Descent Into Avernus
Feonor’s Coin
A beautiful parasolMorad and Mak slowed to a stop in front of the barred gates of Fort Knucklebone, exhausted. It was too much to hope the gates would be open in welcome, but it was disappointing none-the-less.
Surprisingly, all the denizens of the Fort were arrayed on the parapet: madcaps and redcaps hurling rocks excitedly, the mysterious floating skull, and Mad Maggie and Mickie front and centre. Only the Kenku were missing.
Maggie stepped forward. “I thought you would return, and here you are. Alas I must keep our doors closed to you.”
Morad couldn’t think why Maggie would keep the gates closed, but Madam Portencia reminded him that her allegiances were unknown.
“It has been suggested that helping you is… not in anyone’s best interests,” Maggie went on, as if confirming Madam Portencia’s suspicion. “That has come down from a power higher than me.”
“We have created a stir?” Torgrun suggested.
Maggie took a long stare at Torgrun’s new form, before continuing. “Word has got around that you may be responsible for Haruman, one of Zariel’s lieutenants.”
“You hear a lot of rumours out here,” Morad tried, Mak nodding sagely in agreement.
“How could we, we humble folk?” Torgrun shrugged.
Mickie held up the head of Raggadagga in answer, tossing it over the ramparts to land with a thud in front of the Holy Terror II.
“Hardly Haruman,” Torgrun excused.
Maggie grinned. “Hardly. Never-the-less, you are seen, and rumours start for a reason.”
“Who is angry?” Morad asked innocently. Maggie pointed to the sky. Morad decided to keep playing innocent. “There’s a lot of people up in that sky - is there anyone in particular?”
“Well it’s obviously Zariel,” Maggie explained. “You killed her favourite dog, word is passed around - no-one is to help you.” Morad nodded. “I am very sorry - I liked you all, you brought me that dream that was so succulent. I am still savouring the aftertaste,” Maggie smiled, taking a slug of goop from one of Mickie’s tubes. “But I value my position here. It has been a long hard road and I would rather not risk it.”
“We angry because we want to trade,” Morad said calmly. “We have so many things, things you would love, the bird-men too. We bring all this stuff back…”
Maggie cocked an eyebrow. “Oh yes? And what would you like to trade? I’m sure throwing things back-and-forth over the wall doesn’t strictly break the rules.”
“That is a good point, because we’re not going to get much further unless we trade,” Torgrun said, “And you don’t want us staying here on your doorstep.”
“Stay as long as you like,” Maggie said warmly.
“It’s about fuel,” Torgrun explained.
“Ah. Running low are we? Those Demon Grinders are thirsty.”
Madam Portencia leaned over to Torgrun. “Perhaps, given our new status, there is something we might do for her for trade?” she whispered. Spider overheard and nodded.
“Madam!” Spider called, bowing.
“Spider! My favourite,” she beamed.
“How are you doing, Mickie?” Spider asked. Mickie gargled in response. “We don’t want to bother you too much. I understand you’re in a bit of a bind, and you’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do. I get that as much as anybody.”
“That’s why you’re my favourite. But yes, it’s true that I have to.”
“But - we are kind of in need of coins. We have some stuff to trade that we have acquired, but I don’t know if any of it’s useful to ya. A fat stack of gems - like, really big ones,” Spider said, pulling out a huge opal from the Dao’s stash.
“That is a big gem,” Maggie agreed. “Where did you find such a thing?”
“Oh, just down the road, used to belong to someone else but they’re not needing them now.”
“Ah. Another one of your victims?”
“Well you know, they drew first.”
“She was not nice,” Morad agreed. “Like a genie.”
Maggie perked up at this. “A genie? Did it happen to be made of rock?”
“That’s the one,” Morad said.
“And…the unicorn?” Maggie guessed.
“That’s gone,” Morad added quietly.
“So let me just add this up,” Maggie said, counting on her fingers. “Raggadagga, Haruman, Zariel’s Demon Zapper… anything else?”
“Ma’am, with all due respect I’d rather all these buggers weren’t privy to this conversation,” Spider suggested, indicating the Knucklebone hordes. “Maybe we can have a quiet chat?”
“Begone!” Maggie waved her arms at the madaps and redcaps, and they instantly scattered, leaping off the walls and into the compound.
“The situation is this,” Spider explained. “We’ve been kickin' tail and takin' names, things like that. Getting further and further towards what we’re down here to do. The reason we came back, to be totally fair, is we need something to fuel these vehicles. We can trade in services, goods, stories of what we’ve come across along the way…?”
“I am find myself tempted by your stories. But as I have said, I must not be seen to help you. I could perhaps advise you? On potential sources of what you seek?”
“One way to dodge the ire of others is to send us on our way,” Torgrun observed wryly. He was unhappy with Maggie’s cold shoulder.
“I am sympathetic. Let me suggest paths you could follow, perhaps?”
“Would one of those paths happen to involve a parasol, by any chance? That might kill two birds with one stone as a matter of fact” Spider said hopefully.
Maggie grinned. “Ah-ha, Feonor! Feonor would certainly have coins. But - are you sure you want to challenge her?”
“I don’t know, are we?” Madam Portencia said doubtfully.
“I suppose you did Haruman…”
“And some other stuff,” Spider deadpanned. “What I would say to you, kind lady, is that should things shake out the way it looks they’re going to shake out, then maybe you might want to take into account that you’d have a friend in us. As opposed to somebody up there,” he said pointing to the sky.
Maggie looked surprised, then cackled. “My my my! You are ambitious. I think perhaps you are overstating your case a little?”
Morad grabbed Spider and shook his head, pointing up, warning him - there were ears everywhere. Spider nodded but pressed on.
“Ah you don’t know who we’re going to go and talk to straight after we’ve dealt with Feonor, do you?”
“No I don’t…”
“I give you a clue: he’s got a vested interest in maybe not likin' the way things are currently,” Spider said smugly.
Maggie creased her brow and shook her head slowly. “I see. So it’s a coup? Do you intend to rule, or burn everything down, once you overthrow…”
“No absolutely not,” Spider said emphatically. “Once we’re done we’re going to go, and take the chained up city with us.”
“And leave a sweet power vacuum behind,” Madam Portencia observed.
“I’m sure you lived through the last one, and you’ll live through the next one,” Spider said to Maggie.
“And you know why I do? It’s because of this,” Maggie said, pointing to the locked gate. “Many have plotted to take power here, few have, and those that do should generally be obeyed. I am sure you understand.”
“I understand,” Spider smiled. “I’ve been flappin' my jaw too much, so any advice or random musings you’d like to pass our way would be more than welcomed.”
“I wouldn’t want to go into specifics,” Maggie started, licking her finger and holding it into the wind. “Yes. Do you know the Hellwasp Nests to the North West? If you were to head there perhaps you would find what you need?”
Mak shivered. Hellwasps? No thank you.
“The other place you could procure coins would be Mahadi’s Emporium. He runs a gambling establishment, and people do love to lose their coins - and worse - participating in that futile endeavour.”
Spider’s ears pricked at this information. Gambling! He had missed his games of Baldur’s Bones - and he was good at it. Might be time to introduce a little dice action to Mahadi.
“Apparently he’s a hard man to find, or so I hear,” Madam Portencia said weakly. She had missed her chance with Mooncolour, something she both regretted and felt great relief about.
“He will find you if he wishes, unless you have some other means.”
“We know someone who might,” Spider grinned. “Hence the two birds, stones, etc.”
“I see - yes she might be able to help, given their history,” Maggie licked her lips recalling the delights of the story of Feonor and Mahadi’s fractured relationship.
“Well it’s a shame we can’t come in for a cup of tea,” Spider said.
“It is a great shame, and should circumstances change, please do return,” Maggie smiled. “The gates will be open.”
“My good lady, if the circumstances are different it may not be possible for us to return,” Torgrun hinted. “But if we are able, we will.”
“I look forward to it, and I wish you well. Be careful - you have drawn attention that you would be better without.” Maggie considered for a moment then continued. “But then maybe you do want it, the way you have been talking!”
“Better to be on the chessboard I suppose,” Torgrun shrugged.
“Seem to go with the territory,” Spider laughed.
Morad had a sudden thought. “Now I think about it… strange question, but do you have a doctor, or someone, like if a baby…was born?”
“A baby?” Maggie looked incredulous. “I could help, but a baby?”
“We might need that help. Would that break the rules?”
Maggie scanned the group, quickly zeroing in on Bili. “Oh my goodness. It’s you! You’re delivering our third!!” She clapped her hands excitedly. “Yes I will help deliver, of course I will help!”
Bili seemed to be glowing from a fire within, a picture of health. Then he retched a little and crunched down on a handful of ice.
“Did she say ‘our third’?” Torgrun whispered to Spider and Madam Portencia in confusion. Both returned his look and nodded, hushing him. All would be explained - later.
“And when I say ‘help’, I mean help baby and Bili,” Morad said, suspicious of Maggie’s enthusiasm.
“Both, of course, if he can deliver what we wish, we will take very good care of him,” Maggie agreed.
“I don’t know much about this, but he will need lot of help, because he’s not…he a man?”
“Oh, that,” Maggie said waved it off. “That’s nothing. Please - return when he is ready!”
“When will that be?” Mak asked apprehensively.
Maggie leaned forward to study Bili, then grinned. “Not long now - you’d be surprised!”
“Oh we are very surprised,” Mak agreed.
“It’s been great to see your smilin' face,” Spider bowed. Maggie curtsied in response, waving goodbye as she sucked some nutrient from Mickie.
“Well that was interesting, but fruitless,” Torgrun summarised. “Let’s make camp here, it’s been hours.”
Everyone agreed, and Madam Portencia pitched her tent in the neutral ground just beyond the fort, feeling comfortable that the newfound reputation and Maggie’s watchful presence would keep everything safe.
“We need a name, given we are now effectively Warlords,” Torgrun suggested, recalling the Redcaps suggestion when Raggadagga’s head was presented to them.
“Why would we do that, this is not a storybook,” Morad complained.
“Only douchebags do that stuff,” Spider agreed.
“We are the definition of Warlords now - rolling around, beating shit up, and stealing stuff,” Torgrun grunted, as he started ruminating on a moniker. The price of fame - and redemption.
The following ‘morning’, Bili’s belly was noticeably swollen, and his hands kept rubbing it subconsciously. His tight pectoral muscles were changing too, low starting to swell into breasts. It was kind of hot.
Mak observed Bili with less surprise than the others, being familiar from tribal legend of such transformations. Throughout the dark before time there were tales and myths of non-female pregnancy and birth. The first of the bear tribes were said to be two men, one of who took the form of woman to bear child. But it was one thing reading the legends, another to see it in front of your own eyes.
Torgrun turned to Madam Portencia and Spider. “What did Maggie mean by ‘three’,” he asked, looking at Bili.
Spider glanced at Torgrun’s new appendages. “How’re those wings workin' out for you, Torgrun? You should have leveraged them with Maggie, you could have convinced her we were onboard for the big win.”
“We are onboard for the big win,” Torgrun countered, “It’s just not her big win.”
“I reckon if you sat down and had a heart-to-heart with Maggie you’d be surprised what she thought was a big win and not.”
“I don’t know, she’s sat on the fence for a long time,” Madam Portencia disagreed.
“She just does business,” Spider shrugged.
“The burden I carry if for the good of all,” Torgrun said, flexing his wings. “We must succeed.”
“Sure. Can I ask why did Torm decided it was necessary for you to be able to flap around the place with big demon-like wings - sorry, devil, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt,” Spider teased.
“This has not been made clear to me,” Torgrun said defensively.
“Right. And you’re sure it was Torm that gave ‘em to you?”
“Listen,” Torgrun snapped, “I stand in the light of Torm.”
“Light of somebody anyway,” Spider snarked.
“Torm extends his gifts to me,” Torgrun continued, unperturbed. “You who are someone outside the religions of our world may not understand that. I pity you.”
Spider frowned, suddenly serious. “You don’t know that at all,” he spat.
“Well what gods do you follow?”
“That’s my business. I don’t go flappin’ my lips about it all the time.”
“Or your wings,” Madam Portencia couldn’t help herself.
Spider snorted. “Anyway. To answer your question - hags come in threes, and there’s only two here. They need another one.”
“Oh god,” Mak groaned.
“So now we sit in the light of Mad Maggie, holding the revered third,” Torgrun said, considering the possible consequences.
“Oh yeah, they’ve got a vested interest in Bili now,” Spider agreed. “I believe her when she says she’ll help Bili out too. Bili’s done them a solid.”
“Too much of a solid by my book,” Madam Portencia added. “We’ve got a lot of leverage there.”
“Interesting,” Torgrun nodded, “And here you were questioning my role in all this?”
“I gave up doing that a long time ago,” Spider laughed. “You get the job done though, so that’s fine. I respect someone that’s good at what they do. I’m not sure what it is you’re trying to do, but whatever it is you seem to be ok at it.”
“You’re a strange creature,” Torgrun grimaced. “I don’t understand that you don’t understand what it is we’re on about here.”
“The problem is you keep talkin' about redemption out of context. We’re not here to redeem anybody,” Spider said.
“I am!” Morad cried, trying to get a word in.
Spider waved Morad off. “We’re here to redeem maybe one who used to be an angel, there’s no other redemption goin' on - this place doesn’t have redemption. That’s not what it’s about.”
Torgrun frowned hard, pointed to where Elturel hovered on it’s doomed path, turned his back on Spider and walked away. He was deeply frustrated at the lack of faith and black-and-white nature of Spider’s argument.
“We’re just sending it back to where it came from!” Spider yelled to Torgrun. “That’s not redeeming anything! Anyway, good talk,” he grunted sarcastically. “Let’s go kill some Hellwasps.”
“One thing I know, wasps - they burn,” Morad advised.
“Ahh, they do too,” Spider mused, remembering. “Good to see you had a regular childhood, Morad.”
“Well you couldn’t let them near tent, unless you crazy. No-one do that. It big entertainment - whole village would come if we burn a wasp’s nest.”
“Haha, that’s funny,” Spider laughed. “Al’Akbar says ‘smite the wasp, for it is unclean’!”
“Yes, Al’Akbar say ‘we humans, you do what you want to all the other little creatures, that up to you’.”
“Who you callin' a little creature?” Spider quipped.
“No, no, I don’t mean you,” Morad said in all seriousness. “You got brain. I mean not brain creatures, like insects, little animals, kobolds…”
Bili frowned.
Madam Portencia approached Morad. She had been contemplating Morad’s advice regarding Al’Akbar. “I have been meditating, but I need more,” she said quietly.
“I have books,” Morad offered. “One book I always have, the words of Akbar. But also from Candlekeep I have a few more that I brought.”
“Have you got anything to soothe the soul?”
“Yes, of course. The Word of Akbar. Soothing, always, it like music.”
“Anything for an acute situation, something punchy?” Madam Portencia pressed, worried about having to plough through an entire book when what she needed was a sacred hit, not unlike the one her pipe delivered.
“Well we can start reading his holy books, from the first, and every word will bring you solace,” Moard offered solemnly.
“So there’s not a particular chapter I can drill down?”
Morad was confused. “No? There’s no… you read one paragraph, and then you read the next, and the next, and you feel better. You need to think, and learn, and then, in my case, does not happen often, Akbar came to me. But most people read, feel good, have life, burn wasps…”
Madam Portencia gave up. “Ok. May I have the book?”
“Yes, but after, please give it back.”
Madam Portencia flipped the book open. “Oh. It’s not in Common, it’s in Jakkari?”
Morad nodded. “Would you like me to read it to you?”
Madam Portencia grabbed a pipe, sat down, and listened. Morad started reading. His voice sung and chimed with the rhythm and melody of Akbar’s words, a blessed relief to Madam Portencia ears - especially with her pipe helping. Morad would sing in Jakkari, then explain in Common (which Madam Portencia tried to shut out, her brain too quickly finding fault with the mumbo-jumbo). The song and Morad’s surprisingly beautiful voice quickly sent her into a restful trance.
Once everyone was ready, Mak and Morad powered up the vehicles set out toward the nests. After a few hours of travel, Torgrun pointed to a cluster of four pulsing, throbbing, bulging sacs that floated fifty feet in the air, several miles ahead.
“Let’s get close, but not too close,” Madam Portencia suggested to Morad, feeling ever so slightly more in command of her emotions now. The possibility of retrieving Feonor’s Mahadi-seeking coin offered some solace to her pain.
“We have to get pretty close to kill a wasp,” Morad responded. Madam Portencia retrieved the eyeglass from Spider and surveyed the wasps. They were as big as a large dog, and there were dozens buzzing around each nest She wasn’t hear for the wasps though, so she scanned the barren earth underneath the nests. As she passed over a rocky ravine, a glint of gold caught her eye. She focused on the location, and saw it again - like a reflection of golden light.
“Morad - down in the canyon, something.” Morad took the eyeglass and quickly saw the same gold spark. He plotted a path toward the possible location, and was relieved to see it was still a mile or two away from being directly below the nests. “If we take it easy on the approach, quiet, we might be able to avoid waking the nests,” he reported.
Morad led Mak ahead, carefully working toward the ravine. Huge boulders and cracked rock littered the landscape, but the two vehicles found a path through. The wasps appeared unaware, though there was now a background droning buzz from the hives that kept everyone on high alert.
“What’s the buzz? Tell me what’s a-happening,” Madam Portencia joked with Morad.
Morad looked nonplussed. “Are you joking? That’s the wasps, you can hear them from here.” He glanced at Torgrun, “Is she joking?”
Torgrun was too distracted to respond, as he heard the voice again in his mind. “If you need fire, you know where to find it,” it whispered. Torgrun nodded, glancing at the shield strapped to Morad’s back.
Morad slowly led the way down the ramp into the ravine, hauling the Holy Terror II to a halt behind a huge boulder. Parked under an overhanging ledge ahead was the golden Demon Grinder of Feonor. A pale, ghoulish creature sat slumped in the driver’s station. Disembodied hands crawled like roaches over nearby boulders.
And sitting atop a larger slab of rock was Feonor. The Warlord was reclining on a chair, parasol extended over her head, eyes closed. It looked almost peaceful. On either side of her two Mezzoloth devil’s hovered, pitchforks ready.
Nothing reacted to the Holy Terror II’s arrival, though it was impossible they had not heard.
“The lack of reaction displays a disturbing level of confidence,” Madam Portencia whispered.
“Not just a disturbing level of confidence, but perhaps a grudging respect,” Torgrun suggested.
“That’s a very optimistic view,” Madam Portencia scoffed.
“If I remember rightly, she’s terrifying,” Torgrun agreed.
“She has a presence, I’ll give her that.”
“Well let’s go and see - I think it’s time to parley,” Torgrun said confidently.
“What’s our plan here, Spider?” Mak asked.
“Isn’t our plan always the same - we’ll see what we can get out of this, if not, we kill?” Torgrun proposed.
“We can try and cut a deal with her with some of the loot we’ve stolen,” Spider suggested. “Otherwise, to be honest, we’re probably going to have to kick off.”
“She’s not going to trade for what I want,” Madam Portencia said softly.
“Yeah, probably not,” Spider conceded.
Torgrun turned quizzically to Madam Portencia. “What do you want?” Not being privy to the whispered conversation at the Demon Zapper, Madam Portencia wanting something from Feonor was news.
“In order to find Mahadi, I need to get something from Feonor. Something that will lead us to him.”
“So you’re saying this trade needs to be forced - we need to force her hand. No point approaching with our hands open for trade and placing ourselves in an ambush. If we’re going to attack, then we should attack.”
“I’m not sure that we would succeed in that endeavour,” Madam Portencia replied.
“Which - trade, or attack?”
“Either.”
“Why?” Spider asked.
“Well - where is the rest of her crew?”
Spider understood. He slipped off the Holy Terror II and stealthily poked his head around the boulder. He caught site of several more undead creatures sheltering from the heat behind the Golden grinder - at least five more. Another vehicle, this one a Tormentor like the original Holy Terror, was parked behind Feonor, a devil hovering above it.
“Do the numbers add up?” Morad asked when Spider reported back.
“Possibly a few more I didn’t see, and crew for the Tormentor.”
“It seems too much for us to take on,” Mak said.
“I think we’re going to have to parlay,” Torgrun agreed.
“I don’t think she’s going to give up what’s going to take us to Mahadi,” Madam Portencia repeated.
“So are you saying we parlay until we’re close enough to strike?” Torgrun questioned.
“There is an alternative,” Morad interjected, “And it’s not a good plan, but: you go and get the wasps angry. And you bring them here, and then she has to fight wasps.”
Torgrun considered this briefly. “This is her place, in the lee of the wasps. I’m a little bit fearful that might turn out against us.”
“I like that,” Madam Portencia agreed, “That’s what she’s thinking. She’s thinking she’s hiding out under the wasps, no-one would attack here.”
“She’s thinking no-one’s going to bring the wasps,” Morad insisted. “That’s crazy, she think. Anyway, just idea. I think better talk, she no deal? We go.”
Feonor’s voice interrupted the debate, wafting out from her perch on the giant boulder on which she rested.
“Are you going to hide forever?”
“Maybe,” Morad replied instinctively.
“Come forward, don’t be shy.”
Bili didn’t hesitate. He strode confidently into the open space in front of the Warlord’s posse. Everyone followed behind, watching Feonor and her undead minions warily.
Feonor still hadn’t moved, nor opened her eyes. “Madam. Have you brought me what I asked?”
“I have not,” Madam Portencia answered with regret.
Bili and Morad turned to look at Madam Portencia with surprise. Torgrun tried his best not to. Brought what?
“That’s very disappointing,” Feonor sighed, at last standing up and looking down at Madam Portencia with disdain. “And why are you here if you have not?”
“I have not delivered it because it is an ask too much,” Madam Portencia said.
“There surely is something good in this Hell that you could have found. Evil may dominate, but there is the occasional lost soul to be found, reeking of goodness.”
“There was something good, and we did find it.”
“Well why did you not bring it to me?”
“Because to do so would be an anathema. To me, and my friends,” Madam Portencia explained. And as she did she felt the truth of her words. Some of the confusion that had been hounding her slipped away. setting Mooncolour free was obviously the right thing to have done.
Feonor folded her umbrella and stuck it in a crack in the rock. She reached into a pocket at pulled out Mahadi’s coin, holding it up to the light. “So you do not wish to find Mahadi?”
“With all of my heart, I wish it,” Madam Portencia said sadly.
Morad had been pondering what Feonor had asked for in exchange for the coin. He stepped forward. “You want something good? I am good.”
Feonor looked at Madam Portencia. “Will you give him to me?”
“No.”
“Well then you are no use.”
“She don’t own me!” Morad protested. “I don’t understand - what do you want?”
“I asked Madam to bring me something good. And in return I would give her this, and that would give her what she wants. But she has disappointed me.”
“Well I am good,” Morad said simply.
“Something I could keep. Can I keep you?”
“No you cannot keep him,” Madam Portencia said firmly.
“Wellll, we could talk about Al’Akbar,” Morad offered hesitantly, “I don’t mind that?”
“You will be under my control. You agree?”
“No, I am under the control of Akbar.”
“Then why would you complicate things like this?”
Feonor floated slowly into the air and started moving toward the gathered group. The undead forces also started to approach, staggering over the parched ground.
“I gave you a simple task, and you have failed it.”
“I did not fail it. I chose not to pursue it,” Madam Portencia said firmly.
Feonor floated ever closer. “Then why are you here?”
“There might be something else we could offer,” Madam Portencia ventured.
“There is nothing else.” Feonor was fifty feet away. “But you can fight me for it!” she smirked.
Feonor thrust her arms forward and a blast of freezing air erupted from her hands. A cone of ice shot toward the group. Madam Portencia jumped to her feet and shook her head: “No.” The cone of cold split into two streams and routed around Madam Portencia’s clustered companions.
Feonor cursed, watching her opener being countered with such ease.
“That your big spell, lady?” Bili taunted Feonor.
Morad sprinted toward the advancing undead, unable to reach Feonor. Mak thundered ahead and surprised everyone when three scorching rays of flame shot out from his almost-forgotten golden headband, all three striking Feonor who reeled back, annoyed.
Feonor mumbled a few words and suddenly three identical duplicate Feonor’s appeared, all smiling at the confusion caused. Two ghouls took advantage to swing their necrotic claws at Morad, slashing his upper arms. He felt his arm start to stiffen up as the toxins went to work, but flexed his muscles to break out of it.
Madam Portencia, fresh from her counterspell heroics, took Mak’s lead and shot three rays of fire at the three Feonor’s. One vanished in a puff of fire, and the other three rocked back in unison. Madam Portencia intuited what this meant - she had hit the actual Feonor, instead of one of the illusions. She scowled, having wanted to simplify the targetting, before realising that hitting Feonor was actually a good result.
“Go and redeem someone, Torgrun!” Madam Portencia yelled. Torgrun didn’t need to be told, and he charged toward the undead minions. But instead of pulling his weapon, he pulled out Torm’s holy symbol, unfolded his wings, and turned the unholy creatures: “In Torm’s name, I banish you!” he yelled. All the nearby claws and five of the six ghouls were obliterated in the holy light. Torgrun turned to Feonor and smiled, sending his spiritual hammer up to hit her for good measure. All three Feonor’s were pounded, and all three raised an eyebrow: “Impressive,” they conceded.
Spider reached into his satchel and yanked out one of the fireball baubles found in the Crypt. He ran the ball through his fingers, sized up the range, and hurled the bauble into the midst of Feonor and the Mezzoloth’s. A small red gem glinted in the light as it soared toward the hovering group, then exploded in a enormous flaming inferno. The devils were buffeted back, mostly unharmed, but all three Feonor’s cried out in anger. Her duplicates weren’t providing any buffer at all - how did they have such insight? she thought frantically.
The ghast struck Morad with its claw, causing the same brief moment of paralysis before Morad forced it away. The Mezzoloth’s skirted the still flaming air, one hovering over Spider, the other Bili. From their claws a cloud of fetid green smoke engulfed everyone below - choking, blinding poisonous air, just as had happened with the Death Slaad in the Flying Fortress. Those covered started coughing and retching, trying to get out of the floating death.
Bili found his way out first, and sprinted to face the remaining Crawling Claws approaching from the other direction. He summonsed a powerful wall of wind which blasted all the claws back, smashing them all into the boulder from which they had leapt. All were crushed instantly, shattering and dropping dead to the ground.
Morad, resisting the poison cloud, swung hard at the ghast, but his blade clattered into the ground and he lost his grip leaving him vulnerable to the ghast’s retaliation. Mak retreated to the bike and jumped aboard, planning to use it to move to the remaining undead.
“You are killing all my help,” the Feonor’s said in unison, “But there’s plenty more where they come from. Let’s continue!” A crackle of lightning shot out from her hands and smashed into Morad and Torgrun - and the ghast. So much for her helpers. All three arched their backs as the electric shock flooded their nervous system.
Madam Portencia, still sitting atop the Holy Terror II, fired another five scorching rays. Four hit the floating Feonor’s, one causing one of the duplicates to vanish, the other three all striking true. The two remaining Feonor’s were wreathed in flame.
Torgrun followed suit, guiding a bolt into the Feonor clones, who, again, took the hit directly. The spiritual weapon did the same. Feonor was incredulous.
Spider sprinted forward, and threw his shadow-strike weapon into the floating Warlord. It struck hard and true, and he knew the moment it left his hand it was a killing blow. Or would have been. The final duplicate Feonor blinked out of existence instead. “Finally!” Feonor cried with relief as Spider cursed his luck.
One Mezzoloth flew over to Spider, seeking revenge, but missed with its trident and claws, much to Spider’s relief. The other flew directly to Madam Portencia, realising she was the main threat, but also missed with both strikes. Mak saw the threat and changed his plan, leaping directly from the bike to the Holy Terror and crashing his axe into the Mezzoloth from behind. The devil screeched in pain as the weapon shattered its carapace.
Morad gripped his sword firmly and slashed it into the ghast, making no mistake this time. The foul creature staggered back under the blow, half-dead. Bili stepped toward Feonor. “I see you,” he smiled, drawing a beam of moonlight down on the Warlord as she hovered above.
Feonor watched the devastation unfolding and made a decision. She retreated back to the huge boulder behind her and landed softly. She looked out over the battlefield and spoke. “Enough.”
Everyone felt time suddenly grind to a halt. Everything was happening in slow motion - everything but Feonor, who continued like nothing had happened. “You have proven your point,” she said, checking her nails as she spoke. “I had hoped this would be a bit of fun, but it seems you are as powerful as your burgeoning reputation suggests.”
Morad tried to move toward her, but nothing worked. It was like he was frozen in time. Mak strained his every muscle to try and break free, but barely moved an inch.
“None-the-less,” Feonor continued calmly, “I am not out of tricks yet.” She reached for umbrella and popped it, brushing the char from her dress. She pulled out the Mahadi’s coin and held it aloft. “You want this,” she smiled, knowing no-one could respond. “I could vanish with it right now, and you will never have it. Moreover I will take it to Mahadi, and I will say to him: ‘Never receive them’. You may have forgotten, but we were lovers. Mahadi wants me, he will give me what I want.”
Madam Portencia’s mind raced. She wanted desperately to cry out, to tell Feonor to wait. She could see her last change to save Madam Elektra slipping away. But she could not move, could not speak, could do nothing more than think and that was driving her crazy.
Feonor continued her monologue. “I present to you a choice. Instead of going to Mahadi, I will give you this coin. But you must sign a contract, a soul-binding contract. And that contract simply guarantees my safety from you. You will never, ever, harm me, nor my minions, nor take the Golden Doom.”
Feonor looked at Madam Portencia. “Once I click my fingers, you have but a moment to respond. You must decide immediately, or I am gone forever.”
She snapped her fingers.
Madam Portencia felt herself suddenly freed from the stasis. She thought furiously. Feonor was effectively concdeding, protecting herself from the threat posed. One option would be to kill her, fast, but there was no need and the risk was high. Another option struck her - if she could get the coin before Feonor could react…
She made her decision quickly, drawing a door in the air and stepping through, emerging instantly next to Feonor, who jumped back in surprise. Everyone watching gasped - was Madam Portencia going to grab the coin - and started sprinting forward.
Madam Portencia locked eyes with Feonor. Time seemed to stop again, then she spoke: “Deal.”
Feonor paused, then nodded. “You’re really something aren’t you,” she said admiringly. She waved her hand, and a third Mezzoloth hovered into view, producing a prepared contract. Madam Portencia ran her eyes over it quickly, looking for loopholes. It was fairly clear: it protected Feonor, and her agents, from Madam Portencia’s allies, and the Golden Doom was off-limits. Simple enough, and a small price to pay.
“Any amendments?” Feonor pressed. Madam Portencia could only think of one. “Fuel, for our vehicles?”
“Soul coins? I can give you six - one for each of you,” Feonor grinned.
“Let’s make it ten,” Madam Portencia countered.
“Eight,” Feonor proposed, noticing Bili had moved his moonbeam over bathe her again. “And tell your handsome friend to turn off that accursed beam.”
“Done,” Madam Portencia said, signalling Bili to desist.
Feonor looked delighted. “Done! Sign.”
Madam Portencia didn’t hesitate. Feonor dropped the coin into her hand with a warm smile. “Cup of tea?”
Madam Portencia stared at the coin. One side a lion’s profile, the other a raised compass. Finally. A shiver ran up her spine as she considered what this meant. She was so close now, so close to finding - and saving - Madam Electra. To repay her for all she had done. She clutched the coin tight in her fist and turned to Feonor. “No time. But thank you.”
Feonor shrugged, floated down from the rock on her parasol and wandered to the Golden Doom. Her remaining minions climbed aboard, two of the Mezzoloth’s either side of their mistress. The third flew over to the Tormentor and landed gently, squatting and leaning on its pitchfork.
Madam Portencia looked down at the Mezzoloth. “I don’t think this belongs to you,” she taunted as she was lowered down by the strong-hands of Mak. There was something nice about being manhandled by confident hands like that, even if Mak’s eyes betrayed rather less confidence.
“Nor you,” the Mezzoloth replied in Infernal.
Bili shook his head and grinned. “It does now. Lady - get your beast off this buggy,” he called to Feonor.
Feonor ignored everything as her ghoul started the Golden Doom and quickly left the canyon. To the victor the spoils, Bili figured as he climbed aboard and fired up the engine, horrible screams echoing around the canyon. Bili managed to rumble the vehicle out into the open. The Mezzoloth remained perched aboard the Tormentor.
Torgrun pointed his fingers at the devil, and it froze. Its eyes looked frantically around, but it couldn’t move anything else. Bili laughed, picked up the paralysed creature, and plopped it gently on the ground. The devil slowly toppled onto its side. “Oh no!” Bili cried, finding a small rock and resting it under the Mezzoloth’s head. “We don’t want you to get hurt.”
Madam Portencia took the opportunity to climb into the driver’s seat, her days of sitting behind Morad filling her with confidence about her ability. She waved to the Mezzoloth who was slowly coming back to life, “Come on little buddy, come on!” she taunted. She flipped Feonor’s coin in the air, it stilled at the top of its arc and the lion’s head rotated to look directly North. Madam Portencia smiled, mind-bulletted Morad: “The coin says North!” She was pleasantly surprised to find the vehcile handled easily enough - dear Morad, exaggerating how hard it was all this time she thought fondly as she headed across the dead flat terrain at half-speed.
The Mezzoloth tried to follow for a short while, fluttering furiously, before being left in the dust.
Session played: 10 August 2021