The farmer looked nervous. “I see you’re a… man… of education - you’d agree this is some fine produce.”

Spider grinned, then pulled a shortsword and jammed it into the piles of hay. The farmer protested: “This is unacceptable!” as the hay bales erupted and three black-clothed assailants burst forth.

“Get the shield!” a voice called in infernal from above, and everyone looked up to see a red-skinned devil hovering high in the sky.

---

Three of the combatants leapt toward Morad, who was still on horseback and used his height and power advantage accordingly. Mak swung into the melee, striking hard and fast, as did Bili, enraged.

Madam Portencia focussed her attacks on the flying devil, her first strike exploding with thunderous force, buffeting the creature back. Spider took two massive blows from the lone attacker not working on Morad, and Spider retaliated with a piercing dagger blow.

Two rays of scorching fire shot down toward Morad from the airborne devil, one burning him badly. Torman guiding bolt failed to connect, but his spiritual hammers surprised it, clobbering from behind. It yelled in pain, and then in encouragement in infernal to its allies: “The shield, the shield!”

Torman yelled to Morad, “They’re after the shield!”

“I’m getting that idea!” Morad cried. Despite some telling slashes from his scimitar, Morad was surrounded and taking a fair number of blows as a result. “Use me, strike with me,” the shield whispered. Morad hauled the shield off his back in a well practiced sweep, and held it toward the foes, understanding instinctively what to do.

“Al’Akbar” he said, simply.

An enormous ball of fire roared out of the shield and into the warriors, burning all of them badly. Bili and Mak suffered too, Morad being unpractised in the way of the fireball. Spider was safely under the wagon, flinging shuriken at the devil.

Madam Portenia sensed a voice in her head trying to convince her to obey - “You will follow me and do what I say” - and laughed it off, instead firing at the devil again, hitting so hard it dropped like a stone toward the ground before recovering. It flung more flaming bolts at Morad in response.

Before long the veteran fighters were downed, and the devil too was finished off by Torman’s hammers, dropping from above and cleaving its head in twain.

---

The rest of the journey was peaceful. Madam Portencia leaned toward Spider. “Just between you and me - we’re going to need a book, when we get there,” she hinted.

“What kind of book,” he replied, nonplussed.

“Something good?”

“Well we have that book of infernal poetry?”

“That will do nicely,” Madam Portencia smiled, relaxing back into her seat.

---

After a few days of travel, during which the weather gradually worsened, a path branched from the wider road heading to the sea. A raven perched solemnly on a post bearing a sign that pointed like an arm toward the coast: The Way of the Lion. “This is it,” Madam Portencia called, wheeling her buggy to the West.

The afternoon sun shone through the clouds to illuminate the gray walls and pale spires of a timeworn fortress that stood majestically atop a rocky promontory overlooking the sea: Candlekeep.

---

At the gatehouse three monks stood in purple robes: a human, a shield dwarf, and a sun elf. Around their necks hung holy symbols of Deneir, god of writing, whose symbol was a lit candle above an open eye. “Welcome to Candlekeep,” said the elf in Common, bowing. “A gift is required from those seeking admittance. You must donate a book or scroll that isn’t already in the library’s archives. Please present your gift for inspection.”

Madam Portencia appeared uncharacteristically nervous, hiding her face from the monks. Spider looked at her quizzically, “Give me the book.”

“I don’t have it,” she muttered quietly. “Bili and Torman read it, I don’t read infernal.”

“Infernal - that does sound interesting,” the monk smiled. Spider located the book of infernal poetry, Apocalypto, and handed it over.

The three monks touched their holy symbols and studied the book, nodding to confirm the uniqueness of the tome. “Very good, this is indeed a great gift. You are most welcome to Candlekeep, please step inside.”

“You are free to go wherever you please, and stay as long as you like,” the shield dwarf explained. “You will find everything you may need in the Lower City, and of course there is the Citadel and Great Library within. There you will find books and scrolls on every conceivable topic - including infernal poetry, thanks to your gift!” she said warmly.

“Will we be able to access our book?” Torman asked, “We have not gleaned all we might.”

“Of course! Though it may take a few days to catalogue, but after that it is most certainly accessible.”

The Lower City was impressive and nicer than even the Upper City in Baldur’s Gate. Spider noted the occasional watcher, the there was a distinct lack of strongmen. Bili waved at some of the watching mages, and they welcomed him in return.

Madam Portencia followed her nose, the memories of the city slowly returning, until she stumbled her way to The Hearth, the most popular tavern in the Lower City. Half a dozen patrons of various races were enjoying the services, and the innkeep welcomed the group warmly. A big ogre wearing a golden crown say in one corner, poring over a book resting on the table in front of him. He looked over and held a hand up in welcome, his face showing an intelligence that surprised Mak and Bili, who were familiar with ogres of rather less smarts.

After securing lodgings and meals, Madam Portencia excused herself and went in search of a tailor. “We’ll see my friend tomorrow - there’s just enough time for shopping before we retire.”

Mak asked Spider about refreshing the supply of healing potions, which Spider agreed was a smart move. He scouted the streets, observing closely the comings and goings of the citizens, quickly realising this place really was as tame as it looked. But he did find some potions - and several very promising vendors of magical goods.

---

By the following morning everyone was better equipped, having spent the majority of the earnings from Ma Bett’s payments.

As the group gathered to head out, a man came down the stairs in a freshly tailored suit. A man that looked near identical to Madam Portencia. Bili looked perplexed. The man was sporting four o’clock shadow, wearing a cravat, and was dressed very stylishly, just as a gentleman scholar should be.

Torman nodded, understanding perfectly - Madam Portencia was dressed in order to find out information, something he was well practiced at.

Spider dropped his utensil on the table, looking slightly angry. “What. What the hell, Madam P?”

“It’s complicated,” Madam Portenia explained, “This is someone from my past. So if you just want to keep Madam P under your hat, for today.”

“How should we address you,” Mak asked.

“Albert Carnegie,” Albert Carnegie replied studying the frozen faces around him. “Oh come one! Stop looking so gormless, all of you.”

Morad looked completely shocked, and deeply embarrassed. “Hello Mr Carnegie,” he said stiffly, staring hard at the ground.

“Hello Morad, " Albert said kindly, “You’ll do fine.”

Spider sent his food back in a huff, needing to blame someone for something. “Do they not know how to season anything in this place, for the love of god?” he scolded.

“Mr Carnegie’s been seasoned,” Torman scoffed.

“Get it all out, come on,” Albert encouraged.

“No, it’s fine,” Spider grumbled, “You do what you gotta do.”

“It’s easier this way, it’s easier for me - there’ll be less questions.”

“If this is what you’ve got to do, this is what you’ve got to do, Madam…uh, Mr P,” Torman nodded.

Morad cleared his throat. “Mr Carnegie,” he started, before clamming up, wringing his hands in anguish.

“Morad, it’s ok,” Spider started to explain. “The people she needs to see think she’s a man.”

“That’s fine,” Morad strangled out, “Mr Carnegie has business.” His eyes burned a hole in the floor in front of him.

“It’s just a disguise, don’t worry about it!” Spider encouraged, patting Morad’s arm.

“I understand,” Morad said unconvincingly, “I have travelled. Mr Carnegie is busy man.”

“I think Morad needs a hug,” Mak said stepping forward.

“No! No hugging! Please - that’s the last thing I need,” Morad said, horrified. “No. Not needed.”

Albert walked toward the door. “I’m happy for you to all join me, the more the merrier.”

“Where are we going, Mr Carnegie?” Morad asked formally, not looking anywhere but the floor.

“We’re going to go up to the library.”

“Just before we do,” Torman held his hand up. He turned toward the corner and paused, then turned back to the group - with a new face. Clearly Torman, but just as clearly not who everyone thought he was. On his lapel was the symbol of Torm recovered from Kreeg, and Kreeg’s Hellrider ring was on his index finger. His countenance was changed from the roughneck Flaming Fist guard to a wise and stern cleric of Torm.

“Since we are showing our hand,” Torman said nodding at Albert, “My name is Torgrun Delfare, of the Hellriders.”

Bili straightened his loincloth uncomfortably, having nothing else to reveal.

“Bili - got anything else under there?” Albert laughed.

“Just what nature gave me,” Bili answered simply. He started carefully stitching together the bear claws he had gathered into a necklace.

“As I thought. You be who you want to be bear-boy,” Albert smiled. “At the risk of inviting unwanted questions myself,” he continued to Torgrun, “What is the reason for this charade?”

“Which charade are you talking about?”

“Yours!” Albert and Morad cried together.

“My charade is not for your purposes, my charade is that I am a Hellrider that has been working in Baldur’s Gate in my guise as Torman. Whatever it is we need to do to find out what happened at Elturel, and whatever we can do to save it, you can see that I am interested in that cause. So if you wish to become a man,” he said to Albert, “in order to find that same information out, so be it.”

“Well your interest is understandable, at this point,” Albert nodded.

“My interest has been piqued since that first day. So I bid us do what we need here, and move on.”

“Can we assume your original mission is moot, at this point?”

“My original mission had nothing to do with the matters at hand. Mine was more about the to-ing and fro-ing of the diplomatic niceties between Baldur’s Gate and Elturel. This is nothing you should worry yourselves about,” Torgrun said. “But I have chosen this moment to show you who I am, because I believe as a party it is time for us to lay our allegiances on the table. It is time for us to show our focus and understand where we are going.”

“Well just so you know, this is Morad, only Morad - no-one else,” Morad said, indicating himself.

“I have no doubt of your pure intentions Morad,” Torgrun confirmed, “I never thought anything else.”

Albert looked around the group. “Anyone else feel like fessing up? Spider?”

Spider had gouged a sizeable hole in the table, but didn’t speak.

“And Mak…no, you’re good.”

“You’re all weird,” Mak said simply.

“Hey! Mainly them - not me,” Morad said shaking his head. “And the Bear. Ok so really only you-me,” he concluded to Mak.

---

A monk welcomed the group to the Great Library, providing directions when Albert asked for Sylvira Savikas.

“Ah, Sylvira - one of our foremost mages - an Archmage, in case you weren’t aware?”

“I was not,” Albert said quietly.

The Library was staggering, a towering edifice housing hundreds of monks and wizards, and thousands of books and scrolls. Albert eventually found Sylvira’s chamber and rapped nervously on the door. The door swung open instantly, and a woman’s voice called out from inside, “Albert! It has been far too long, please - come inside!”

The walls of the circular tower chamber were punctuated by shuttered arched windows. Bookcases filled with eldritch volumes stood between the windows, while tables were crowded with specimen jars, alchemical equipment, and other clutter. Engraved into the floor of the chamber was a large, nine-pointed star. Morad looked at it suspiciously, the nine-stars reminding him of the nine candle arrays in the Vanthampur dungeon. Seeing Sylvira, his suspicions deepened.

---

A middle-aged, red-skinned, horned Tiefling, dressed in wizardly robes, stood by one of the windows. Perched on the corner of a table nearby was a spindly little demon with warty green skin, buggy eyes, thin black horns, and a whip-like tail.

Spider whispered to Samael, “What’s that?”

“Demon,” Samael hissed back venomously.

“I can’t tell you how pleased I am to see you,” said Sylvira warmly, walking to Albert and holding her hands out.

Albert froze for an infinitely long period of time, before pulling himself together and joining hands with her.

“How many years has it been?” she asked.

“Um - half a century?”

“Well I’m thrilled to see you all grown up,” Sylvira smiled, “And so handsome.”

“Thank you,” Albert blushed. “You have, uh, you have grown yourself,” he said weakly.

“Mr Carnegie,” Morad interrupted, pointing toward Sylvira’s companion, “What is that creature? "

“To the best of my knowledge,” Albert said recovering, “That would be a Quasit.”

“I am very confused. Is your friend good, and is that creature good? Because…”

“Everybody here is good!”

“Look at the circle!”

Albert turned in a panic to the group, “Oh god, no-no-no, everyone here is friends!”

Sylvira explained. “Oh this is Jezebel, my familiar. I see you have one or two yourselves.” She walked over to Mak looking wide-eyed at Slobberchops and patting him. “My my my, a Tressym! I have not seen one of these for a long time - this is yours?”

“It is now,” Mak mumbled.

“Maybe we should start at the beginning,” Albert suggested. “Can we get some drinks - it’s a long tale.”

---

After the tale was told, she looked concerned and intrigued. “We knew of Elturel’s fall, and have sent top Mages, but not the detail.”

“Did you know it had been sucked into Hell,” Albert asked. “I feel silly even saying it.”

“We did not, though we had some suspicions. These are huge and powerful forces you have been dealing with, obviously. It would take an enormous sacrifice from someone to effect that kind of disaster - and it sounds like Kreeg was the one that made it.”

“That’s what we suspect,” Albert agreed “So. Do you know a way into Avernus?”

“Yes. We can open a planar portal. Not here - Candlekeep is protected from encroachment from other planes. But I have a friend who owes me a favour, outside of the city.”

She continued her musing. “An infernal pact that could finish with a city being drawn into hell. I can only assume Kreeg was granted the power to save Elturel and rule over it those centuries ago. And the two-hundred year reign is why the price was so high.”

“Was there no inkling that there might have been something untoward about his rule?” Albert questioned.

“I’ve been suspicious of the High Overseer of Elturel for a long time,” Sylvira explained. “But no one wanted to hear my concerns, because Thavius Kreeg was widely regarded as a hero who saved his city from an undead scourge, giving rise in turn to the holy nation of Elturgard.”

“What we have seen would tell us otherwise,” Torgrun added. “We knew he had great power.”

“Great power. And - to be fair to him - he didn’t misuse that power terribly in these past centuries. He built up Elturel to rival Baldur’s Gate, a holy nation admired by all.”

“But that great power has come at great cost.”

“And no-one could see what was coming. Even me with my long-held suspicions could not see that.”

“We have ridden into Hell before,” Torgrun said firmly. “And we will do so again. We must save Elturel.”

“Yes. Elturel is saveable,” Sylvira confirmed.

“From what we have been able to glean, our time is short, but we have a chance.”

“Any souls within that city are slowly being turned to Hell’s dark purpose. Hailed as a savior, Thavius made all citizens of Elturel swear an oath called the Creed Resolute, which binds them to defend the nation of Elturgard. You know the Creed of course,” she said to Torgrun, “But likely thought nothing of it.

“I met him years ago, and my instincts told me he was a charlatan. Afterward, I grew to suspect that he had cut a deal with one or more powerful devils, using the Creed Resolute to bind all Elturel to his dark deal. Those souls are now forfeit by the terms of the deal,” she concluded grimly.

“Well that would include your soul,” Albert said to Torgrun. “And mine.”

“It would. And what the implications are is that my people, my Hellriders, the citizens of Elturel, will be fighting for their lives. As I will fight. They will not be lying passive as victims of demons and devils. And I wish to join them, in order to bring Elturel back from the planes to which it has been sent!”

“This is exactly what you should do,” Sylvira affirmed. “The city would be intact, and there would be free souls still fighting for survival against the devil’s advance. Now I wish to prove my theory, and I believe the evidence is locked inside the puzzle box you carry.”

“How she know about the box? You tell her Mr Carnegie?” Morad asked. “Be careful of this one, do not trust everything she says” the Shield whispered.

“No, I did not. How…?”

“Oh. I know many things, I knew you were coming and knew what you brought,” Sylvira said knowingly.

“Oh, I have no problem with that at all,” Albert smiled palely, slightly overawed. “Spider do you have the box?” he asked gamely.

“What can you tell us of it?” Torgrun asked.

“It is an infernal puzzlebox. My suspicion is what lies within is the contract between Kreeg and whoever he sold his soul to. Those contracts are what binds the agreements.”

“So if the contract was destroyed - we could remove the power that took Elturel to Avernus?”

“Yes. There are two identical copies of every contract - one will be within your puzzlebox, the other will be with the partner of his deed. If the two can be brought together then it can be destroyed. But it is difficult - very difficult due to the sheer power of this contract.”

“First things first - we need to get our copy from that box,” Torgrun said.

“Well you’ve come to the right place,” Sylvira smiled. “I will be able to unlock that puzzlebox. It is not a safe process. You may have to defend my position while I try.”

“Defend from what?” Albert asked.

“When those that make these contracts detect meddlers, they oft-times try to intervene.”

“Even here, with your protections?”

“It may well depend on the power of the contract. And this one was powerful indeed.”

“Understood,” Torgrun said, drawing his flail.

Spider shook his head, addressing Albert. “What, if anything, does this have to do with stopping the same fate happening to Baldur’s Gate?”

“I thought you guys wanted to go to Hell?”

“I’m supposed to be finding out if the same thing’s going to happen to Baldur’s Gate. That’s what you were all paid for.”

“The last conversation I remember,” Albert recalled, “Was that we all decided we would go to Hell. Morad got everyone geed up. Bili was happy, you were all patting each other’s back. I think you were all a bit drunk if I’m honest. And I said I knew someone who could get us there.”

“Mr Carnegie is correct,” Morad confirmed. “What we said was we go to Hell, because then we stop the demons coming into Baldur’s Gate. And while there we get Elturel and the people back.”

“And I think I’ve made my desires clear,” Torgrun added.

“Right. But that doesn’t answer the question,” Spider said turning to Sylvira. “I don’t need to go to Avernus to stop it, I just need to stop it.”

“I understand. The only way you’re going to stop it is to stop Hell absorbing the power of the souls in Elturel. Each soul they take increases their power, and once Elturel is truely fallen, Baldur’s could well be next.”

“But doesn’t it take a deal to have been done with someone?”

“It does indeed. And, based on what you told me, I would suspect that deal was being forged with Vanthampur. Her being dead may have set that plan back, but devils have plans within plans within plans, and her death have very little impact. The wheels are in motion, it will be hard to stop them from turning further without intervention. Assuming the death of Vanthampur is enough would be a grave error.”

Spider didn’t look convinced, but nodded.

Torgrun continued. “As for Mak and Bili. I don’t think they’re tied up to whether Baldur’s Gate would suffer. I don’t know about Mak, but Bili wants to persue the Ice-Witch.”

Bili nodded, while Mak explained. “My village sent me out, because all of our villages started having visions of something going very wrong. The wise-people of the village said if we did not fight it by venturing to your civilisations, it would come to our lands eventually. That is why I am here. I didn’t realise I was signing up for Hell,” he concluded, shrugging.

“It is your decision to make, but let us open this box first - perhaps it will help you decide.”

---

Spider floated the puzzlebox over to her. She took it carefully, obviously relishing the challenge of opening it.

“Be ready,” she said, stepping inside the star etched on the ground and pouring a black liquid over the box’s surface. The liquid started to work its way into the intricate paths on the box, and Slyvira stepped back outside the circle as the box hovered within. She manipulated the box from afar, completely absorbed in the task. As she twisted the box into a new position, ichor started dropping from the box onto the ground, hissing as it struck the stone floor.

When she moved the box into a new position that seemed to suddenly reveal clear patterns, a rush of ichor spewed from the box and four Spined Devils appeared in the room and hissed toward the floating puzzlebox.

“Don’t let them touch the box!” Sylvira yelled.

Everyone was more than prepared, Mak in particular relishing finally being in combat again. He absolutely destroyed the first devil with a two blows. Bili followed suit, raging forward and clubbing a second devil to the ground.

A devil flew toward Sylvira, attempting to break her focus, but failed to strike true. Morad sprinted over and tore into it with his scimitar, and Spider finished it off with ease. Torgrun killed the final devil with his flail, and Sylvira continued her work.

The ichor was dropping off now constantly, and the patterns on the box were taking their final shape. “We’re close!” Sylvira called, and as she did a Bearded Devil rose up out of the congealed ichor crying, “Where is Kreeg!”, much to Torgrun’s interest.

Albert stepped forward and unleashed an incredible ball of force into its torso, causing it to be thrown backward in shock directly between Mak and Bili. They both smiled with hunger as the devil flew between them. Mak missed but Bili made no mistake, driving his weapon into the creature as it passed and fell dead to the ground.

“You seem more than ready for Hell,” Sylvira smiled, her brow sweating. Just as she did the final puzzleblocks fell into place. She smiled, “This is what we have been seeking.”

---

The box unfolded and a stack of nine chain-linked platinum plates inscribed with infernal fell to the ground. Torgrun walked over and picked it up, reading to the group:

Be it known to all that I, Thavius Kreeg, High Overseer of Elturel, have sworn to my master, Zariel, lord of Avernus, to keep the agreements contained in this oath.

I hereby submit to Zariel in all matters and for all time. I will place Her above all creatures, living and dead. I will obey Her all my days and beyond with fear and servility.

I recognize the dispensation of the device called the Solar lnsidiator, hereafter called the Companion. In my capacity as High Overseer of Elturel and its vassal territories, I acknowledge that all lands falling under the light of the Companion are forfeit to Zariel. All persons bound by oath to defend Elturel are also considered forfeit.

I further recognize that this dispensation will last two-hundred years, after which the Companion will return whence it came, taking Elturel and its oath-bound defenders with it, if that is Zariel’s wish.

All this is my everlasting pledge.

“You fool,” Torgrun whispered grimly. He was reeling from the revelation that it was Zariel who was the progenitor of this contract, and of the destruction of Elturel. Zariel who had led the Hellriders into Avernus to fight the devil hordes. Zariel, the angelic saviour of Elturel, was the Lord of Avernus. It shook him to his soul, and yet everything was pointing this way. This was the final confirmation that she had been deceiving everyone this two-hundred years.

“By Torm!” he cried. “This contract shall not stand. I am not chattel to be thrown at the feet of a false god!”

Sylvira nodded. “It is as I suspected. And only one as powerful as Zariel could enforce such a contract. It is she who holds the other half.”

“And it is Zariel that we must bring down from her perch. Zariel is the problem - I have more to consider with Kreeg. He fell too easily under our sword - I think he has fallen in order to continue his defence in the face of this contract. I think Kreeg has gone to his people to fight Zariel, and I think we should join him!”

Everyone looked confused and started talking at once.

“Fight Zariel?” Albert questioned. “Uh, I don’t think so,” Spider scratched his head. “I think he turned them over!” Bili cried. “To fight Zariel or join her?” Mak asked.

Torgrun continued. “For two-hundred years it was the only way he could keep out of hell. Zariel who took the Hellriders to Hell, has taken up a position in Hell. And Kreeg has bought our safety these two-hundred years!”

“Mmmm. You took a big old swig of that cool-aid buddy,” Albert said cautiously.

“I, I don’t know actually. That doesn’t sound right,” Bili said uncertainly.

Sylvira raised an eyebrow. “That is a possibility. However… I would be surprised.”

“There’s only one way to find out, and that is to find them in Hell,” Torgrun said firmly.

“You got stitched up by your boss, pal” Spider suggested. “It’s pretty clear - he works for her, he’s not defending anyone.”

“I don’t think he works for her,” Sylvira answered. “I think he was sacrificed to her.”

“What’s the difference?” Spider said archly.

“The point is moot,” Torgrun said. “When we fell under the light of the Companion, we were deceived. But that doesn’t change the fact that innocents have fallen to Hell and we must fight for them to return.”

“I think we can all agree with that,” Bili nodded.

“Mm-hm,” Mak agreed, reverting back to his small words.

Sylvira continued. “It is news to me, and a concern, that the Companion was provided by the forces of Hell. It has long been considered a holy object, and has protected the city - or so people have thought. But from your tale, and this document, it is also responsible for taking Elturel into Hell. I would theorise that object, that ‘insidiator’, may also hold some key to returning the City. "

“Insidiator does not sound like a good word,” Bili agreed.

“It didn’t look particularly friendly just before it dragged Elturel away, did it?” Spider added.

“We saw it’s true manifestation,” Torgrun suggested.

“Right,” Bili nodded. “Let’s go to Hell then.”

---

“So this guy you know…?” Albert asked Sylvira warily, “Where is he located?”

“He is outside of the city - I can provide gryphons to fly you to his tower. I will message him and let him know what you need.”

Spider jumped in, “We have to let people back in Baldur’s know what’s going on, before you fuck off to Hell.”

“I wasn’t even planning on going, if I’m honest.”

“Oh thank god because I wasn’t planning on going either. It sounds like a completely stupid idea.”

Albert nodded. “It was these guys who were all up for it.”

“What do you mean? It is the only idea that we have!” Morad argued. “Mr Carnegie. You are very different today in many ways, because the plan was: we go to Hell, we get the people back.”

“I said I would take you somewhere to someone who might know something about how to get there,” Albert said tiredly.

“This is true,” Torgrun started, “If those of you from Baldur’s Gate think, as you always have, that all that will happen to Baldur’s Gate is nothing, because it is not a part of the world. So be it.”

“That’s not what I said,” Spider replied angrily. “I said I have to let people back in Baldur’s Gate know.”

“Can’t you just send a message?” Morad asked innocently.

“Oh sure, just send a message with a secret fel contract. Yeah I can do that for sure,” Spider said sarcastically. “No I can’t send a message! It’s three days, it’s not going to make any difference.”

“I’m afraid I can’t wait three days,” Torgrun shook his head. “That is the lives of people from my city.”

“There would be no problem getting an encrypted message to Baldur’s Gate should you wish it,” Sylvira offered.

“What kind of encrypted message,” Spider pressed.

“Magic.”

“We’re all on the same team here, Spider,” Albert added.

“You can trust me,” Sylvira smiled.

“He hasn’t trusted anyone for a long time,” Torgrun said wryly.

Spider grunted and asked for the means, and stared scribbling a message in thieve’s cant. He explained what happened in Candlekeep, the opening of the puzzlebox being key. He copied the infernal contract word-for-word, and covered Torman’s ‘change’ to a ‘dirty dirty Hellrider’.

Right now, most of the party are planning on a trip to the first layer of Hell. I haven’t decided if I’m that big of an idiot yet. But just in case - thanks for everything. Spider.

“While we wait, is it possible I could see Madam Electra’s spellbook?” Albert asked quietly.

Sylvira looked at him. “Madam Electra? Huh - I had thought you might step into her shoes.”

“Who’s to say that I haven’t.”

Sylvira walked to her shelves and pulled out the exact book Albert was looking for, handing it over with a warm smile. Albert took it carefully and started studying the knowledge within.

Sylvira turned to the group, “I know time is of the essence, but it may well be worth your time spending some time studying the core of our knowledge about Avernus, the Nine Hells, and the devils and demons that haunt them.”

Even Torgrun could see the wisdom in this, and a day was spent getting as much information as possible - Morad asked also for books on Al’Akbar and was supplied with what could be found at short notice - invaluable texts.

“Now is a good time to buy anything else you might need, as there aren’t many shops in Hell,” Sylvira hinted, “And don’t forget Devils like to make deals, so find things you can offer, things that aren’t your souls”.

The animals were stabled safely, under promise of their well-being and care from Sylvira. Morad added an entire gold to his horse’s groom, providing strict instruction and care. “Use this brush, do not lose this brush, this is his brush, not yours.”

As preparations were near complete, Sylvira handed over a rolled vellum scroll. “This may help you on your journey, it is a very rare map of Avernus.”

“Why would it not help?” Albert questioned.

“It may not be entirely reliable,” she suggested. “The creator of this map went insane making it.”

---

“Those marked areas are known locations within Avernus, but the location of those places change constantly. That is why it is unreliable. But the places are real.

“Tiamat herself is trapped in Avernus, banished there by Asmodeus - you may have heard of Stormwatch? They fought her back from the material plane and forced her to return to Avernus.”

“Bullshit,” Spider coughed.

“No! That’s not bullshit, we had a bard come to our city and tell us all about Stormwatch.”

“We hard a bard that worked with the circus too, his name was Stump Grinder,” Albert mocked. “He did a sex show as well, lively fellow.”

“Yes and Stormwatch was about as real as him,” Torgrun laughed.

Sylvira shook her head, “It’s all true - but they have gone into legend. Though I believe they still live…”

“The River Styx looks a safe way to travel,” Torgrun suggested.

“Be very wary of the Styx - do not touch it, do not get the water anywhere near you. It is quite deadly. I suggest you should attempt to get to Elturel, it should be obvious once the portal is opened, assuming it still stands.”

Sylvira led everyone up to a landing atop the tower, where she had summoned six gryphons. “The gryphons will fly us to my contact. He will open the portal for you. And his name is Zandeyr.”

---

“I’m going to come with you, to Zandeyr’s tower. There is someone I want you to meet, someone that might help you. But I will need to summon her,” Sylvira added mysteriously, while encouraging everyone to mount up.

Riding gryphons was a unique experience, at once exhilarating and terrifying. Soaring high above the water, just below the clouds, Sylvira headed due West, beyond land and into the wide ocean. After some 20 miles of flying, a tower appeared in the distance - a floating tower. It hovered above the open water just as the Companion had once hovered over Elturel.

“Wizards,” Albert huffed, though even he had to admit this was quite something.

The gryphons flew into a landing platform at the top of the tower, covered by a conical peak.

“And here we are,” Sylvria said. “This is Zandeyr’s tower - it used to belong to someone called Traxigor, but now it’s Zandeyr’s.”

“How well do you know this Zandeyr?” Albert asked.

“Oh, for a few years now. He’s a strange one - he looks much older than I think he is. My guess is he’s gone through some trevails that might have aged him prematurely, as you shall see.”

Sylvira led the way down a spiral staircase which opened into a large chaotic room, stuffed to the gills with books, scrolls, bottles of mysterious liquids, and miscellany of every description.

Standing in the room was an extremely ancient Elf, his face pale and skin stretched over his jutting bones. Despite his obvious age, there was a spark of joy and fierce intelligence in his piercing gaze. And when he spoke it was as if he wasn’t old after all, such was his enthusiasm - just someone who had experienced a lot and lived to tell. Though that was a tale for another day.

“Hello! Hello! Welcome friends!” Zandeyr waved enthusiastically.

“I am very pleased to see you again my friend,” Sylvira smiled warmly. “You are looking very healthy!”

“I feel healthy! Come in, come in!”

“As I mentioned to you, these fine gentlemen are seeking a means to travel to Avernus - of all places - and I suggested you might be able to help.”

“Avernus?! In the Hells??”

Sylvira laughed. “Yes! As a master of Undeath I thought you were the very person. But before we do anything else, I would like - with your permission - to recall Lulu.”

“Of course, the more portals the better!”, Zandeyr enthused.

Sylvira stepped back and started to weave a summoning spell, eventually opening a portal that look on a plane of absolute beauty: golden sunlight, forests lush with abundant flowers, warmth, and a great sense of peace.

“Why can’t we be going there,” Albert sighed wistfully, recognising it as Elysium.

“Lulu!” Sylvira called, “It is time.”

The sound of small wings beating fast came from the portal as a tiny golden-furred flying elephant appeared, fluttering through the open gateway.

---

“Sylvira! Thank you for sending me to Elysium, it was just what I needed. But now I am ready, I think I am ready,” Lulu said with warmth. Her voice was beautiful, a radiant sing-song voice, untainted by cynicism or worry. “My name is Lulu,” she said turning to the group, “and I would like to accompany you to Avernus.”

The directness of her request surprised everyone. “Why would you come with us?” Torgrun questioned, “To such a Hellish place.”

“What he said,” Albert nodded.

“I can answer that,” Sylvria said. “I found Lulu, having heard rumours of a Hollyphant wandering the wastelands of Avernus. Lulu is from the Upper Planes, so her being in Avernus was a mystery. I found here there, absolutely lost, her memories gone. I brought her here and we became friends.”

“How long ago was this?” Albert asked.

“Oh, many years, maybe decades?” Lulu answered.

“And since then you have been here?”

“Here, in Candlekeep, and in recent times Elysium. Sylvira thought the peace of Elysium might help recover my memories, but alas it was not to be.”

“I have been trying to help her unlock her memory, to find out why she was in Avernus. But it has been a near fruitless process so far - she has very few memories, and all of them scattered, but there is one she does recall clearly - one that your recent discoveries seem to confirm.”

Lulu fluttered nervously, spinning several times before speaking. “I remember fragments: travelling in Avernus, the River Styx, strange companions and monstrous beasts. But I have one strong memory: I was great friends with a beautiful warrior angel, who came to Elturel, and led the knights on a charge to Hell! I don’t remember the actual battle, but we must have lost. I guess that’s why I have no clear memory.”

Torgrun started at this revelation. Lulu rode with Zariel, with the original Hellriders?!

“I know there is truth in that memory. I want to know who I am, and why I was there,” Lulu continued.

“You seem like one who could help, a good man,” Lulu said directly to Torgrun, “A man somehow connected to this.”

“I am indeed connected,” Torgrun said recovering, “In fact I have a part of your story. I will give you this gift if you accompany us.”

“Of course! Please, tell me, I beg of you!” Lulu cried.

“The description you provided sounds very much like the leader of the riders, who has fallen to become what I think is a Lord in the Hells.”

“No!” Lulu gasped. “No, no!”. She fluttered nervously.

“Zariel,” Torgrun said with emphasis.

Lulu stopped dead. “Zariel? Zariel! Zariel was who I was with! Zariel was my angel!!”

Albert flipped out a tarot card, not bothering to selecting the right one. “No good will come of this,” he said, flashing the card (which Torgrun was quick enough to notice was, somewhat incongruously, The Lovers) before tucking it away. “That’s my reading for the day.”

Lulu flew over to Albert, excited at rediscovering Zariel’s name. “Oh, no, much good will come of this! Much good! Together we will find Zariel and redeem her! We will bring her back.”

“That’s as good a prediction as any,” Albert admitted.

Morad turned to Sylvira. “Do you know what kind of creature this is?”

“Lulu,” Sylvira replied, correcting Morad’s lack of courtesy, “is a Hollyphant. I had never seen one until I met her. My understanding is they are creatures of the Upper Planes, where good aligned Angels and Deities choose them as companions and messengers. And now it seems we know that Lulu was Zariel’s companion, before the fall.”

Lulu flew over to land on Torgrun’s shoulder, fluttering with joy. “Yes, a friend! A friend of Zariel, and a friend for you! I will lead you where I can, but I will need you to lead me until I can.”

Torgrun reeled for the second time, hearing again the words of Torm: “One will come to guide you, yet needs you to guide. Trust them. Help them.” So it wasn’t the shield as he had begun to suspect - Lulu was his guide, and he would be the one to guide her.

Albert wasn’t so sure. “You can lead us? What does the shield have to say about that?”

“The shield is fine,” Morad said stridently, “You do not have to worry about shield.” He had noted the shield’s silence through all this, however.

Spider asked Samael if he had seen one of these things before, or knew what it was. “Nope. It looks ridiculous, I will say that - but so does that cat perched on Mak’s shoulder,” he shrugged.

Mak looked at Slobberchops, then Lulu, then back at Slobberchops. Was there a family likeness there? Slobberchops yawned and settled onto his shoulder.

---

“So Zandeyr,” Spider asked, “What is your story? Why are you part of all this?”

“Part of all what?” Zandeyr replied innocently.

“How come you know how to get to Hell?” Albert asked suspiciously.

“Oh, I’ve got books,” he said, waving his arms around. There were a lot of books scattered around on the floor, tables, chairs, walls - just about every flat surface.

Albert nodded, “Like where we just came from, just without librarians.”

“In fact - I’m writing a book!” Zandeyr beamed. “Perhaps you’ve heard of it? Practical Metaphysical Naturalism.”

“It’s about taking your clothes off in the wild with other like-minded friends, is that it?” Albert asked mockingly.

“No! It’s about the afterlife, and undeath, and after death and before death. All sorts of things. In fact it contains wisdom of the ages,” Zandeyr said with pride.

“So - you didn’t actually answer my question,” Albert interrupted.

“What was the question again?”

“How do you know how to get to Hell?”

“Oh! I have many books,” he repeated, “And - I saw a man do it once. A boy called Victor, in a land called Barovia. It wasn’t very successful the first time he tried it but I think I’ve worked it out.”

“Uhh - you think you have?” Morad asked incredulously.

Albert looked back at Sylvira, who smiled. “Don’t worry, he knows what he’s doing. A little bit vague, but you can trust him - I helped focus his… unconventional approach.”

“He lives in a flying castle,” Spider commented, “He’s gotta have some sort of mojo going on, Madam P.”

Sylvira looked at Albert, raising an eyebrow. Albert blushed hard and gave Spider a dirty look.

“Anyway! When do you want to go?” Zandeyr asked, rubbing his hands together.

“When?” Albert asked with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

“When!” Zandeyr clapped.

“Now,” Torgrun said firmly.

“I don’t want to go at all,” Spider said grimly.

“We want to go to hell as soon as possible!” Morad cried.

“Lulu, come with us - together we may yet redeem Zariel,” Torgrun said.

Lulu almost squealed with excitement, “Yes, thank you, thank you! Together we will!”

Albert shook his head. “Zandeyr - if you take us there… how will we get back?”

“Young lady I’m not the font of all knowledge,” Zandeyr replied. “How would I know that?”

“Mr Albert,” Morad said, righting the gender ship, “That doesn’t matter.”

“It might not matter to you, you zealot,” Albert scowled, “But it matters to me.”

“We go there, we do the right things, we’ll come back.”

“Oh good plan, Morad,” Spider said rolling his eyes. He looked at Sylvira and Zandeyr. “I’d prefer something more of a concrete backup to that, if that was at all feasible.”

Lulu interrupted. “It’s true! If we can save Zariel then we can travel wherever we wish, including back here!”

“But what about the options if we can’t do that?”

“Oh we can! We will!”

“Aren’t we saving the city?”, Albert interrupted.

“We are. And we are saving Zariel,” Torgrun replied.

“We are saving Elturel, we aren’t saving Zariel,” Albert disagreed.

“I think we will find these are one and the same. If we are to raise the city - we can’t do that ourselves,” Torgrun explained. Morad nodded in agreement.

“Elturel is trapped in Avernus?” Lulu questioned. “We must go! We must save the souls in the city!”

“That is why we are going, little elephant,” Morad explained.

“Coming back may be difficult,” Sylvira said. “But if you can free Elturel, part of that will be returning the city to the material plane. It’s not going to be saved down there.”

“Right, so we’ll come back with it,” Albert nodded. “That’s some sort of a plan, without actually no facts attached to it, but…”

“We are on a highway to Hell, and we dont' really know what we’re in for,” Torgrun admitted. “Apart from that map made by a crazy man.”

“You have a map! May I have a look?” Zandeyr asked enthusiastically.

“Of course,” Torgrun said, “In return for your help, I can give you this copy of the map,” he said pulling a sketch copy he had had prepared in Candlekeep.

Zandeyr started poring over the map, before remembering the task at hand. “So - do you want to go soon?”

“Yes! I want to go!” Morad said.

“When is anyone ever ready for this stuff?” Albert said resignedly.

“I think we’re ready right now,” Torgrun countered.

“I am ready now!” Morad confirmed.

Albert had one last request. “Zandeyr - do you have somewhere I could quickly wash before we go?”

---

Madam Portencia walked back into the room, looking radiant in a fabulous new gown.

Sylvira looked on with approval. “I knew you would follow in Electra’s footsteps - and I am very pleased.” She gave Madam Portencia a huge hug, which was returned after a brief hesitation.

“Well, gather all your things,” Zandeyr encouraged everyone.

“Shall we do the portal on an empty stomach?” Madam Portencia asked nervously.

“I think that would be wise,” Zandeyr nodded, his response not helping her nerves. He led everyone to a small room off the side of the tower, where he donned a golden crown and lavishly gemmed sceptre, and placed a crystal skull in the centre of the room. He sat down regally on a large throne and observed the room. “Please, gather around the skull.”

Mak assumed this was all part of the portal-summoning ritual, something Zandeyr obviously believed too. Madam Portencia wasn’t so sure.

“Old man,” Morad called, “Were you a King somewhere?”

“Yes! But not here - well, sort of here, sometimes here. Depends on where I am? Never mind that now - hold hands, if you wish, and stand in a circle.”

Zandeyr started waving his hands mysteriously, gesturing wildly. Madam Portencia decided he had no idea what he was doing, and suddenly relaxed, fully confident there was no way anyone in this room was going to Hell after all.

Zandeyr referred to a book, “Wait, I have it here, let me just…” and he started waving again. This time something seemed to start to happen in the room, a slow congealing of energy centred over the skull.

“Spider if we’re not torn limb-from-limb,” Madam Portencia said, her nerves returning, “I’ll give you 500 gold pieces.”

“Alright! Are you ready!?” Zandeyr cried, sweat on his brow and wild gesticulations reaching a frenzy. Despite the seeming randomness to what he was doing, everyone could now feel the crackle of arcane energy filling the room.

Suddenly, much to everyone’s surprise, including Zandeyr, there was an enormous crack, and a planar portal opened in the room. Through the portal was a vast red sky with dark roiling clouds, and directly ahead a town square with shattered buildings and broken ground.

“Go in! Go in! Quickly!” Zandeyr cried. “It worked!”

“Let’s go Lulu,” Torgrun said stepping through. Morad didn’t hesitate and followed close behind, as did Mak and Bili. Spider watched closely and saw them reel slightly as their senses were overwhelemed by the hellscape beyond.

Madam Portencia couldn’t take her eyes of Sylvira, trying but failing to find an appropriate way to say goodbye. Sylvira smiled warmly at her. “It’s ok, we will meet again. I am sure of it. And next time you can be yourself - I won’t mind, in fact I’d like it.”

Madam Portencia smiled gratefully and curtsied. She pulled herself together, held her head up high, and stepped through. “See you on the other side Spider!”

Spider scowled, whispering to Samael, “Is that the right place, Sam?”

“Oh yes, that’s it. let’s go - I’m looking forward to it”

Spider sighed and walked through into Hell.

---

Session played: 12, 19, & 26 October, 2020