Descent Into Avernus
Mephistar’s Mirror
When Hell freezes overAs Morad climbed up to the helm of the Holy Terro II, he was surprised to hear the shield speak to him. It had been some time - since the ‘disagreement’ in Hellturel - since he’d heard from it, leading him to start thinking it was unable to communicate in Avernus proper. But here it was again. He steeled himself to listen.
“You are more powerful than I imagined,” the shield started. “Together we can defeat her. I know that now, seeing you defeat Haruman, where before I only hoped. And you know it too.”
“No. You be quiet now, shield,” Morad said curtly.
“You must find a way to free me.”
“I don’t trust you shield! You lied to me, and nearly I hurt friends. They don’t like me now as much, all because of you.”
“I merely saw an opportunity to escape.”
“I feel still bad. That thing went through me,” Morad added angrily, remembering the chaos of the demonic channel in the Hellturel graveyard. “That helm was for Torgrun, I took it, all because of you.”
“I will prove myself to you. And when I do - you must free me.”
“When you say must - you better be better shield.”
“I understand. I must earn your trust.”
“Yes. You lied to me.”
“And if I do - and I will - you must break the curse. Or destroy this shield. Do something to free me, I beseech you.”
“Destroy? I don’t like this shield as much as I used to, so sure, I destroy it. I throw it in the Styx - would you like that?” Morad asked sarcastically.
The shield paused. “It might work.”
“No! It won’t work! You stupid shield!!” Morad cried, exasperated.
Everyone joined Morad on the Demon Grinder and Torgrun reconnected the soul-fuel pipeline, allowing Morad to crank up the screaming engine, reminding everyone of the price being paid for convenience. “Screaming like a baby,” Spider smiled, trying to keep things light. “It’s just the sound the engine makes, you get used it it.”
“You never get used to it,” Torgrun said grimly.
“I’ve enjoyed bloodsports as much as any woman,” Madam Portencia said. “It’s the consistency of this that gets to me.”
Morad shook his head, fighting the disgust he felt, then opened the throttle and headed North, navigating toward the ring of mountains shimmering in the far distance. According to the map, the Styx stood between here and Mephistar’s Mirror, but the map had been wrong before - and he would find out soon enough. For now, keeping the Holy Terror II on a steady course was challenge enough, with the huge cracks and pools of bubbling lava dotting the landscape. Mak and Bili had rather more fun, the smaller bike easier to manoeuvre between the obstacles.
After several hours of sweltering travel, the Styx lay ahead. The vast bubbling, swirling, black-red river looked to be at least 500 meters wide, an impassable barrier. There were several Styx Watchtowers dotted along the banks, each within eyesight of the next - squat fortresses watching and waiting for demonic incursions from the Styx.
Madam Portencia pulled out Morad’s eyeglass. She could see no movement on the tower parapet, nor anything around the building below. Perhaps it was abandoned, she mused, as she directed Morad toward it. Morad and Mak throttled down and headed cautiously toward the tower, Madam Portencia keeping her eyeglass glued. As it loomed ahead, Spider heard the mumbling again from his sack, and pulled out the the Map to hear what it had to say.
“The Styx is the Demons' gateway into the Nine Hells - the Devils keep a watchful eye on its shores!”
“Tell us something we don’t know,” Spider grumbled. The drivers pulled their vehicles to a dead stop ahead of the Tower. It was made of black basalt, with rings of arrow-slot windows on the second story. The entrance was blocked by a huge flat slab of rock. Mak and Bili attempted shoving it open, barely budging it. Torgrun used his stone-cunning to determine the door was bolted from within.
Styx Watchtowers
Spider shimmied up the outside, making easy work of the climb, popping over the parapet. It was empty up there too, with a small port-hole opening with a metal cover. Spider pried the port-hole slightly ajar and listened closely. He clearly heard movement below, and quickly and quietly lowered it again. “Sam - check the windows below, tell me what’s in there.”
“Why am I always doing the dirty work?”
“Dirty work? Did you see me climb up here? I haven’t asked you to do anything even vaguely dirty!”
“I remember the burning chimney back at the Vanthampur’s.”
“Just go and take a look,” Spider said, sighing.
Samael skittered off, and returned shortly after to say the room was empty. Spider was confused - but he pried the hole open again, and this time it sounded quiet. He took a breath and pulled it wide open - still nothing. He popped his head inside and saw an empty room, with chains and manacles attached to the walls, and a metal seat with restraints bolted to the floor. He dropped down, then again to the floor below, which was also empty with several stone benches and rusty weapons propped against the walls. A heavy bar held the entranceway firmly closed, which Spider managed to lift and move aside after a few attempts.
“Place is empty. Interrogation chair upstairs,” Spider said to the waiting party outside. “Nothin' to see here.”
Back at the vehicles, Madam Portencia stared down at the bubbling Styx. “We need to get across that, somehow, with both of our transports.”
Spider roused Samael, and asked how people crossed the cursed river.
“Bridges come and go, mainly go, so the those that wish to cross use the Merrenoloth’s service. They run ferries that transfer people over - for a price. You’ll have to pay the ferryman.”
“Don’t ask a price,” Mak warned.
“Just don’t,” Madam Portencia agreed.
“I don’t want to pay him, I don’t even want to fix a price,” Spider added.
“Not ‘til it gets to the other side,” Madam Portencia nodded.
“I suggest we withhold payment until we get to the other side,” Torgrun suggested.
“Exactly, that would be a perfect time for any kind of remuneration,” Madam Portencia said, breaking the spell.
“I could find a Merrenoloth,” Samael offered.
“Will the ferry take this?” Spider asked, pointing to the Holy Terror II.
“Nope”
Spider groaned. “Well that’s the trick isn’t it.” Spider informed the group of the stalemate. “We can get a ferry, but it won’t take something this big. Or we find a bridge.”
“Time is of the essence, but if we abandon our vehicle, we abandon our strategic advantage,” Torgrun pointed out. “So do we backtrack and come back in the right vehicle?”
Everyone shook their heads at this prospect. “We need a bridge,” Mak said firmly. Torgrun agreed, and asked Lulu to fly up and see what she could see. She reported back that there was a structure of some kind on the banks to the East, but it was hard to see what it was from here. Morad and Mak nodded at each other and started the vehicles in the direction Lulu had indicated.
After a few miles of travel, the structure Lulu had seen came into sight. It looked like it was a crossing of some kind, though still too far away to see if it was complete. Another watchtower lay on the path ahead, and Madam Portencia warned this one was definitely populated. Maybe a dozen Hellhounds patrolled the ground around the tower, being corralled by two Bearded Devils, and a cluster of mixed devils stood atop the parapet - another dozen or so, some Bearded Devils, and another covered in chains. There was no avoiding the tower if the ‘bridge’ was the destination.
“Morad,” Madam Potencia called, “When I say full speed, you do exactly as I say.”
At about 500 meters away, Madam Portencia saw the Hellhounds were heading out to intercept the Holy Terror II’s path. “Morad - speed up!” she cried out. Morad saw the problem and opened up to about three-quarter speed, Mak following suit on the far side.
Madam Portencia saw a huge, green-skinned Devil with stunted wings climb onto the rooftop and point a sharp claw in the direction of the vehicle. She felt a cold wave of fear.
Amnizu Devil
“Morad! Full speed!” Madam Portencia cried. “What is your parameter for going full-speed?!”
“I’m a bit busy!” Morad yelled, struggling to control the rolling body of the demon grinder as it accelerated. But he obeyed and pushed the throttle to full open. The heavy vehicle rumbled and the engine scream reached a peak of terror as it reached full pace, exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure. Mak and Bili bounced over rocks and cracks, very glad they had the Kenku’s masks, dust and rocks flying up from the uneven ground as they sprinted forward.
Racing forward, the Styx-structure lying just beyond the watchtower suddenly became clear - it was a bridge! Or at least it was half a bridge - it wasn’t clear if it was complete or continued to the other side.
Morad swallowed and pulled the steering around to head toward the crossing. But as he did he felt the vehicle start to veer toward the Tower - he hadn’t accounted for the sudden change in the slope of the ground as it descended toward the shores of the Styx. Spider and Torgrun’s eyes opened wide as they felt Morad losing control, the Holy Terror II swinging out dangerously. Madam Portencia grabbed anything she could, watching in horror as the Tower loomed ahead.
The Hellhounds were racing toward the vehicle, flames blazing from their mouths as they were urged on by the Bearded Devils. The rooftop Devils started to leap over the sides of the Tower to run to the killing grounds, and the big Devil on top started to wave his hands around ominously - it was preparing something. Something bad.
Morad, sweating hard, grunted and put everything he had into hauling the steering away from the Tower and back toward the bridge - and to his relief he managed to bring it back under control. And more than control, he suddenly felt like he understood the Holy Terror II the same way he understood a horse. It all made sense. He grinned, swung the rear of the demon grinder out to start a drift, punched the button to engage the Chomper, and ploughed directly into the path of the incoming Hellhounds.
The resulting mess was indescribable. The Hounds were chewed up and spewed out the pipes behind the Holy Terror II, showering the Bearded Devils in a rain of foul smelling hound-goop. They yelled out in fury as the two vehicles roared past at full throttle, Morad grinning like a fool, Madam Portencia standing and whooping with child-like excitement.
The Tower flashed past, and just as it seemed like it was cleared, Morad and Spider felt a searing pain stab directly into their brains, like a red-hot poker had been inserted through their eyes. Morad instinctively cried out to Al’Akbar, and Al’Akbar answered, clearing the pain in a flash. But Spider - Spider had no such god to call on. He threw his hands to his head to try and wrench the pain away, but it was overwhelming, crushing his mind with pain, poisoned, and his vision blacked out - he was blind. Togrun and Madam Portencia watched as Spider flung himself back in his seat, screaming in horror, “I’m blind! I’m blind!!”
Mak felt a sudden wave of exploding darkness inside his skull, which wiped him out almost immediately, stunning him into a stupor. The bike started reeling away as Mak slumped in his seat. Bili leapt from the back of the bike, jumping over Mak and somehow managing to land safely in the seat. He reached for the steering and tried desperately to pull the bike back on course, shoving himself back into the massive form of Mak to try and keep him from falling. Even in the chaos, he couldn’t help but feel Mak’s firm body underneath him - he really was built, Bili mused.
As he struggled to right the course of the bike, Bili felt it bounce over a large boulder, and land heavily on a sharp rock below. The furnace-tank ruptured as the bike thumped down, the wail of the leaking souls suddenly deafening. The tank sealed itself over quickly, but Bili could sense the bike had lost some of its speed, slowing down so that it was matching the pace of the Holy Terror II - still travelling fast, just not as fast.
Madam Portencia glanced toward the approaching bridge, and then at Spider. She sent a mind-bullet his way. “Spider. Calm the fuck down. Get your ichor ready!”. At the same time Torgrun cast a healing aid on Spider, trying to pull him back to normality. Spider, wracked with pain, felt a wave of coolness wash over him as Torgrun’s spell took hold, and heard Madam P’s voice inside his head, giving him something to focus on that wasn’t the pain. Still blinded but with the pain more manageable, he reached into his satchel and located a vial of demon ichor, pulling it forth.
The Holy Terror hurtled onto the bridge, which was covered in piles of abandoned rubbish and fallen pylons. Morad, still locked in, swung the Holy Terror II between the obstacles with ease, using momentum to drift between the refuse, but then saw what he had feared: there was a 30-foot gap at the apex where the the bridge had collapsed into the sworling Styx below.
“Al’Akbar! We need more speed!!” Morad cried.
Spider’s vision started to slowly return, a pinpoint of light slowly growing. He unbuckled from his seat and stumbled his way down toward Morad.
“Spider! Ichor, now!!” Morad yelled, gunning the engine as the Holy Terror II thundered toward the yawning gap.
“Now! Spider! Now!” Madam Portencia cried.
“Spider, now!” Torgrun commanded with his last spell.
Barely able to see, Spider jammed the flask into the chute, drawing a howl of pure agony from the soul-fuel as the demonic ichor mixed into their burning souls. Morad was thrown back in his seat as the boost kicked in, holding on for dear life as he launched the Holy Terror II into the gaping chasm over the Styx.
“Al’Akbaaarrrr!!!!” Morad screamed.
Madam Portenia joined the chorus in a sudden surge of rediscovered faith. “Al’Akbar!!!!”
For a moment everything slowed. The blazing red light of Avernus glinted off the side of the Holy Terror II as it floated over the gap. The pursuing Devils skidded to a halt, eyes open wide in wonder as they watched a Demon Grinder fly…
…and land with an almighty thump on the far side of the bridge, bouncing and rocketing down until Morad could bring it to a screaming stop. “Al’Akbar,” he sighed, breathing fast.
“Al’Akbar!” Madam Portencia agreed enthusiastically, still breathless enough to believe. “Morad is only going up and up in my estimation,” she mused to Torgrun.
Everyone on the Holy Terror turned just in time to see Bili about to launch the bike over the Styx, Mak still lying stunned beneath him. Bili white-knuckled the bike toward the gap, but at the last moment misjudged a pile of scrap on the lip of the ramp. The bike launched into the air at a rakish angle, spinning clockwise as it flew.
The Holy Terror II crew look on in horror as they raced up toward the gap. The bike might make the jump, but the spin meant almost certain death for Bili and Mak.
Bili realised what was happening, and what would happen if they landed upside down. Time slowed for him too. He remembered his family back home, the tribe, his people. The hunts, the laughter, the joy. That one time he had been riding and… wait! Instead of fighting the rotating momentum, he should go with it! Just like he had when he swung under the elk racing through the forests of home.
He leaned out as far as he could, into the rotation, dragging Mak’s limp body with him for ballast. The bike’s crazy momentum followed Bili’s weight shift and kept spinning hard. The Holy Terror team’s jaws dropped as they watched the bike and their two barbarians rotate through a full 360 degrees, soaring high over the Styx in an impossibly graceful arc.
Bili felt the horizon right itself again and shifted his weight back the other way, and the bike somehow landed on both wheels and skidded down toward the Holy Terror II. The impact shocked Mak awake. He looked groggily up only to see the wrecking ball approaching at full tilt, and instinctively reached between Bili’s legs to yank the emergency brake, bringing the bike to a stop just below the huge ball. Mak looked wide-eyed at Bili, having no memory beyond the encounter with Haruman.
“Nothing much happened,” Bili panted, popping a berry into Mak’s open mouth.
Everyone was coming down from the huge adrenalin surge, and needed to rest badly, but it was quickly decided it would be safer to get to the foot of the mountains. Morad and Bili cranked the engines into life and headed out over the parched plain, reaching the sharp valleys of the border mountains within the hour. Mak’s memory was starting to return in drips and drabs, but he still felt very addled.
Spider asked Samael what type of Devil it was that had cast the barrage of mental abuse.
“An Amnizu. They’re bad. Whatever happened to you and Mak was caused by it. Stay away from them.”
“Obviously,” Spider said glumly, his head still pounding.
Morad guided the Holy Terror II up the ravine, heading in the direction of the Mirror and looking for shelter. The ground rose steeply and turned a corner to suddenly reveal a very unexpected sight. A giant slab of ice was wedged at the end of the craggy ravine. Ice?!
Madam Portencia called time, demanding that a rest be had before anyone got any nearer. She needed a nice cup of tea and a pipe, and no-one was going to stop her. She popped her magic tent again, and everyone gratefully settled inside.
As if on cue, the Map started to mumble again. Spider freed it to find out what would be revealed.
“Mirror, mirror, made of ice - look within, but at what price?”
“Do you know who this ‘Mephistar’ character is?” Spider asked Samael. He was surprised at the response.
“I’d rather not say,” Samael replied, very quietly. “I don’t want to talk about it. Please don’t ask me about it ever again - I value my place here.”
“Well?” Madam Portencia asked.
“Sam says he can’t talk about Mephistar.”
“Very helpful,” Mak sighed.
Madam Portencia leant down and locked eyes with Spider’s spider. “Would Sam look in the mirror, given a choice?”
Samael spoke. “No. No, no no.”
“Any further information forthcoming,” Madam Portencia asked without much hope.
“I would rather not speak about it!” Samael scurried up Spider’s arm and into the hood of his cloak.
“As I said, he won’t talk about it,” Spider grimaced.
Madam Portencia turned to Torgrun. “Torgrun, as the leader of this expedition-”. She was interrupted by Spider spitting out his drink.
“Sorry, what did you say?” Torgrun asked, chuffed.
“-and Redeemer,” Madam Portencia continued, “you should go up and have a look in the mirror.”
Torgrun’s eyes narrowed. “As the leader of this expedition, I can’t help but feel that you want to be the leader of this expedition, by sending me up to have a look in the mirror.”
Mak burst out laughing.
“I’m only trying to give you the best advice I can, as your factotum,” Madam Portencia said solemnly.
“As my factotum, I would be glad to escort you to the mirror,” Torgrun parried. “Shall we go, my lady?”
Madam Portencia sipped her tea.
Morad had a better idea. “Togrun - can you ask Lulu about the mirror?”
Togrun nodded. “Lulu do you know this place? Do you remember it?”
“Not at all. I have never been here.”
“Did you get a sense when we were leaving Haruman’s Hill that we were on the path to the sword?”
“I had no sense of it. But if Sunstar spoke true, if he sought redemption - and it seemed he did - then maybe we are on the path. Do you think we are? Did you trust him?”
“He was sincere,” Torgrun confirmed. “His suffering had taken him back to his core.”
“Are you sure about that?” Madam Portencia asked weakly.
“Nothing indicated there was a deception, and although we are in a world of deceptions, I say we go forward.”
The slab of ice lay fifty feet ahead, wedged into the ravine. The air was no colder here, the relentless heat beat down, and there was no trickle of melted water. It was impossible, but there it was.
A desolate tundra lay beyond the wall, a frozen landscape that stretched into a mountain range. Rising from the mountains into the frozen sky was a huge tower made of ice. None of it made any sense, but this was obviously a doorway into another world.
Mephistar
“Doesn’t Bili have to find an ice-witch?” Morad asked thoughtfully.
“I do,” Bili nodded. “Let’s go.”
“Wait,” Madam Portenica said. She was searching her memories from the Candlekeep library, and suddenly it came to her. A plane of hell named Carnia, with a fabled ice tower that was home to one of the most powerful devils of all creation: Mephistopheles.
The cold of the ice sent a shiver down her spine as Madam Portencia remembered this. When she passed the revelation on there was a moment of gloomy silence. Mephistopheles was a creature of legend, even the Barbarians seemed unsettled by the idea of having to challenge such a fiend.
“What do we know of this ‘Mephistopheles’?” Torgrun asked.
“He’s the prince of devils,” Morad recalled. “And Mephistar is the name of that tower.”
“He’s more like the king,” Spider noted.
“Is there a reason we would turn away from the devils themselves to face their king, at this stage?” Torgrun asked.
“Well. We’re only supposed to look into the mirror. We don’t need to step through the looking glass, surely?” Madam Potencia ventured.
“It could be we go through, and then we face Mephistopheles,” Morad suggested. “We have to go through to find a way forward.”
“Shall we go look in the mirror, before we consider crossing over?” Togrun proposed.
Morad nodded. “I don’t want offend anyone, but maybe I should go look. I know who I am, and some of you people… you been eating people, wielding evil weapons, friends with spiders from Hell. Maybe not so good in the mirror?”
“Are you saying it may not be well attuned to anyone with any… issues?” Madam Portencia asked.
“I think it may reflect who you are,” Morad said, eyes down.
“I’m pure,” Bili vouched.
Torgrun, also sure of himself in the face of Morad’s moralising, turned and strode toward the mirror. Madam Portencia hooked his belt to stop him. “He’s got a good point. We don’t want any blow-back - let Morad go.”
Morad looked sadly at Torgrun, feeling deeply sorry, knowing what it would mean to be thus accused. “He is the Redeemer,” he suggested, wavering.
Torgrun turned and stared at Madam Portencia. “I am prepared,” he said firmly, “I am willing to face it.” Torgrun beckoned to Morad: “Walk with me.
“But are you the right man for the job, Torgrun?” Madam Portencia asked.
“Someone needs to lead.”
“Well then let it be me,” Madam Portencia said, countermanding her earlier assertion. “And as leader, I say Morad goes.”
Morad nodded, respecting Madam Portencia’s authority, and obeying the order without question. He started up the path toward the mirror. Torgrun glared at Madam Portencia and followed Morad.
Bili followed suit. “I have nothing to fear,” he said, removing his clothes as he walked. His tribe would often face trials shed of any external skin, hiding nothing, offering their naked souls to the gods. He purified his thoughts, seeking to be as close to nature as possible.
“Bili! Just hold up,” Madam Portencia called.
“Why?”
“Because we might need your muscle.”
“You’ll need it in front of the mirror.”
“No I don’t think we do.”
Spider put his arm on Madam P’s back. “Just let him go,” he said quietly. “He doesn’t push very often - I think he thinks he might find his ice-witch here.”
Madam Portencia sighed. Spider lit a cigar, Mak pulled out his axe and rested it on his shoulder. Morad watched as Bili stripped, and understood the big Barbarian was acting on instincts, and respected that. He allowed Bili to lead alongside Togrun, who wasn’t to be dissuaded, whilst Morad himself followed some yards behind.
The three warriors walked slowly toward the shimmering glass mirror.
About twenty feet away from the mirror, Bili could feel the cold radiating off the surface. Like a cool glass of water in Hell, he thought wryly. As he drew closer, he saw his reflection in the mirrored surface, walking towards him. He looked closer, and was horrified at what he saw. A soulless haggard version of himself stared back, encrusted with rime, frozen and sallow faced.
Bili was overwhelmed by a horrific realisation that what he saw was the real Bili. The reflection was reality, and he was forever damned. His fear of the ice-queen reared up, the knowledge that she now owned his soul. With a cry of horror he keeled over and collapsed on the parched ground of Avenrus.
Torgrun had seen his own grim reflection, abandoned by Torm, ruined, a cold and despairing creature of Hell. He too collapsed under the psychic assault, writhing on the ground.
Morad sprinted forward, keeping his eyes off the mirror, and locked his arms under Torgrun, dragging him away.
“Mak! Get Bili! And don’t look in the ice, look at your feet!” Spider yelled.
Mak scoffed as he dropped his axe and ran forward. Looking into the mirror was definitely not happening, and he didn’t need Spider to tell him. He recognised in Bili the same thing that had happened to him on the bike - total loss of control.
Spider and Madam Portencia watched from their vantage point, and as they did they saw movement in the ice-wall. A large humanoid figure was flying down from the icy skies beyond, wings spread. “Incoming!” Spider called.
“Look at me and run!” Madam Portencia urged. Mak and Morad slung their unconscious companions over their shoulders and hustled downhill. Mak dropped Bili and look up to the skies, trying to see if what they saw was a reflection of something here in Avernus, or something in the ice-world of Carnia. There was nothing above, and Madam Portencia’s face told the story as she stared back at the figure that approached the mirror.
A massive, muscled, winged Devil with ice-cold blue skin landed on the far side of the mirror, not crossing the threshold. Its face was locked in a frozen scream as it folded its wings behind it and settled into a crouch on the icy ground beyond. In one hand it held what looked like a kettle - or maybe a tea pot Madam Portencia mused - in one hand, steam rising from what must be hot water within. It stared out at the party.
“That’s not your boss man, is it?” Spider whispered to Samael.
“Nope”.
“Do you know who it is or do you now want to talk about that either?”
“I don’t know. You would know if it was Mephis- argh, shut up Samael! Stop speaking!!”
“I know who you’re talking about,” Spider assured.
“I don’t want to talk about it!”
“Ok, fine!” Spider blurted out. “That’s not the boss man,” he told everyone else.
“I should probably go and speak to him,” Madam Portencia said unenthusiastically. “Mak, Morad - stay behind, and keep your wits about you. Spider - let’s go.”
The devil perched unmoving as Spider and Madam Portencia approached, face frozen in a scream that echoed Bili’s skin-mask. Both studiously ignored their reflections, concentrating on the devil instead. Spider saw Mak starting to react to his hulking reflection. “Mak! Eyes on him!” Spider called quickly. Mak hesitated, tempted, but managed to resist the urge to see himself.
Morad hovered behind, eyes down. He mad a decision, started praying, and locked eyes with himself in the mirror. He saw a version of himself that shook him to the core - one where he had let himself go, dishevelled, armour and weapons rusting away, long bedraggled hair - and beard! the horror - crusted in rime. His mind was overwhelmed despite his prayers - that’s not me, it can’t be me… it’s me - and he crashed to the ground. Mak heard the thump, turning to help, but Torgrun waved him away and approached to help Morad.
Madam Portencia stepped forward, clearing her throat. “Hello.”
The devil didn’t move.
Madam Portencia decided to cut to the chase, bypassing any protocol. “What’s it going to take to get us what we need? I can only assume that you are already aware of the reason that we are here, being such a noble individual. And more or less omnipotent, I assume. So please - state your price.”
The creature lifted the kettle above its head, and slowly poured the boiling water over its frozen face. The scream thawed into a devilish face, and smiled. “Yes. We know why you are here. We know what you wish. We know what you seek. There is a price. Are you willing to pay it?”
“I’d like to hear it first,” Madam Portencia grimiced.
“We only ask one simple thing. Do this simple thing, and we will grant what you wish - the key.”
“What is the one thing?”
“We wish you to retrieve ten adamantine rods.”
“From?” Madam Portencia asked warily - this sounded suspiciously easy.
“You shall have to find them. They were forged by Bel.”
Spider groaned involuntarily.
Torgrun stepped forward. “You send us to Bel’s forge?”
“We don’t send you anywhere. We merely request you retrieve the rods.”
“Would they be in the forge?” Madam Portencia asked.
“We do not think so.”
Spider pulled Madam P down and whispered. “What’s the key for?”
Madam Portencia straightened up. This was a good question. “Sure we seek the key,” she announced to the devil, “But please remind us again, for what reason do we seek the key?”
“The key will open the path to what you seek. Without it, you will never find it.”
“Let us speak plainly: the Sword?”
“Let us not speak of such things.”
“Difficult to make a deal with the devil when the devil will not be explicit about the terms of the deal,” Madam Portencia countered.
“How can we trust you?” Torgrun asked.
The devil poured another batch of water over its face and turned to Torgrun. “We will sign a contract. Thus we will be bound. Thus we can be trusted. That is how things work, here.”
“Will the contract mention the sword?” Madam Portencia pressed.
“We will not speak of that.”
“Can you tell us why the rods were forged?”
“We cannot.”
“Every piece of information you give us will only aid us in completing the quest that you put before us.”
“Only that Bel forged them. And only that we want them.”
“I do not care why you want them, frankly. But any information about where they might be, and what they were made for, will be obviously helpful in us retrieving them.”
“We do not wish to meddle in affairs on Avernus. There is one there who can guide you.”
“Go on,” Madam Portencia encouraged.
“One that Bel had trapped. A mage that is trapped at an obelisk.”
“A witch?” Bili piped up.
“A mage.”
“Fine,” Madam Portencia concluded. “So we bring you, did you say, two-”
The devil smiled, interrupting. “Ten, little madam, ten.”
“Ten adamantine bars.”
“Rods!” Spider and Torgrun hissed in unison.
“What’s the difference between a rod and a bar?!” Madam P hissed in return, highly stressed. “I don’t trade a lot of metal stock!”
“Ask it to see the contract,” Spider whispered.
Madam Portencia recomposed herself and addressed the devil. “I’d like to get my people to read the contract, please.”
“My name is Rigorath,” the devil grinned, refreshing the boiling water over its face. You will be making a contract with me. That contract will deliver what you wish, and should you deliver what we wish, it shall be fulfilled.”
“And the paperwork?”
The devil stilled. “One moment.” It seemed to freeze in place. Madam Portencia looked around, but no-one had any idea.
Suddenly the water was poured again. “I have been authorised to offer you more. Should you deliver these rods, my master, as a thank you, for recent business you have transacted, will also grant you great wisdom, or intelligence. You may choose. The removal of…one…recently has pleased my master.”
“Are we talking about that pig guy?” Madam Portencia ventured.
“He’s talking about Haruman,” Spider whispered again, “But don’t say the name out lou-”
“Ohh, Haruman!” Madam Portencia exclaimed.
Spider groaned, but Rigorath dipped his head on hearing Haruman’s name - perhaps it was only a coincidence?
“Do you find these terms acceptable?”
“In principle. But you haven’t shown us the contract yet.”
Rigorath raised his arm and started to trace his finger along the surface of the ice on his side. On the other, infernal script appeared embossed on the ice, which those that could read it quickly confirmed was the requested contract.
Spider studied the terms, paying careful attention that there was no hidden clause that would mean Rigorath was owed everyone’s immortal souls. He was surprised to find the contract was written in a straightforward fashion, with no catches that he could find.
“I can’t see anything in it,” Spider said, shrugging. “Sam - this seems like a surprisingly clean deal?”
“I don’t want to talk about it! Sam replied, through gritted fangs.
“About this? It’s just-”
“Yes! It is! If I had written this it would be a lot more complicated! There would be traps, there would be clauses… but those guys? Those guys…arrrgghh!!” Samael jumped off Spider and stood angrily - or as angrily as a spider can stand - about five feet away. Spider had never seen Sam so upset.
“My feeling is the task is so hard there’s no need for any trickery,” Mak mused, displaying a wisdom normally hidden behind his impressive physique.
“Of course there’s no guarantee,” Spider continued, “But it looks pretty legit to me, Madam P.”
Madam Portencia turned back to Rigorath. “So how do we sign it?”
“Chisel off the words, melt them, and drink it.”
Morad shook his head. Wasn’t going to happen. Torgrun narrowed his eyes. He was aware of where he was, and had long since reconciled that there was a greater good. But drinking a contract with a devil? It felt a step too far.
Spider noticed Torgrun’s struggle. “You don’t need to drink it, Torgrun.”
“I’m going to,” Madam Portencia offered. “Just chisel me some ice for my drink.”
“Those that do not drink do not benefit from our additional terms,” Rigorath interjected. “As the contract makes plain.”
“So once this comes off, we drink it, deals done, right?”
“That is correct. I must witness the completion of the deal.”
“Right,” Spider nodded, proceeding to pull a impossibly large cooking pot out of his small pouch. Torgrun pulled out his smith tools and chiselled the ice into the pot, which was quickly magically warmed and melted. He dipped a ladle in, and passed it to Madam Portencia.
“Refreshing,” she said, choking it down. Spider followed suit, and it was true. The nicest thing he’d tasted in a long time. Bili and Mak took their sips - it tasted like home, the cold mountain water of home. Sipping on the first thaw of spring.
Torgrun hesitated.
“Spider - we’re done,” Madam Portencia said, stepping in front of Togrun.
“If you are satisfied with me not,” Torgrun nodded.
“We’re done,” Madam Portencia looked back to Rigorath again.
“The deal is made. Return when you have the rods, and you will have your wish.”
“I very much doubt it,” Madam Portencia said glumly.
Rigorath turned and flew back toward the tower of Mephistar, while Morad stood, arms folded, concerned at what he had seen.
“So obviously Sam will be super keen if we attract the ire of Bel,” Madam Portencia observed as everyone trudged back down to the Holy Terror II, thinking about the rods and the mage Bel had trapped.
“He doesn’t want to talk about it,” Spider said.
“So I have understood,” Madam Portencia answered angrily, “As the only thing that could give us and fucking ounce of insight into what is going on here, he has been remarkably reticent to help!”
“Look. If we’re talking cards on the table,” Spider explained, “Imagine if the Queen of all Carnies in the world-”
“That’s me.”
Spider rolled his eyes. “Well say you had other ones, who were more Queen that you were,” Spider said, confusedly, “And she’s paying attention to what you’re doing most of the time, and has probably noted the company you’re keeping, and they’re not that happy.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I’m just telling you that’s why Sam doesn’t want to talk about it.”
“Spider,” Torgrun asked directly, “Do you have some direct line to some evil being you’re not telling us about?”
“Doesn’t everybody?” Madam Portencia quipped.
“No. Sam knows about this place, Torgrun, you know that.”
“Yes but who’s watching us through him?”
“No one is watching us. The boss watches everyone all the time!”
“Who’s boss?” Madam Portencia and Torgrun asked.
“Ohh, I’m not saying his name, it’s bad luck!” Spider said, frustrated. “Don’t say it! The boss of all hell, might sound a little bit like the mirror? Might live through there? He watches everything all the time! Nothing escapes his notice. Nothing.”
“There’s another,” Samael whispered.
“What? Who’s the other one?”
“I wasn’t going to mention that one, I’m definitely not mentioning the other!”
Torgrun and Madam Portencia looked at each other, Spider having suddenly stopped his oratory. As they waited, Samael crawled furiously forward and reared up in front of Madam Portencia.
“Bel never does anything for no reason. There is a reason that mage is trapped. There is a reason he made those rods. And he will be pissed if you meddle with his REASONS!!”
Samael scuttled back into Spider’s shelter. “That’s as much as I’m saying, she can stop now!”
Spider pulled out the map, and quickly found the alleged Obelisk on the Western border, just below the path of the Styx. Madam Portencia insisted on a cup of tea before heading on. “I’ve just made a deal with a devil, and despite the unexpectedly refreshing taste, I’d like a cup of tea.” Spider did his best, but it tasted more like a cup of grainy stale coffee than tea.
Torgrun walked over to Morad and spoke quietly to him. “We’ve got to watch these people,” he started, “I’m aware that although I was prepared to join them, by not joining them I have remained righteous, and they are now in danger of losing their souls.”
“That is true,” Morad acknowledged. “They have always done good, so far. They did that to protect you and me.”
“Absolutely - and I would have done the same. But not it stands with us, who remain pure, to keep an eye on them.”
“Ok. We just keep an eye out. But they do have coffee…”
Madam Portencia glanced over and the two holy men, indicating them with her cup. “Those two - they’re not really like us anymore. You have to remember that - it’s us vs them. The drinkers and the non-drinkers.”
“I’m not worried,” Spider smirked, “The court’s stacked in our favour.”
Torgun studied the rent in the side of the engine of Mak’s bike. Using his engineering skills, and the help of a spell of mending, he managed to smooth the
Morad cranked the engine in the Holy Terror II. It coughed a few times, stuttered, and started, but it was clearly struggling to burn. Morad flushed, realising the implication - more souls were needed. He shuttered this from his mind, blanking it out, rolling down the hill as if all was fine.
Spider looked at Morad with sympathy. He slipped behind and dropped a fresh coin into the slot. Morad knew exactly what was happening, but kept his eyes dead forward.
“Morad - give it another kick in the guts, it’ll probably start ok this time,” Spider suggested innocently.
Morad swallowed, and when he revved the screams were deafening. “It does seem better,” Morad said as a male voice howled in fresh agony.
“I think I know that guy,” Madam Portencia pondered. “I think he used to work in the circus? I didn’t mind him, but apparently there was a whole children in a cage thing…”
Morad gritted his teeth and headed West, Mak tracking his path.
It was a long journey West, twelve hours of travel at top speed. After half of that everyone was parched and exhausted, the pressure of the heat and brutal landscape beating down hard, and by the end of the road the need to rest was overwhelming - not just desired, but required.
In the distance a dark tower loomed on the horizon, its black spire rising hundreds of feet, its ramparts bristling with charred skulls mounted on iron spikes. The tower’s apex split into five narrower spires that jabbed at the sky like clawed fingers. Spider pulled out the map, figuring this was Arkhan’s Tower, if the map were true. Which meant the Obelisk lay nearby, to the South.
Bili looked into the sky above the tower, and was chilled to the bone to see a great white dragon stained with ash and soot circling above the tower’s peak. “Got to go, go, let’s go,” he yelled to Mak.
Morad slowed the Holy Terror and headed South toward the Styx. Another crossing was needed, and he didn’t fancy another leap of faith, so he was pleasantly surprised to see that the Styx had diverted itself below and natural rock bridge that had formed, unmapped but gratefully accepted. Madam Portencia poked Morad and indicated he should cross, much to Morad’s chagrin - he didn’t need telling.
The bridge was one hundred feet across, and Morad and Mak crossed it with relief, leaving the dark tower - and it’s dragon - behind.
On the other side a large plateau rose into the sky above, matching the map’s direction. The vehicles were sheltered below the overhang as Madam Portencia wearily summoned her tent. Everyone climbed in and collapsed.
Acid rain fell from the sky when ‘morning’ dawned, so Spider made more ‘tea’ and ‘coffee’ and waited out the storm. Inspecting the Holy Terror afterwards revealed many pockmarks in the metal, but no lasting damage.
Refreshed but impatient, everyone climbed back aboard their vehicles. To get to the Obelisk, the Pit of Shummrath had to be traversed. A deep rift was slashed across the surface of Avernus for as far as the eye could see. The canyon was over a mile deep and filled with a lake of green slime that undulated as though - breathing? It was breathing??
“Let’s keep a good margin from that, Morad,” Madam Portencia suggested.
As the vehicles skirted the edge of the pit, the map had something to say: “Here you find a sticky situation. Poor Shummrath isn’t the fiend it used to be.”
“Someone melted that motherfucker down,” Madam Portencia mused. Everyone could feel a vast pressing psychic presence, something waiting and writhing below. “Just as quickly as you can now Morad,” Madam Portencia said, poking him again with her stick.
Morad roared along the bank to the foot of a giant staircase rising up the escarpment. Mak considered that the bike could make it, but decided safety first. Both vehicles were parked with a quick escape in mind.
“As quietly as you can - we don’t want to upset that thing down there,” Madam Portencia warned.
It was quite a climb to get up the steps, a good hour of steep, hard, leg-burning work. At the crest of the hill beyond stood a thirty-foot-tall obelisk ringed by seven smaller standing stones.
A tall man wearing with wild matted hair and tattered robes strode between the standing stones, gesticulating wildly and screaming curses into the wind. He seemed to be talking to the stones, then the sky, running back and forth between the stones, even hugging the central obelisk at one point as if seeking salvation.
Spider hauled out the mumbling map from his bag.
“An unknown man with an unknown purpose. Assist him at your peril lest he drags you into madness.”
A quick discussion ensued about how to approach the madman.
“We’ve been told to find him and get information, not to just smear him into the ground,” Torgrun suggested.
“Oh,” Bili said disappointed, while Madam Portencia withdrew her half-cast spell.
“Obviously we are stepping into a dangerous situation, however I don’t believe we’re looking to sneak up and scare him,” Torgrun continued. “We’re a strange an motley crew down here. We do produce…interest, in the thing and people that we meet. This guy is clearly an interesting character - why don’t we go with the interesting angle? Just waltz up and be interesting for him.”
“You never know, right?” Mak agreed, “And we can always revert to type later!”
“Bear in mind that we were told by the big frozen guy that this guy was imprisoned here by Bel,” Spider chimed in. “And he can also help us find the rods - or at least some of them. Finding the rods might be a way to get this guy out too - so he’s got an vested interest in helping. And if finding the rods will give Bel the shits, then maybe our friend here will come to the party.”
“The enemy of my enemy,” Torgrun nodded.
The plan agreed, everyone walked cautiously toward the stone circle. As soon as the mage noticed this he started waving his arm, beckoning everyone over and jumping with excitement. He ran to the boundary marked by the smaller standing-stones and called out.
“Hello! Hello! Oh I have been waiting for you for so long! Please - help me, come inside and help me! Can you help me?” he cried, in a bizarre mixture of Common and Infernal.
Spider could see no barrier, so he tossed a handful of dirt over the threshold, watching it drop harmlessly inside the stone circle.
“Yes, yes, you can come inside,” the madman grinned, “It’s perfectly safe!”
“Hello friend,” Torgrun smiled warmly.
“Hello! Are you my friend?”
“If we come in, we won’t be able to leave.”
“You won’t be able to leave? Oh, no, you will be able to leave. I’m confident of that. You will - should - be able to leave.”
“Can you leave?” Madam Portencia asked, suspicious.
“Can I leave? Well. Not to put to fine a point on it -” the mage ran between two stones tracing the glowing runes then returned “- no.” He smiled sadly.
“Old man,” Morad called, “What does that say on pillar?”
“It’s ancient writing,” he said as if divulging a secret. “Ancient!”
“But do you know?”
“What?”
“What it say!”
“What what say?”
Morad growled, pointing to the obelisk.
“The ancient writing? I don’t know,” the old man said sadly.
Togrun started to understand that logic wasn’t going to work here. He tried a different tactic, and bowed down before the mage. “Good friend, I am Torgrun the Redeemer. To whom do we address our greetings?”
The madman was taken aback by the formality, but he curtsied in return, gathering his robe. “I am Ubbalux - and did I mention I need help? If you could just step inside?”
“Why should we help you, Ubbalux?”
“Well. I… I could give you something?”
“And who has imprisoned you here? Such a mighty being as yourself.”
Ubbalux slumped, staring at the ground. Then he looked up with a face full of anger: “Bel!”
“How long ago?” Madam Portencia asked gently.
“I’m not sure how long ago.”
“This is convenient,” Torgrun continued, “For we are also not friends of Bel. We are looking for something of his-”
“Oh! I am friend of Bel! A good friend of Bel!” the mage interrupted quickly, looking up and the sky and over his shoulder. “Make not mistake - Bel and me, good friends. He put me hear for a reason. To test me. Yes. Good friends.”
“Have you failed the test?” Torgrun asked.
“So far. Yes.”
“What was the test?” Madam Portencia said quietly.
“Well to get out.”
“If you got out, would that be what Bel wants?” Torgun said.
“Hm, well - he put me here to test me, so yes. Otherwise he would have just killed me, surely?”
“How long ago he put you here?” Morad tried again.
“I actually can’t remember. I’ve tried to track it, but I cannot. It feels like a long time, but it might have been yesterday.”
“This is a mighty prison he has put you in,” Torgrun said, “You must be a powerful man.”
“Yes. A powerful mage. Not quite powerful enough, it seems.”
“If we let you out, how can we protect ourselves from your power?”
Ubbalux seemed almost affronted at this question. “I will be in your debt! I would never hurt those that have helped me.”
“What will it take to get you out?” Madam Portencia asked firmly.
“I’m not exactly sure. But I have a theory!” He ran between the smaller stones, tracing the arcane writing. “These stones are the key. Now - I have been studying them, for quite some time.” The mage leaned in and continued conspiratorially. “You’re a spellcaster aren’t you. I believe each of these stones represents a school of magic!” he cried triumphantly. “What do you say about that!”
Madam Portencia cast her mind back to the early days her unusual education, dredging back a memory of there being eight schools of magic. “Of course, eight. So that would mean the stone in the middle is one of the schools.”
“Yes! Enchantment! I think this obelisk represents…power. Power infinite! Power across the cosmos! I believe if we can tap into this power, arcane mages everywhere - not just me! - will be empowered!”
“That’s not good,” Bili mumbled.
“So all we need to do is release the power!” He counted the gathered party. “One, two, threefourfivesix…seven!? Seven?! Argh! Never mind - that will do!”
“And what do we do?” Madam Portencia asked.
“I’m not sure, but I think - if we all touch them, and I draw the gathered energy to the obelisk, and then: BOOM!”
Madam Portencia looked blank.
“Ubbalux,” Torgrun started, “We haven’t discussed the terms of our agreement. We know what you need - but do you have any knowledge of what we need?”
“Well how would I know… I mean, yes! Yes I do!”
“Well then you will help us to find the adamantine rods?”
Ubbalux’s eyes widened on hearing this. “Rods? The rods?! I had forgotten about the rods! YES! Have you got them?”
“No.”
“What? Why are you hear if you haven’t got them?!”
“We were sent here, and you were said to be the holder of knowledge that could lead us to them. That knowledge would form part of our agreement,” Torgrun said encouragingly.
“Ahh, you want the rods. I see.”
“Ubbalux,” Torgrun whispered, “It may not please the one we will not talk about, but yes, we do.”
“Ah, shh, yes, Bel, I wanted the rods too, but Bel put me here instead. So - you should free me, and we should go and get the rods!”
“Well where are the rods?” Morad asked hopefully.
“Ah, little man, very clever - where are the rods? Exactly. Shall I tell you?”
“Yes,” a chorus of voices responded.
“I can’t. Let me out and I will tell you.”
“I have an idea,” Madam Portencia proposed. “As a show of good faith, why don’t you tell us where one of the rods is?”
“Well, one is - wait, hang-on. No no no. I wasn’t born yesterday - I am a mage. I’m not going to tell you where any of the rods are,” he said smugly, “Because if I tell you where any of the rods are, you will know where all of the rods are!”
“So they are all together are they?” Madam Portencia said.
“I never said that!” He turned to Torgrun, placing his hand over his heart. “I will not harm thee, should thee release me. There!”
Spider was tired of the nonsense, whispering to Madam Portenia. “When was the last time anyone came here with even a vague notion of getting a sniff of getting him out. We have all the bargaining chips here, we can find someone else to give us the rods.”
Madam Portencia nodded, more concerned about the ‘super obelisk’ theory than anything else. “He’s just talking crazy shite,” Spider added.
Ubbalux had his ear pressed against the imagined barrier. “What? What are you saying?”
“We are thinking of leaving you here,” Morad said simply.
“No! Please! No!”
“We don’t think anyone has ever tried to help you out,” Spider spat. “Bel is a big scary guy and why would anyone cross him to help you?”
“Not true! There has been at least one! A mage. It didn’t work - but there was only one of him!”
“I think the point is well made,” Madam Portencia decided. “You’re not going anywhere, so we can try other avenues in the meantime.”
“But I can give you the secret! I can tell you!”
“But you’re not,” Spider said. “You can take some chance of getting out, or you can go back to the big donut chance.”
“You tell us - and we will come back and free you,” Torgrun said, putting his hand on his heart. “In the name of Torm, we will be true to our word and return, should you give us the information.”
“And I will cut my leg off before I would not return having given word,” Morad added.
“You would cut your leg off?” Ubbalux looked confused. “Let me out. Please, let me out. You can have the rods!”
“Why did you want them?” Torgrun probed.
“They’re a lock, maybe? The unlock something?”
“You try to say they a key?” Morad pushed.
“A key, yes? To a lock, maybe?”
“No wonder no one talk to you in a thousand year, you very annoying,” Morad grunted.
“I just know Bel made them to lock, or unlock, something. Honestly - I am not sure,” Ubbalux concluded sadly. “Look I have told you all I know. Many things. No more tricks - I am being as truthful as I can with you, and you play games, it is unseemly. We have an agreement: free me, I will tell you where you can find your rods - your rods, I relinquish my claim! And I will not harm you. He will cut his leg off,” Ubbalux said pointing at Morad, “And I will not harm you. That is my word.”
Madam Portencia sighed. “I think we are overthinking this. Let’s just let him out. Plan A was just to squash him like a bug, and we can always go back to that.” She wandered off to the Northern Pillar and stood next to it. She looked closely at the runs and could see it represented the Necromancy school.
Torgrun looked surprised, but pleased a decision had suddenly been made. “You are in luck, Ubbalux.” He moved to the nearest stone. Everyone took up a position at one of the stones, directed by Madam Portencia who had quickly deciphered the school for each stone. Even Lulu took a spot at Evocation, meaning all the stones were catered for.
Ubbalux ran excitedly between each stone, making sure everything is in place. “I promise I will tell you everything! Everything! Could this be it?!” He ran over to Madam Portencia and beckoned her close. “We may need… more power. If that happens - you must help! Yes?”
Madam Portencia nodded warily.
Ubbalux ran to the obelisk and started chanting. Those that understood magic didn’t think he was saying anything sensible at all. He spun around, “Everyone touch them - now! And if anything happens, don’t let go!”
Everyone placed their hands on the standing-stones, and were somewhat surprised to feel an energy sworling inside, crackling and starting to surge. Ubbalux kept up his gibberish, wide eyed, and wrapped his arms around the obelisk.
The second he did, a huge bolt of lightning surged down from the sky and struck the huge stone, before arcing out to the other stones. Everyone clung on desperately. Ubbalux cried out in the centre of the maelstrom: “Feeedback! Moreeee power!!”
Madam Portencia heard her cue, and replied with a surge of power back along the electrical conduits. The obelisk in the centre exploded into thousands of tiny stones, engulfing Ubbalux in a cloud of rubble.
And from that rubble emerged not a mage, but an enormous slavering orangutan, with huge fists and brilliant orange fur.
Ubbalux
It laughed with joy and triumph, bounding over to Morad and slapping him down with one gigantic palm, then leapt over to Madam Portencia.
“YOU DID IT!” Ubbalux growled, peering down at Madam Portencia. “Shall I eat you now?!”
“That was not part of the deal,” Mak cried weakly.
“What deal?! I am free after all this time - I made no deal, I make no deals! But I won’t eat you, because I am free - and I feel like sparing you, little ones.”
It sat back and pointed to the South. “There is a wrecked flying fortress, one of the devil Zariel’s toys, far, far to the South. That is where you will find Bel’s rods. Take them - use them. Use them against Bel. For I take my revenge now!!” Ubbalux waved a hand as he bounded away down the hill and over the escarpment.
Togrun stared after the massive beast. “I think we got out of that with the skin of our teeth,” he said thankfully.
Madam Portencia groaned. “That was pretty bad guys. We were pretty cock-sure at the beginning there, and we weren’t really prepared.”
“That was some kind of demon that we just freed,” Spider nodded, “The fury of the Abyss in physical form. We were lucky - they don’t make deals and they certainly don’t keep their word. Anyway he told us about the fortress, so that’s better than having no idea.”
“I think we got came what we came for,” Torgrun said almost happily. “If that thing is an enemy of Bel, let them fight it out.”
“He could have given it a good crack at killin’ us before we nailed him, but you know,” Spider said.
“We’ve done worse in the past,” Mak agreed.
The map revealed that there was indeed something on the Southern boundary that could be what Ubbalux was referring to.
“That’s ok,” Spider said as he studied the map, “We’ve only got to traverse the bridge across the Pit of Shummrath, and then that giant demon thing, and then the big tower with the sun in the middle of it, and then the black pit of tentacles, and then the floaty black jellyfish of doom, and the plains of fire, and then we’ll be at the crashed fortress!”
Torgrun guffawed. “You sure we don’t also want to take a short detour to the big sword in the graveyard?” he said, pointing out the landmark on the map.
“Surely that’s what we’re actually here for,” Madam Portencia observed, not entirely jokingly.
Everyone climbed wearily back onto their transports and the drivers headed down the hill. It looked like at least a day of travel to get to the destination, assuming vague map accuracy. Morad pored over the map and determined a path that avoided most of the drama promised by the map. He didn’t like the look of any of it, but at least this route looked relatively clear.
“Funnily enough, What I would say,” Spider suggested, “Is that our man Jandar Sunstar did mention Red Ruth down at the Bone Brambles - and it’s kind of on the way.”
“And is that like a good place?” Morad queried.
“Well no I’m sure it’s completely horrendous and shit, Morad.”
“But if we went there and mentioned we had released Sunstar from his pain, we might get a hearing,” Torgrun mulled.
“Ok, we will head that way,” Morad nodded, and the convoy headed out.
When crossing the bridge over the Pit of Shummrath, the unearthly presence from the breathing acrid pit returned strongly, the maps words ringing out again: “Here you find a sticky situation. Poor Shummrath isn’t the fiend it used to be.”
Thoughts started pounding into everyone’s heads, Morad started chanting to Al’Akbar to keep his mind clear. Those that understood infernal started to make out snatches of words amongst the madness. “Bel, Bel, Bel, demands, deference”, repeated in pain and anguish, then it changed tone into something like anger: “Bel will pay, revenge, my revenge”.
“Do you hear that, Torgrun?” Spider yelled.
“Sounds like he’s on a path for revenge.”
“Sam - do you know who it is?”
“Yes.”
“Who? Don’t say Shummarth.”
“Shummrath.”
Spider grimaced, then pushed his thoughts out. “Shummrath, buddy?”
The voice suddenly silenced. Torgrun glanced at Spider, questioning.
“Who. Who are you. Bel. Bel must pay. Deference, must show deference”
Torgrun looked at Spider again. “Bel must pay - makes sense!”
“Shummrath, what’d you do to get yourself in this pickle here?” Spider said aloud this time. The Holy Terror II lurched as Morad heard this - what on earth was Spider playing at?!
“Trapped. Punished. Stuck. Deference. More deference” the atonal voice intoned.
“Well I can tell that - it looks like you’ve been turned into a giant slime lake! What can you do to help us get revenge for you?”
“Revenge, revenge, revenge”
“We are on a mission to release as many enemies of Bel as possible,” Torgrun agreed.
“Remake…Shummrath…remake Shummrath”
It felt like the voice was filling everyone’s head, filling with pressure and an overwhelming sense of doom, and some felt their heads were burning, unable to block the voice, almost blacking out. Bili had to reach around and grab the steering from Mak who was again reeling in pain. Morad’s prayers kept him free of the psychic backlash, and as soon as he saw a clear path ahead he gunned the Holy Terror II forward at full speed. The pain slowly subsided as the Pit was left behind, though a dark headache remained.
The Bone Brambles lay ahead.
Ubbalux’s Obelisk
Session played: 27 April, 4 & 11 May 2021