Hellturel

The portal opened to the city of Elturel - a city in ruins.

The hot, stinging air assaulted every sense. The city street was lined with buildings that were crumbling, if not already collapsed. The ground shuddered beneath everyone’s feet, rolling unsteadily. In the red, smoky sky, a 400-foot diameter sphere of darkness discharged strokes of bluish-white lightning that struck the city at irregular intervals.

The Companion, the second sun that provided so much solace and protection to the city for years, now glared down on Elturel like a baleful eye - a black void crackling with lightning. Torgrun’s gut told him that this Companion - this Solar Insidiator - was the key to saving Elturel.

Perched atop a distant bluff, overlooking the rest of the city, stood a crumbled fortress, which Torgrun immediately recognised as the great High Hall of Elturel - or the remains thereof. Only three of the Hall’s five spires still stood.

As the party recovered their senses and some semblance of awareness, everyone heard a cacophonous tumult taking place far beneath the city. The sound of combat, of weapons clashing, an enormous battle - from far below the city. Mak was confused, how could the fighting be happening underneath the city?

Despite his shock at seeing his home destroyed, Torgrun wanted to get his bearings and headed immediately toward a three story building that leaned precariously over the street.

The cries of battle were momentarily overwhelmed by the sound of a massive chain or crank being turned, and the screech of metal under stress. Suddenly the entire city lurched from side to side, the earth cracking and folding under everyone’s feet. Torgrun yelled a warning as the building started to topple to the ground, the crashing wall catching Spider and Morad as it collapsed.

The shaking slowly subsided, but the ground still felt unstable, moving and roiling in a most un-groundlike manner.

Bili recovered his balance fastest, and his heart stopped as he caught sight of something fluttering from the second story of another building: a rainbow-coloured scarf tied to the broken window frames. “Grace!” he cried, “Morad! It’s Grace - quickly!”

Morad didn’t hesitate and charged with Bili into the building an up the rickety stairway. Everyone followed close behind, recalling the girl seen riding back to Elturel from the cultist forest, before the fall.

“Do you know who this is?” Lulu asked Torgrun anxiously.

“Yes - a young girl from Elturel, old Elturel.”

“We must rescue her!”

“We must save all who we find,” Torgrun agreed, much to Lulu’s delight.

As Bili and Morad clambered up the steps, they overheard a conversation in fractured Common from above.

“Come little one. Consider offer. We give you freedom! Food! Water! You give us soul, we give you trinket! All you have to give is your mark. Sign and we shall friends!”

A small but defiant voice cried in answer: “Never! Stupid devils - go away and leave me alone you brutes! Or I will give you my mark alright - with this dagger!!”

The voices boomed with laughter, and Torgrun and Bili were chilled to hear the chaser, in infernal: “This one is great sport! Her soul will be sweeter than most, once we have it”

Morad burst onto a landing at the top of the stairs, where three Bearded Devils crowded around a door. Their glaives rested again the wall nearby - clearly they anticipated no threats. Bili leapt across the landing and scattered the weapons, leaving the devils with only their snake-beards to attack with.

Morad struck first, his new swords striking hard and true, allowing Spider to slide in and finish off the wounded Devil. He saw what looked like fear in its eyes as it fell, and remembered what the tomes in Candlekeep had revealed: a Devil killed in Avernus was killed forever. The body dissolved into a pool of ichor on the ground.

The Devils struck back, snakes shooting out to attack Bili and Spider, who both were too quick and avoid the strikes. Max waded into the fray, making short work of his victim with his new axe, who reeled back straight into Bili who hit twice with his fancy new hand-axes.

Madam Portencia tolled her bells, and Spider continued his spree with two whip-fast strikes, allowing Morad to melt another Devil into a puddle on the floor. The last Devil hit Torgrun with the snakes, though thankfully the poison failed to take hold. Torgrun growled angrily and retaliated with a crushing blow from his flail. Mak ended the combat by creating a third pool of dead Devil.

After a few moments of silence a tentative voice called from behind the closed door, “Hello? Are the Devils still there?”

“Little girl,” Bili said comfortingly at the door, pulling Morad alongside, “Gracie!”

“How do you know my name? Are you a Devil?”

“No - you gave us a thread from your scarf,” Bili answered.

“In the forest,” Morad added, “With the wolves.”

There was a pause. Then the voce spoke again, “Show me. You’re trying to trick me - I don’t believe you!”

Bili pushed the thread under the door, and felt it being pulled from the other side.

“Who are you??”

“Bili, and Morad.”

“He was big naked man, and I…” Morad started to explain, before being interrupted.

“Naked man!” the voice cried with excitement, “And rude man!!”

“What? Rude?”

“You were rude about my horse, I remember you!” the voice called, to the sound of something heavy being dragged clear. “And naked man - you took the puppy!”

The door sprung open and Grace stood there beaming, absolutely delighted. She skipped through the doorway and leapt into Bili’s arms and gave him an enormous hug.

Bili hugged her back, thrilled to see her again. “Are you alright?” He looked at her and could see she was in one piece, though the strength of her grasp showed how scared she must have been - not that she would ever admit that.

“I am now that you have found me! How did you find me?! I told you to come find me and you have - even down here!”

“We are here to save you all,” Torgrun said mightily.

“Little girl, what happened here?” Morad asked formally.

Grace shook her head. “I have no idea. I went home after seeing you, and then… I don’t know. The city shook and shook and the Companion was gone and everything broke and all the buildings fell and then it was so hot and…” Small tears appeared in her eyes. “I have been trapped here, those Devils…”

“It’s alright,” Morad said kindly. “We will keep you safe now.” Bili held her close as the tears fell.

“I think there are others,” she said quietly. “In the High Hall. I have seen lights flashing from there. Can you take me there? I am sick of this room.”

“Gather your things,” Bili encouraged, and Grace hopped down and started collecting her meagre belongings. Madam Portencia glanced inside her room, seeing crudely barred windows and stacks of hoarded food, and Grace’s various books and drawings. A 10 year-olds room in Hell.

Spider looked slightly shaken, ghosts from his past rising up at seeing an orphan in this hellscape. But a steely resolve shone in his eyes - Grace would be safe if it was the last thing he did.

Torgrun walked into the room and bowed before her. “Torgrun Delfare, of the Hellriders.”

Grace loved this. She curtsided in reply, “My name is Grace. And I am going to be an actor!” she beamed, the tears forgotten.

She clapped her hand suddenly with excitement. “Wait! I have something for you!” She ran to a wooden palette she had been using a desk and pulled off a large sheet of paper. “I made a map! I found this old one of the city, but I’ve coloured it in and made it look like it is now!”

An map of the Elturel in Avernus, annotated with flames, rivers of lava, and giant chains — *Map of Hellturel*

“Good girl!” Torgrun said, very pleased with Grace’s work.

The drawing depicted the city ripped from the earth, suspended in the air by some kind of enormous chains, with rivers of lava and flames leaping from the torn city boundaries. Mak stared at the map. “We seem to be… floating?”

“Yes! We are floating,” Grace agreed looking at Mak and Torgrun. “We’re actually floating in the middle of the air! And there are a lot of beastly Devils and other horrible things fighting down below. And there are chains, huge ones , that seem to be pulling the city down? Into a dark river far below?”

Grace offered to lead the group through the backstreets, but warned she was only familiar with the roads on the East side of the City - and only from before the fall. She said she didn’t feel safe outside, with more devils having arrived in the last few days. And she told you, with fear in her eyes, that there were bad creatures on both bridges stopping people from passing.

Grace gripped Bili’s hand and led everyone out into the streets. “Quickly, run this way!” she cried, hurrying across the road. There were a lot of bodies littering the streets and lanes, though it was surprising the lack of living creatures - there weren’t hordes of devil’s patrolling the zone.

A charred body lay on the road ahead, clutching a silvered longsword. Grace kept her distance, but Spider was interested in the sword and approached the body to grab it. He got close, when the corpse suddenly erupted in a gout of hellfire, giving Spider a nasty burn. He swore, but didn’t forget to collect the sword. The spot where the body was bubbled with fresh lava.

“Grace - have you seen this before?” Torgrun asked.

“Yes, a few times. Mostly near the edges of the city, where it’s all running lava now - I don’t go there anymore.”

Torgrun cautiously approached another body, keeping his shield up and prodding it, but it didn’t explode. None-the-less, caution was called for. A bolt of lightning crashed down from the Companion, hurtling into a nearby building and exploding the tiled roof.

As Grace hurried everyone north-east toward the Bridges, a deep, sonorous sound started to dominate the atmosphere. It grew louder and louder, and Grace suddenly cried out, “Take cover! I’m scared!”. Everyone hid as best they could as a shadow started to crawl over the nearby buildings.

A huge wedge-shaped fortress floats in a hellishly red landscape — The flying fortress

Above, an enormous wedge-shaped building floated over the city, the ear-splitting sound of it drowning out the battle below. It looked like a 500-ft tall floating ship, with a tail that could tear through any ground it chose to rent. Small windows seemed to dot the spine, like a fortress or battleship. No-one had seen anything like it - even Samael was shocked. The overwhelming size and presence sent a chill down everyone’s spine. What chance did anyone have against that thing?

It floated over Elturel, slowly moving over the city as if checking in on its triumph. It rumbled off the edge of the city and dropped out of site. Spider, slack-jawed, asked Samael again - “What was that??”

“Someone’s fortress,” Samael said grimly.

“Someone very powerful’s fortress,” Spider agreed.

“And how come it is floating?” Morad asked warily.

“Makes it harder to assault,” Samael answered in common, speaking aloud for the first time. A speaking spider seemed relatively normal given the circumstances.

Taking a deep breath, everyone moved on. Torgrun was forced to lead, Grace being too scared and glued to Bili. He relied on his memory of the city, which proved true, soon reaching a turn that led to the lower of Torm’s Bridges. Torgrun whispered this bridge was named Torm’s Blade, the other - Torm’s Reach - being the Northern one.

“There are bad things on the bridge, don’t forget!” Grace whispered.

Everyone crouched behind a building looking toward the bridge, but it was hard to make out in the heavy atmosphere. Billows of smoke and heat seemed to be welling up from below, and the air was hotter and harder to breathe. Togrun and Spider paused as they heard what sounded like something feeding, or ripping flesh, to the north of the turn to the bridge.

Togrun swore. “We can’t have that behind us, whatever it is,” and he started moving toward the noise.

Spider disagreed. “We gotta move. We don’t want to get pinned here - if we’ve gotta fight we should fight on the bridge we should go - now.” He slipped into the smoke and headed toward the bridge, and Torgrun grudgingly followed. He muttered a quick blessing on those nearby, which turned out to be very helpful.

Spider got close enough to the bridge to spot what was guarding it: two Beared Devils, and four Spined. As he surveyed the scene, a sudden gust from below cleared the smoke briefly and the devils all saw Spider. Two Spined Devils sprung into the air and flew toward Spider, who retreated hastily toward the group hidden behind the building, hoping to draw the beasts into a trap.

The sight of the bridge also pricked a memory in Torgrun - there was something about Torm’s Bridges, something that could be done with them. Was it legend only? Or was it real? He racked his memory trying to think what it was as he charged toward the Devils. Bili shoved Grace toward Madam Portencia, telling her to stay safe, somewhat to Madam Portencia’s surprise.

The battle was engaged, Morad’s swords combined with Mak’s axes to take down one, and Bili and Spider the other - though not before they embedded two exploding spines in Spider’s upper arm. Madam Portencia flung a thunderous orb at the Bearded Devil as it neared, staggering it as it ran.

Madam Portencia suddenly heard something approaching from behind. She poked her head around the building and her blood went cold when she saw two hideous horned creatures with long goat-like faces and glowing eyes. Their lips dripped with fresh blood - no doubt this was what Torgrun had heard earlier. She called out a warning as the creatures scuttled forward: “Looks like we’ve got company!”

An emaciated creature with goat head and horns — Bulezau Demon

The Bearded Devil turned toward the new arrivals and spat out a curse in Inferal, “Accursed Demon scum!”. Suddenly it was clear - they were Demons, not Devils, and you suddenly found yourself in the middle of a turf war. Before the Devil could make anything of it, Mak appeared at its side and destroyed it, once again making short work of the Bearded fool. So far the Bearded Devils were the patsies for this party, and everyone started to regain their confidence after the fortress visitation.

Now it was time to deal with the Demons. Morad stepped in to defend Madam Portencia, and as they drew near both he and Madam Portencia felt their skin start to rot, as if it was about to start sloughing off. Madam Portencia shook the feeling off to clear her head and flung an orb at the nearest Demon, but it ducked out of the way. Grace screamed in horror.

Torgrun stared at the bridge as the remaining Devils stood guard, watching the fight but not leaving the bridge itself. Suddenly he remembered! The bridge was covered in ancient holy runes, the carvings covering the stonework of the walls either side. Torgrun smiled as the legend of the bridge came back to him: anyone who is true to Torm can place their hands on the bridge and pray for His assistance. It was worth a try, Torgrun figured, and he ran toward the bridge.

Bili yelled with rage and charged into the other Demon, which cursed in a language that sounded like horrible static and scratching rocks. Bili had thought Infernal was an ugly language, but this was far worse. Spider flung a shuriken across the battlefield, wedging it deep in the goats chest. Mak joined the fray, crunching into the torso with the first swing, and finishing it with the second. Instead of disolving into goop, the Demon fell to the ground and started leaking a foul necrotic ooze.

Madam Portencia decided enough was enough, and almost single-handedly killed the remaining Demon with a perfectly placed thunderous orb. She winked at it when it swung its tail toward her, causing it to badly miss its strike. “Not today,” she smirked.

Morad took advantage of the Demon’s confusion to absolutely destroy it. It fell dead to the ground, maggots and rotting flesh falling off it as it collapsed.

Torgrun reached the bridge, casting a spell of command to the Devils on the span as he did. “Stay,” he commanded, hoping to keep them still. All three burst into laughter, the Bearded Devil spitting out “Nice try, mortal”. Togrun cursed, but at left they hadn’t left the bridge. He reached out and placed his hands on the foundation stones and prayed, desperately hoping this was going to work.

“Oh mighty Torm! I call on your great power! Compel these beasts off this bridge!!”

As he finished, the runes on the bridge suddenly lit up with a brilliant radiant light, the light spreading over the entire bridge and creating a beacon in the red-smoky hellscape. The Demons laughter was cut short as they screamed in terror and pain as the radiant light shot through them. The two Spined Devils exploded into nothing instantly as the Bearded Devil ran to get off the Bridge.

Bili flung an ice dagger toward it, the freezing ice adding to the radiant pain being inflicted on the poor thing. Spider, disappointed at his shuriken ot killing the Demon earlier, this time made no mistake, and the final foe dropped into a puddle of gunk on the ground.

Everyone was breathing hard but there was no time to waste. The bridge still glowed with light, making it appear safe to cross. Everyone started over it, pausing briefly to look over the side to the ground below. Two enormous armies were engaging in combat, a host of Devils fighting against a tide of Demons that were emerging from a wide and dark river running underneath Elturel. There was no doubt this was the River Styx, which Sylvia had warned of.

Thousands of combatants were engaged, from tiny dots to enormous horrors. A surge of Devils pushed toward the bubbling black river, before being routed by a huge Demon that crawled out of the swampy muck.

Lulu fluttered over the chasm. “It’s the Blood War. The eternal battle between Devils and Demons, it has been going on for eternity, and it will go on for eternity.”

“So if we stay here watching, nothing much will happen,” Torgrun said. “So let’s move people.”

Lulu suddenly stopped. “I remember something I can do. This bridge, this holy place - it has reminded me.” She closed her tiny eyes and paused, and when she opened them the entire bridge was suddenly bathed in a glow of brilliant light. It wasn’t radiant like the now fading runes, but it shone like a beacon and suddenly everyone’s vision was crystal-clear. She blinked and the light seemed to be drawn back into her.

“Well that won’t draw any attention,” Madam Portencia said wryly. “Probably time to go.”

Madam Portencia’s words proved… portentous. As the group reached the far end of the span, Lulu suddenly cried out. “Take cover, quickly, something is coming from below!”

Everyone sprinted to the nearest ruin, Spider trailing behind for the first time in memory. Bili, also trailing slightly, noticed he couldn’t see Samael, but figured the spider must have hidden itself inside Spider’s surprisingly voluminous new bag.

Huddled inside everyone watched as a figure flew up from below and hovered over the span of the bridge. It was heavily armoured with spiked plate armour, riding a flaming steed and wielding a lance that also burned. It slowly rode over the bridge, looking down at the remains of the Devils and Demons.

An armoured figure wielding a flaming lance and riding a flaming horse — Narzugon

Morad started to leave the house as soon as he saw it, drawing his blades and moving toward the door.

“Stay hidden,” Lulu whispered urgently. “This one is deadly, we can’t fight it - it could kill us all. I remember it’s a lieutenant. One of Zariel’s lieutenants,” she said with sadness. Torgrun put a hand on Morad’s shoulder to still him, surprised to find he had already stopped - perhaps the first time he had resisted the call to arms.

The creature paused before flying off and out of sight, sending a wave of dread as it passed overhead. “What the fuck are we doing here,” Torgrun spat, forgetting himself for a moment, the thrill of victory from the recent battle faded already.

“Good time to ask,” Spider said grimly.

Grace was no longer able to lead, having never reached this side of the city since the fall. The High Hall was to the South of the bridge, and Torgrun advised heading along a parallel road along the spur that rose toward the Hall. After being as sure as possible the flaming Devil was gone, Torgrun led everyone out.

On the rise to the South stood the remains of the High Hall. The clifftop castle was once the crowning architectural jewel of Elturel, but now only three of its five watchtowers towers still stood, the ruins of the other spires floating impossibly in the air. The wooden gates that once led into the castle grounds were shattered, leaving a gaping hole in the wall. The west side of the castle had been reduced to a pile of smashed stone and broken wood. The surviving buildings were blackened by soot. At the centre of the castle grounds, only the High Hall cathedral still stood, defiant.

A ruined fortress, the remains of spires floating in the air, with only the central keep still in one piece — The remains of High Hall

Working quickly toward the remains, Bili suddenly held his hand up to stop everyone. You soon realised why: from a side street ahead a conversation was taking place.

A squeaky, high-pitched was speaking. “It’s an entire month of food - for you and your family. All for free! And all for you! There will be nothing asked in return… all you need to do is sign this.”

“I don’t know,” a lower but still high-pitched voice responded glumly. “Only a month? Can you maybe make it a little longer? And can I read the contract before I sign it?”

“Only a month? Think of your family! Still, I am not unreasonable: six weeks! Sign now and it’s a done deal!”

Togrun had heard enough. He charged around the corner to find an imp perched on a collapsed wall talking to a battered halfling and dangling some kind of leathery parchment in the air - the contract, no doubt.

The imp spun around and looked at the party, spluttering out “Oh! Are you guys hungry too?” before vanishing.

Slobberchops clenched his claws into Mak’s shoulder and stared hard up at a second story window ledge. “Bloody imps,” Mak muttered pulling out his hand axe and flinging it in the direction of the window. He flung true, the imp reappearing and screeching in pain as the axe crashed into its torso.

Morad stepped up and lashed his whip out, tangling it around the imps neck and yanking him to the ground. By the time he reached the street the imp was well and truly dead, strangled on the way down, disintegrating into a pile of muck on the ground.

The Halfling looked shocked, then noticed Torgrun. “A Hellrider! Oh thank Torm, please help us, my family.” He called into the building for his family to come forth, and a woman and four tiny halfling children emerged slowly. All looked starving, so Bili gave them all goodberries, which they wolfed down with fervour.

“Thank you,” the woman said, “Where are you going? Can you take us to safety?”"

“We travel to the High Hall, and fast - gather your things and let’s move. Follow and be quiet,” Torgrun ordered.

The large group moved further south toward the High Hall, the ruins of the city echoed in the collapsed walls of the Hall. The courtyard was now open to the streets beyond, the West wall collapsed entirely. The chapel still stood, and the two huge doors stood open to courtyard. Prowling the area in front of the doors were three vicious Hellhounds, jaws dripping with flame.

Everyone huddled behind a pile of rubble in the centre of the courtyard. “Do you want me to get their attention, chief? And then we can spring on them when they round the barrier.” Spider asked.

“Sure, let’s do it,” Torgrun agreed.

“Wait, wait, wait - we don’t want them to come down near these kids, for gods sake! We’ve got to move up to them,” Madam Portencia protested. Morad and Bili nodded in agreement.

“It’s true, good point - that’s why you’re the lady” Torgrun said.

“Fair enough,” Spider agreed, turning to Morad, “Why don’t you go out and get their attention?”

Morad had already started running across the courtyard, needing no encouragement. “Yesss. Kill them all”, the shield whispered to him. “You don’t need to convince me about that! Al’Akbar!!” Morad cried.

The hounds charged toward Morad, their speed taking him by surprise as two leapt onto him. He pulled up the shield and managed to fend them both off, the golden shield moving like quicksilver through the fetid air.

Mak rumbled out and crashed his axes into the hound, and Spider clambered over the rubble and plunged his blackened dagger into the beast’s chest. Madam Portencia stood atop the ruins and tolled her bell, but the hound seemed barely affected. Bili shifted into ursine form and rumbled over next to Morad, swiping with his claws and ripping the hound with his jaws.

Togrun realised someone needed to protect the huddled civilians, so he stayed back and prepared to defend. He cast a spell of protection on Morad, who glowed with a golden light - Morad assuming Al’Akbar was indeed present - and then unleashed a beam of sacred flame into the wounded hound, who exploded in a rain of red goop covering everyone.

Morad tried to plunge his longsword into the dog attacking him, but stumbled slightly as his swings caught some rubble on the ground. The hound reared back and breathed in deeply before shooting out an eruption of flame from its jaws. The hellfire engulfed everyone near drawing cries of agony. Mak roared with rage through the flames and swung both axes into the dog which howled in pain.

The other hound charged toward the rearguard and leapt up toward Madam Portencia, missing her as it clambered up the ruins. Spider swore in pain, badly wounded, and raced back toward the halflings and Grace, slashing the hound with both daggers. Madam Portencia pulled out her thunderous orb, which exploded the dog instantly, coating her, Torgrun, and Spider in devil-dog blood.

Bili clawed at the last dog, and Torgrun shot it with another beam. Morad struggled to strike the hound, his swings going wide again - Al’Akbar’s blessing was not helping him. The hound growled and ripped into Bili the Bear, tearing chunks of flesh and burning the exposed skin underneath.

Mak struck again, twice, and both axes hit true and hard, finishing the final dog which also exploded with gore.

Madam Portencia yelled to the halflings, “Let’s go, let’s go!”, leading them on a sprint across the courtyard and into the Cathedral.

Torgrun gasped in horror. The Hall looked nothing like it had when Ravenguard had been escorted here. Once decorated with beautiful paintings, statues, and other works that depicted the strength and valour of Elturel’s people, the Cathedral has been magically transformed. Now its artwork is a testament to the devils' superiority and strength, showing scenes of mortals succumbing to temptation, dying at the hands of fiends, and suffering eternal torture. The images shifted and swirled unsettlingly.

Inside the long hall had stood statues of Torm, his benevolence and goodness a blessing on all who entered. Now they were gone, and in their place stood effigies of a powerful winged female devil wielding a luminous sword: Zariel.

Torgrun cursed at the desecration. As he started to walk inside he suddenly held his hand up to stop anyone following. From the North end of the corridor he could hear the sound of human voices bellowing and gibbering, and a harsh voice speaking infernal ordering them to focus and watch for survivors.

Madam Portencia wrangled the children into a safe spot while Spider sent Samael to scout the voices. He quickly found the source: four leather clad human guards and a single spined devil trying to control them. The leather armour was carved with infernal symbols, and the humans were snorting and smiling hysterically.

Torgrun noted with disquiet that the gore-covered armour the guards wore was that of Elturel guardsmen. These weren’t Hellish denizens, these were Elturen’s who had been corrupted. Morad, followed closely by Spider, strode toward the oncoming force, who hollered and whooped with mad glee when they saw him. The devil commanded them forward to battle.

Torgrun glanced at the halflings and saw the parents had drawn feeble daggers and were standing ready to lay down their lives should it be required. Those weapons weren’t going to stop anything, so Torgrun held his position to guard them. No innocent was forfeiting their soul on his watch.

Madam Portencia left the citizens in the care of Torgrun, then stepped forward and unleashed a firebolt into the nearest guard. He was engulfed flame, howling with what sounded like joy and jabbering about the cleansing flames of hell. Bili lumbered across the corridor toward the corrupted guards, only to find himself targeted by the tail spines of the devil which exploded in flame as it struck him.

Morad swung his longsword into the blood-crazed foe, striking hard. Spider followed up with trademark skill, gutting the nearest guardsman, who staggered back but wasn’t dead - they were proving hard to stop. Mak swung and missed, and his reverse swipe embedded the axe into the woodwork on the wall. He howled with frustration.

Madam Portencia had seen enough, and conjured a fireball that shot down the long corridor and exploded in a ball of flame on three guards, somehow catching all three and missing Morad who stood closest - precision spellcasting. One guard dropped dead, the other two crying with confused joy as the flames engulfed them.

Bili bit down on the flaming guard, ripping a huge chunk of charred flesh loose. The spine devil flew into the inferno, happy to be in the fire, and fired two more tail spikes toward Mak and Spider, missing the big barbarian but exploding into Spider.

Torgrun could see the battle wasn’t heading toward Grace or the halflings, so he stepped slightly forward and shot a sacred bolt into a guard. The same guard swung his scimitar twice at Bili, missing both times, but then sticking him with a dagger. The other attacked Morad, striking the ground with his weapon which almost fumbled the weapon out of his hand.

Morad retaliated and didn’t make the same mistake, slashing him badly. Spider continued his one-two punch with Morad and spike the guard, before Mak stepped forward - but missed again to his anger. Madam Portencia threw a now-trademark thunderous orb into the devil, which buffeted it back into the Zariel statue behind before it droped almost to the ground.

Bili continued his attack on the guard while the Spined Devil weakly flew back into the air, cursing in infernal, “You will pay for that!”. He flung two spines into Madam Portencia, one erupting in flame as it hit her, the other causing the halflings to squeal with terror as it exploded near them.

The guards attacked again, but both were now weakened from the flurry of blows and flame. Torgrun felt the bite of a scimitar, and he crashed his weapon into him in return. Morad had had enough, and he plunged his longsword into the nearest guard, dropping him. He yanked his sword out of the body as it fell and plunged it into the last guard, who also fell under Morad’s furious cry, “Al’Akbar!”

Seeing Morad’s effectiveness, Madam Portencia briefly entertained the idea of getting on board with Morad’s god, before thinking better of it. She turned her attention to the devil, only to see it suddenly stop and drop like a stone to the ground as a shuriken flew through the air and caught it cleanly in the back of the skull. Spider stepped calmly out of the shadows and pulled the weapon free, wiping the goop off as he pocketed it. Madam Portencia nodded appreciatively, and Spider gave her the thumbs up.

After quickly checking the hall was clear of any further foes, the group moved warily into the Grand Foyer of the Cathedral. Bodies were strewn at the doorway, both guards and the remains of devils. The massive oak doors had been ripped from their hinges, and hung shattered from the door frames. Whoever attacked here had attacked with force.

Bili moved in first, listening and smelling carefully. Many more bodies were strewn around the room, the battle having moved inside. The Cathedral was separated by massive curtains that hung from beams near the soaring ceiling. Some had been shredded by weapons and claws, and they separated the front half of the Hall from the heart of the Cathedral. A pair of circular stairwells led upstairs.

Torgrun and Spider moved toward the curtain, Torgrun whispering that behind the curtains stood the Altar to Torm, the holiest altar in Elturel. They both suddenly stopped when they heard what sounded like claws clacking over the marble floor ahead. Many claws.

They backed away carefully, and now everyone could hear it, the sound starting to echo around the hall. Spider pointed to the stairwell and indicated to Madam Portencia that the non-combatants should be moved to safety there. “What if something comes down from above?” Torgrun whispered, but it was decided it was still safer than being exposed to whatever was behind the curtain.

Spider shifted forward to the curtain, quietly pulling it up slightly. Inside he saw seven or eight giant crabs, with spines protruding from their shells and a vile brimstone smell, scuttling around Torm’s Fist. Accompanying them was a Barbed Devil, like the one that had caused trouble in Duke Vanthampur’s dungeon.

“Strangely enough it looks like the Barbed Devil is probably our smallest issue in that room,” Spider reported back. “It looks like the devils could catch two Torgrun’s in each claw, they’re that big.”

“Is that true?” Madam Portencia questioned. “Has anyone, and I’m looking at you Bili, ever fought a crab before?”

Bili nodded solemnly.

“They’re like crabs, but spikey and huge. Hell-crabs. At least the Altar doesn’t' look like it’s been touched,” Spider said to Torgrun.

“We can’t kill everything,” Torgrun hissed, “or else we should have just jumped off that fucking bridge.”

Spider nodded. “We’re here to find the head of the Hellriders or Ravengard, so let’s go find him. We can’t throw ourselves at everything that presents itself or we’re all just gonna die.”

“If we go upstairs, can we see into this space?” Madam Portencia asked.

Torgrun nodded. “There are choir stalls with a balcony overlooking this hall and a very nice pipe organ. There are also catacombs below”, he added pointing to the ground, “though I’ve never been down there.”

Spider told everyone to hang on a second, and he scooted forward again, letting Samael free to explore behind the curtains. Everyone paused at the foot of the stairways, waiting.

Suddenly Madam Portencia noticed the Halflings glancing sharply upstairs. The adults stood up and pointed urgently upstairs. Madam Portencia beckoned them down, but as they crept along one of the children stumbled and let out a short yelp.

Everyone could now hear clear footsteps and snuffling noises from upstairs, and started preparing for whatever it was to descend. Madam Portencia moved in front of the halflings and Grace, half way up the stairs. The sniffing from above grew louder, and then there were two short barks as two Hellhounds thundered down the stairs and attacked.

Morad charged toward the dogs, missing both swings in the confined quarters of the stairs. Mak pushed past Madam Portencia and attacked, his twin axes thunking into the beast. Spider buried his daggers into the same beast, killing it instantly. The other dog leapt on top of Mak and ripped at his throat, drawing a cry of pain as it tore and burned his flesh.

From the stair above a bizarre plate-clad figure clomped down, its face a fused mask of gold. It attacked Mak with its halberd, the first blow slashing him badly, and the second just skimming past. But it wasn’t finished yet, bringing a return swing down on Morad.

A squat, plate-clad warrior with a welded-on helm — Merregon

Bili ran up the stairs, flinging a thorned-whip through the gap, wrapping it around the devil and pulling it toward him. As it flew past Morad and Mak, they both slashed out their weapons and gutted it from both sides, striking the creatures in perfect unison and dropping it dead in a puddle on the ground, armour flying off it like an exploding clockwork trinket. Spider was impressed at their filleting work.

Torgrun shot a radiant beam at the hound, and Morad hit it hard with a longsword slash. The dog howled with pain as Mak crushed his axe into it, though his second swing got caught up in the dog muck. Spider tried to finish it off, but the hellhound was still breathing. And with its next breath, it opened its maw and a cone of flame erupted into the melee.

Bili growled with anger and swung his axe into the dog, finally killing it.

Breathing hard, everyone was surprised that nothing had emerged from the curtain. Other than Samael, who reported to Spider that a second curtain sectioned of the rear third of the Cathedral. Behind that were two similar stairways up, but both were blocked from the collapse of the towers above. There was also what looked like a desecrated altar. Spider passed this on, Torgrun frowning with concern at the word of the altar.

Bili cast a healing spell on the group, keeping everyone stable. A rest was needed, and Spider headed up the stairs hoping to find safety above. Upstairs he saw the magnificent pipe organ and choir stalls, plus more curtains covering two exits. He crept in and peeked behind the curtains, seeing an empty corridor leading to two parapets, and barred doors opening to what he assumed was the battlement outside.

Spider summoned everyone up. The massive pipe organ dominated the room, the ivory keys almost glowing and the black keys absorbing all light. “Our best bet to take a breather is probably in one of the rooms behind the curtains,” Spider said, parting the nearest one.

Bili was lagging behind, standing near the balcony overlooking the room. He heard the scuttling noise again, and as he looked down he saw the Spined Devil pull the curtain aside and the giant crabs scuttled through, heading directly toward the stairs. “Incoming!” Bili called out.

Everyone quickly prepared for the attack, positioning around the staircase. Togrun blessed Morad, Mak and Bili, praying for help from Torm. Morad did the same, kneeling and asking for Al’Akbar’s blessing. Madam Portencia shepherded the halflings and Grace into the organ alcove and prepped her spells.

The crabs burst into the room, met by blades and spellcraft. A crab wrapped its claw around Morad, trying to pincer him inside, but Morad was too strong to be trapped. Spider punched his daggers into a crab’s brain as it rounded the stairs, and it shattered into pieces with the force of the blow. Morad destroyed his foe too, and everyone suddenly realised the crabs weren’t as tough as feared. A surge of hope flooded the group.

Then tree more crabs suddenly emerged from the other stairs, and more could be heard coming from below, and the hope quickly became determination. It was numbers versus force. And on this occasion, force bore out: crab carapaces shattered as steel and magic buffeted them, slowly wearing them down until all were dead. The carapaces remained, but all their innards liquified into puddles onto the floor.

For a moment another victory was savoured, before Torgrun heard a voice calling in infernal from the Chapel, “Show yourselves. Come forward.”

Torgrun shook his head, as Bili whispered to the group what was being said.

“I will not harm you. Step forward.”

Morad immediately started toward the stairs.

“What’s your game there Morad?” Madam Portencia hissed.

“We go kill this thing,” Morad said simply.

“On a count of five,” Torgrun prepared, before noticing that Mak had stepped to the balcony. The Barbed Devil floated above the room, staring with piercing eyes at Mak. Bili stepped to Mak’s side.

“I will have your souls. Or, I will have all the souls of all those who shelter here.”, the devil taunted with a fiendish smile. It turned and flew toward the Altar of Torm, disappearing behind the shredded curtains.

There was no time to dawdle or recover - the devil had made that crystal clear.

Escorting Grace and the Halflings, the party quickly moved downstairs and pushed through the curtain into the inner sanctum. Ahead stood the famed Altar of Torm, a huge clenched fist carved out of a single block of obsidan, mounted on a plinth. There was no sight of the devil.

Torgrun immediately fell to his knees in front of the Altar, praying fervently for Torm’s blessing. “Oh mighty Torm, you have once come to our aid today. We seek your guidance”

As Torgrun prayed, Madam Portencia approached the altar and saw there was a lever to the right. She smiled to herself: she knew stagecraft when she saw it. She flexed the lever and slowly pulled it toward her, the fist slowly unclenching as Torgrun prayed, until it lay open, palm upward, inviting.

Torgrun continued, feeling the light surge within him. “Defilers are here, and we wish to strike them down.” And he was granted thusly, a beam of light falling on him and filling his soul with energy. No others took the knee, but Morad could feel the holy power suffusing the air.

Spider and Mak meanwhile had moved to the rear of the sanctum, pulling up the curtain there to glance further back. They were horrified by the sight beyond. A smaller stone-carved altar lay within, but this one had been desecrated. Tendrils of flesh and unidentifiable innards lay tangled around the altar, blood-splattered and ichor-stained. The room reeked of a creeping, overpowering evil.

Torgrun strode toward the rear curtain. “Is there anyone back there?”

“Bits,” Spider said, even he was spooked by what he saw, shaking his head.

The holy Cleric of Torm was not about to let this horror rest. He strode into the desecrated chamber and started to clean the altar as best he could. Mak drew a deep breath and stepped forward to help. Both felt their skin start to drain and crackle like a parched lake bed, but they continued their grim task through the fear and doubt.

Madam Portencia meanwhile had clambered up the open fist and started searching for a mechanism within the palm that might reveal where the devil had disappeared to. She quickly determined that the slab of embedded stone where bodies would be laid to rest was movable, and, with a little shoving and experimental distribution of her weight, was able to shift it to reveal stairs below. Bodies must have been laid on the fist, then lowered below for interment. None of this came as any surprise - disappearing bodies was a gig as old as the hills.

Bili was feeling impatient with the slow progress. He’d heard the devil’s ultimatum, and worried for the safety of those it threatened. “We need to go,” he said.

“And this is the way,” Madam Portencia announced. She looked over at Spider and offered a shocking version of the thieve’s cant hand signals to try and indicate it was time to go down. Spider looked nonplussed. “We need to go down these stairs, people, and we need to get Torgrun and Mak here now,” she said, giving up.

Grace looked scared. “Where’s Togrun? Why are you all suddenly worried?”

“This is taking too long,” Morad said, “and we fear something down there is coming back up.”

Spider quickly ran to get Torgrun and Mak, both ashen-faced. Torgrun had been unable to call on Torm to sanctify the desecration - much to his disappointment. The horror inflicted on the altar was too strong, and needed more time - a commodity which he didn’t have.

“Dammit I’m going to have to take the lead,” Madam Portencia sighed. “Come on kids, downstairs.”

“You want me to go first, Madam?” Morad offered.

“I bloody do. Is there no gentleman left in the world?”

Morad looked confused. “I just said… I just offered?”

“Well. You’re the last of your kind sir.”

Morad nodded formally, dropped to a knee for a brief prayer, then headed below.

The stairs led to the catacombs below, where Spider found a lever that closed the fist above. A dim light lit the gloom, though this was obviously a well used place - the floors were made of marble and well trodden. It was colder here, and the floors were polished stone.

Spider scouted ahead, following another set of stairs down and around. He drew to a halt when he sensed, and then saw, danger ahead. The Spined Devil stood in the centre of a corridor beyond, with another leading off behind him up some short steps. He stood very still, ready, alert. And he held three terrified Elturel citizens with him, his sharply taloned claws resting on the shoulders of two, and tail poised to pierce the third.

“Hostages,” Spider hissed reporting back. “The fiend has three civvies - and they’ll all be dead the instant he sees us. There are two approaches, either side of these stairs, but we won’t get to him in time if we attack.”

“Unless we can move him out of their range,” Bili said. “I can whip him out of their range.”

“And I can try the sleep trick I used on Vanthampur servants.” Spider suggested.

“Let me try to command him,” Torgrun said. “None of us can kill him with one blow.”

“No.” Madam Portencia said flatly. “This isn’t going to work - the command is going to fail, because he’s a devil, just like on the Bridge back there. And then all of our attacks are going to be not enough to kill him, and they they are going to die.”

“No, I’m going to pull him away from them,” Bili said.

“We need to talk to him,” Madam Portencia disagreed. “Because unless Morad and Mak can kill him instantly, then all those people are dead. We’ve done this once before and got lucky, and I don’t feel like doing it again.”

“I could charge him,” Morad suggested, “just knocking him down.”

“So could I, but he will see us coming,” Mak said, shaking his head.

“It needs to be ranged,” Torgrun said.

Bili turned to Morad. “Why don’t we both whip him, and drag him to us?”

“It’s too far - no whip can travel sixty feet,” Spider hissed.

“And by the time you do that, the kids will be dead,” Madam Portencia said. “We need to talk to it.”

“I’m not sure what you’re thinking, Madam P,” Torgrun questioned.

“Nor I. I don’t know what the answer is either. But it’s not combat.”

“I could censure it,” Morad offered. “In tandem with Torgrun trying his command. We only need one to work.”

“It’s a hail mary, buddy” Spider shrugged. “Could work.”

“What have you go Mak?” Madam Portencia asked.

“I have axes.”

Madam Portencia smiled - Mak was always on point.

“Look. I charge him, slam into him with shield,” Morad suggested. “And as I do, Torgrun tries his spell. It might give us the edge.”

“All I’m hearing is a bunch of things that will give a slight increase to the chances of survival,” Madam Portencia said. “Whereas walking out there and saying ‘hey, what’s it going to take for you not to kill them?’…”

Morad nodded slowly. “Surely he would be very seduced by us offering something he wants. It’s a tough call.”

“If we walk out there to talk, we can still use these other options if negotiations fail,” Torgrun said. “And at least we’ll be closer. But if he immediately kills them, then we’ve fucked it.”

Just as Torgrun finished, the decision was made for everyone. A voice crackled out in infernal. “My name is Dreb. Step forward, and choose. I know that you are here.”

“He knows,” Torgrun hissed, immediately stepping forward, flanked by Bili. Everyone else followed their lead, not knowing what was said but instinctively understanding, except Spider who sprinted to the other entrance, hoping to flank the beast.

“Very good. These three,” the devil said rolling his head at its captives, “will give me their souls. Or rather, I will take them.” It flexed its fingers. “What will you give for me not to take them? You should understand, souls are a very valuable currency here.”

Those that understood looked at each other, whilst those that didn’t just heard ugly guttural nonsense.

“Time to make a deal with the devil, is that what you’re saying?” Torgrun asked.

“What’s the deal?” Morad asked, not taking his eyes off the devil. As they spoke, Bili and Mak were slowly creeping closer to the fiend, as was Morad. Spider stayed hidden at the other entrance.

“He has offered us the option of trading for their souls.”

“Trading what?” Madam Portencia asked warily.

“Your souls?”

“I think not,” Torgrun replied sharply.

“Hm. One of your souls, for these three.”

Torgrun paused before responding. “Souls are not on the table, on our side.”

“Not another step, get back against the wall” the devil hissed at Bili, who had crept closer. Everyone backed away, the devil obviously very aware of what was going on. Spider cursed under his breath, realising he wouldn’t be able to sneak under the fiends radar.

“So Dreb,” Torgrun said, “do you value jewels?”

The fiend laughed. “Trinkets? Do you know where you are? The is Avernus. Trinkets have no currency here: souls have currency here.”

Mak stepped forward. “Dreb. We have been here long enough now to see what happens when your kind die here. So we understand the stakes. So this is our offer: we will let you go, and we will not kill you here, if you let those three go. If you don’t - you will be gone, forever.”

Dreb raised an eyebrow, responding in broken common. “*A threat!”

“Indeed.”

“I was not expecting that. So you are now saying that I am the one in danger?” Dreb said with a smirk.

“I hate these guys,” Madam Portencia muttered. “You are the one with hostages,” she called out.

“Do you think I am alone down here?”

Mak stepped forward, hefting his axe. “You are in the last few minutes of your existence. For all time.”

Dreb laughed again, a horrible sound. “Do you believe that I am alone down here? That there are not more, that I cannot summon more?”

“I’m not sure what’s happening with them, but I know what’s happening with you, Dreb.” Mak stepped closer again.

“I am going to die? That is what is happening?”

Morad walked slowly forward, hands raised unthreateningly. “I will make a deal,” he said. Everyone could hear him repeatedly praying under his breath as he walked slowly toward Dreb, “Al’Akbar, Al’Akbar”.

Torgrun glanced behind Dreb to the hostages, and noticed for the first time the steps leading up behind him. They led to a softly-glowing figure lying on a dias. With a jolt he realised who that might be: the Unknown Hero of Elturel. It was rumoured that somewhere in the catacombs lay the great hero who saved Elturel from a dragon attack, centuries ago. She had slain the dragon in single-combat, before collapsing dead, and her body had been laid to rest in the cathedral. Her body had never decayed, and the priests now taught that she had been an incarnation of Torm.

Torgrun knew he had to get to her. He dropped to one knee and started to pray with great passion. “Oh mighty Torm, the Unknown Hero…” He saw the light glow stronger over the body, calling him toward it.

Dreb surveyed the warriors approaching him. “What if I don’t value my life, Barbarian? What if would rather take these souls, give them to mighty Zariel, and sacrifice my own life. What then?”

“Well then you’re not negotiating, are you?” Madam Portencia replied.

“I am negotiating for these lives, not mine,” Dreb said, drawing his claws and tail closer to the exposed necks of his captives.

Morad continued his inexorable approach, his prayers as fervant as Torgrun’s. Bili shadowed him.

“What are you offering?” Dreb asked Morad.

“I am offering you that I kill you, and you go straight to Al’Akbar, and he will give you peace.”

Dreb smirked again.

Madam Portencia called out. “What about Morad’s shield?”

“A shield? Why would I take a shield?” Dreb asked, suspicious.

“It has a soul in it that you might value.”

“You pique my curiosity, Madam. Show me this shield,” Dreb ordered Morad.

“Do not give me to this fiend. That is a warning. Do not do that.” the shield said vehemently to Morad. Morad answered, aloud: “No, I will just slay it.”

“I am intrigued,” Dreb said, “Show it to me. You may save these three.”

Morad lifted the shield. Took one more step. And spoke the words of turning. “Al’Akbar!”

For a moment Dreb flinched, before regathering himself and looking down at Morad. “I am so disappointed…”

“Lulu! Light!” Torgrun yelled, and Lulu bathed the area in a sphere of brilliant light.

As she did, Mak dropped his axe and leapt forward, throwing his full and massive bodyweight onto the thorn-covered fiend. Mak managed to pin both his arms as they crashed together, hauling him to the ground as they fell in a ball of thorns and flesh. The three Elturen citizens, suddenly free, screamed with terror and sprinted away.

Torgrun climbed to his feet and ran to swing his flail, missing, but offering Mak the blessing of Torm as he did. Bili sunk his axe into the devil, avoiding Mak skilfully. Madam Portencia wafted a orb across the room, but it passed harmlessly overhead.

Morad slashed his blades into the creature, whilst Mak concentrated on keeping the fiend grappled, thumping his massive fists into it while he did. It screamed and cursed as it tried to break free, but Mak was far too strong.

Torgrun hit on his next attack, swinging as he moved past and up the stairs toward the resting figure above. Bili followed up with another slash, and Spider arrived to bury his daggers into the fiend.

Morad was furious at the devil threatening to take his precious shield, and he swung with all the might of that fury. His steel tasted devil flesh, and then the devil was no more.

As Dreb dissolved into devil-ichor, Mak, eye-to-eye, smiled. “I told you so.”

Madam Portencia took a calming breath. But in the sudden silence she heard something - feet, running feet, coming from the North. “Incoming! Many things!” she yelled. She pulled out her dagger, which sent a clear message to everyone: she was out of magic.

Charging around the corner from the north were six cultists, wearing black leather armour and wielding dark blades. Behind them floated a terrifying new devil wielding a huge sword, one she hadn’t seen before.

A white devil with wings and huge sword — White Abishai

Despite the dagger, Madam Portencia had a few tricks left. She shot a bolt of fire into the first cultist, who dropped dead instantly. “Oh thank god,” she muttered.

Mak, covered in goop, charged toward the incoming group, as did Bili and Morad. Spider shifted into the shadows and sliced the nearest foe, also killing her instantly. Morad and Bili finished another two, as everyone realised these were no threat.

Torgrun yelled to get the civilians, halflings, and Grace into the Hero chamber. He laid both his hands onto the altar. “It’s time. Release your avatar of blinding light, oh mighty Torm, rise up! In this time of great need, the Unknown Hero will come to save us all!!”

He felt Torm fill his soul, fill the room, fill the catacombs. The woman on the plinth suddenly jolted, sucking in a breath, eyes springing open. “Praise Torm! I am back!!”

She leapt to her feet, drawing her sword. “Where are the foes?” Torgrun looked in amazement, religious fervour filling his soul. “Yes! Yes!!” he cried, leading her and charging down the stairs toward the combatants.

The cultist slaughter continued, and the devil, seeing this and hearing something coming from Torgrun’s direction, chose to withdraw, retreating back up the corridor behind the flailing cultists.

Torgrun and the Unknown Hero appeared, bathed in holy light. Her sword glowed fiercely, and both she and Torgrun strode with purpose up the corridor. “Bow before the almighty Torm,” Torgrun growled with passion as he walked past. “His avatar is here!”

Madam Portencia looked skeptical, despite the show. “What you have there is a zombie, so let’s just tread carefully, alright?”

“I will take Torm’s vengenance. Lead me to the enemy!” she cried. Morad, stunned, feeling the glow of goodness from both, lowered his head in respect.

“There are good zombies and bad zombies,” Madam Portencia allowed. “We had a guy who used to do this act with a corpse, back in the day. It was hilarious, like a puppet show.” No-one seemed to be listening to her. “Anyway, go catch that devil.”

Torgrun and the Hero rounded the corner, to find the devil at the end of the corridor. The Hero saw the fiend and charged, sword ready. “I see you devil! In Torm’s name you will die at my hand!”

The devil, seeing the holy figure, smiled a wicked smile and joined her in battle. The fight was short but sweet, her blade dealing massive damage with each blow, Torgrun’s flail assisting, Spider’s shuriken sneaking between the blades. Mak too crunched his weapons into it.

Such was the power of the Hero’s blade and presence, the devil didn’t strike a single blow of consequence, before Morad’s swing finished it off. “Al’Akbar!” he cried, making respectful eye contact with the Hero as he did.

The avatar turned to Torgrun, bowed, and collapsed to the floor, her job done. Torgrun knelt beside her, awed, speaking a silent prayer to Torm. She still glowed, though the light had drawn back. With Morad’s help, he carried the body and now-ethereal sword back to the alcove.

Spider heard something, and lifted a finger to his lips, indicating silence. Everyone froze, not wanting another attack. In the quiet snatches of common could be heard coming from around a short corner to the south.

Spider snuck forward to find a barrier of crates blocking the corridor beyond. The voices were louder here. Spider scrambled up the crates, quietly, but the minute he did a strong voice called out. “Stop where you are. One more step and you will die!”

Spider froze as everyone else approached cautiously.

“There are more of us than there are of you. Stop right where you are - reveal yourself.”

“Just hold your horse there, chief,” Spider answered.

“Who are you?”

“We’re the good guys, honey,” Madam Portencia gambled.

“Who are you?” Spider added.

“That is not what I asked. Who are you?” the guard demanded.

“Well if I was to say we are not with the devil,” Spider responded,

“We have heard that story many times,” the guard said.

“I am Madam Portencia, oracle of Baldur’s Gate!” Madam Portencia announced grandly.

There was a brief whispered conversation. Then: “You are the Madam Portencia?”

“Indeed, the very same.”

“She who escorted Duke Ravengard to Elturel?”

“Correct!”

“And I was his cook,” Spider added, finally revealing himself.

The guards looked up at Spider with astonishment. “Oh my lord. Spider! You did make a fine meal, we could use that.”

A man stepped out from the darkness further into the chamber and strode to the barricade: Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard.

He smiled warmly. “My god. I never thought I’d see you lot again.”

A strong-faced man in plate armour — Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard

Behind the barricade stood a group of heavily armed, exhausted guardsmen. And a large chamber full of huddled civilians - there must be hundreds, many looking the worse for wear. Carers moved among them as a makeshift kitchen prepared hot meals. Grace and the halfling family were shepherded away to be fed.

The Duke introduced you to his second-in-charge, Pherria Jynks, now the highest ranking Priest of Torm in Elturel, despite being only an acolyte.

“I must confess I never thought to see anyone from home, let alone my erstwhile escorts from that fool’s mission,” the Duke began. “Tell me, how did it come to pass that you should be here - were you also dragged down, and if so, where have you been these weeks?”

“Now that is quite the tale,” Spider grinned, “But we weren’t in Elturel when it fell - though we did witness it.”

“This all happened on the day Kreeg called for a pause in negotiations. Curse that man - we have not seen him since the fall, though many here still hope for his return.”

Jynks nodded, adding: “He saved this city once before, we pray that he will do so again. Though the Duke seems to think otherwise.”

“He is not coming back,” Torgrun said bluntly. “He is dead.”

Jynks looked shocked, but the Duke nodded. “I suspected that he was dead, but it is interesting you can confirm it - if indeed it is true. Let us withdraw to discuss this further - please excuse us Pherria.”

The Duke led you to an alcove where he sat down and asked for the full story. “Tell me everything. What happened after the city fell?”

“The path that has led us here was one that wended back through Baldur’s Gate, where we found out much more,” Torgrun began.

“Such as?”

“Such as that Vanthampur was in league with the demons that have bought this city to here.”

“Vanthampur is behind this?”"

“In league with others.”

“I expect that she now rules Baldur’s Gate? Taking care of me was her last obstacle,” the Duke grimaced.

“If she still rules, it is only somewhere down here,” Spider said. “We killed her… and then we killed Kreeg.”

Ravengard raised his eyebrows. “You? Killed both the Overseer of Elturel and Grand Duke-in-waiting of Baldur’s Gate? That is quite the claim!”

The story of Kreeg and Vanthampur was told once more, in great detail due to the Duke’s keen interest. The Duke was shocked that both were dead by the hand of those present.

“Kreeg embraced his death - as if he were passing over,” Torgrun said, as the tale concluded.

“We will probably find them down here somewhere,” Madam Portencia added.

“We expect to meet him and Vanthampur again,” Mak said.

The Duke agreed. “And Kreeg - you say he too had left Elturel. It did seem far too coincidental that the city fell the same day he cancelled everything and vanished. He knew.”

“And Vanthampur - she purposely filled your escort party with political rivals she would be rid of,” Torgrun added.

The Duke sat back. “It all adds up, unbelievable as it sounds. Though I am surprised either of them could wield this kind of power. An incredible tale. I welcome your two new friends, you were indeed fortunate to find such useful companions.”

The Duke paused before continuing. “The reason we assumed Kreeg was dead, or gone, was that undead have been seen rising again in the city. As you know he once saved Elturel from such a scourge, so their rise pointed to his demise. The Companion played some role in that, but now the Companion is turned, and they are back. It’s not just devils and demons - there are undead too,” he concluded glumly.

“Why were the undead here in the first place?” Madam Portencia asked.

“No idea. Those that survived here believed it only legend, but we now have proof otherwise.

“When we were sucked in to Hell - and that was an event, let me tell you - we were ambushed by devils swarming into the city. I rallied as many guards and Hellriders as I could, but there was a great slaughter, as you can imagine. We did our best, but we were overwhelmed.

Until something happened - the devils turned and swarmed back down the chains binding the city. As you would have heard, there is now an almighty battle going on below between devils and demons, and we think that is all that has kept Elturel from being overrun.”

“So that battle has been joined since Elturel has fallen?” Torgrun asked.

“That battle is for control of Elturel,” Madam Portencia nodded slowly.

“The battle is for the souls in Elturel,” the Duke corrected. “Every so often they sally forth, both devils and demons, and we fight them back. But that war below is keeping Elturel in a relative statis until one side emerges victorious.”

“I think in part what has bought us here is the compact Kreeg made has with the Companion has come due,” Torgrun said. “The demonic forces must be reacting to this event.”

Spider flipped open his recipe book and handed over the details of Kreeg’s contract. The Duke scanned it quickly, shaking his head. “I never liked Kreeg. This is diabolical.”

“And the Companion is called the Insidiator, or something,” Spider added. “The way it looks now is the way it looks normally - the shiny version was the trick.”

“I have no idea what an Insidator is - but I’ll get the Elturel holy people onto it.”

“They’ve been playing the long game with us,” Torgrun said.

“A long game indeed. We have retreated here to the High Hall, and here is where we will make our stand. We have managed to hold it, and bring back what survivors we could. But we can’t hold out forever.”

“But Torm still flows through this city,” Torgrun said with conviction, “His goodness remains steadfast.”

“So Pherria tells me. I am not a religious man, but I believe her words. But even Torm cannot save Elturel alone.”

“Now is perhaps the time to think that religion is a relevant thing to be taking into account,” Torgrun said quickly.

“Touché,” the Duke smiled. “Whoever rules this realm - and I am told it is someone named Zariel - must believe that whoever wins the souls of Elturel will win the eternal battle between devils and demons. I think that is why this has happened. That is why so many have died.”

The Duke took a deep breath before continuing. “Thank you for the great risk you have taken to find us. But I would ask more: we need your help.”

“We have come here expressly to help,” Torgrun said.

“That is why we are here,” Morad added.

“You are obviously capable if you got this far,” the Duke said, calling Pherria over. “Pherria has an idea, and I think it is a sound one, given the circumstances.”

Pherria placed a leather bound tome down on a stone plinth. “This is the Tome of the Creed Resolute. This is the book which all Elturel citizens sign once they reach age, to swear their fealty to Elturgard. This book is centuries old.”

An ancient leather bound tome — Tome of the Creed Resolute

“And Kreeg’s contract said all souls sworn to Elturgard were forfeit once the terms fell due… My name is in that book, you know,” Madam Portencia said weakly.

“As is mine. As is the name of everyone here - though maybe not Grace,” Pharria added.

“I too have signed that book, Torgrun said quietly. “Gods, they dare claim every soul in Elturgard.”

“There is still hope. I know of a powerful relic of Torm here in Elturel: the Helm of Torm’s Sight. A sacred, holy item. It allows the wearer, if they are true, to have direct communication with Almighty Torm.”

“Whoa,” Mak gasped.

“I have heard directly of this via my father,” Torgrun said. “Who was there when it arose, from a swamp, mid battle.”

“I believe the Helm is still here, in Elturel’s Great Cemetery Chapel. If we can get hold of it, we can petition Torm to save us, or seek His direction on how we can be saved.”

“I sent a force of five to retrieve this Helm,” Ravengard said, “but they have not returned. I cannot spare any more people without risking the lives of the survivors here. I have twenty guards here, and ten out on the streets on rotation, but that is all.”

He looked at the gathered company. “Go to the Cemetery and find this Helm. It is one chance in a million, or worse, but it is all we have. There is no other way I can see to get us out of here.”

“As I said, Torm still flows through this city,” Torgrun said passionately. “And I stand forth, ready to make the circle complete. My father saw this Helm, it fell from our sight, and now it returns. I will seek out the Helm, and I will don it.”

Pherria nodded. “If you be true, you may wear it, but beware. Those that are not true, those that are in any way compromised, the Helm is likely to… well. Madness.”

“It is often the way of magic hats,” Madam Portencia said wisely.

“Though he is pretty true,” Mak confirmed.

“I should warn you that that Chapel seems to be the source of the undead,” Ravengard added.

“It’s a natural place to raise dead I suppose,” Pharria said grimly. “There was a priest of Lathander who was the steward of the Cemetery. A man by the name of Gideon Lightward. If you can find him, and if he lives, he may be of assistance.”

“Ok. So this is really our best option?” Madam Portencia sighed. “This is the plan. Find a magic hat, put it one, deus ex hat.”

“Madam Portencia you always had a way with words,” the Duke smiled. “But yes - this is a our best option.”

“I would like to bin it, but I honestly can’t think of anything better.”

“And I would hope that the Helm is more effective that any of your magic hats.”

“Well. That sounds like a slight on any hats I may have had that were magic.”

“I do not question your powers Madam,” the Duke said, holding his hands up defensively. “I have missed our sessions - perhaps you can fit one in before heading out?”

“We have had quite the day,” Madam Portencia said, “but of course, your Grace. After a very long rest. "

Ravengard laughed. “Of course. As I have said, this plan is the best chance we have.”

“I agree,” Morad jumped in. “Where evil, undead especially? We go, we kill, we bring back the Helmet. But I will say this: do not talk to Madam Portencia like that again. She is very brave.”

The Duke bowed his head. “I meant no slight on her character. I apologise. And I apologise to you too, Madam. It was merely a riff on your perhaps more… carney ways?”

“Well we are alive, because of Madam,” Morad emphasised.

“That is true,” Mak said.

“Acknowledged. And I do still want that reading,” Ravengard said.

Before heading out, Morad’s shield whispered to him. “Be careful of this Helm, I am not sure of its goodness.”

“Why you say that, Toem seemed pretty good out there,” Morad said.

“Oh there is no question about Torm. But the Helm… as you saw out in the High Hall, things change when they come to this plane. That Helm may have changed.”

“Does that mean you have changed?”

“I am trapped in here. If I got out, I wouldn’t change, but I would be free.”

“How be careful of Helmet? He put on, he talk to God.”

“It may have been corrupted - it may no longer talk to Torm.”

Morad nodded, but his suspicions were raised. He placed the shield down, ostensibly to affix his armour, but saying a quick prayer over the shield to see if it emitted any aura. But it showed nothing, like every other time. Morad shrugged and strapped the shield over his back.

Spider sought the Duke and spelled out the current state of Baldur’s Gate: “Hell in a handbasket, and soon. The heads have been cut of the snakes, and the remaining Dukes aren’t going to consolidate anything. In the meantime ‘interested parties’ are doing their best to keep a lid on things.”

“Well we’ve always worked with your interested parties,” Ravengard said. “In some ways Vanthampur taking control would have been preferable. With her fallen, yes, chaos. Unless your friends can hold things together, and I can get back.”

“Well they’re going to give it a good crack,” Spider confirmed.

“Unforunately Baldur’s Gate is beyond me now. This is my city, and my concern. I will save these people, and I will save this city - with your help.”

“If we can stop this, then we can stop the domino effect in Baldur’s Gate,” Spider nodded.

“You think Baldur’s Gate is next?”

“Absolutely. It was absolutely Vanthampur’s plan to sell Baldur’s Gate down the river next. If it seemed like we were inferring that? We were saying it.”

“Understood - but surely killing Kreeg and Vanthampur has put some kind of brake on that plan?”

“Oh I think it has - but if you were the smart cookie who was in charge of this layer of Hell, you’d probably have other plans in place wouldn’t ya?”

“You are right. Which makes getting us out of here all the more important.”

Ravengard called the group together. “Be careful not to take on more than you can handle. If there are undead there, and there are too many of them, concentrate on getting the Helm. We don’t need to kill everything in sight, we need that Helm. Do that, and the tide may turn. I wish you well, and I hope to see you again, very soon.”

Spider, having earlier given the survivors the best meal they’d had in weeks, asked some of the less priestley citizens for the safest routes to the Cemetery, and mapped out a path.

The journey was relatively quiet as a result, though there were moments where avoiding patrols and devils flying overhead was required. The oppressive heat, waves of sulphur, and strikes of lightning from the Companion made everything harder than it should be, but before long the Grand Cemetery of Elturel was in sight.

A ten-foot high brass fence surrounded the graveyards, fallen and broken in places. Bodies were spiked on top of many of the fence-posts, and drawing closer revealed that the body-parts wriggled and shifted as if alive, in concert with the flashes of lightning from the Companion.

“A whole new kettle of shit,” Madam Portencia observed.

Inside the fence were dozens of shambling figures, wandering aimlessly between the graves. Occasionally a skeletal figure shuffled into sight. None seemed to venture beyond the fenced circumference, despite the many gaps in the metalwork.

Shambling undead rise amidst gravestones

Pherria had advised the Helm was kept in the Ossuary at the Chapel in the centre of the cemetery, so there was no choice but to enter. At first everyone tried to use gravestones for cover, preparing for the inevitable fight ahead, but it soon became clear that none of the undead figures paid the slightest attention. They shuffled around, sometimes drawing near, but never engaging.

It was a supremely uncomfortable feeling being surrounded by these creatures, but better than having them swarm. Surrounded by threats, not doing anything.

“I do wonder if we shouldn’t, um…” Torgrun whispered.

“…murder them all?” Madam Portencia finished.

“Well. If we’re going to be fighting our way out, it might be good to knock a couple off now?”

“You want to agro all this shit right now?”

“No. Let’s not draw 100 of these on top of us,” Mak said shaking his head.

“Torgrun, we have the fight with the Helmet in your hand, not before,” Spider hissed.

“Then at least you can say you got halfway,” Madam Portencia agreed.

“True, true. I’m just itching to knock about some undead.”

“I feel sure that itch will be scratched very shortly,” Morad said, also feeling the urge to purge these creatures from Al’Akbar’s name. But he assumed that He was providing divine protection, clearing a path.

“We’d all appreciate some of that guilt-free murder, but let’s just hold off until it’s absolutely necessary,” Madam Portencia agreed.

On raised ground toward the centre of the Cemetery stood the chapel, but instead of being lit with Torm’s grace, it glowed with a fetid purple radiance. The doors of the chapel had been smashed open, and the stained-glass windows shattered.

Something had desecrated it, horrifying Torgrun, and shaking Morad’s out of his confidence in Al’Akbar’s unquestioning protection. He suddenly understood the danger.

Bili whispered a warning to everyone when he saw what stood outside: three massive skeletal figures wandered slowly in front of the chapel, protecting the entrances. They looked like enormous minotaurs made of rotting flesh and bones, wielding huge axes. Even Mak was dwarfed by them.

Spider stealthed ahead and found a door and more shattered windows at the rear of the building. The windows looked breachable, though the shards of glass would make it tricky. He called the group over, but when crossing the no-mans-land between the buildings one of the minotaurs noticed - and unlike the other undead it paid attention. It bellowed out a furious snort and charged toward Mak.

Mak accepted the challenge and turned to face the incoming beast, as did Morad, relishing the chance to destroy the unholy creature. The other two minotaurs also came thundering toward the two warriors.

Spider fired his crossbow into the nearest foe, as Torgrun flung a spear of radiance, drawing beastial howls of rage. Torgrun followed up with his spiritual weapons, shards of bone flying off the beast as they struck. Madam Portencia stepped forward and sent a flaming bolt which exploded into the creature and shattered it into thousands of pieces.

Mak and Morad saw their target fall, and stood back preparing to absorb the incoming minotaurs. Bili flung an ice bolt into it and Spider hit again with his crossbow, staying safely out of range. Togrun’s floating weapons continued their assault on the new minotaur, and he blessed his three melee companions to keep them safe.

Mak thundered into the creature, face-to-face with one of the very few things he’d fought that was bigger than him. His axes chipped more bone from the beast, and Morad stepped into the fray and finished it off with two swift blows.

The final minotaur didn’t last long, falling again under the combined power of the ranged and melee blows.

“All that and no-one got a scratch,” Torgrun grunted with satisfaction.

“Al’Akbar,” Morad nodded, his faith fully restored.

Now the front entrance was clear, Spider suggested splitting: the big men through the front, Madam Portencia, Bili and himself through the back. He picked the lock and carefully opened the rear door. Ahead was a curtained circular chamber, which shielded the South end of the chapel. The remnants of shattered stained-glass lay on the ground.

Back on the front porch Torgrun found statues representing heroes of Elturel past, figures he knew from legend. Unlike the High Hall, these figures weren’t changed, despite the chapel’s obvious corruption. Stepping cautiously onto the balcony, Mak caught sight of several more minotaurs inside the chapel and hissed out a warning.

The rear guard meanwhile moved quietly toward the curtained chamber. Spider pulled it aside carefully. Inside he saw two devils of a type he hadn’t seen before hovering above a staircase that led down. The room was full of shattered furniture.

Purple spined devil with an insectoid head

“They might be your ice-devils?” he suggested to Bili, who nodded in agreement despite not having seen the creatures.

Madam Portencia sent a message to Torgrun: “Two devils in the circular room.”

Torgrun replied in kind: “And two - no, wait, three, minotaurs.”

“Torgrun - you and the fellas chargethe minotaurs, we’ll take out the devils,” Madam Portencia ordered. She explained the same to Spider and Bili.

“Good idea,” Bili nodded, “we’ll meet up in the middle.”

“Are you kidding?” Torgrun replied, incredulous.

“Good point - make yourselves seen at the door so they charge you,” Madam Portencia corrected, at Spider’s suggestion.

“And exactly how many of them do you want us to kill?” Torgrun asked, still disbelieving.

“All of them.”

“So one each.”

“We’ll be through with the devils in a sec, then we’ve got your back.”

“You’re crazy!”

“We got this. We’ve got Bili! We’ll go when we hear the minotaurs charge.”

Torgrun shook his head in horror as he passed this on to Mak and Morad. “I think they’re crazy. We just got out unscathed, and they think that we’re invincible.”

Morad stepped in front of Torgrun. “You stand back Torgrun, me and Mak take out the minotaurs.”

“I trust you Torgrun, you tell us what to do,” Mak said, not quite convinced despite Morad’s determination.

Torgrun messaged Madam Portencia back angrily. “I disagree. There are only three of us, we are not taking on three minotaurs. We will come around to you and join forces.”

“Look, I’ll just start with the devils,” Madam Portencia answered primly. “There are only two devils and three minotaurs!”

“I don’t understand! One minute you’re hiding from them the next it’s go-go-go!?”

Madam Portencia rolled her eyes and hissed to Spider. “He doesn’t want to do it!”

Spider just pointed at Bili, who had morphed into a giant bear. “I think it’s fookin' go time!”

Madam Portencia smiled. “Bili, at your pleasure. On the count of three…”

Bili charged through the curtain.

The devils spun to face the raging bear, who swiped and bit into the nearest devil. Spider struck a devil with his dagger as Madam Portencia stepped through and rolled a thunderous wave into the crowd. A huge crash of thunder boomed out, the shockwave felt by the team sprinting around outside the building. Morad looked confused, protesting as he followed Torgrun, “The creatures were just there!”

Torgrun cursed as he led Mak and Morad through the window to the North. A shard of glass cut into Mak has he crashed through.

The minotaurs charged into the curtained room and Madam Portencia rued the failed plan under her breath, “If only we’d had someone to cut them off…” One crashed into Bili with its horns, the charge almost knocking him to the ground. The other two minotaurs followed close behind.

A devil lanched into Bili with its claws and tridents, slashing the bear nastily. The other vanished and reappeared next to Madam Portencia, striking her with its trident.

Over the clash of weapons and magic, everyone heard a noise from the stairs below - it sounded like the crabs from the High Hall, but combined with a moaning drone. Something was coming up.

Madam Portencia quickly summed up the situation, realising things needed to die quickly. Unfortunately the room was now too crowded to unleash her most potent attacks, and she instead floated an orb into the fray, which was avoided by all the opponents. Bili had more luck and finished off one of the devils which exploded into brown ichor.

Torgrun finally arrived on the scene with Mak, and crashed into the minotaur nearest Madam Portencia, shards of bones flying off from his blow and from his spiritual weapons. Mak did the same, his axes creating havoc and drawing the attention of the room.

The small chamber was filling with fighting when the creatures from below emerged: a giant scorpion closely followed by several hideous demonic creatures which made everyone shudder in horror.

Lumbering muscular green-skinned demon with a drooling red face

The fight was now utter chaos, three minotaurs, two devils, and now the demons. A sense of desperation flooded everyone: these were overwhelming odds.

But something unexpected happened: as soon as the demons emerged, the minotaurs and devils instantly turned their attention to the new threats. The demons retaliated in turn. The hatred between the two eternal foes took precedence over everything else.

As everyone caught their breaths for a moment, a figure appeared from the South, floating into the room. He wore the bright vestments of Lathander. This must be Gideon Lightward, and for a moment a faint hope emerged. But something was wrong: his eyes glowed red, and the fingers of his hands curled like claws.

A tall figure with bright clothes, clawed hands, and glowing red eyes — Gideon Lightward

“Slaughter the demons,” Lightward hissed to his forces, before turning to the party. “Join us and you will live, resist and you will all die.”

Everyone hesitated.

Lightward didn’t look like a good guy, but on the other hand his arrival had changed the stakes. Spider didn’t wait long to decide. He sprinted toward the giant scorpion and worked his daggers into the weak points at its joints.

Morad thought quickly. Killing devils or demons, in either order, was his bread and butter. If the devils helped with cleaning out the demons, there was no reason to anger Lightward - yet. He yelled “Kill the demons!” to his companions, but instead of actually joining the fighting, he merely shifted position warily, ready should he be needed.

“Yes yes, join us, eradicate the demon horde!” Lightward cried gleefully.

The devils and demons continued to wail into each other, each intent on annihilation of the other. The rank, fetid smell from the demon Dretches made getting close to them hard. Not enough to stop Mak, who bundled over and smashed his axes into the scorpion, shattering the carapace as he hit it.

Bili joined Mak, and his blows killed the giant insect for good. Madam Portencia exploded a Dretch with a single singeing bolt of fire, then Torgrun tried to add a sacred flame to its companion, but failed - largely because he keeping a close eye on Lightward, not trusting the undead priest’s intent.

Spider finished off another Dretch, as did Mak, leaving them all dead in pools of ichor. Mak’s bloodlust was up, and one of the devils was dead to rights in his sights - but, surprising everyone, he held his swing, avoiding any potential retribution from Lightward. A moment of clarity for the big barbarian.

Lightward let out a deep triumphant laugh. “The demonic forces are nothing to us! Another victory for mighty Zariel - they will never beat us back, we shall triumph!”

“My friends,” he said, opening his arms wide, “You and I, we shall defeat the demon horde! I am raising my army, and together we shall wipe them from the face of eternity in the name of Zariel!”

“Now tell me why you are here - you have come to me to ally with me?”

Everyone stared at the floating priest, not sure what to say. Spider slowly reached down to his bandolier belt, and Bili looked utterly confused. The minotaurs and devils stood behind Lightward.

Morad whispered to his shield, “Do you know this man?”

“Not at all.”

Morad nodded, following Spiders lead and resting his hand on the pommel of his sword.

Torgrun stepped forward. “We know nothing of your war.”

“Our war,” Lightward corrected. “The demonic hordes threaten all that is, and all that will be. Their drive is only to destroy. We, my undead army, Zariel’s army, and now you, we are all that holds civilisation safe from these hordes.”

“You speak of civilisation,” Torgrun replied. “This city has been taken from the upper plane for your war, without our consent. We see none of this war as our purpose.”

Lightward shook his head. “Everyone here will join us. They will see, as I did, that there is no greater calling than fighting the demons.”

“I have no such calling,” Torgrun said bluntly.

“Oh you will, you will when you see the madness and horror that they bring. Only by allying with mighty Zariel can we hope to defeat the demonic horde. The souls of this city - they too will fight, and when they do they will know the rightness of their fight.”

“All we know, from what we have seen, is that Zariel is a bringer of death.”

Lightward hissed. “Zariel recruits for the war. She needs souls for the war, else you and your pathetic lives will be null. There will be nothing. Only the void.”

Torgrun was angry. “So you will strike us down. Take our lives, in order to protect our lives?”

“We will take what we need to keep the planes safe.”

“We are here because you have taken those lives.”

“That is right. And now you fight for us, with us. As is right.”

Mak had heard enough to know this conversation was going nowhere. “Where is the Helm?” he interrupted.

“The Helm? Torm’s Helm? What has Torm done? What has Tyr done? Lathander? Nothing. Torm has offered nothing. Lathander has offered nothing. None of them have done anything!” Lightward spat. “Only Zariel has shown the strength, the leadership, the inspriration needed to beat back the demon horde! All of your gods mean nothing here. You wish to take his Helm? Take it. It is below, but it has no power - nothing can hold them back except us.”

During Lightward’s monologue, Spider stealthily headed off down the stairs, accepting Lightward’s invitation immediately.

Meanwhile Lightward continued. “Some have come already to find your Helm, humans, but they have not returned. I assume that they too have allied with the Demon forces. For thus is the weakness of humans.”

“Has it been so long that you have forgotten who you are protecting?” Torgrun asked softly.

“I am protecting all the souls of the mortal realms.”

“Then let us try and help you in our way. Because we have not come here as souls.”

“Yes, I can see that. And I can see you are effective at what you do. But your only purpose must be to fight the demons.”

“Our purpose is to recover those who have not already fallen from our realm, into yours.”

Lightward frowned. “And who’s side do you ally yourself with?”

“Torm.”

“Torm? As I have said, there is nothing of Torm here. Have you not seen this chapel? It is desecrated. Take his trinket, but remember: you fight the demons,” Lightward said with menace. He was tiring of Torgrun’s denials.

“It is clear there is a great battle here. But we have been thrust into it against our will. We who are living do not belong here, and we will seek to return to our realm. And when our turn comes, then our souls can align with you.”

Lightward stared at Torgrun for a long moment. Everyone held their breath: much hung on the success or otherwise of Torgrun’s offer. For a moment it looked like the undead priest was preparing to unleash his minions. But then:

“Very well. You will wreak destruction while you are here, in your mortal bodies. But when you die, you will return, and you will join with us.”

“It is clear that that will be our purpose,” Torgrun said with satisfaction, “But that is not now.”

“Yes. You will be doubly effective this way.”

“What token can you give us to signal our intent to the devils of Avernus? To keep us from harm?”

“You need no token. Look how even now I hold back these creatures. None attack you. They are my army and I control them, Zariel controls them, and we will not harm you while you fight for us.”

“If you give us free passage, then we will kill demons when we come across them,” Torgrun said.

“You have seen my army gathering outside. They will not attack you. But first you must prove your allegience. There is a portal below, from whence these demons arrive. Close that portal, and our deal is struck.”

“That sounds acceptable,” Mak agreed.

Lightward beckoned toward the stairway. “The way is yours. The Helm is yours. And the portal must be destroyed.”

At the foot of the stairs Spider found a room that was obviously a burial preparation chamber. Shattered vials of embalming fluid covered the floor and operating tables lay smashed around the room. Knives and piping were strewn about, and acid splashes covered the walls. He set to work opening the doors leading North from the room, which opened into a small corridor.

“I hope I didn’t make a pact there,” Togrun said quietly as he descended.

“That one is no devil,” Morad reassured. “Your soul is safe.” Both the holy men felt a deep disquiet as they descended: something was very wrong down here.

Spider scouted the junction, sensing a large room to the east and a splitting corridor to the west. It was cold and quiet, and in the quiet he heard the others arrive. He described the path ahead, and led everyone to the eastern room.

The large chamber had a vaulted roof and was strewn with rubble from spots where the ceiling had collapsed. Five statues half-stood in the room, four of them crushed by the falling rock. The fifth stood untouched at the northern end of the room, a knighted figure kneeling in supplication.

Morad stood guard in the corridor while everyone else advanced. Spider approached the intact statue, hoping to see Torm’s Helm atop, but finding only the imprint of where it once had lay. Torgrun drew near, his discomfort growing the closer he got. He wracked his memory to remember who this statue represented, but failed.

“Something feels wrong here, but it could be because the Helm is not in place,” Togrun muttered.

Both stared grimly at the spot where the Helm should have rested, a chiselled area around the knight’s head. Spider sifted through the rubble around the statue and the statue itself, but found nothing.

“It’s a bust,” Spider said despondently.

Bili scrunched down to the ground and sniffed, trying to see if he could sense anything that might have been here. He easily detected both human and demon presence, and also found sets of tracks. Demons had been here, but also plate and mail shod human feet. The tracks led to the statue, and had obviously dwelled there, and also led out.

“The humans, or humanoids, have taken the Helm,” Bili announced.

“Right, so somebody nabbed the Helmet and then they’ve been tagged, somewhere down here,” Spider nodded.

Madam Portencia left the room to find Morad, Spider following close behind.

“What happened upstairs?” Spider asked.

“Tsk,” Madam Portencia sighed. “It was as close to a deal with the devil as I ever want to come. I’m not happy with any of it.”

“Right. So I didn’t hear you fightin' ‘im?”

“I was this close.”

“Ok. So where has he gone?” Spider asked.

“Still up there as far as I know. He says he won’t fight us, as long as we don’t fight him.”

“Fine.”

“I feel a bit sick if I’m honest,” Madam Portencia said glumly.

“Hold up,” Bili called. “Let me see if I can follow the tracks.” He saw the human prints led to the north of the branching corridor. Spider stealthed ahead and again heard nothing - surprising him, given Lightward’s warning of the demon portal. It was very cold and very still.

The corridor opened into a large ossuary, with stone diases leading to walls covered in alcoves full of bones. To the south a smaller area contained the same shelves of funerary bones, these ones heavily decorated with symbols and tokens of various gods. Morad and Torgrun felt the same distinct discomfort, something beyond the mere fact of being in a ossuary.

Bili, Mak and Torgrun ventured into the smaller room, studying the religious iconography. Torgrun recalled that most of the more powerful members of Elturel society would be buried down here - and this would be the Ossuary of the Faithful, holding the interred remains of those that practiced the worship of the gods. Or, as Madam Portencia would have it, this was the sharp end of the grift perpetrated against the populace.

Bili pulled out his bear claw from Candlekeep, quietly repeating a tribal chant to his own gods, in respect to those buried here. Torgrun saw many Torm symbols, but could see quite clearly they were more about the glory of the interred than they were Torm.

Torgrun’s unease grew as he walked around the chamber as a swelling pressure started to build inside his head. A massive pulse of necrotic power suddenly shook the room, seeming to come from the bones and symbols themselves, a creeping horror of corrupted faith flaring out in fetid purple. All fled the room to escape the terror, and even those outside could feet the psychic pain. Bili reeled out, confused about the rejection from the Elutrel gods, summoning a fey-bear familiar as he did - at least his gods were listening.

Spider scouted further ahead, finding more emptiness and stairs leading down to a small room. Bili confirmed the human tracks led down this way. The room had cushions and low stools, and a huge mosaic covered one wall, made of chips of coloured bone, depicting souls travelling to celestial realms. A bone-shard message below held a cheerful message: “Contemplate life, death comes soon enough”. Torgrun recognised this as a meditation chamber for priests, a place for to calm their souls amongst all the death.

A lone corridor led North out of the room. Mak could hear the sound of water swirling slowly ahead, and indicated for everyone to be quiet. Spider heard it too, and warned that it might be footsteps moving through a pool of water. He moved forward silently and found a door to the East. He placed his ear against it, and decided there was no-one in the water, it was some kind of naturalish flow. He summoned everyone to the door.

Torgrun reminded everyone of Lightward’s warning about the demon-portal, and to be prepared for whatever might be behind the door. Mak and Bili stepped forward and pushed the door open.

On the other side was a shallow meditation pool that filled most of the room, fenced off by a small iron railing. The pool roiled slowly as patches of shadow passed through the water. Lying in the pool were the mutilated bodies of four humans wearing uniforms of Elturel and Baldur’s Gate - the Duke’s men.

Suspended in mid-air above the pool was a guardsman in Elturel uniform, clutching his head and trying to wrench off a golden helm he was wearing. His body shook and tremored, quivering with futile effort. A tendril of dark energy connected the helmet to a swirling purple void that covered the Eastern wall. The man’s mouth was open in a silent scream, his face set in a rictus of terror.

“That doesn’t seem like a good helmet,” Spider whispered.

Mak agreed. “I don’t even want to touch that helm, let alone wear it.”

“Don’t worry,” Spider whispered back, “Torgrun’s got that covered.”

Torgrun nodded, but he wasn’t perturbed. He had no doubt when he saw Torm’s Helm: he needed to reclaim it, and cleanse the corruption from it.

Bili stepped forward and summoned his magic whip-tendrils. He flung it out to the guard and tried to pull him to the landing. As soon as he did the guard started shouting unintelligible words - a terrified mix of celestial and abyssal, like something was tearing him in two. Those that understood the languages could make out snatches, but it was a confused garble.

“There’s a battle going on, fighting inside him for dominance, he needs our help!” Togrun yelled over the gabbling.

As Morad prepared his weapons, the shield whispered to him. “Take the Helm. You must take the Helm! Do not let anyone else touch it.”

Morad indicated Torgrun, and started to reply, “I don’t know? I think the priest…”

“NO! Stop him! Get it - it is vital that you get it. You are the only one holy enough to take it.”

“I’m not so sure about this, shield. Let us get the man down first.”

“We have one chance. I will be free - if you take it.”

“It is not about you, shield!” Morad said angrily.

“It is not, but when I am free, we will return Elturel. That is what this is about.”

“I do not know about this. I will talk to priest,” Morad replied walking to Torgrun. “We have a problem here. Shield say I should go get that helmet. I’m not so keen… and I think it was your thing to get helmet?”

Torgrun shook his head. “It is not your god that is here. This is a battle between my god and that portal.”

“Sure, but shield has known a lot so far.”

“Tell it to reveal it’s purpose.”

“Shield - what is your purpose?” Morad asked dutifully.

“To be free, to be free to fight with you against the forces of this plane and bring justice.”

Morad repeated the words back more succinctly. “Freedom, justice, to fight. He seem pretty keen and good, you know, usual shield stuff.”

“I cannot do it trapped inside this shield.”

“He like the guy,” Morad said pointing to the suspended guard. “Trapped, he also got to get out, kill evil.”

“This helm can free me.”

“Maybe you give me Helm, I free shield, give it back?” Morad said simply.

“We still do not understand the shield’s true purpose,” Torgrun argued. “This is not about releasing the celestial from the shield, this is a higher purpose. Upstairs a devil just told us he wants us to fight on this plane…”

Madam Portencia tired of the debate and called out from the back, “Just grab the man!”

Bili called to Mak for some help to haul the guard free of the tendrilled bond. The big barbarian stepped forward and added his weight to the whip. He shuddered as he did, feeling something was very wrong about this situation. But even with the combined power of the two hillsmen, the guard couldn’t be shifted free.

Torgrun turned to the guard, and waved his hands in silent prayer. A shimmer of light glowed around the floating figure, and Torgrun stepped over the railing into the water and approached the trapped guard.

Morad watched Torgrun, holding his ground as the shield whispered urgently to him. “I can save Elturel if you free me. He will merely don the Helm and talk to Torm. Torm is nothing here.”

Torgrun reached up to touch the guard. As his hand drew near, he could feel the pull of Torm battling within the body. He lay his hand on the body and felt the fearsome roil of the conflict, light and darkness struggling for dominance. “This one is not strong enough,” Torgrun whispered to himself, recalling Pherria’s warning of madness waiting for those not true.

Spider slipped forward to check the room didn’t conceal any further threats, and quickly checked the frescos on the other walls. They depicted souls travelling in peace to their celestial homes. The Eastern wall was covered with demonic symbols and scars, surrounding the whorling portal. Unlike the devilish decoration in the High Hall, these depicted was pure chaotic horror. Keeping one eye on the portal he looked back to Madam Portencia and Torgrun and shrugged. This was above his paygrade as far as he was concerned.

Madam Portencia studied the portal, wracking her memories for what she knew about destroying demonic portals. She recalled that direct attack was a futile exercise, but that breaking the connection between the portal whatever held it in the plane it inhabited was said to sometimes bear fruit. It was very clear the Helm was the object powering the portal here. Thus the tether between the Helm and portal needed to be broken, somehow. She noted the guard looked close to death…

“Torm is fighting the abyssal beings through this conduit,” Torgrun called out. “He cannot win, the conduit it too weak. We need to break it.”

“I know all about weak conduits, don’t you worry about that,” Madam Portencia said tiredly.

“I’ve got one solution,” Spider said, spinning his dagger slowly.

“I’ve got one too, but I don’t like it,” Madam Portencia replied as she started preparing a spell.

“I don’t like it neither, but I don’t have qualms,” Spider said. He noticed Morad removing the shield from his back. “How are you doing there Morad? What’s the plan there pal?”

“I break the line, reflect it, using shield,” Morad said, pointing toward the glowing purple conduit. Spider raised an eyebrow - that might just work.

Madam Portencia changed that potential plan with a single bolt of fire that shot from her finger and exploded into the hapless guard, who cried out in agony as the flames engulfed him.

“Noooo!” Torgrun yelled, jerking his hand off the flaming body.

As the bolt struck, the portal suddenly coalesced into a concentrated darkness, and emerging from within came two rampaging minotaurs. They charged forward as the charred and lifeless body of the guard dropped into the water.

The Helm still held its connection to the portal, but the body lay limp in the water. Bili pulled on his whip and yanked the dead guard free of the water, to relative safety, the tendril of darkness no longer resisting his strength. With a roar he dropped the whip and thundered into the water, burying his axes into a minotaur.

The minotaur retaliated by crushing Bili with a huge axe blow. The other charged across the room toward Torgrun and Mak, getting caught on the chain which caused it to just miss with its horns and axe. Mak swung his weapons as it passed, wounding it with both strikes.

Morad saw the tendril still connecting the portal to the Helm as he looked down at the body of the guard who now lay at his feet. “Shield, can we block the link to the portal?”

“Take the helm now!”

“What will happen?”

“I will be free.”

“Who are you??”

“I have told you, I am a celestial being trapped inside this shield. Let me free and we will save this city!”

Morad hestiated for a moment, then lent down and pulled the Helm free from the body.

“Noooooooooo!!” Torgrun yelled for the second time in as many minutes.

The moment Morad touched the Helm, a wave of dark energy surged through his body, causing him to shudder in horror as the corruption flooded his soul. Something was communicating through his very being in a horrendous language, a language the polar opposite of the Celestial he knew. With a start he realised it was the shield that was conversing with something over the connection now created.

Morad cried out and dragged the shield down into the beam, to no effect. He tried to drop the Helm, but his hand would not obey. He threw his head back in agony as he felt his soul being abused and misused. He knew he had made a terrible mistake.

Torgrun sprinted toward Morad, seeing the warrior’s eyes open wide in horror. He knew Morad, a holy vessel of Al’Akbar, was now in thrall of the spiritual battle between Torm and the Abyss. But more than that: the Helm was not for Morad, it was for himself. He knew he had to take it. He blessed Morad and the Barbarians as he ran, avoiding a minotaur’s opportunist swing, and kicked out in desperation at the hand of Morad grasping the Helm.

His kick was true, guided, he knew, by Torm. The Helm broke free from Morad’s grip, and as it spun up in an arc through the air Torgrun nabbed it. He too felt the celestial and abyssal battle, but though the dark tendril remained connected, it didn’t effect him the way it had Morad and the guard. He held it in awe for a moment, before stashing it in his satchel.

A golden helm with a gemmed eye — The Helm of Torm’s Sight

Morad gasped as the connection broke, feeling the uncleanliness deep within him. The shield cursed venomously at the interruption - whatever it had been doing, it was not done.

The two beasts still fought, oblivious to the spiritual battles nearby. Madam Portencia rolled a roiling ball of thunder into one, and Spider slashed out with his dark daggers. Bili hit the same creature with a viscious swipe. Mak was impailed as it charged into him and burying its horns into his torso. Mak’s skin seemed to somehow thicken and repel the charge, but he still felt the blows - and took his revenge by gutting the minotaur with two huge blows, dropping it dead in the water.

Torgrun started to back out of the room, watching the thread thin as he drew further and further from the portal. He rounded the corner of the corridor and broke the final connection. The second it broke, the portal shrunk into a pinpoint of nothingness, before vanishing.

Morad climbed to his feet, tears streaming from his eyes, and waded through the water wielding the shield, not his swords. He swung it brutally into the remaining minotaur, trying to destroy the shield as much as the beast. Madam Portencia threw another orb into the mix, and Spider killed it with a final (and trademark) shuriken to the eye.

Morad dropped the shield into the water at his feet, fell to his knees, and sobbed, his weeping the only sound in the suddenly quiet room. He clutched his head in his hands, an echo of the forsaken guard.

What had he done, what had he done?

Torgrun walked back to the room. He could sense the Helm in his satchel, the holy aura quite clear - but also the presence of some corruption, no doubt explaining some of what the dead guard and Morad had experienced.

Madam Portencia looked down at the dead. “Spider - do we need to search these bodies?”

The thief nodded, and quickly frisked the dead guards, finding three magical scrolls - removing curses, speaking in tongues, and one he couldn’t read. Spider checked with Madam P before handing the scroll over to Torgrun, who identified it as a mass heal. Handy. Which reminded Torgrun that Bili and Mak needed some healing themselves. He set to work.

Morad was still quietly sobbing. Seeing no-one else was going to do anything, Madam Portencia sighed and crouched down by his side, her hand on his shoulder

“Alright Morad,” she started, in her gentlest voice, and hiding her extreme exasperation, “What’s going on?”

Morad didn’t look up. “Nothing. I…I don’t know.”

“Did you just remembred your dead dog, or what?”

“No, you don’t understand. I always feel I knew what to do. And then I always feel good. I do good things, I never feel really bad. That thing was like someone put badness in the back of my brain.”

“What thing? The helm? Or the shield?”

“I don’t know,” Morad said quietly. “The shield told me bad, but the helm put bad in.”

“So we had agreed hadn’t we,” Madam Portencia asked, “that Torgrun would take the helm?”

“Well, the shield said that to do good, the shield needed me to hold the helm. So I thought I hold it, at worst, I hold it and give it to the priest.”

“I’m not a religious person, but it’s my understanding that when god comes to you, you will know him.”

“I’m not saying shield is god…”

“But did it even strike you as someone giving you good advice?”

“Well obviously not now.”

“Right. Now do you realise that previously, all of us had questioned the nature of the shield, as to whether it was a good thing, or bad thing lying to you? And you had told us with some conviction that it was a good thing?”

“I had checked it, and it had not been bad.”

“And how do you feel about it now?”

Morad paused. “I do not trust it now.”

Madam Portencia glared. “Ok. Well get up, off your knees. Stop fucking crying and let’s go.”

Morad blinked at her. Then slowly climbed to his feet again. He hauled the dripping shield out of the blood-stained water and strapped it to his back, then set about washing and cleaning himself up as best he could.

Everyone stared at Madam Portencia for a moment, before getting on with moving out.

As the group left the room, Spider stepped behind Morad. “Morad, how about you just let us know quietly if that shield keeps talking to you, from now on. Doesn’t matter what it says, just reapeat it for us.”

“Shield is quiet now,” Morad replied.

“Do you want to chuck it?”

“No,” Madam Portencia interrupted, “We need to find a way to get rid of it.”

“I don’t know,” Morad said, “shield very good, like it a good shield, but also when I look at it, it is not bad inside.”

Spider glared at the shield and lent in close, giving it a tap. “You play up any time from now on pal,” he whispered, “and I’m gonna drop you in a hole where neither a demon nor a devil is going to find you, ever. And you can smoke a turd in that shield until the end of eternity.”

Morad acted like he heard nothing, but the hint of a smile came to his face.

Torgun stood by Morad. “You alright?”

“Yes. I am fine now,” Morad replied tersely.

As he said that, he heard a whisper. “I apologise. I will explain. But not now.”

Morad immediately spoke with a mocking tone. “Shield says shield apologisies, didn’t mean to do it, will explain later.”

Everyone laughed. “I bet it did,” Spider scoffed, before giving the shield the universal symbol of ‘I’m watching you’.

Spider addressed everyone. “So we’re heading back upstairs. Are we gonna kill the undead guy?”

“I want to ask him a question,” Madam Portencia volunteered.

“Can we ask him a question and then I stab him?”

“Oh, we could kill him and then ask him a question.”

Spider raised an eyebrow. “We were actually sent here to get the helm, but this guy is going to cause trouble for Ravengard and that lot in town, so…”

“As far as I’m concerned,” Togrun interrupted, “we hold no allegience to any but that which comes from above.”

“He might be happy that we closed the portal,” Madam Portencia ventured.

“I don’t think he’s going to attack us! Last time he spoke to us he thought we were onboard with him for the big win,” Spider said.

“I don’t know if he’s ultimately thinking that way, I wouldn’t trust anyone down here,” Torgrun countered.

“Well I just need to know if we’re going upstaris with our game faces on, or are we just going to walk out?”

“I have reduced game face, at the moment. I could dearly do with a cup of tea,” Madam Portencia said wistfully.

“Fine. So we’ll just walk out casual-like,” Spider nodded. “No trouble for now, but we can come back and kill him later.”

“Agree. There’s plenty to kill down here, but what would killing them now do for us,” Torgrun said.

“Personal satisfaction,” Mak grunted.

“Later, my big friend,” Torgrun smiled.

Upstairs the party was met once again by Gideon and his minions. The three skeletal minotaurs guarded the exits from the chapel, and Gideon himself floated nearby, flanked by two of Bili’s ‘ice’ devils.

Gideon spread his arms with joy at seeing your return. “Welcome back my friends! Tell me the good news!!”

“The portal’s closed,” Spider announced simply, “And anything down there is dead. We’re going now.”

“Closed! Victory for Zariel!! You have fulfilled my wishes - I am very pleased! Did you retrieve your trinket?”

“We did.”

“Show it to me.”

Togrun stepped forward. “I think not. That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Show it to me,” Gideon repeated. “I wish to see it. As I said, it is yours to keep, but I wish to see it.”

“We choose to keep it… unseen.”

“Show it. Now.”

“This was not part of our deal.”

“The deal has changed.”

Everyone tensed. Spider palmed a shuriken. Morad equipped the shield (something of a surprise). Bili changed to Bear form.

“It is a small thing to ask,” Gideon continued, “I wish to know it is cleansed. No demonic energy must leave this chapel.”

Bili padded over to Gideon and sniffed him, conspicuously.

“How can you change deals in such an easy manner?” Torgrun asked accusingly.

“Oh it is barely changing the deal. The deal was I would protect you. I merely ask to see the helm as part of what I have given you. Was there ever an agreement that you would not show the helm? It is merely a courtesy.”

“We made a deal, and this is not a land of courtesy. What will you give us if we grant this to you?” Torad countered.

“Give you?” Gideon’s face suddenly brightened, and he pulled an red-leather bound book from his robes. “I will let you read my epistles!”

“What?” Madam Portencia couldn’t help asking, incredulous.

“Yes! I have written a treatise, on demons, devils, and what is right, and what is wrong. There is great knowledge within, and you may read it!”

Torgrun looked at Madam Portencia who shrugged. He pulled the helm out and held it to Gideon.

Gideon stared at it, head tilted. “That is your trinket?”

“That is Torm’s Helm,” Torgrun said reverently.

“And what use is Torm’s Helm?” Gideon mocked, before holding a hand commanding attention. He opened his book, paged through to find the passage he wanted, and read:

“Torm, Tyr, Lathander. None of them battle the abyss. They claim the glory of that war, but shed no blood in it. I have investigated this and Torm is nothing. Zariel is all. Zariel is the only one willing to sacrifice to save us.”

Torgrun coughed. “We follow different gods, it appears.”

“Indeed we do.”

“So now let us pass.”

“You want to take a look at the book,” Spider asked Madam P, who nodded assent.

Gideon handed her the book, and she pored over it quickly. It was an obsessive testament pontificating about the evil of demons, instructing all to be vigilant to their incursions. Throughout the book were dialogues between Gideon and an unnamed woman, and Gideon’s philisophical musing about the Blood War, and Zariel’s great sacrifice to save all of civilisation from the demon curse.

The ravings of a madman, Madam Portencia summised. “It all seems perfectly legit to me,” she commented, smiling weakly at Gideon.

Gideon turned back to Torgrun, during which time Madam Portencia slipped the tome into Spider’s bag. “I cannot read that helm. Is it cleansed? Are the demons removed?”

“There is a contestation inside.”

“And you will destroy the demons? Your purpose is to rid it of that infection?”

“Indeed. I have power over the helm, I am not corrupted, and we will cleanse it.”

“And yet you are from the mortal planes, and mortals are weak.”

“Ah, but we follow our own gods, my friend. As your god gives you power, so does mine.”

“Vow to me now that you will remove the demonic force from this helm.”

“It is not a difficult vow to make, but I need not make it to you. I make it to myself.”

“Make the vow to me.”

“I will remove the curse. I will remove what is left of the corruption.”

Gideon stared hard at Torgrun. His faced started to close into a frown, then relaxed, luckily for all. “I believe you. I believe you believe in your puny god. And that you do not wish the demons to be within.”

Bili lifted a leg and sprayed a heady stream of urine against the wall next to Gideon. Alas because he was floating, the drops missed Gideon’s robe, and instead caught the hem of Madam Portencia’s dress. She glared at the big bear.

Unaware, Gideon turned back to Madam Portencia. “Have you read? Do you believe, having read?”

“I’ve had a little look,” Madam Portencia replied.

“I am right. You cannot deny it. Zariel is right. Togehter we will stop the demons.”

“Just because you are against demons doesn’t make you a good guy.”

“Well it makes me better than those that aren’t!” he said. “Give me my book.”

Madam Portencia look confused. “Oh. I thought that was our copy, for us to read? I only glimpsed a few paragraphs…”

He shook his head.

Madam Portencia found the tome in her hand suddenly, Spider having slipped it there. “Ah. Well here it is. Sorry. I misundertood - I thought you wanted me to have a thorough read of your wisdom.”

“Oh I will be here. Return when you are ready. I tire of you. Leave,” Gideon said, turning his back and waving the minotaurs to step aside.

“Wait! I have one more question,” Madam Portencia said.

“Ask it.”

“Do you know an individual called Mahadi?”

“Mahadi? He of the Wandering Emporium? Yes I do.” Gideon looked surprised.

“It’s a wandering emporium?”

“He is not to be trifled with.”

“Of that I am sure. Do you know where we might find Mahadi?”

“He wanders Avernus, as per the name of his establishment. You will not find him, he will find you - if he so wishes,” Gideon smiled warningly.

“Is there a way in which I might make myself more attractive to be found?”

“Well it’s a trading emporium. So if you had something to trade of interest - perhaps.”

Togrun quickly slipped the helm back in his satchel.

“I’m sure I can think of something,” Madam Portencia smiled.

“Well if you find something, I’m sure he in turn will find you. Anything of value, he will know of it. He’s like that. He is in Avernus, but he is not of Avernus. You will find him most… interesting.”

Lulu perched on Torgrun’s shoulder briefly and whispered. “Mahadi is a name I remember. It means something.”

“Tell me when you know if that something be good or bad,” Torgrun replied.

“I will. Let me think on it.”

The journey back to the High Hall was uneventful, other than the continued din of the war below, oppressive heat, the cracking of lightning from the insidiator overhead, and the many patrols of devils to be avoided. Just another day in Hellturel.

On the way back Madam Portencia pondered whether her wagon might still be safely stashed where she had parked it all those weeks ago. Was it only weeks, she sighed. She raised the matter with the group, who reacted first with incredulity, before listening to her arguments that it contained items of use.

“Madam P what’s in the wagon that you need so bad?” Spider asked respectfully.

“Oh, it’s just I had various magical components and what-not. Like this Mahadi guy, I thought that maybe there might be some things in there that he might be interested to trade.”

“Well that sounds like it would be worth visiting, then.”

It was agreed that a route past its last known location could be plotted, if leaving Elturel was on the cards. Madam Portencia thanked everyone, leaving the mystery of exactly who Mahadi was, and her interest therein, hanging in the parched air.

Ravengard greeted you, obviously pleased you had returned. “Were you successful? I take it by the fact you returned that you were - or do you have nothing?”

“Our success was not complete, tempered by the discovery of the remains of your party.”

“I feared as much, and I am not surprised,” Ravengard said grimly. “And the helm?”

“That is the success that we have achieved.”

Ravengard looked to Pherria who nodded slowly. “This is our chance,” she said. “Show it to us.”

This time Torgrun didn’t hesitate. Pherria reached for it, but Torgrun warned her. “There is a corruption within.”

She pulled her hand back. “Of what type?”

“Torm himself has allowed me to hold it. But another of our party has held it, and it channelled an evil corruption into him. We witnessed others of your party suffer the same fate. I know not why I can hold it, but I sense the corruption within in. A contestation between Torm and the other.”

“You can hold it because you are true in Torm,” Pherria said simply. “No other may hold it safely.”

“Are there any others here who may fit the bill?” Madam Portencia asked.

“None but me. And it is too great a risk - Torgrun has proved his worth, it should be he who wears it. But we need to cleanse it.”

Togrun agreed. “I am loathe to wear it here lest it open another portal.”

“The altar of Torm, above, is where we can perform the ritual. But we must consecrate the altar first.”

“This is a worthy task,” Torgrun nodded.

“If I am right, if we can communicate with Torm, then the means of our escape will be revealed,” Pherria said with conviction.

“There is another part of this story to convey,” Torgrun said, turning back to Ravengard. “We met a devil, who conveyed us safe passage after we closed the portal.”

“You made a deal with a devil?” Ravengard started.

“He’s not a devil,” Spider interjected quickly. “Gideon, your ex-Lathander priest, has turned to Zariel - but he’s not a devil.”

“Gideon has turned?” Pherria said, her face pale.

“Oh yes. He’s not a devil, but he’s raising a whole lot of undead minotaurs and the like. He’s on board with Zariel for the big win now.”

Ravengard swore. “Lightward is raising the undead army?”

“Yes. And why were there minotaurs buried in your graveyard?” Madam Portencia added.

“Uh - there weren’t?” Pherria said, confused.

“No, they came through the portal, and he killed them, Madam P,” Spider explained.

“Ah. I see, my mistake. Move on,” Madam Portencia said, slightly embarrassed.

“What is this portal you talk of?” Ravengard asked.

“There was a portal connected to the helmet, it opened up to the Abyss, we closed it, it’s fine.”

Pherria put her face in her hands. “There was a demonic portal in the Chapel?!”

“Sure. And Gideon told us he’d leave us alone if we closed it - and he did,” Spider said happily.

Ravengard put his hand on Pherria’s hunched shoulders. “As I have said - we cannot fight everything here. Gideon is a great loss, but let us not worry about him now.”

“He’s not worried about you guys - he fights the demons,” Spider said. “He’s gone, and he’s not coming back.”

Pherria shuddered. “Let us cleanse the helm.”

Ravengard and three guards escorted everyone upstairs to the desecrated chapel. Vials of holy water were filled (and Madam Portencia quietly cleaned the bear urine from her skirt), and the room prepared. The altar was once again dripping with ichor and looked like it had been scarred by vicious claws, no sign of Torgrun’s earlier attempt at cleansing visible.

“This should not take long, with your help, but I fear we may face enemies as we make the attempt,” Pherria warned.

Everyone positioned themselves at strategic points around the room as Pherria and Torgrun started the ritual.

Sweat broke out on Pherria’s brow as she concentrated on the dispelling the evil, and Torgrun’s face was a mask of intensity. As they bore the psychic storm, a black sworl started to coaelsce above the altar. Everyone moved closer, preparing for whatever was coming.

The darkness condensed into a single sphere, from which suddenly emerged three glowing balls of light. Despite their golden colour, the aura they emitted was one of chaos and evil. They sparked with energy, like miniature versions of the solar insidiator outside.

In between his prayers, Torgrun summoned a raidant group of fey woodland creatures, spiritual guardians to protect the ritual.

Madam Portencia immediately sprung into action. She stepped to the side to line up the three globes in a perfect line, and flung out a crash of lightning that caught each one in its fury. But they hardly reacted - in fact they seemed to absorb the energy from the bolt…

…and turn it back on Madam Portencia. Lucky for her, the residual energy in her hands seemed to cancel out the returned blow.

Spider took a swipe at the nearest globe, but he was blinded by the crash of lightning and was momentarily stunned. A wisp attacked Torgrun and also missed, but the third crackled out pure lightning into Pherria. She cried out as the energy wracked her, before dropping unconscious to the ground.

Morad yelled out in fury, horrified at Pherria’s fall, stepping over her body to protect her and, scimitars flashing, completely destroying the wisp that had downed her. Mak followed suit with another, allowing Bili to finish off the remaining creature. As quickly as that they were all dispatched - unfortunately too late for Pherria.

Morad could see she still breathed. “Torgrun! She’s hurt - quickly!”

The dwarf stepped forward and immediately healed her, tranfusing energy from his own body to hers. She gasped in a breath, and opened her eyes, thanking Torgrun and Morad. Her eyes went immediately to the altar, and everyone followed her look: it was cleansed.

She turned to Torgrun, still weak, but determined. “It’s time.”

Mak took a step back. He’d seen what the helm did to Morad and Ravengard’s guard.

“It is called the Helm of Torm’s sight. It should allow you to to communicate with Torm. I know of no-one who has used it - is a rare thing that someone would. So be cautious. The story of its history says it is… unpredictable. We know you can communicate with Torm through it, but you cannot control that communication. You must take the journey, and go with the journey - do not fight it.”

“So be it,” Torgrun said with determination.

“Those that wish to experience the journey may partake as well, by touching the wearer. It is your decision. You will not be able to aid the wearer as he moves through the vision, but you will experience what he does.”

“I’m up,” Madam Portencia said immediately, placing her hand on Torgrun’s shoulder. Mak followed suit, as did Bili.

“Spider, come on, you don’t want to miss this,” Madam Portencia encouraged, then turned to Morad who was hesitating. “Why don’t you sit this one out?”

Morad looked grim. “I worship Al’Akbar, not Torm. This is a step too far.”

“Right, well - kick me in the arse if something turns up, ok?” Spider said half-jokingly.

“I will cut everyone’s head off if this goes wrong,” Morad said in deadly earnest. “I promise you this.”

As he spoke, the shield spoke to him. “I wish to see what they see.”

“Well, you have made the wrong ally, haven’t you shield!” Morad said, dropping it on the ground.

“Do not turn your back on me. I made a mistake, I will make it up to you, explain what I was doing.”

Spider noticed Morad addressing the fallen shield. “What’s going on there, pal?”

“The shield wants to go with you,” Morad said to the group.

“That’s funny!” Spider laughed, repeating his warning watching eyes at the sheild.

“Not funny, also.”

“I think you overestimate your position in the chain-of-command, shield,” Madam Portencia said.

“I cannot do this, shield, this is different god,” Morad explained.

“I understand. Leave it, I will not force you to do anything - I am still on your side.”

Torgrun took a last look around. “Are you ready, my friends?”

He donned the helm.

The First Vision of Torm

An inky darkness; a nauseous veil of swirling shadows. Then a beam of golden light. The light slowly grows in intensity and the shadows are ripped asunder, parting before your eyes. At the point where the light is almost blinding, it turns reddish and becomes hot. Hot and dry. A hot, dry wind. It is Avernus.

As your vision clears, you’re standing on a field of battle beneath the blood red sky of Avernus. A huge mound of devils lies dead. Other devils, still living, are hauling bodies off the mound, chittering amongst themselves.

All the way at the bottom of the mound, as one last corpse is pinioned on a pitchfork and flung to one side, the body of an angel is revealed. Her skin is porcelain white. Her hair the golden light of an evening sun. Her wings bloodstained ivory.

The devils draw back. Some of them are cackling, but then one glances back over their shoulder and suddenly drops prostrate to the ground. Others, too, following the first’s gaze, throw themselves to the ground.

A tall devil with skin of maroon and crimson, dressed in robes of black and gold, strides in amongst the scattered corpses. He is possessed of a leonid beauty, with four dark horns curving gracefully from his forehead.

A handsome devil with four horns and flaming head

The devil’s eyes smoulder as he looks down at the angel. As he pulls off a gauntlet-like glove from his left hand, revealing the talons beneath, he turns and asks, in a smooth voice of elegance and grace, “Where is her Sword?”

A swathe of gilded night sweeps over your vision.

The Second Vision of Torm

You are standing to attention in the ceremonial uniform of the Hellriders, in a small group of similarly dressed knights. Each has a small badge on their left shoulder, depicting a pair of twin suns. Before you, on a grassy field, are arrayed three riders wearing identical badges: A woman with dark hair upon a black charger. A bearded man on a white horse.

And the angel you saw lying beneath the mound of corpses, here glowing with life, and riding a golden-furred, winged mammoth.

Approaching from across the field is another mounted man, this one flanked by an honour guard. As the man draws near the trio before you, he brings his horse to a stop and then dismounts. A herald steps forward and announces, “Haruman, Lord Knight of the Far Hills greets Lord Olanthius.”

The beaded man smiles. “Hail to you, Lord Haruman. And welcome to Elturel. I am pleased to introduce you to Lady Yael of Idyllglen and Zariel, Solar of Celestia.”

Haruman removes his gauntlet and extends his hand, shaking each of the others in turn. Escorted by Lord Olanthius, he proceeds down the line. In a few moments he stop before you and extends his hand.

As you grip Haruman’s hand the vision shifts again.

The Third Vision of Torm

You are in a vast battle of Elturen forces clashing with waves of devils of all shapes and sizes - everything you found in the library of Candlekeep and worse, much worse.

A far away view of armies arrayed in formation, towered over by floating fortresses

Zariel and her generals have forged ahead, but a surge of devils drives a wedge between you and Zariel, and you are quickly overwhelmed. It doesn’t make sense, the speed at which this happens. Your rear guard must be being decimated.

You charge atop a small hillock, look behind frantically and despair to see that your forces are retreating, abandoning the field of battle and vanishing into the sworling portal through which you arrived. Abandoning?! With the battle still in the balance.

You make a snap decision. You will never abandon Zariel. Never abandon the cause. With a battle cry you charge forward, but Hell’s forces are overwhelming you slowly but surly, and you fall under a swarm of creatures, the darkness smothering you…

The Fourth Vision of Torm

The red heat of Avernus sweeps over you again. So do the sounds of battle, but only at a distance. There is a trumpeting and the shadows are swept away like mist in a strong wind.

You see the angel Zariel kneeling in the dust. Lady Yael, arrayed for battle in battered, bloody, and dust-covered armor kneels on the ground next to her. Zariel is pushing her glowing sword into Lady Yael’s hands.

Yael speaks. “I refuse. Do not ask me of this.”

Zariel, smiling sadly, responds: “I must. I do. Look beyond this forsaken day. One last time, swear it.”

Yael weeps and then, unable to speak, nods, taking Zariel’s sword.

There’s another trumpet and Zariel’s golden mammoth comes charging up. “I drove them off, but there’s too many - we are abandoned.”

Zariel pulls off her left gauntlet and buries her hand in Lulu’s fur, taking a moment of comfort. “My old friend. Goodbye. Perhaps we shall meet again, but I do not think so. I need you to go with Yael. Help her make certain my Sword is not captured by the forces of Hell. Let it become a symbol of everything we have fought for. Even if it has ended in folly, let our deeds have meaning.”

The veil of shadows of gold wraps itself around you again, slowly blotting out everything except the sword still glowing in Yael’s hand.

The Fifth Vision of Torm

Through the darkness you hear two voices.

The first voice, as if played from a cracked record, asks again, “Where is the Sword?”

And the second voice, weak and disoriented, replies, “I don’t know… I don’t… I used to know, but I don’t any more. I don’t.”

The swirling vortex returns.

The Sixth Vision of Torm

An enormous, loping demon, spewing creatures from it’s loathesome mouth, thunders over the red earth toward Yael and Lulu who stand atop a hill, threatening to devour both.

An enormous worm-like demon spewing smaller demons from its maw

Yael nods to Lulu, smiles grimly, then grasps the longsword in her hands and raises it to the red skies above, then plunges it into the ground at her feet. The ground erupts, wounded, screaming, rent by the holy sword.

As Yael drives the sword into the red earth, the golden mammoth sounds an enormous trumpet that envelops the land, and a surge of raidiant light flooded from her body toward the sword. The swarming demons are hurled away, the huge monstrosity flung backward down the hill. An alabaster palace rises up around the sword, growing rapidly around it and engulfing Yael.

Lulu reels into the roiling red skies, disoriented, all her energy given to the protective palace. She looks down to see a bloody scab growing up from the ground around the wound, engulfing both the palace and the enormous demon.

An alabaster palace atop a scaberous hill

The vision flares to red as the scab fills your vision.

The Seventh Vision of Torm

A hand — or, rather, a gauntlet — reaches through the shadows and sweeps them away. An immense light which seems as if it should be blinding in its intensity but which is instead a soothing comfort to your eyes beams out from the gauntlet.

A booming voice emanates seemingly from all directions: “Seek Zariel’s blade. The key to her heart and her greatest desire. With it, Elturel’s chains can be severed. And, perhaps, Zariel saved.”

The gauntlet clenches into a fist, then it opens and, upon the palm of the gauntlet, a tiny golden elephant — Lulu — is flying in miniature. “Even from my sight is the Sword hidden. There is only one who knows, and yet she knows not.”

The gauntlet closes again, then opens to reveal two black-feathered, birdlike humanoids standing next to a strange vehicle of blackened iron. “She must seek the Kenku. In her memory they speak.”

The gauntlet closes for a third time. The light swells to become truly blinding and your eyes snap open.

Torgrun took a deep, shuddering breath. “Torm be praised.” He turned to Pherria, eyes ablaze. “We have received a vision. A vison from Torm. We now quest, in his name. And I am here: Torgrun the Redeemer!”

Pherria dropped to her knees and prayed, a tear rolling down her cheek. “Save us, please, save us all. You are the Redeemer.”

Spider’s eyes literally rolled back in his head.

“I’m glad it’s having the desired effect,” Torgrun nodded.

“I feel empowered. I’m uplifted just being in your presence,” Madam Portencia said wryly.

“That’s just wind,” Spider corrected.

“You’re going to have to work to earn that title,” Ravengard smiled, “But I have every faith in you.”

“We have a quest. And we will redeem the sullied story of our Hellriders,” Torgrun said decisively.

Spider groaned and walked over to Madam Portencia. “I couldn’t get a rat’s arse about the reputation of the fuckin’ Hellriders. That whole vision, if it was true, just made them look exactly like everyone always thought they were anyway.”

“…and that’s why you’re not the Redeemer!” Torgrun said, overhearing.

“You know I was born there?” Madam Portencia mused. “But I totally agree.”

Spider laughed. “Bunch of wankers. Anyway. We gotta come up with a plan. We gotta get to that giant scab thing. And maybe talk to this Mahadi character. And find two Kenku.”

“Spider, I see where this is going. But - if we get this sword, what then?”

“We take it. I got a feeling that we don’t want to give it to Zariel.”

“I’m unsure,” Torgun interrupted. “When I talk about being the Redeemer, I’m not talking about just being the redeemer of the Hellriders. I’m talking about being the redeemer of Zariel.”

Spider burst out laughing again. “No I don’t think that’s a starter, pal.”

“I’m not sure how many votes you’ll gather Torgrun,” Madam Portencia added.

“Remember we’ve got to stay on task. Elturel going upstairs, us going with it. The Blood War’s not going anywhere, and personally I don’t give a rat’s arse what happens to Zariel.”

“Zariel may be the way we do it,” Torgrun disagreed.

“The one sentance version of this,” Morad jumped in, “We need to get the sword, to cut the chains, to get Elturel back up.”

“That was the implication in the vision. Whether it was a metaphorical cutting of chains or something else,” Spider said.

“There’s not much difference down here between metaphorical and reality,” Madam Portencia observed.

“Oh I don’t know - have you seen those chains?” Spider asked, “They’re pretty thick.”

“I think it was actual cutting,” Torgrun said. “At the end of the day, it’s Lulu that is the key.” He turned to the hovering hollyphant. “We saw your story - in part, but not in full. And now we must find the missing story, so you can help us.”

“My memories are the key? If we can unlock them, then I can maybe I can tell you something.”

“That’s why we’re off to find a couple of Kenku, apparently they keep your memories for you,” Spider said.

Lulu’s ears flared. “Kenku? You saw Kenku?”

“We didn’t see them, but Torm mentioned them. And I know what they look like.”

Lulu fluttered into the air. “Kenku. I was with some Kenku. In a place called… Fort Knucklebone! That is where they were, and where we must go! How will we find it - Sylvia’s map?”

Spider pulled the map out of his bag, and everyone pored over it. But there was no sign of a Fort Knucklebone.

“Perhaps it wasn’t there when the mapmaker made the map,” Lulu said. “Never mind - I’ve been there, I will find it!” Lulu said, and before anyone could stop her she flew out the nearest window.

“No!” Torgrun cried, but she was gone. He ran toward the window.

“Torgrun!” Spider yelled after him. “You’re better off waiting here ‘cos she knows where we are! She’ll come back!”

Torun slowly returned, looking worried.

“What is it you’re going to do now, Redeemer?” Pherria asked.

“We must go to the surface. It is on the surface that we will find the sword. It is only there that we will find the answers that could possibly bring Elturel back to the plane of men,” Togrun said heroically, settling into his new role nicely.

“And which direction are we going to walk?” Madam Portencia asked. “And remember that right below us, now, are ten thousand devils and demons cutting each other to pieces?”

“A mere triviality. We are on a quest! We will make our way,” Torgrun said.

“You go first,” Madam Portencia indicated.

“Well I’ve got to find out how to get there,” Torgrun said sheepishly.

Mak and Morad groaned in unison.

Torgun started to lead everyone to the first floor balcony, hoping to catch site of Lulu. As he did everyone heard a trumpetting sound from outside, followed soon after by the excited beating of wings. Lulu was back, flying fast.

“Torgrun! Torgrun! I found it! It is not far - 10 miles at most! I knew it as soon as I saw it - a big hand made of rock!”

“This is great news! So how can we get to the surface?”

“I can fly,” Lulu said smiling.

“I am not riding an elephant,” Madam Portencia said, crossing her arms.

“I don’t think she’s big enough to ride, nor can she ferry us down one at a time. Can we go down the chains?” Torgrun asked.

Spider had an idea. “Hey Lulu - you don’t remember how to get back to the size you used to be? You used to be huge, like the size of a mammoth.”

Lulu frowned. “What do you mean I was huge?”

“You were the size of an elephant - or bigger.”

Lulu trunk waved slowly. “An elephant… and Zariel rode me! I remember!”

“You are, as we said, the key,” Torgrun said. “And when we find the answers, we will seek a way to bring you back to your true form.”

“I can’t change now. Maybe Zariel did this?”

“We believe when you have access to your memories, you will be able to.”

“Yes. Some powers are returning, but not that. You saw the light I cast. And I can trumpet - I don’t know if it does anything, but I can do it now.”

Everyone recalled the Visions, and how Lulu’s trumpet in those dreams flung back hordes of approaching demons.

“Your trumpet is a part of your great power,” Torgrun said.

“Not the one I just did,” Lulu laughed.

“No - but when you have your true form.”

“My true form. So we can be victorious over the evil forces.”

“Absolutely.”

“Then let us do it! Let us do it now!” Lulu said excitedly.

“We need to find a way to let us all to together - for you are not at your full powers.”

Ravengard stepped forward. “The only way I can think to get down is the chains. We took a look at them - they are huge, but they do have jutting spikes at regular intervals. They should be climbable - only a fool would attempt it, but what choice do you have?”

“We are those fools!” Torgrun said with determination.

“This is going to be bad,” Mak grunted.

“Is there any magic?” Morad asked.

“How fast do you feather-fall?” Madam Portencia asked, to general silence. “Let me answer my own question: slowly. And it should last long enough to get us down 500 feet. I’ll just have to cast it a few times to, um, catch everyone as they fall. You can trust me.”

Mak smiled weakly. “There’s a way down… but is there a way back up?”

As preperations to depart were made, Pherria requested, strongly, that the Helm of Torm’s Sight stay in Elturel, under her care. She feared for its safety, and what might happen should it all into the wrong hands.

Togrun agreed, feeling the Helm had given the information needed. “Do you all agree we can leave this behind?”

Madam Portencia evoked the ‘finders keepers’ rule, but everyone else agreed with Torgrun. “If Elturel’s not going back to the surface, none of us are, so you might as well leave it here,” Spider said.

Torgrun handed the Helm to Pherria, who took it reverently, and seemed to suffer no harm: the cleansing had worked. “I will place it with the Unknown Hero, she proects us, and will protect the Helm too.”

Ravengard addressed the group. “You are our last and only hope. You should know that. You have succeeded thus far.”

“Don’t pin a lot of hope on us there, chief. We’ll gonna give it our best shot, but you know - it’s Hell, last time I checked,” Spider said.

“You can only do what you can do,” Ravengard nodded.

“We’ve only ever been able to do what we can, but here we are. I’m more positive than Spider - in this place where every step is a danger, we’ve come this far. I think with Torm’s guidance we will succeed,” Torgrun said firmly.

Madam Portencia arced up at Ravengard. “I’m not going if you don’t think we’re going to make it!”

“I have full confidence in you. Of course - so far you have done everything you have set out to accomplish. You have come all the way to Hell to find us, to save us. And you will save us. Go with our blessing, go in good faith, may your gods be by your side. Al’Akbar will be with you,” Ravengard said to Morad.

Morad looked surprised, but grateful.

“I’ve got Torm, I don’t know about you heathens,” Togrun said provocatively.

“I love how you assume I’m a heathen,” Spider smirked.

“I didn’t say that to you Spider, I’m not that offensive. Unlike your good self…”

“I’m getting an irony headache,” Spider snorted.

Ravengard produced several items to help the quest, recovered from the tombs while they were being secured. A set of bracers found in a sarcophogus (alone with an undead mummy, now deceased), a large and brilliant yellow gemstone that Madam Portencia quickly determined held an earth elemental, summonable by smashing the gem. And several potions of good health.

Madam Portencia slipped on the bracers, which were fetching in a rather dated way - she made a mental note to retreive some matching clothing from her wagon. Fortunately, it was agreed that the first stop on the way down would indeed be the wagon. “We need to recover whatever it is we can trade,” Torgrun said.

Madam Portencia coughed. “Yeah yeah yeah, trade, yeah, sure.”

“I believe that was what you were saying?” Togrun said, confused.

“Oh sure, yeah. We’re going to get some ‘trade stuff’. In case we come across Mahadi.” Madam Portencia said, entirely unconvincingly.

Before leaving, Spider went and found Grace, who was overjoyed to see everyone. She seemed happy, and safe. “I’ve arranged to do a play, with my new friends! To cheer everyone up - maybe when you come back I can perform it for you?”

Spider reached into his bag and palmed her his special coin. “Gracie - look after this for me.”

Her eyes went wide. “I will!”

“It’s my lucky coin,” Spider added.

“Lucky! But you will need it! I can’t take it!”

“No, no, you hang on to it. I need you to look after it for me. Because if you keep the lucky coin safe, then I’m going to be safe to, and so will you.”

“It will be lucky for me, and you!”

“I’ll come back for it.”

“Deal! And you can see my play for free!”

Spider spat in his hand and reached out to shake. Grace tried to spit and failed, so licked instead, then they shook. “Are we brothers now?”

She ran over to Bili and gave him a big hug. “Thank you for saving me. Twice. Save me a third time and you can be in my play!”

“That would be great!” Bili smiled.

Grace turned to Morad. “And you saved me too, even though you were mean about my pony. I wish you luck.” She curtsied formally.

Morad bowed deeply, “Thank you my lady. We will return.”

Her eyes lit up. “All of you - good luck! When you do - I will write your story! Remember to tell it to me when you are back!”

On the journey to the wagon, everyone looked down to surface when crossing Torm’s bridge. A thick, winding, dark river wound below the city - the River Styx, which Sylvia had warned about. Demons were emerging from the river and being met in force by Devils. Obviously a bad place to jump.

Madam Portencia suggested the southern or northen sides, away from the chains, were likely the safest launch points. No chains meant less fighting, something Ravengard had confirmed. Lulu said that Knucklebone was to the South, which coincidentally was the direction of the wagon.

Avoiding the devilish patrols, Madam Portencia guided everyone to the last known location. Approaching quietly, those that understood Infernal could hear a conversation, discussing how to get into the wagon. One voice was rasping and dark, the other higher pitched, reminding Spider of Samael’s voice.

“I think there’s at least one imp,” Spider whispered. He stealthed ahead, and looked across the street to the building and lane where the wagon should be. A Spined Devil was perched above, sitting on the gutters of the house as a lookout. The voices came from further into the alleyway beyond.

“I’m not going anywhere near it,” the small voice said.

“Oh yes you are - open it!”

“I won’t. I don’t answer to you!”

Madam Portencia mind whispered Spider to ask what was going on. “They’re arguing over who’s going to open the wagon - it must be there,” Spider responded.

As Spider replied, Madam Portencia got a creeping feeling like someone, or something, was listening in on the conversation. “Shut up!” she hissed to Spider.

Spider hustled back and briefed everyone on the situation. “Two or more devils in the lane, one above. They’re going to open the wagon.”

“Don’t let them!” Madam Portencia urged.

Everyone took positions, ranged planning to unload on the guard whilst melee surrounded the lane from both directions. Madam Portencia and Bili prepared to head around to the South to implement the pincer move, while everyone else were ready from North and West.

On Spider’s call, the attack was made. Spider fired a crossbow that ripped into the wings of the devil, flinging the devil back into the facade of the building behind. Simultaneously, Bili fired an ice knife, which hit the other wing, exploded into ice, and killed the devil instantly. It dropped onto the ground and dissolved into a puddle.

Morad sprinted across the courtyard into the road and into the alley. The wagon was there, intact! But there was also a massive Barbed Devil, and an imp floating overhead. He swung at the Imp, being closest, and it too instantly exploded into a mass of dead devil goop.

Mak arrived next, and as he did he saw a second Spined Devil swooping down from the rooftops to the South. Before he could react, the Barbed Devil popped its claws and sliced into Mak’s shoulder and chest, moving almost too fast to see. Luckily the tail attack missed.

Less luckily, the Spined Devil flung a spine into Mak too, which exploded into flame as it hit him.

Bili moved ahead as fast as he could, and Madam Portencia was suprised - and quickly horrified - to see that Bili was growing rapidly as he moved. Before long we was double his usual size, and she found herself under his crotch. She glanced involuntarily up and shuddered.

Torgrun unleashed a radiant bolt into the Barbed Devil, rocking it back on its opposed heels. Spider dashed forward, sliding under the wagon intending to attack from below. Alas as he slid underneath, he was distrated by the words chalked onto the bottom of the wagon: “Fuck off Spider!” - Madam Portencia’s words from way back in the days of Spider’s eavesdropping!

Mak, enraged by the attacks he had suffered, crashed his weapons into the Barbed Devil, which staggered under the blows. The devil wasn’t happy: it retaliated with just as heavy a slice from its claws, piercing Mak’s shoulder, who cried out in pain.

Giant Bili rumbled around the corner and smashed the flying Spined Devil, taking it - and everyone - by surprise. Where did this enormous Bili come from?! The Devil tried to bite and pin its pitchfork into his huge shoulder, but failed miserably with both - even managing to drop the fork to the ground.

Madam Portencia stepped out of the shadow of Bili’s groin, saw the Barbed Devil was nearest the wagon, and fired a ball of chromatic thunder at it, buffeting it back. Torgrun followed through with two blows from his necrotic weapon. Spider wasn’t to be distracted this time, plunging his daggers into the devil as it backed into the wagon.

As it dissolved to the ground, Spider saw a large dark-iron coin dropping into the goop. He whipped his hand out and nabbed it, putting it directly to his bag. But even that fleeting touch was enough to make him feel uncomfortable - there was something inside the coin, something angry.

Morad pulled out his whip and cracked it around the neck of the last Devil, snapping its neck instantly and hauling the disintegrating remains to the ground. Morad found himself face-to-face with Bili’s tackle, from whence Madam Portencia calmly stepped forward just as Bili started to shrink.

She walked to the wagon, which looked untouched. Morad and Spider found themselves involuntarily flinching, as if something walked over their graves in another world. Madam Portencia found herself glacing at Morad too, a vision of death before her, before shrugging it off.

Madam Portencia was astounded the wagon was still in one piece. “Everyone stand back - there is magic I need to undo, and I don’t want anyone hurt.” She stepped forward and started waving her hands and muttering.

Morad watched closely, expecting magic lights and sound. There was nothing. If he didn’t have such great faith in Madam Portencia’s power, he might have even said it was…fake?

The soothsayer entered the wagon and collected what she needed. Everything she needed. And everything she could think of that couldn’t easily be found in Hell. She emerged smiling and wearing a nice new set of clothes - and a much better match for her new bracers.

The party stood on the Southern edge of ruins of Elturel and stared at the planes of Avernus hundreds of feet below. The Blood War raged on, but the ground under the jump-point looked clear. Ish.

Standing on the precipice, nerves peaked. The ground shuddered, and waves of heat rising from below buffeted the air. Lightning from the Companion struck nearby, making everyone jump.

Spider drew a deep breath. “Ok Madam P, run us through how this thing works.”

Madam Portencia looked around. “Right. So you have to jump. You need to be in the air, before I cast the spell.”

Everyone groaned.

“It only takes a moment to cast! And you need to be within 60 feet of me, so don’t drift off as you fall.”

Hearts started to beat faster.

“There’s one way to do this that will be ok, if you want to trust me. Spider - you can jump on my back like a little monkey.”

“Mmm,” Spider said cautiously, not reacting to the slight insult, which was a good indication of the general apprehension.

“Then I will cast it on the other guys, then if they’re ok, I’ll cast it on us as we’re falling.”

Eyes went wide.

“This is insane. But we are under divine guidance,” Torgrun said encouragingly.

“The problem with this, Madam P,” Spider replied, “This particular method - have you done this before? A lot? So it’s like second nature? Because I’ve fallen off some pretty tall things and almost killed myself, and you know what? You almost lose your bottle when you’re in free-fall!”

“I have done this before. Five or six times.”

“Okay.”

“…Simulated.”

Pulses raced.

“Come on, climb up you little fella,” Madam Portencia said to Spider. Spider shook his head and jumped up.

“It’s a leap of faith, gentlemen, a leap of faith,” Togrun said, even his voice was shaking slightly.

“We should all hold hands. Because if someone doesn’t jump I can’t get them later,” Madam Portencia directed.

Hands were joined, lined up on the precipice of Hell.

“We’re ready,” Torgrun confirmed.

“Wait, wait, wait! Hang on…” Madam Portencia seemed to be trying to remember the spell. “Oh yeah, I got it, yeah yeah. Right. Twice. I’ve got to do it twice. Right,” she smiled.

No one could breath. The terror was real.

“Let’s do this! Stop talking! We’re jumping on three!”

“On three?” Mak yelled.

“Who’s counting?” Madam Portencia cried. “I’ll count! One….

Wait, I’ll just start again…

One…

Two…

Three!!”

Everyone screamed and jumped. Madam Portencia gasped but didn’t forget, catching Bili, Mak, Torgrun and Morad in her first spell. Morad scrunched his eye shut, and no-one noticed the small stain growing on Torgrun’s pants.

Madam Portencia and Spider plummetted past the magically slower group, shooting past seemingly out of control. Spider seemed to be surfing on Madam Portencia’s back.

Madam Portencia took a moment to gather her thoughts, to appreciate the fact that she was flying into Hell with a Goblin riding on her back like a surfboard. Only then did she cast the second spell.

As everyone fell, the battle below came into focus.

Welcome to Hell.