---

On the journey, Madam Portencia replayed the fight with Feonor, reflecting on the successful deployment of the counter-spell, knowing when to spread and when not to spread, when she suddenly jolted upright. The contract. The contract was one-sided - Feonor was protected from us, but she was free to do whatever she wished. Madam Portencia broke into an panicked sweat. “Spider,” she coughed, “That contract I signed-”

“-was a terrible one,” Spider finished. “Remind me to never let you do that again,” he growled. Spider wasn’t convinced about taking a third vehicle. The new soul coins were good, but no point wasting them. “Are we keeping this then?” he asked Madam Portencia.

“I’m really just taking it so we can say we took it,” she called back. “When it runs out of gas…” she shrugged.

Spider nodded, then signalled for the convoy to come to a rest. “Question: are we going to see Mahadi now?”

“Do you have something else you’d like to do?” Madam Portencia replied.

“Well aside from saving Elturel and redeeming Zariel? No, not really,” Spider deadpanned. Torgrun raised an eyebrow at this - redeeming Zariel? It sounded like Spider had come around, he thought happily, if a little suspiciously. Maybe that little talk they’d had outside Fort Knucklebone had worked after all.

“Apart for that, where else were we heading?” Madam Portencia said.

“Well we gotta go see Mahadi to see about Madam Electra,” Spider summarised. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Bili, but we gotta go to Kostchtchie’s Maw so you can see about your Ice Witch,” Bili nodded confirmation. “And then we gotta go see Bel about a dog,” Spider finished.

“Bel was the thing I wanted to drill down to here,” Madam Portencia grimaced. “I don’t want to do that until we absolutely have to.”

“That’s fine, everyone’s right to be scared.”

“We are on a timer here though,” Torgrun interjected. “The longer we’re hear, the less chance there is of leaving here.” He’d seen Elturel was significantly lower in the sky when he spotted it from the heights above Knucklebone. “The sands in the hourglass are fast passing into the lower glass.”

“People gotta do what they gotta do, so let’s just knock it over quick,” Spider said, knowing how important this was to Madam Portencia.

“What are we doing at Mahadi’s, just to be clear?” Torgrun pressed.

“I’d like to find a friend of mine,” Madam Portencia said quietly.

“Which is going to involve negotiation,” Spider added.

“And also Mahadi has other stuff, we might need,” Morad added.

“Oh yeah, and we’ve got lots of stuff to trade,” Spider confirmed.

“There’s another issue we gotta discuss,” Spider continued. “The rods. I know you two are big fans of bearing these burdens yourselves, but I really really think it’s a massively good idea if you give me all those rods now. We don’t want those rods anywhere Mahadi, and if we go and see Bel you don’t want ‘em anywhere visible to him, ‘cos he’s just going to kill you and take ‘em.”

“If you can’t trust a goblin assassin, who can you trust,” Madam Portencia observed.

“Sure,” Morad and Torgrun agreed instantly. Spider held his bag open and the rods were deposited.

“And are we going to keep all three of these vehicles,” Spider said, “‘Cos it’s just using up our precious resources at three times the rate.”

“We drive it ‘til it’s dry,” Torgrun said.

“My thoughts exactly,” Madam Portencia agreed.

“Ok. We’ll just ditch this one at the time as a bit of a ‘screw you’ to Feonor.”

“If we still have it when we find Mahadi, we trade it in,” Morad suggested, to much nodding. He knew the emporium’s of his homeland worked exactly like this - a nomadic group of traders who would exchange goods for services or other wares. A functioning Tormentor was surely worth good scrip.

Togrun was convinced. “Let’s move - take a circuitous route then beeline for your Emporium.” Madam Portencia didn’t wait, firing up to fully half speed and roaring off. She occasionally risked a shift to three-quarter, to Morad’s amusement, but even he had to admit she seemed to handle it ok.

After some miles of unrelenting heat, Morad realised Madam Portencia was leading the convoy back toward Haruman’s Hill, having drifted North East as she followed the coin’s instruction. He was curious about what might be happening there now Haruman was gone.

In the near distance a haphazard collection of shapes started to emerge from the shimmering heat.

Madam Portencia pulled out the spyglass and took a closer look. Tents! Vehicles! And just at that moment the map piped up from Spider’s hands:

“Mahadi’s Wandering Emporium has a knack for showing up when you least expect it”

“Or exactly when you want it to,” Madam Portencia laughed.

---

A collection of brightly coloured tents stands clustered together, creating an oasis of comfort amid the dread landscape of Avernus. Huge infernal war machines form a horseshoe about the tents, with curtains and lamps dangling from chains strung between them.

Morad, Madam Portencia and Mak drew to a stop and everyone hopped down. The war machines that made up the caravan were enormous, ships of the desert obviously made for transport not battle. Morad felt instantly at home - the configuration of the horseshoe provided a defensive perimeter for the caravan, and inside would be the vendors and hawkers that travelled the lands seeking buyers. Madam Portencia, having never been to Morad’s homeland, none-the-less felt equally at home. A carny was setup just the same way, just with less vendors and more entertainment.

“Are we going to walk in just as we are?” Madam Portencia questioned, thinking that a disguise might be worth considering, and knowing how visitors to her travelling carnivals were instantly marked.

“I believe our name and reputation proceeds us. We just don’t have a name,” Torgrun suggested.

“In a good way or a bad way?”

“We were stopped at Fort Knucklebone on the basis of who we are.”

“And who would you like to be?”

“That’s a good question - who are we?” Torgrun said, getting philosophical.

“I don’t know if you should ask that, Torgrun,” Morad said wryly, glancing at Torgrun’s tucked wings.

“We are the saviours of Elturel…” Torgrun started. Everyone groaned. “Nothing we can do can stop them knowing about us already.”

“I could do something,” Madam Portencia hinted, waggling her finger which glowed gently.

“If I was Mahadi, and we were inside his camp, he’d know who we are even with your help,” Spider said.

“I agree,” Morad nodded.

“But what of the others in the camp? They may not know who we are and it may be sensible to hide our identities from them,” Torgrun suggested, changing tack suddenly.

“Oh maybe,” Spider said, “No one’s going to be attacking anyone in that place anyway, ‘cos otherwise it wouldn’t be that place, would it?”

“I think you might be right,” Madam Portencia agreed, “We might be safe none-the-less.”

“Or as safe as we can be anyway,” Torgrun added.

“And if someone picks a fight we’ll finish it - it’s what we do,” Spider said convincingly.

“There’s a part of me that hopes someone does,” Madam Portencia smiled.

It was decided. As everyone drew nearer to the Emporium, soft, lilting music and wondrous smells drifted across the hot winds, inviting a closer look. Morad felt a peace hearing the music, the tones and melodies of home. Spider was shocked at the aromas - this was real food. Mak’s mouth watered - it had been so long since a good feed.

“Spider - whatever we do here, you make sure you figure out how they’re doing that,” Madam Portencia ordered, imagining the feasts within.

A large welcoming sign hung over the entrance. “MAHADI’S WANDERING EMPORIUM!” Underneath a smaller sign added: “All are welcome here. No fighting! No spellcasting! No exceptions!”

A well-dressed, swarthy, dark-skinned man stepped out from a motley collection of bystanders - a mix of devils, demons (a shocking combination), and humanoids, in a riot of clothing and styles who were busily conducting business at nearby stalls. He opened his arms wide in welcome, a huge smile on his face.

“MARHABA! Welcome to my Emporium! I am Mahadi,” the man said, bowing low, “And you are most welcome! Come! Relax, shop, browse, rest your weary souls. We do not see new guests often, and it is a great joy to my heart to welcome you as my most treasured guests. You are safe - I personally guarantee it - just remember to follow the rules,” he grinned, pointing up to the ‘No Exceptions’ sign.

---

Morad smiled. He understood at a fundamental level that these are the rules of hospitality, and that Mahadi would never break them. These are the rules employed when different and even warring tribes mat back home, for trade and negotiations. Seeing devils and demons mingling here came as no surprise. He - and his companions - were perfectly safe here.

“Mahadi - we leave our vehicles here?”

“Of course, just off to the side here, one of my minions will stand guard,” Mahadi smiled. He clicked his fingers and a quasit appeared and settled down on the Holy Terror II.

“He must have some serious mojo,” Spider said quietly to Madam Portencia, “Because he’s got a demon there.” Madam Portencia nodded and jumped down. Spider grabbed her robe. “Don’t. Make. Any. Deals. Until you speak to me first. That contract with Feonor was a fucking disgrace, the more I consider it,” he hissed.

“Leave me alone,” Madam Portencia replied, tugging her clothing free and following Morad into the Emporium proper.

---

“Come, come, come,” Mahadi encouraged. “We have everything you can wish for, from the simple to the exotic. Visit our merchants, buy and trade what you wish, all manner of wonderful things are on offer. And once you have had your fill, I encourage - nay, beg! - you to visit my very own establishment: The Infernal Rapture.” He pointed to the largest tent set at the back of the compound. “I humbly suggest I believe it to be the premium establishment of all here, there you will eat food and drink such as you have never experienced. We have spa treatments, we have gambling, we have anything your heart could desire and more - from the infernal to the angelic. Your choice! But please - look around, take your time, and I am at your service should you need anything at all.”

“Mahadi, we may come and see you later on-” Spider begun.

“Please! I count on it, and do so look forward to it!”

“- but I’m sure everyone wants to take a good look around. Is there anywhere I can go to get kitted out with some stuff which will,” Spider leaned in close, “You know, demons and devils? A bit more than your standard metallic fare, if you get my drift?”

Mahadi leaned in conspiratorially, eyeing the many such creatures in the compound. “I see what you’re getting at,” he grinned, “Of course there is!”

“Basically the same stuff they stab each other with.”

“Though not here, of course. But yes - I would suggest you visit The Firesnake Forge, they have some tasty items, and also see Gabool - his Pointed Stick may have more than a few things that might interest you,” he winked.

“Mahadi, I am very much looking forward to finding out,” Spider smiled widely.

“Spend all you can!”

“One more thing - have you got anyone that could bang the dints out of our vehicles?”

Mahadi turned his gaze to the Holy Terror II. “My, what a magnificent carriage you have acquired for yourselves! Warlords are you? That’s my guess?”

“Well, you know…” Spider laughed. Madam Portencia glanced at Spider in doubt.

“Do you have a moniker? Warlords tend to like to name themselves, helps with the intimidation they seem to think? The name themselves because then they get known!” Mahadi said, pleased with the self-fulfilling nature of his theory.

Torgrun saw his opportunity. He’d been working on this for some time now, rolling names around in his head. And he’d finally decided. He stepped forward, thumped his chest, and announced the new name: “Saviours!”

Everyone groaned. Morad rolled his eyes and walked off. Spider’s eyes almost vanished he rolled them so hard. Madam Portencia put her head in her hand.

Mahadi on the other hand, beamed. “Saviours! Wonderful, wonderful! Non-specific, could be mistaken for other things - but I think it has a ring to it!”

“Depends what we’re saving them from, eh?” Spider joked.

Mahadi burst into laughter. “Very good, my friend, very good!” he guffawed.

Madam Portencia and Morad knew Mahadi’s game, and it was one he played extremely well. No wonder this place was so successful.

“Now, to your question, Saviour, the Firesnake Forge will be able to help with all manner of fixes - and perhaps enhancements, should that take your fancy.”

“Would they to buy a vehicle?” Morad asked.

“Buy a vehicle? They are always in the market, and I must say fine specimens like yours don’t come up often. Did you know they built our vehicles? Magnificent are they not?” Mahadi said, presenting with pride the huge sand-crawlers that made up the compound. “Be on your toes - they’re sharp negotiators those Salamander!”

“We thank you for your hospitality,” Torgrun bowed lightly, “We have been searching for some time.”

“Well we are always where you least expect, but when you most want us. And don’t forget - the Infernal Rapture, my friends, that is the place you want to visit,” Mahadi said with a twinkle in his eye. He backed away, bowing, and was immediately set-upon by petitioners and hangers-on. An Amnizu devil tugged a pair of badly wounded, naked, human slaves, chains around their necks, as it tried to catch Mahadi’s attention. The hollow-eyed slaves stared as they passed, devoid of hope.

“Saviours by name…” Torgrun trailed off sadly, realising nothing could be done for them here.

“You can kiss ass all you like, Spider,” Madam Portencia growled, “But at the end of the day I have never wanted to kill a motherfucker more than this guy.”

Spider was slightly taken aback at the anger in Madam Portencia’s voice. “The difference is, Madam P, my attitude is gonna get us a lotta stuff, yours isn’t going to get us shit. And you need to get your best ass-kissin’ mouth on, ‘cos we gotta work out how we’re gonna get your pal back.”

“I’m going to have a look around,” Madam Portencia shrugged, walking away. She despised Mahadi the same way she despised Colin, the crusty ringmaster under who Madam Electra and Madam Portencia had grudgingly served. All charm on the surface, cruelty beneath, taking a cut of each and every person who stepped foot or dared set up a trade in his jurisdiction. She would find, and free, Madam Electra if it was the last thing she ever did.

---

“Apart from Madam Portencia and Spider, us staying together as a group reduces the risk of grift,” Torgrun suggested as everyone planned their purchases. “If we pop into a stall by ourselves, we’re going to get done. We’ll live to tell the tale, but…”

“So no magic beans,” Madam Portencia laughed.

“Who wants to come and buy some sharp sticks?” Spider asked, setting off into the stalls.

It didn’t take long to spot the Firesnake Forge, waves of heat rising from large forges as magmins and animated armour beat metal into shape on anvils. Three fire-coloured Salamander directed their work and dealt with customers. Just nearby a Spined Devil stood in a stall lined with weapons - rows and racks of weapons, including a lot of pitchforks. “Armour and pointed sticks,” Spider said rubbing his hands as he weighed up which to visit first. For the first time in a long time, Spider was carrying himself like he had in Baldur’s Gate - less tension in his shoulders, more spring in his step. The camp reminded him of the back-alleys and hawkers back home.

Morad walked past a tent with a sign advertising A Close Shave, where a Calishite woman advertised her grooming services waved and smiled, a remarkably friendly and innocent smile. He made note of the stall, very much looking forward to a shave and clean. The next establishment - Floors of Fancy - stopped Morad in his tracks. It was full of beautiful hand-woven rugs, each a treasure. A man sat carefully sewing patterns into a colourful rug, oblivious to the world outside his creation. Morad watched and thought wistfully of his family.

In another tent, every inch of shelf space in the small shop seems crammed with obscure oddities, magical marvels, and exotic ingredients. A very old purple-skinned crone sat behind a desk watching with everything closely with her pale eyes, a three-eyed lizard stares blankly next to her. Madam Potencia made a plan to visit - Luizhana’s Arcana, pithy, she thought to herself, one eye on others she might want to visit before racing out of the inevitable inferno to come - the shop called Ichor’s Aweigh, full of bubbling potions and noxious fumes, looked tempting, terrible pun notwithstanding. Though the vendor with his 10-foot arms and missing ears was a little off-putting.

A shop selling flowers and gems - perhaps a jeweller - billed itself The Rose Repose, Incubi and Succubi resting nearby sipping on flutes of what smelt like perfume. The services on offer seemed to include tattoos, tempting Spider and Madam Portencia.

Another was filled with squawking Abyssal chickens. Nearby, Animalia was, as the name suggested, a shop filled with animals of all shapes and sizes, from beasts of burden to oozing larva. A worn Hobgoblin warlord moved between cages and pens, treating each animal with surprising tenderness. In the next a huge Orthon squatted in a jet-black tent, giving the evil eye to everyone who walked past. Two henchmen sat with crossed-arms doing the same. A simple hand-scrawled plinth advertised their trade: Infernal Bounty.

The only stall that everyone agreed to avoid at all costs was full of superbly detailed statues in various poses of surprise and horror. Bundabaza’s Statuesque - Extremely life-like statues the store promised. A woman with snakes for hair glanced out, forcing everyone to hurriedly look away, as she polished one of the statues.

Torgrun’s senses pricked when he found a stall called From Here to Avernus where imps sat in front of small consoles, pecking away at the infernal letters arrayed before them. It was just like the crashed fortress - but these were functional. The stallholder was another aminzu, who beckoned Torgrun inside. He entered, more curious than apprehensive, noticing a sign advertising ‘Exchange services’ on the wall. “Exchange for what?” he asked.

“Ah, welcome! I have not seen you here before,” the aminzu said, opening its mouth in a hideous ‘smile’. “I am Fhet’Ala. And yes, we provide exchange services - gold and gems for soul coins, and vice-versa. Plus message services - do you have anything you’d like to send?”

“How do these messages move from one place to another?”

“Ah if I told you that you could setup a competing business, could you not?”

“I have no interest in the business, I am interested in the magic behind the screen,” Torgrun said.

“But that magic is my profit - if I told you, I’d have to kill you! Not here, of course,” Fhet’Ala’s hideous smile shone again. Spider smirked.

“So you can send messages over a distance,” Torgrun pondered, “And what needs to be at the other end?”

“Oh a similar terminal. Sometimes an imp will forward the message on by hand, sometimes the recipient has their own machine. It’s a network. A network of machines.”

Torgrun was stumped by this new terminology. “A net-work, of ma-chines?”

“That’s right - like a spider’s web,” Fhet’Ala explained, obviously used to having to do this, “Connected, yet invisible.”

“Sound like a genre-crime to me,” Mak rumbled.

“If you’re worried about that, you should go wait in the car outside,” Madam Portencia countered.

“The guilds uses an intern-net back in Baldur’s, and just like this one, it’s the work of the devil,” Spider hammed.

“How do you find a person given the landscape here shifts so often?” Torgrun asked.

“We have methods - magic, spies - plus often people expecting a message will come to one of our depots.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a map of those depots would you?”

“You are a sharp one! But I will keep some secrets to myself,” Fhet’Ala grinnaced.

“What’s the going gold-for-soul-coin rate?” Spider asked.

“As you are new customers, and as I would never give anything other than the best rate possible to newcomers, the rate is…one-thousand gold per soul coin,” Fhet’Ala said, steepling its fingers. “That’s a full charged soul coin, mind you, we guarantee that.”

“And if we weren’t new customers?” Madam Portencia

“Regulars may be entitled to a discount, naturally, and new customers who aren’t as deserving as you gentlemen - and lady - may be charged a little more.”

---

Madam Portencia had been keeping a sharp eye out for anyone that might be a fortune-teller or similar, and her heart sunk once she realised nothing matched that description. There was one tent left, in the centre, where the occasional roar emerged from. And Mahadi’s, she sighed, accepting the inevitable.

Guards stood at the entrances to the domed central tent, giving each person entry the once over and a small lecture. “Remember - no fighting. You can gamble, enter as a combatant, but don’t fight - and don’t jump into the arena. Some have been known to get over-excited.”

Madam Portencia pushed the flap aside to be met by the unmistakable odour of blood, sweat and adrenalin. A crowd stood packed around a fenced off ring, while touts worked the crowd taking bets as the ringmaster hyped the next bout. A densly muscled hobgoblin was being introduced.

“The Mighty Myrkul comes before you now, look at those muscles ripple, look at the murder in his eyes! Place your bets ladies and gentlemen, get in while you can, for this match is about to begin. Can Myrkul challenge the undefeated Blind Assassin!? You won’t see these odds offered for long - place your bets!”

A frenzied round of betting got underway, before the crowd was hushed by the ringmaster as the lights dimmed. “And nowwwwww, fresh from the plane of men, the champion of champions! A man who cannot see, a man sent by Zariel to be broken here in Mahadi’s Ring, a man who will not accept his fate. The Blind Assassin, said to have slaughtered an entire race, yes, genocide! And yet he clings to his sense of right as a soul-leech clings to the innocent babe. Ladies, Gentlemen, I present to you: Bannor No-Eyes!!”

The crowd roared as a shambolic, dishevelled man limped into the ring. He was dressed head-to-toe in matt-black, a ball of gristle and bone, reeking of alcohol. His eyesockets held gems rather than eyeballs. He looked tired, exhausted, easy-to-beat. He pulled his two daggers out, twin blades of jet-black steel, and stood slumped in the centre of the ring.

The crowd was silent. Everyone could feel the anticipation, the prickles of sweat and lust for blood.

And suddenly Bannor was moving, faster than the eye could see, blades tracing dark arcs in the light, a dance of death that was as unstoppable as the wind. The poor hobgoblin swung wildly as it was sliced and diced, as if were the blind one and Bannor a god. Bannor slipped around like smoke, untouchable.

The fight was over before it begun, the hobgoblin dead and Bannor sheathing his daggers. He glanced around the crowd defiantly, holding Morad’s gaze for a moment with his glittering gems, then turning and walking slowly out of sight The crowd erupted. None had seen the like of the Blind Assassin, and none were likely to again.

Morad shivered.

Madam Portencia shrugged and walked back outside.

---

Next stop was the Firesnake Forge. The Salamanders, Rassh, Skids, and Slagg, were very interested in taking the Tormentor, offering whatever services were of interest in return. They could fit any standard weaponry - Bile and Styx Sprayers, Flamethrowers, and the infamous Infernal Screamer. Morad again vetoed that, remembering the Kenku’s description of a writhing humanoid torso pinioned to the front of the vehicle.

More interestingly the also offered three varieties of armour upgrade. The first was Canian Armour, infernal plating mined on Cania, the coldest layer of the Nine Hells. Rassh promised greatly increased strength, plus a pleasing coolness that was attractive to Bili and Mak. “Not many takers for it down here,” Rassh added, “So you’ll stand out from the crowd.”

Next was something everyone knew well - Gilded Death Armour, the very armour Feonor sported on the Golden Doom. Beyond simple bling, the armour also provided some major resistances to most incoming damage. This option was tempting if only for the middle-finger it would raise to Feonor.

“The last is perhaps the rarest - and our favourite,” Slagg hissed. “Soul Spike Armour! Sounds as nasty as it is. We cover the vehicle in hell-metal spikes inscribed with glowing blasphemous symbols - the luminosity is mainly for effect,” it grinned. “Now here’s how it works: every time you kill a nearby creature with a soul, the soul is ripped from its body and impaled on the spike! It’s brilliant! But here’s the true beauty of it: you can use those souls to fuel your vehicle!” Slagg paused for effect. “That’s right - endless fuel. What’s more - you can forge the souls into a coin if you visit the right facility.”

Morad was incredulous, the longer he listened the more his blood-boiled. He cursed, loudly, uncharacteristically, and stormed out of the tent. Torgrun followed close behind. This was several steps too far even for one willing to compromise.

Spider was less unsettled, seeing the benefit of endless fuel. But he also knew that it would be a deal-breaker. After quick consultation with Madam Portencia and the barbarians, the Gilded Armour was agreed.

“A couple of other options,” Skids slithered. “Magical enhancements. Expensive? Sure. Impressive? Definitely. First - a Necrotic Smoke Screen. Activate this ripper and a cloud of noxious, opaque smoke will burst forth, either front of back. We generally suggest behind, but some seem to like it up front. No accounting for taste,” Skids grinned. “The second - and I don’t offer this to everyone, not everybody appreciates this, and not everybody can afford it. But I can see you are customers of distinction.” Skids leaned in. “A teleporter.” He paused. “300-feet. Three. Hundred. Feet.”

Spider looked shocked. “How often can you use it?”

“Daily,” Skids grinned.

“Wow.” Spider was genuinely stunned. That would change things dramatically. Crossing the Styx with ease. Escaping trouble. Showing off to Feonor…

It was quickly agreed: the gold plated armour, and the teleporter, in exchange for the Tormentor.

---

Every time the group passed the Infernal Rapture the aromas from within were overwhelming, whetting appetites long dulled by the cursed foods of Avernus. But before fronting up to Mahadi, everyone wanted to get cleaned up. It had been a long time since anyone had pampered themselves, or even had a simple shave.

Burney introduced herself when entering the Close Shave, friendly and welcoming. Madam Portencia requested a bath (and Morad followed suit), which she happily provided - ‘as they say, cleanliness is next to godliness,’ she smiled. Others sought hair care of various kinds. There was no sense of trickery of fakery from Burney, and she charged only a single gold piece per service.

As she worked, close cutthroat shaves and haircuts, she offered all manner of stories, each with a moral at the conclusion, and each moral had a strong message of goodness. Stranger still, each seemed to be tailored to her current client. To Morad she talked of the power of staying true to ones beliefs, helping those less fortunate, and looking for all that could be done for good and doing it.

Mak was treated to an unusual tale of the tortoise and the hare, of slow and steady winning the race. He felt slightly sad under Burney’s attention, feeling the gap between this kind of normality and where he would be thrown back to when he stepped outside her tent.

This was so unusual that after hearing a few such tales, Torgrun, who had planned to sit this out, decided he too would take a spot under Burney’s care. He settled into a chair designed to handle wings, and slowly sunk into a state that was almost peace as Burney spun her tales and drew her blade across his face. This is what we need to recover, he mused to himself, This is what we’re fighting for. Burney’s stories for Torgrun were just as thematic as those for Mak and Morad, concluding with homilies about resisting temptation, or staying the course, being careful what you wish for. He felt like she was reading his mind, addressing just what he’d been struggling with, despite their rather cliched nature.

Whilst Madam Portencia bathed, Spider had a quiet word with Burney. “Don’t pass this ‘round, but do you have… wigs, at all?”

“Wigs? Well, I don’t usually carry them,” Burney whispered back, “But I can certainly arrange one - or two? - should you wish.”

“Madam Portencia normally has a much more elaborate and feminine do going-on, and there’s been a couple of incidents recently, so I’m just looking to give her a bit of a pep-up,” Spider smiled.

“That’s such a lovely thing to do,” Burney smiled broadly, clasping her hands to her breast. “Such generosity. Come back to me once you have visited the Infernal Rapture, and I will have what you seek. And trust me, no harm will come to anyone in the making of. What style would she like?”

“You know what, kind of up, wrapped in a roll, regal-like. Maybe a couple of stray strands?”

“Colour?”

Spider tried to remember which look Madam Portencia seemed most comfortable with. The black-with-lightning-strikes was certainly…striking, as was the purple, but the blonde with darker streaks was her most recently favoured look, which Spider requested from Burney.

Morad had been thinking for some time that it was time to replace the Shield of the Hidden Lord. Seeing Kreeg burn under the shields lustful power had been too much, and he had refused to even take it off his back since that moment. He was now convinced the shield was not what it said. At the Firesnake he found a replacement, well-weighted and powerful. He reached for it just as Torgrun was doing the same.

“Wait, Torgrun. I take this shield, you save money.” He unstrapped the Hidden Lord from his back and solemnly handed it to Torgrun. “This might suit you better.”

Torgrun took the golden shield with surprise. As he did, a voice whispered inside his head. “Yesss. Take it, this will suit you better. Forget the rubbish on the table. Together we shall redeem! Finally!”

“Finally,” Morad breathed, relieved to be rid of the burden.

Torgrun hefted the shield with pleasure - the golden hue would be a good match for the modified armour he had ordered. “I am an instrument of a god, in a plane from Hell, with Torm’s power.”

“Or at least someone’s power,” Spider observed wryly.

“And now you have more,” the shield whispered.

“Now we will achieve our goals!” Torgrun declared with quiet triumph.

“Together.

Everyone selected what they wanted from the various stores, and Spider bartered the price down by a few soul coins until all parties were satisified with the final 16 coin price for the bulk purchase. Spider spat and shook on the price, then grinned. “Now, we’ve got a couple of items you might find of interest.”

He started to pull Haruman’s infernal tack out of his satchel. All three Salamander and Gabool immediately shied away, covering their faces and waving Spider away. “No, no, we’re not interested in that. Please. In fact - you know how we agreed on sixteen coins,” Gabool said, not bothering to hide the implied threat.

“It’s gone,” Spider said, quickly dropping the tack. “You didn’t see nothin’” He was surprised at the reaction, though he knew it was fairly unique - fear of Zariel’s retribution, he assumed.

“Is the other item along the same line?” Gabool asked warily. He looked scared.

“It’s more in the sharp-stick category,” Spider said. He opened the bag and displayed just the top of the pommel of Haruman’s sword.

Gabool narrowed his eyes. “Look, you’re good customers. I could take that, under the counter. Straight swap - weapon-for-weapon.”

Spider raised his eyebrows. “What? One-for-one?”

“One-for-one.”

“Oh no,” Spider shook his head, “This is a bit better than that.”

“Take it or leave it,” Gabool shrugged, “You must understand I’m taking a huge risk even considering a weapon of…that calibre.”

“We should leave that with someone we want to die,” Madam Portencia suggested, pointing to the sword.

“I so agree,” Mak nodded.

“I wouldn’t want to sully our nice deal, so let’s just say you saw two lots of nothing,” Spider said to Gabool as he packed the sword away again.

Spider and Madam Portencia made a stop at the Rose Repose to have tattoos applied, both accepting the offer of purely cosmetic enhancements that let the tattoos move and shift of their own accord. Madam Portencia’s wasn’t on show, but Spider emerged with infernal runes etched on his forearm, pulsing flame-orange:

“Better the Devil you know,” Togrun read, giving Spider a knowing look.

Finally it was time to visit Mahadi’s establishment, Mak by this point being unstoppable in his demands for food.

---

Surprisingly (though, upon reflection, perhaps not that surprising) Mahadi greeted everyone personally at the entrance to the Infernal Rapture. He was thrilled to see you again, enjoying the updates on purchases, commenting on the fine grooming services, admiring the newly inked tattoos.

“My friends! I cannot tell you how happy it makes me that you have partaken of our services - and it’s not over yet! But what makes me happier still is that you are about to visit the ultimate, the greatest, the most wonderful place. The place where all your desires shall be met, and anything you wish shall be granted - for a fee of course! I welcome you to The Infernal Rapture!”

He ushered everyone inside, and stepping over the threshold everyone had a sense of vertigo and dizziness. Inside the tent was a world far larger than possible, corridors and rooms leading to dimly lit rooms full of laughter, music, cries of ecstasy and moans of pain. The faint aromas from outside now assaulted every sense, mouth-wateringly intense. Even Spider was salivating.

Mahadi escorted everyone to a private chamber full of pillows, cushions, and divans. “Please, relax, make yourself comfortable. We will make you even more so shortly,” he winked. “The only thing you must do before doing anything here is to sign these contracts.”

Six imps fluttered into the room, each dressed in a neat tuxedo, and handed out a contract. The language was plain: it presented a very simple arrangement stipulating that patrons must pay for everything consumed and all services used before leaving - at the cost of the signees soul should the contract be crossed.

Spider studied the contract, scratched onto humanoid leather. It seemed simple enough: Pay, or pay-up.

“You may have encountered contracts with various tricks, clauses, trying to get one over you. Hopefully you didn’t sign any,” Mahadi smiled. Madam Portencia groaned and glanced at Spider. “But this is just as it says. All I ask is you pay for anything you use, and anything you take.”

“And are the prices clearly marked,” Madam Portencia asked.

“Always, and always in advance.”

“Does this contract only apply to the Infernal Rapture, or is is it the entire caravan?” Spider queried.

“Infernal Rapture only - you are my guests now.”

“Naturally,” Mahadi grinned.

Madam Portencia was satisfied. She signed, taking the proffered quill from an imp. Spider did too, Mak following Spider’s lead. Spider was pleased to see this - the only thing Mak had been worried about was eating, and he was hoping this would do a lot to improve Mak’s demeanour.

Since taking the shield, Torgrun had felt a surge of confidence. He knew what he was doing, why he was here. He wasn’t going to be taken advantage of. He signed with a flourish.

Morad carefully placed the contract on the seat beside him, stood, and bowed to Mahadi. “Thank you very much for all your hospitality,” he said with respect, then started to walk out of the tent.

Mahadi caught Morad’s arm. “Kind sir, please! Do you have questions-”

“I cannot sign anything,” Morad interrupted. “No dishonour, thank you very much.”

Mahadi studied Morad for a moment, then nodded, a serious look on his face. “I understand, a man of honour. You may stay - no need to sign. This room is yours, and I will provide basic refreshments. Your decision - I understand if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No, I will stay if you will allow me those terms,” Morad acknowledged, sitting down.

Mahadi bowed slightly. “Very good, stay with your friends. And should you change your mind - you need but ask.”

Bili joined Morad on the refusal couch, leaving the contract in the imp’s hand.

“Also not comfortable?” Mahadi asked.

“Not for me,” Bili said.

“Understand there is no risk - only if you were to cut-and-run would the contract be enforced, and I can see none of you are that type,” Mahadi said convincingly.

“No, we are not. Thank you for your hospitality, but still no,” Bili replied.

“I understand, and urge you to reconsider - you really are missing out!”

Torgrun’s watched Morad and Bili take their stands, noticing Mahadi occasionally stealing a glance at Lulu, obviously quite aware of her presence.

Mahadi rubbed his hands together. “Now. For the three who have signed - anything you should wish, we will now provide for you. The cost to eat (such as you have never eaten!), drink (the nectar of the gods!), spa-services (both wholesome and degenerate!).”

“The food you eat and drink here is unlike any you will experience in the multiverse. This is my promise to you - and you may hold me to if you are dissatisfied in any way. Some of our dishes you may not be familiar with, but all will open your eyes and minds to a new way of eating. The candied phase-spider eyeballs - something to be experienced once in your life.” Mahadi handed out a sample menu.

Mak studied the menu, stomach rumbling. “The rare miniature stench-cow cheese selection sounds nice,” he grinned.

“Oh it’s quite exquisite. A big man like you could tuck away a fair amount of it too,” Mahadi said.

Torgrun was less pleased with what he read. The menu was full of luxury and waste. Despite the food in Avernus tasting like dirt, that had been enough for Torgrun. The bland and simple taste of dirt reminded him of why he was here, and where he was. Not in a city. Not at home. Avernus. Hell. He put the menu aside, frowning.

“Our spa-services are second-to-none - anything you can imagine we can provide - massage, scrubs, rub-downs, bathe alone, bathe with friends we can provide, in blood, or in perfumed champagne, nothing is off-limits.”

“We have gambling, fortune-telling, mind-reading, we can satisfy all manner of sexual proclivities and perversions, should that be your wish. And of course more wholesome activities - dancing, singing.”

“Fortune-telling services you say?” Madam Portencia said, suddenly alert.

“Yes we have a most skilled reader, one Madam Electra - very impressive in her unique way.”

Madam Portencia’s stomach flipped. Madam Electra was here.

“All of this, and more, is provided for one simple cost: a single soul coin, per guest. I guarantee you are about to experience something unbelievable.” Mahadi looked around, expectantly.

Madam Portencia held a coin ready to hand-over. Spider did some quick mental calculations, figuring the cost was affordable if high.

Torgrun stood. After rejecting the menu, and hearing what was on offer, he was reminded of his purpose. He did not need all of this surface pleasure. “Despite signing, I too will refuse,” Torgrun said to Mahadi. “I need provisions to nourish my soul, not my flesh, so that I can achieve the goals I have been sent here to achieve.” He sat down next to Morad.

Mahadi was surprised a second time - his welcoming speech rarely failed so spectacularly. “And what provisions would those be? I am sure we may be able to provide them.”

“I thought be coming here I could gain more sustenance that I can find in this plane,” Torgrun answered. “But what I find when I come here is naught but temptation. Not the sustenance I need.”

“Oh we are all about temptation,” Mahadi agreed, “But sustenance and temptation are not mutually exclusive.”

“Absolutely. You are speaking to a man of god. I understand that we face this constantly. I have seen what I have seen, and I see it has temptation only. So I sign your contract, but I make no payment. I need nothing here.”

“What if I told you that should you eat of our delicacies, the benefit to you may be precisely what you seek?” Mahadi tempted. “I can promise you that you would find something.”

Torgrun shook his head. “I remain resolute.”

Mahadi put his hand together, and bowed. “Understood.”

He turned to Spider, Madam Portencia, and Mak. “I am disappointed for your friends, but welcome each of you. I have had word from my vendors of a very attractive transaction you have recently made. In light of that, I am willing to give you a first-timer discount - shall we say three guests for the price of two? This is as low as I can go, understand that this experience is worth every copper, so to speak.”

“Done,” Spider said, handing over the coins.

---

The next hours were spent in a stupor of incredible eating and drinking. Mahadi had spoken true: the experience was once in a lifetime. Spider was shocked at the flavours and tastes, constantly grilling the waiters on technique and ingredients. Madam Portencia tried something of everything, relishing the experience as much as the food itself.

Mak merely ate himself to a standstill, which was some time after his two companions ran out of steam. He felt the shackles lift from him as he feasted. He requested and was granted a bath of ice, which he sunk into with stomach full, and despite knowing he shouldn’t, he let his wariness go, relishing being safe for the first time in a long time, if only for a moment.

Spider, satisfied Mak was rejuvenating somewhat, excused himself to a side-room, into which he summoned a procession of exotic suitors, female, male, and everything in between - Mak watched wide-eyed as a baby hippo waddled inside. The sounds emerging from within were new even to Madam Portencia ears.

Once Spider was sufficiently distracted, Madam Portencia asked to be taken for her fortune-telling. She was more nervous than she had been in many years. Mahadi led her to a nearby room. “Madam Electra once travelled the mortal realms, like you. And now she makes her home here, with me. One of my favourites - a sweet woman, always looking out for her clients. I sense that you too are in the futures business? I am curious that you would wish to consult one of your own kind. "

Madam Portencia stared at him. “Is that a question?” she said coldly.

“My apologies, I don’t mean to pry,” Mahadi said, gathering himself. “I should warn you - sometime her predictions are a little erratic. Some clients seem to enjoy punishing her as a result, almost as much as they enjoy the readings. Strange how creatures are,” he mused.

He stood before a door. “Within, all your secrets shall be divined. I give you - Madam Electra.” He swung the door open.

A dark room was lit with a dim glow from an array of candles on a small table covered in tarot cards, behind which sat a stooped figure, head dropped. Mahadi pulled the door closed, leaving Madam Portencia alone.

The figure slowly looked up, hood dropping off as she did. A halo of silver hair framed a age-wearied face, piercing grey-eyes looking across the room. She froze.

“Albert?”

A shock of recognition shook Madam Portencia. It was Madam Electra.

“Albert?” Madam Electra repeated softly, a tear rolling down her face.

“You called?” Madam Portencia answered, now knowing how to react, scrambling into the seat facing her long-lost mentor. She reached for Madam Electra’s hands.

“You came for me,” Madam Electra said, gripping Madam Portencia’s hands tightly.

“What else could I do?”

“I didn’t dare… will you have your fortune read?” Madam Electra smiled weakly. Her face seemed to be forced into the smile, trying to break free and express something more, but unable. Only her eyes spoke true - fear, and desperation.

“Please,” Madam Portencia nodded slowly.

“What reading would you like?”

“Entrails,” Madam Portencia hinted. She had to find a way to communicate without giving the game away to Mahadi.

“Perhaps something gentler to begin with?” Madam Electra responded, understanding the game. Violence was not going to work.

“Tarot then,” Madam Portencia agreed.

“How did you find me?” Madam Electra asked, shuffling a deck.

“I got your message.”

“Good. Though I am very happy here, with Mahadi,” Madam Electra said, again smiling. “I do not wish for you to be here with him, though.”

“What’s it going to take?” Madam Portencia said bluntly.

Madam Electra shook her head. “I am bound to him now. I will…never leave.”

“Let’s lay out some cards then, shall we?”

Madam Electra started laying down the first tarot. “Get out. Escape. Mistake.” “An interesting reading, do you see the message?”

“I do,” Madam Portencia nodded. “But I got your message.”

Madam Electra grimaced, laying out more cards. “The master. Freedom. Price.”

“Entrails then,” Madam Portencia observed. If only Mahadi could offer freedom, Mahadi would have to go. Either that or pay his price, which she assume would be too high to consider.

Madam Electra shook her head again. “Read on.” Three more cards: “Do not. Danger. Impossible challenge.” “Listen to the cards,” she begged, “They do not lie.”

“That I will do.” Madam Portencia understood the warning.

There were tears streaming down Madam Electra’s face now. “Speak with my master, Mahadi. He sets the price for my services,” she said through the tears.

“I will talk to him,” Madam Portencia said gruffly, desperate not to show her own upset.

“It is so wonderful to see you, Albert,” Madam Electra said, and for a moment her smile was genuine, breaking free from the compulsion she was under for an instant.

Madam Portencia stood quickly, taking Madam Electra’s hand and pulling her into a bear hug. Madam Electra sobbed into her shoulder. She liftd her head and whispered into Madam Portencia’s ear: “Save me.”

Madam Electra pulled herself free and sat. “Please, visit again.”

“I’ll be back,” Madam Portencia promised, reeling out of the room, mind spinning.

---

Morad, Bili, and Torgrun suppered on simple breads and wines, which despite their simplicity were far-and-away the tastiest foods they had eaten. Morad didn’t hesitate, following the rules of hospitality he knew so well. Everyone ate their fill.

Morad left to visit Burney, having a full grooming service, oiling his beard. The stories he was treated to concluded with messages that reinforced his path: tales of staying true, holding to faith, reaching for the light and rejecting the dark. He felt Burney was very much on his side.

Bili left to sleep outside under Mak’s bike. He undertook a shamanistic trance, chanting and visiting ancestoral memories. He was preparing his body for the journey to come, visions of change and rebirth.

Torgrun merely waited, dozing on the comfortable couches.

---

Madam Portencia waited at the bar for Mahadi, watching a naked Spider do laps of the room on top of the hippo. Mahadi didn’t take long to appear. “I trust that everything you sought has been more than delivered? Is there anything else we can offer?”

“I was very impressed with your fortune teller.”

Mahadi bowed. “Thank you, I had a feeling you two would hit it off.”

“I would dearly like to take her with me,” Madam Portencia said with no ceremony.

“With you? Well. Well no, unfortunately that’s one of the few things we don’t offer,” Mahadi said, taken aback. “I mean, for a price, but I doubt it is a price you would be willing to pay.”

“What’s the price?”

“Let me understand. You wish to take Madam Electra with you?”

“Yes.”

“I see. We often get people wanting to take some of our more physical entertainers - succubai, incubai. Your friend might make an offer on that hippo,” he grinned. “One such as Madam Electra, I purchased her, she is mine. Really the only way to buy that out, if that is what you are asking, is an exchange of a soul. You give me a soul, in return for hers. Quite simple.”

“Like a soul coin,” Madam Portencia said hopefully. This was going to be easy!

Mahadi laughed. “No no no, a soul. Someone who could serve me. A fresh body, complete with soul - not a coin, that is of no use whatsoever.” He pulled a few coins out of his pockets and flipped them. “A coin here, a coin there, nothing.”

Not so easy after all. “So it is not really a soul you are after, it is fortune telling.”

“Fortune telling, or some other service my guests might be interested in. You, for example, could take her place.”

Madam Portencia shook her head.

“No, as I said, I didn’t think you would want to pay that price.” Mahadi thought for a moment. “Another idea strikes me. Hm. Would you and your companions perhaps be interested in retrieving something for me?”

“I’m sure I could ask them,” Madam Portencia said warily.

“They do seem rather principled though, so they may not wish to.”

“They are a council of the righteous,” Madam Portencia acknowledged.

“There is a prank I would like to play on one of the Duchess’s down here. Not something I could be implicated in, but if you were willing to take that risk… that might be enough.”

“It might depend on who the Duchess is,” Madam Portencia said.

“You would not have heard of her.”

“Try me.”

“Qirozz is her name. She was something that I would like to acquire for my guests.”

“So when you say a prank, you mean a job?”

“A heist, in your parlance,” Mahadi grinned. “So there are your two options. A soul, someone who would be in servitude to me, that would be one cost. The other, stealing something from a Duchess of Hell. Both fair prices for your Madam Electra.”

Madam Portencia sighed, thinking of how difficult this was going to be. “What do you want us to take from her?”

“An angel’s skull,” Mahadi said with a twinkle in his eye.

“Doesn’t sound so hard,” Madam Portencia deadpanned.

“It’s no longer attached to the angel,” Mahadi explained.

“Even easier.”

“But it is an angel’s skull, and I sense that some of your compatriots feel strongly about religious belief, so it may not be something they wish to do. Qirozz holds a ball every 666 days to show off her skull - she calls it the Fetid Chalice in her typically ostentatious manner - and coincidentally the next one is tomorrow. Lifting the skull, sorry, chalice, from the ball will be quite the challenge.

“I understand.”

“I remind you I must not be implicated in any way. Succeed, and Madam Electra is yours.”

“You’ve made that quite clear,” Madam Portencia nodded.

“And don’t forget - you could trade for her should you wish.”

“You’ve made that quite clear!” Madam Portencia said, her hackles rising. “Let’s focus on the skull, shall we. Do you have any idea how one might steal it?”

“None whatsoever,” Mahadi smiled widely. “It is the centrepiece of the ball, on display for all to admire.”

“And how will we get to this ball?”

“I will take you there, you will attend on my invitation.”

“If we go on your invitation, surely you will be implicated.”

“Only if you’re caught - rest assured I would disown you if you were - and if you are not, I will not be linked. Simple!”

“Fine. That works for me. I would like to undertake this endeavour,” Madam Portencia agreed.

“Wonderful! If you need any help convincing your friends, tell them if you pull this off all six of you will be my guests - on the house. That’s how difficult I think this will be, and how appreciative I will be in return. That may tempt them, even he who is above such things,” Mahadi laughed.

“I will get you your skull, or…I will come back here myself,” Madam Portencia finished quietly.

“Ah. She is that important to you, is she?” Mahadi said sympathetically.

“Just tell me what you know, and we will make our plan.”

---

Madam Portencia rounded up Mak and a dishevelled Spider, and tracked down Bili, Morad, and Torgrun.

Morad was glowing after his bath, looking almost as sated as the Infernal Rapture participants. “That really made a big difference,” Morad said happily, “But you, Madam, what’s wrong?” She looked haunted.

“Look, this has got trickier,” Madam Portencia began. “I know this is not of interest to any of you-”

“It of interest,” Morad protested.

“But I would very much like to rescue the fortune teller from Mahadi’s tent,” Madam Portencia continued.

“Let’s go,” Morad said, tightening his weapon strap. Anything Madam wanted, he supported. She was the leader, after all.

Madam Portencia smiled Morad. “Doing so requires the theft of an item from one of these wretched denizens down here, that Mahadi, for whatever reason, desires.”

“These are all evil people, it doesn’t matter, we just take it, and give it. Where we go?” Morad asked.

“To a ball.”

“Oh, ok. They have balls down here? It’s all horrible.” He thought wistfully back to the grand affairs held back in Jakar.

“I’m sure it will not be what we expect,” Madam Portencia sighed.

“You son of a bitch, I’m in,” Mak grunted, unsure why he was phrasing it that way but going with it.

“Thank you,” Madam Portencia nodded.

“Is there a soul worth saving,” Torgrun asked, on message as usual.

“Yes.”

“Then I am in.”

“It’s literally his thing,” Morad added.

Madam Portencia smiled thankfully. “Spider?”

Spider squinted at Madam Portencia. “Uhh, yeah. Why are you even askin’? It’s nickin’ stuff, I can do that.”

“Why are you walking funny, Spider?” Torgrun asked.

“Had a big night,” Spider grunted.

“I hope that heals - I’m not going to lay on hands,” Torgrun grinned.

“Bili?”

“Sure.”

“Thank you.” Everyone was in. Madam Portencia loved these guys.

“So whatta we gotta nick?” Spider asked, flexing his fingers in anticipation.

“The skull of an angel,” Madam Portencia said flatly.

Torgrun coughed, Bili raised an eyebrow. “Pardon?” Morad gasped, suddenly second-guessing his earlier assessment.

“Ok. Is it still in the angel?” Spider asked cautiously.

“No. I told you, it’s easy,” Madam Portencia grinned.

---

Mahadi explained as much as he knew about the skull and Qirozz’s ball.

The skull once belonged to the angel Verwyyr, a hound-headed celestial summonsed by a party of adventurers who were fighting Qirozz. Unfortunately for them, Qirozz was too powerful, and she took Verwyyr’s skull as a trophy. “We have heard that story far too many times,” Mahadi sighed. “She will not stop boasting about it. It would be most entertaining were she to lose it…and I to acquire it, on the black market.”

The skull was crystallised and inlaid with gems and gilt in silver and gold. Mahadi reported that the stem of the skull is now engraved with infernal runes. He had no doubt the skull and plinth it rested on would be heavily protected by magical means.

“The ball is held in a chamber of her obsidian fortress. No weapons allowed, naturally, particularly magic. Everyone is checked on entry, so I would suggest not trying to sneak one in.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “However I have it on good authority it is possible to secrete a non-magical weapon, if you have the means and gumption.”

“Do you have non-magical weapons we could use for this mission?” Morad asked.

“Of course, I can talk to Gabool. I would strongly advise that fighting your way in and out is not a good option. There will be hundreds of guests, and they would be more than willing to rip you limb-from-limb to gain Qirozz’s favour.”

“Interestingly, magical jewellery and clothing is acceptable, if that helps,” he grinned. “So much vanity here, disallowing that would mean no-one turned up!”

Mahadi sketched the layout of the ballroom, pointing out the chamber of the chalice, and various other locations such as the kitchen and private parlours.

“Well this is the opposite to our regular go-get-em approach,” Mak observed.

Everyone stared at the map doubtfully. Spider rubbed his hands together.

“Right. Time for a plan.”

---

---

---

Session played: 17, 24 August 2021