Raising Hell

A convoy of heavily armoured infernal vehicles rumbled over the cracked surface of Hell, bristling with weaponry and swarming with crew. Two golden Demon Grinders glinted in the fierce red light, Tormentors bounced alongside with a squadron of Devil’s Rides. It was an impressive sight.

Princeps Kovik led the way on her Devil’s Ride, her well disciplined troops in stark contrast to the rambunctious hobgoblins hollering war cries from atop Bitter Breath’s Tormentor. Morad had been distraught to see the vehicle had been equipped with an Infernal Screamer, the pinned souls wailing in abject horror as they were sucked dry to power the Tormentor. But the time for protest was over. Only two goals remained: saving Elturel, and saving Zariel.

Albert sat next to Feonor, whose undead crew had been regenerated and blankly followed her commands. He glanced sideways at the Archmage, impressed with her calm in the face of the coming storm. She almost seemed engaged, he marvelled. She glanced over at the Holy Terror II running beside her Golden Doom. “Original,” she commented. Albert felt slightly embarrassed. In hindsight it was a fairly tacky move to try and out-bling her. “We do look good though, don’t we,” she added, instantly curing Albert’s discomfort.

Elturel hung in the sky, suspended above - but far too near to - the burbling Styx. Vast explosions of flame and acid covered the battlefield below, and as the convoy drew closer the cacophony of endless battle echoed across the rocky landscape.

Kovik slowed to a stop as the vehicles crested the final rise above the field of combat. A flood of demons flowed in a continuous stream out of the Styx, the portal between Avernus and the Abyss. In the far distance Crokek’toeck spewed forth endless Dretches, Manes and worse. Swarms of Stirges and Chasme fed on the fallen. A Pit Fiend fought an enormous demon wielding flaming whips, and twenty-foot tall hunched minotaur with red fur.

The field of battle, devil legions clashing with hordes of demons spewing from Crokek'toeck's maw — The Blood War

“That’s Amon, on of Zariel’s generals who commands the armies,” Olanthius grunted. “Fighting a Balor and Goristo by the looks. A fair fight.”

Flying fortresses loom overhead, shooting bolts of flame and acid onto the battlefield. A huge lump of green-glowing rock launched from amongst the demonic forces, crushing & scattering devils and demons alike.

The devils forces were far more ordered, disciplined, fighting in formation against the demon swarm, which showed no semblance of strategy beyond swift slaying and reckless attack. The fighting was thickest below Elturel where all semblance of order broke down - everything turned to chaos.

Devils and Demons clash in a fiery hellscape — The Blood War converges under Hellturel

Spider trained the eyeglass on the demon line wading up from the Styx. It looked possible to take advantage of Princeps plan to plough through the demons toward Elturel, though it was obvious it wouldn’t be possible to get all the way without encountering the scrum of demons and devils below the city.

Spider tried to identify the shortest path through the demons, finding a route he was happy with that cut sideways through the demons without having to go all the way to the Styx. He explained the route to Morad, and Morad agreed it would likely work.

“But is there an alternative where we flank through the devils instead,” Morad questioned. “We get behind the front of devils pushing in, using them as the arrow point to burst out through into the demons. A pincer.”

“Let’s use the Eighth Remnant as escort,” Albert added.

Princeps nodded slowly. “Zariel’s forces won’t attack us, they’ll assume we fight for them. Your glow might attract some attention, angel, but we’ll be travelling too fast for questions.”

“It sounds like it would be less work. We’ll get to the demons eventually, but wasting less energy and with less chance of being overwhelmed,” Morad said.

“And the Eighth Remnant drive us through the demon horde,” Torgrun said. He liked the shape of this plan. Going through the devils, with devils, will cut a swathe through without us hurting or fighting. Once we hit the demons, we will have to fight for our lives on all side," Torgrun said.

“Plus we’ll have devils behinds us - no chance of an attack from our blind side,” Morad said.

Princeps agreed, standing tall as she surveyed the field. “There are no Demon Lords - yet. But there will be,” she said with confidence.

“Where are you forces?” Torgrun asked, worried.

“They fight. But they will rally to me when we need them.” Torgrun had no choice but to trust - the contract making him feel more secure than he perhaps should.

Kovik led the convoy ahead through the Devil legions. As the final approach loomed, armour straps were tightened, weapons loosened for each reach, the catapults and bile spewers checked for clearance. Spider gave the nod and Princeps Kovik ploughed ahead.

As predicted, the devils paid little mind to the charging vehicles, assuming they were allies. Koviks led fast and true devils jumping out of the path of the roaring vehicles. A few smaller vehicles joined the convoy, figure-eight flags flying behind.

Half-way down the slope, Princeps suddenly slowed and pointed into the near distance. Olanthius climbed to his feet, fully alert. Less than a mile away a figure stood in an open clearing, wreathed in flame, striking down demons with a glowing warhammer and tireless fury. “There she is,” Olanthius rasped.

“Zariel,” Princeps said simply, “Standing exactly where she always done - where the fighting is fiercest.”

“And that’s Kostchtchie’s hammer,” Spider whispered.

Nothing could stand in Zariel’s path, but that didn’t stop the demons from trying. Large or small, she crushed them, but stil they came.

Mak noticed movement in the scrum below Elturel and was shocked to see four Frost giants were methodically working their way toward Zariel, cutting through devils and demons with equal ferocity. “Is that weird, Frost Giants in Hell?” Morad asked. “That is weird,” Spider confirmed.

As if in answer to the question, a huge hunched figure of bonded muscle and sinew bounded free of the demonic melee on the ground, leaping high in the air and landing with a roaring crash in the midst of the Giants. “Kostchtchie!” Princeps cried, “There is our target!”

It was obvious the Demon Lord was heading for Zariel, and for his hammer Matalotok. “The thing about Kostchtchie is I don’t think we should kill him until he has weakened Zariel,” Albert observed. Princeps merely grunted and swung the vehicles around to an intercept course. “My bannermen will take care of the giants,” she yelled, “The Demon Lord is ours. Go, go go!”

Bitter Breath’s crew roared their support, and Morad had no choice but to follow. Zariel and Kostchtchie lay a mile ahead, and there was no path to them but through the Blood War chaos. The convoy was quickly separated as the path ahead became thick with fiendish combatants.

As the Holy Terror II hit the line, renting devils and demons aside, Spider spied a flock of Vrocks dropping to attack from overhead. He tightened his seatbelt and swung the catapult around, lining them up and letting fly. The bolt ripped through the Vrocks, tearing wings and flesh, dropping several into pools of ichor on the ground and causing the rest to scatter.

Morad muttered a quick prayer, then took the opportunity to speed into the gap caused by the felled Vrocks. He saw an opportunity to crush a cluster of demon forces, hauling on the steering to drift the rear end of the vehicle into the fiends. Unfortunately he failed to notice the huge boulder that lay in the path of the swinging Demon Grinder, which hit it at full speed. The Holy Terror II teetered on two wheels and everyone aboard found themselves clinging on for dear life, Spider swearing blue murder. Mak was particularly vulnerable, being on the high side as the vehicle jolted. He flung his arms around the pole he stood by, but it was ripped out of his grasp by the momentum. At the last second he managed to wrap his legs around the pole and swing back into position, breathing hard.

Morad fought to bring the Holy Terror II back under control, adrenaline surging, rocking it back onto all four feet, mouthing an apology to Mak as he did.

Feonor was running parallel to Morad and ordered her ghouls to drop the Demon Grinder’s chomper, looking to clear a path ahead. But as the chomper started working it suddenly jammed as a particularly well armoured devil got stuck in its gears. The Golden Doom jolted and swerved as the ghouls swarmed over the intake trying to clear it.

Albert did his best to help, trying to understand what needed clearing to get the gears grinding again. He spied the weapon of the devil was wedged in the gears, but he couldn’t get to it. He tried mind-bulleting a ghoul, but there was nothing there to send to. He gesticulated wildy and Feonor saw what he was pointing at, and she quickly directed the nearest ghoul to get to work.

A hobgoblin on Bitter Breath’s vehicle ripped a soul from the Screamer and fed it into the turbo valve, causing the Tormentor to go screaming down the hill at a ludicrous speed, completely out of control. One of the Devil’s Rides was caught in the maniacal charge, veering off course and exploding as it crashed into a massive boulder.

Mak had recovered his equilibrium, and refocused his attention on Zariel, who now lay less than half a mile ahead. He grinned as a plan popped into his head. He reached over his back and grasped the sword, then drew it forth and held it triumphantly aloft, a beacon for Zariel’s attention.

But the sword didn’t glow. In fact it seemed to shrink in his hand, a plain longsword signifying nothing. A wave of doubt flooded through Mak again. What had he done wrong? What did this mean? He dropped the sword to his side, confused.

Bili saw a different way to attract the Archduke’s attention. He closed his eyes and summoned the clouds, then painted a message in Infernal high above in the scorching Avernian sky.

Pusillanimous Zariel, Elturel will be saved by we Hellturel heroes!

Bili couldn’t tell if Zariel had noticed or not, but all the nearby devils and demons swung their heads to read the words painted in the sky - something never seen in Avernus before. The path ahead cleared as the fiends were distracted for Morad who had the Holy Terror II back under control. He roared ahead.

Princeps made no mistake with her Grinder, which slaughtered everything in its path with purposeful intent. Her ‘no-devils’ policy appeared to be abandoned in her singled-minded pursuit of Kostchtchie. Torgun followed Kovik’s lead, winding up his chomper to make Morad’s job that much easier.

Morad could see Zariel’s clearance ahead and headed for it. Only a small cluster of fiends lay ahead. Olanthius stood and held his sword strongly to his side, intending to slice through them as the vehicle passed. Alas, as usual, he was slightly too ponderous with his action, and he was dragged quickly backwards by the weight of the demons and speed of the vehicle. He managed to pull his sword free before he was flung off. His face remained impassive.

The vehicles were free of the battle and sprinted ahead into the clearing.

Zariel fought a quarter-mile away, standing atop a mound of slain demons. Nothing survived her fury. Her two lieutenants fought by her side, though she didn’t need their help. Zariel looked untouchable - the most beautiful and most horrifying warrior anyone had ever seen.

On the other side of the clearing, Kostchtchie and his giants had broken through the containment lines at the same time and were charging toward Zariel. Princeps pointed her bike toward the demon and shot forward. Bitter Breath, on the other hand, changed his course to head directly toward Zariel.

“We will have to fight one side, then the other!” Torgrun yelled, not relishing the task ahead.

“I’m not sure that’s the wisest course of action,” Albert called back.

“Princeps is far and away our strongest ally, but we want Kostchtchie to get to Zariel first. We can’t take them both!”

Morad understood Torgrun’s intent - hold off on Kostchtchie as long as possible in order to weaken both the demon and Zariel - if that was even possible. He turned the vehicle to bring it around behind the charging Demon Lord. As he drove he had to avoid huge broken chains that lay scattered on the ground, fallen, but not from Elturel which was still bound to the eight chains hauling it down. A city graveyard, Morad speculated, realising with horror that Elturel was not the first city to fall.

“And which way should we head?” Feonor asked Albert.

“Follow Morad, as usual.”

“Are you sure that’s a good plan?” Feonor asked as she watched Morad and company heading off toward Kostchtchie. “It is a mighty big demon,” Albert laughed. “I must say this is more interesting than expected - full marks to you,” Feonor shot back. “I try to keep it interesting,” Albert chuckled. Both mages popped their umbrellas as the Golden Doom sped forward.

As the Holy Terror II rounded behind Kostchtchie, followed closely by Feonor and Albert, Torgrun was pleased to see Princeps promised Remnants appear on the far side of the battlefield, banners fluttering as they charged to engage the Frost Giants. Morad charged between two of the Giants, closing on Kostchtchie but keeping out of melee range. The Giants saw the movement but their attention was fully engaged by the Eighth Remnant forces.

Spider was briefly indecisive about who best to shoot with his catapult until he decided the Frost Giants were too tempting to pass-up. He wheeled the gun around and fired a bolt toward the nearest Giant, but the harpoon merely richoceted off its armour. The giant turned its head and glared, then reached down and hefted a massive rock which it hurled with pinpoint accuracy toward the Holy Terror II. “Incoming!!” Spider yelled too late. The rock exploded as it hit the vehicle, a hailstorm of shards striking everyone aboard.

Albert watched with horror from fifty feet behind atop Feonor’s vehicle - what was Spider thinking?! He glanced at Feonor who was enjoying this immensely. He turned his attention to Bitter Breath who continued his suicidal charge toward Zariel. The hobgoblin’s hung from their vehicles, weapons ready in teeth and hand, ready to die for their leader.

Morad managed to keep the Holy Terror II under control despite the Giant’s boulder. He realised Princeps Kovik’s course was sure to head off Kostchtchie before he would reach Zariel, so he tried to angle the demon away by riding close to his left shoulder. But Kovik was too fast on her bike, and too determined. She stood out of the seat of the Devil’s Ride and locked the steering. She drew two thrashing chains from her saddlebags and launched herself into the air toward Kostchtchie, the bike’s momentum flinging her forward. The two chains wrapped fast around his legs, causing him to topple forward. The Demon Lord flexed a massive thigh to shatter one, but the other caught tight. Princeps wrapped her own chain around the neck of Kostchtchie and rode him into the ground.

A roaring, heavily muscled giant wrapped in chains

Kostchtchie roared as he fell, pulling his warhammer above his head and pounding it down into the ground with both hands. An explosion of cold rocketed out of the hammer, singeing Princeps and her forces with chilling frost. Mak and Bili on the other hand embraced the soothing touch of frozen air.

Mak wanted to help Princeps, but he still felt deep confusion about the sword. He tried to focus on it despite the chaos all around, but the sword would not respond to his urgings. Maybe it was the proximity to Zariel he thought, worried now. He growled with frustration. If the sword refused to accept his wielding, what chance did they stand?

Bili rounded the Bile Sprayer on the tangles of Kostchtchie and Princeps Kovik. He hesitated for a moment - the chain devil was an ally after all - before opening the nozzle and blasting both with a shower of demon ichor. Devil and demon howled under the acidic barrage, Princeps screaming murderous curses at Bili as she burnt. Torgrun looked on in horror - Princeps was the strength they needed, she couldn’t be allowed to fall. He quickly fired off a healing prayer that helped both those aboard the Holy Terror II and Princeps, who looked confused (bile sprays and healing?) but thankful.

Albert surveyed the giants, pleased to see they were being whittled down fast by the Eighth Remnant forces, though they too were falling under the giants' huge fists. In the distance Zariel had started firing off fireball after fireball at the incoming vehicles. One after the other exploded as the attacks struck home, until only Bitter Breath’s Tormentor remained. The neutered Horned Devil stood tall amongst the flames, determined to go down swinging. Albert shook his head and made a mental note that Zariel could apparently throw fireballs at will. He turned his attention back to Kostchtchie, pointing his finger and ringing the toll on his soul.

Spider had learnt his lesson and this time fired his crossbow at Kostchtchie hitting hard and true. Unfortunately the Frost Giants too had learnt their lessons and tore themselves away from the attacking devils. Another boulder landed with an explosive crash on the Holy Terror II rocking it hard, but Morad was prepared this time and stayed steadily on course. Allowing Morad to get to Zariel was now impossible, so killing him became the priority. Morad changed the gear down and swung directly toward Kostchtchie. Torgrun understood the intent and dropped the chomper, offering a silent prayer that Kovik’s could leap free. Princeps looked up with equal fury and panic, and only Morad’s quick thinking and tilt of his head gave her time to react.

Both Kostchtchie and Princeps rolled away as best they could, Kovik’s cleverly using her chains to stop the Demon from avoiding it entirely - at the cost of taking much of the damage herself. The chomper ripped huge chunks from both their flesh and Kostchtchie howled with fury.

Mak had had enough. If the sword wouldn’t co-operate he would use his strength instead. He roared and leaped from the Holy Terror II onto the lumbering Kostchtchie, sword raised high above his head. And all were thrilled to see it start to pulse and glow with crackling energy and the giant Barbarian flew. Mak too felt the surge of enthusiasm and excitement return, flooding his arms with power and deadly intent. He brought Zariel’s weapon down on the Demon Lord and it sunk deep and hard into Kostchtchie’s chest, renting a massive tear that glowed with radiant power. This time Mak roared with delight. He got it now, and instead of the fury of rage he felt the exultation and joy of holy battle.

Kostchtchie clutched first his chest, trying to seal the wound, then flung his arms to his head. He reeled, blinded by the searing pain of the holy weapon, staggering and roaring, swinging his hammer wildly. One blow caught Mak full in the torso, and the Demon used the strike as a range finder to tear a huge out a chunk of Mak with his razor sharp teeth.

Kovik watched Mak’s attack first with awe, then with fear. She nodded respectfully but backed out of range of the weapon. She used the reach of the chains to throttle Kostchtchie again, his muscles straining fruitlessly against their embrace.

Two of the giants fell under the assault of the devil forces, and a third was staggering under their blows. Bili transformed into a primal bear, leaping free and mangling the blind Kostchtchie with swings of his massive claws. The Demon Lord swung wildly in retaliation and again collected Mak who absorbed the blow with a grunt.

Torgrun opened Kostchtchie’s wound further, pouring more radiant damage into the gaping sore. He followed Bili and leapt to the ground, smashing his flail down and ripping the tear further open.

Feonor turned to Albert, cleaning her hands. “They are doing rather well, don’t you think? And your toll was a nice touch - I do love the sound of that bell ringing out. Who should we concentrate on?”

“I think we should take out that last Frost Giant,” Albert said, pointing.

“That one?” Feonor asked, lining her own finger up with Albert’s. He nodded, and she instantly disintegrated the Giant with a crackling bolt of lightning. Albert tried as best he could to remain utterly cool, despite the intense heat he felt inside. “Yes, that one,” he smiled weakly. To hide his turmoil he turned his attention back to Bitter Breath.

The wingless, voiceless Devil was now aflame - strange given a devil’s fire immunity, Albert pondered briefly - holding his pitchfork high as he too leapt off his vehicle as it exploded behind him. He flew through the air toward Zariel in slow-motion, every moment of his life attuned to this moment, this attack, the infamous blow that would kill Archduke Zariel and return him to his rightful place as Pit Fiend Bitter Breath.

Zariel vanished. Bitter Breath landed headfirst, splayed on the ground, limbs spreadeagled. Zariel reappeared and placed her foot on his head. Bitter Breath tried to speak, but only smoke emerged from his mouth. Zariel crushed his skull beneath her boot, and Bitter Breath breathed his last breath bitterly. Vale Bitter Breath.

Albert rolled his eyes, then recoiled when he saw Zariel shoot up into the air and approach the batttle with Kostchtchie. She hovered for a moment and everyone froze - even Kostchtchie looked up with fear. No-one was ready for this. No-one but Olanthius, who stood ready to fight, but just he did Zariel turned and flew away, her attention drawn elsewhere. “Not bait enough,” Olanthius muttered.

Collective breaths were released. Albert turned his attention to the Demon Lord. He raised a finger, glanced at Feonor, and pointed. The bell rang out again, echoing off the rock and fallen chains. And Kostchtchie, Prince of Wrath, Lord of the Iron Realms, exploded in a shower of ichor and death, covering everyone nearby in goop and acid.

Feonor placed an icy hand on Albert’s upper arm, sending a shiver down his spine. “Wonderful,” she breathed. Albert blushed.

Princeps Kovik wiped herself clean of the remnants of Kostchtchie and turned to Torgrun. “Our contract is half-complete,” Princeps Kovik nodded. “You fought well. I will escort you to the chains of Elturel.”

The clearing around Zariel was collapsing now she had departed, the devil and demon forces flooding back into the zone. Torgrun rallied everyone back to the vehicles and pointed the way toward the nearest chain. Princeps nodded and directed the Eighth Remnant to clear a path - fast. Morad turned the Holy Terror II, opening the throttle and following close behind.

“Time to change transport, Madam P,” Spider urgently messaged. Albert agreed and stood, preparing to step over onto the Holy Terror II. Before he could move he felt Feonor reach over and grab his head, spinning him to face her as she planted a lustful kiss on his lips. Albert’s eyes sprung wide, then he settled into the embrace and did his best to return the enthusiasm. It had been a long, long time, but this felt good. Feonor broke the kiss and licked her lips. “You were right, that was fun. Once you are done with your work, return to me - we could do great things. Or at least feel great things,” she grinned lasciviously and locked lips with Albert again. As she finished and drew her head back she whispered one last message: “You were right, we should string him up.” Albert grinned and stepped onto the Holy Terror II as it rocketed past.

“Okay boys, let’s go,” he called, wiping the lipstick from his tingling mouth.

Morad felt rather than saw that Albert was safely aboard. The Eighth Remnant had done their job, opening a path clear to the chains below Elturel. Morad hit the demon nitro. The vehicle shot forward, racing under the shadow of Elturel. As the city loomed ever closer Morad took a deep breath, looked at Spider who nodded, and punched the teleporter.

An instant later the Holy Terror II was skidding to a stop as Morad slammed on the brakes. He had guessed right - the vehicle had safely bampfed into the town square on the eastern side of Elturel. Aziz Morad breathed a prayer of thanks.

Hellturel was in ruins, worse than ever. Most everything was destroyed, or burning, or collapsing. Very little moved, though there were glimpses of shadows flitting through the surrounding streets. The Companion - or Insidiator now - loomed only one-hundred feet overhead, sheets of lightning crashing down on the already destroyed city, wreathing the wreckage in electric light. Balls of flame exploded to the ground from the floating fortresses, adding to the destruction.

Spider calculated the diameter of the Insidiator - at least four-hundred feet he guessed. He recalled Bel saying there was something inside, something that generated all this power and opened the portal that drove Elturel into Hell. The chains were window-dressing, dragging the earthmote down, and they had to go, but disabling the Insidiator was just as important.

Albert trained her eyeglass on the Insidator. The sphere was utterly black, instantly absorbing all the light from the bolts of lightning. “It’s like a black…hole,” he mused, coining a new expression that would live for centuries hence. Spider jumped from the car and eyeballed Albert as he trained his crossbow on the blackness. Spider fired and Albert followed the path of the bolt into the Insidiator. It disappeared as soon as it reached the blackness, but he couldn’t tell if that was because it passed through or disintegrated on contact. “Neither good news nor bad,” Albert said nervously.

Torgrun wanted to get moving, tightly focused on the next task. “First things first, let’s get to the High-Hall and find out if there’s anyone to save and what’s happening here.”

“We go there, yes, but number one is that,” Morad said, pointing overhead, “How do we stop that?”

“Let’s just see if the people are alive then we deal with the Insidiator. We need to check in on Ravengard-”

“And Grace,” Spider added.

“-and Grace. Secure them so that they are safe. Ultimately we are saving Elturel, and they are all that is left.”

Aziz Morad nodded. He took his spyglass back from Albert and trained it on the High-Hall, relieved it still stood mostly intact. He scanned the belltower and found an unexpected sight - the banner of the Hellriders fluttering from the upper story, a last bastion of defiance and hope. Time enough if good enough. He relayed the message to Torgrun, who smiled grimly, then thumped his fist: “For the Hellriders!”

Morad fired the Holy Terror II again, newly fed with a particularly nasty coin palmed by Spider, and roared off toward the Hall. There were indeed devils and demons still battling in the streets, and they paid no heed to the speeding Demon Grinder. Morad pondered using the teleporter to speed the journey but decided to save it for when things got truly urgent. Crossing Torm’s Bridge bought home just how close Elturel was to the Styx and doom, the battle almost in touching distance below.

Albert and Torgrun felt a great sorrow as they traversed the city, their once home now a scorched battlefield of ruin and destruction. The lives lost and souls hanging in the balance were of great metaphysical concern, but being confronted with the physical evidence drove home the true horror of Elturel’s fall.

The straight rise to the High Hall was covered at full speed, and Morad brought the vehicle to a stop in the courtyard in front. The doors and windows were barricaded now, nothing open to the outside. Albert could sense magical seals, he assumed cast by those within. The magic was woven to stop all entry - not trapped or warded.

Torgrun stepped forward to stand in front of the great doors. “Ravengard - we return at the last,” he bellowed. Only silence greeted him. He thumped his fists on the door, but still there was no response. He flew up into the air to the balcony above, finding it closed off just the same. Clearly the survivors, if they still lived, had spent their time wisely.

He landed back on the ground, and tried once more. “We have returned from our quest, for the redemption of this great city. We need to see you. Are you safe, Ravengard? And brothers and sisters of Elturel and the Hellriders?” This time he was rewarded - faint footsteps inside, moving away from the doors. “I hear movement inside, let’s give it a few minutes,” he whispered.

“Who is it that returns?” a voice called from within.

“Togrun the Redeemer, and his companions: Spider, Aziz Morad - now touched by the hand of Al’Akbar - Mak, Madam Portencia, and Bili.”

“Why have you returned?”

“Because we said we would,” Torgrun said with conviction. Mak smiled at hearing this - Torgrun spoke true and well. His word was his bond.

“We have passed through our many trials,” Torgrun continued, “And now we seek to finally end this before our moment is lost.”

“And before Elturel is destroyed,” Aziz Morad added solemnly.

“We have kept ourselves safe in your absence, and many have tried to bargain with us for entry. None have entered, and we prefer to keep it that way.”

Torgrun understood this logic, though it pained him to be locked out from his fellows. “What can you tell us of your plight. What can you tell that will help us in this final battle?”

“We have learnt only that we must pray. That is our last hope,” the voice said quietly.

In the grim silence Morad reflected on the truth of those words - prayer gave hope where no-else could.

“Is that Ravengard speaking,” Spider called.

“It is not.”

“Is he in there?” There was no answer.

“Does the girl Grace live?” Morad asked quietly.

“Yes. Grace is with us.”

“We want to talk to her,” Bili said.

“No, we will not risk her safety.”

“Bring her to the door,” Bili insisted, his voice rising. Silence met his demands.

“Where is Ravengard?” Torgrun said sternly. “Our time is short! Your time is short!”

“I am here,” Ravengard’s commanding voice rang out from within.

“Is Grace with you?” Bili growled.

“You have had your answer.”

“I want to hear her voice. If I hear her voice I know she is safe.” Bili was verging on exploding with frustration. Aziz Morad guessed correctly that he was still suffering from Betrask’s removal, his focus on Grace an attempt to salve that pain.

“Grace lives. You have my word as a Duke of Baldur’s Gate.”

“Bili, if they lie-” Aziz Morad started.

“-I will kill everyone inside that room,” Bili growled. He was defending his own child now, everyone understood at once.

Torgrun calmed Bili with his hands, and turned back to the Cathedral doors. “Do not despair,” he spoke formally, matching Ravengard’s tone. “We see a path for the saving of you and your people, and the rising up of Elturel out of this pit. We seek to use the Companion in its dark form to release Elturel from its chains. We are passing towards the moment of confronting Zariel. This is our path for saving you, your people, Elturel, and the Hellriders. But it is not a moment of despair. It is a moment of possibility. It is a moment that has brought us all together.”

“Your words bring us hope,” Ravengard responded gravely, “Something we have had precious little of. We knew our time was nearing and were resigned to our fates. I will pass on your message, though I fear rekindling too great a hope. There is precious little we can offer in return, but I swear I will keep those in here alive until the last moment.”

“Stay strong,” Torgrun encouraged, “For the Hellriders.”

The High-Hall scouted, the Insidator became the next focus. Olanthius suggested moving away from the Cathedral so as not to attract unwanted attention, so a shelter was found mid way down the high street.

Spider outlined his proposal for getting inside. He would somehow get up there, either via Torgrun’s wings or a spell from Madam Portencia. They would fly him over the top and drop him down. He’d pass through the black barrier and hopefully land atop whatever lay within. Then plomp Bel’s rods down into whatever the locking mechanism was. Job done.

Everyone stared at Spider like he’d lost his mind, then started speaking all at once. “What if that is a sphere of disintegration!” “We’re not just going to drop a friend into the void!” “You’re a gambler but this is madness!” “Spider, that’s a black hole.”

Mak held up his hands for silence. He had a plan. He proposed using his Barbarian clairvoyance to penetrate the dark shell of the corrupted Companion, to prove if Bel’s word was true. Everyone agreed this was a vastly better option than the life or death chance of dropping Spider in unsighted, or trying a potentially one way teleport aboard the Holy Terror II.

Mak kneeled and opened his mind to the vision, sending his thoughts one-hundred and twenty feet above and inside the shell of the Insidator. He found himself inside the darkness, in a vast empty space. There was no lightning inside. The sphere of darkness was a shell, inside of which was emptiness, except for dead centre where another globe hovered, rotating slowly. This one seemed to be only fifty-feet in diameter, and constructed of huge sheets of infernal iron. The equator of the sphere appeared to have a strip splitting the hemispheres equally. Mak shifted his concentration to switch from vision to sound, hearing absolute silence.

Spider put a hand on Mak’s shoulder, careful not to break the concentration, and whispered: “Watch for the bolt.” He fired another crossbow shot into the blackness, hoping Mak would see it emerge into the void.

Mak emerged from his vision and shook his head. “No bolt.”

“Welp. Either that is a disintegration field or Mak missed the bolt,” Spider said. “But if Torgrun can get me above it with one of Albert’s slow-fall things on me, he can drop me - right in the middle mind you - then I can bampf through the blackness, float down, stick to it like an actual Spider once I hit the metal sphere. Simple!”

Everyone stared again. But this time minds were thinking. And the thoughts were: it just might work.

Azis Morad was first to speak. “It’s our best chance. But the price is Spider could be completely annihilated.”

“I know the price,” Spider said quietly.

Albert looked fondly at his old friend. “Well definitely don’t touch the black sphere.”

“Oh no, no way, I’ll step through that, like I did through Qirozz’s wall,” Spider grinned, the memory of that success bolstering everyone’s confidence. That had seemed equally unlikely but in the end had worked a charm. Right?

“Right. And then once you’re on the centre sphere, you wall walk along it dropping rods into what we assume will be appropriate receptacles, until it’s done.” Albert didn’t look as confident as he sounded.

“That could be what happens,” Mak said hopefully. “But instead of hoping, let me ask the gods. My gods,” he said, glancing at Aziz Morad who nodded his encouragement. Some debate ensued about how to frame the question, until eventually it was stripped back to the bare minimum - no Zariel, no Elturel, no complications or detail, just a simple question.

Mak dropped to one knee and rested his hand on Spider’s shoulder, needing the connection to channel his thoughts. closed his eyes again and made an appeal for direction to the Gods of the Frozen North. He felt for the cold of the mountains, the ice of the life-giving lakes, and the clouds that heralded the coming of the snows. “What judgement will you pass on our task, to disable or control the Insidiator in order to free Elturel. Will it bring Weal, Woe, or neither?”

For a moment there was nothing, then a peaceful breeze arrived from mountaintop carrying with it a soft sigh: “Weeeaaalllll.”

Mak’s eyes sprung open and he smiled widely. “Do it.”

Spider clapped his hands. “Let’s go before I change my mind,” he said and started making his final checks.

Lulu fluttered near Morad’s shoulder. “If Spider is successful, there’s going to be more than a little attention here. What about the chains?”

“You’re right Lulu - this fight will also happen at the edges,” Torgrun said, “For we need to cut the chains. We have a Titan to summon for that job. Our moment of convergence with Zariel is coming.”

“Once I’m up there, get the Titan out and start cuttin',” Spider advised. He was ready, with one last thing to do before leaving: “Sam - you need to stay here,” he messaged.

“No way, Spider. If you die, I die.”

Spider smiled with relief. “Okay pal.”

“I didn’t think you’d agree,” Sam teased. Spider laughed and scratched the imp’s tiny neck, then nodded up at Torgrun. Torgrun protected Spider with a skin of stone, then his leathery wings and lifted up into the air. At fifty-feet he paused and Albert cast his spell. “Torgrun - don’t fuck around! It won’t last long!” Albert yelled.

Torgrun wasted no time, shooting up toward the Insidiator, and into the lightning storm. The bolts of light ripped through the air, Torgrun and Spider’s skin crackling with electric static. CRACK a bolt shot past and Torgrun reeled out of the path just in time. The next one was closer still and Torgrun had to use all of his luck to shift away at the last second. Spider and Samael clung on for dear life, mouthing his spider-walk spell in preparation for the descent.

CRASHHHH another sheet of lightning spread, close, but Torgrun felt Albert’s blessing from below and spun out of danger. The Insidator lay just ahead now, and one last explosion of electric light seemed to engulf the entire sky. There seemed no way through, but then Torgrun spied a needle-thin gap and threaded his way through it like he was born to fly. “Torm!!” he cried in triumph. Spider whooped as they cleared the danger and finished hovering directly above the massive sphere.

Spider slapped Torgrun on the back. “See you on the other side!” he cried, his voice cracking slightly, then leapt off Torgrun’s back and into the lightning-lit sky. He plunged down straight as a (slow, thanks to Albert’s magic) arrow, the sworling dark mass growing ever nearer. When he was as near as he dared, he muttered his misty-step spell - and a quick prayer - and vanished…

…emerging a split-second later on the other side of the sphere, fully intact! He breathed a sigh of relief as he continued falling in absolute silence toward the smaller globe within. As he got closer he saw it was made up of many massive plates, and the equator was spinning in reverse to the spin of the globe itself.

Ten-feet from the surface Albert’s spell suddenly wore off, and Spider plummeted the last few feet before making a perfect three-point landing. “Good timing, and nice landing,” Sam grinned.

“And they didn’t even see it!” Spider whispered ruefully.

Spider cautiously climbed to his feet, feeling the extra grip his spidery spell had granted. He took a few steps toward the equator and smiled widely when he saw what lay upon it.

A hexagonal sinkhole spun slowly past, just the right size for the rod Spider carefully pulled out of his bag. Next to the slot a single letter “S” was etched in infernal. “Easy,” Spider said to Sam, “But let’s do it in the right order, just in case.”

“That’s why you’re the brains of this operation,” Samael shot back as Spider got to work.

The ground crew watched with breath held as Torgrun has disappeared over the event horizon, then breathed again when he reappeared, Spiderless, and hovered directly below the crackling sphere - ready to catch Spider when he emerged.

“That won’t work,” Mak said nervously, looking to Albert, “You need to get ready with another one.”

Albert was way ahead of the big Barbarian, holding the spell on the tip of his tongue. “You need to get to work on the chains,” he said whilst keeping his eyes locked on the Insidiator.

Morad pulled out the Hellturel map. It was only a sketch, but it looked like the distance between the chains would take up to ten minutes to traverse. Time was running short, but there was no choice but to get started. Mak and Bili leapt aboard the Holy Terror II, leaving Albert and Togrun to save Spider should be need saving.

Morad roared away toward the Grand Cemetery, shuddering as he recalled the undead horrors encountered there. He skidded to a halt on the precipice of the city edge at the first massive chain. Each link was a thirty-feet long, twenty-feet wide, five-feet thick loop of infernal metal. Even for a Titan this was going to take time. Morad almost cursed. “Let’s go Mak, summon Uldrak!”

Mak pulled out the Titan’s feather from his satchel, resplendent and shimmering under the red sky, albeit slightly creased and ragged after its long journey. Mak did his best to smooth it back to original shape as he recalled the instruction: burn it to summon. One use only, Mak grimaced, hoping this one use was the right one. He lowered the shimmering feather into the ruins of a burning building and it sprung instantly into flame.

There was a flash of light and Uldrak landed with a crash, towering over even Mak. Mak grinned as he stared up at the behemoth - this was the right call. If anyone could cut these chains, Uldrak could.

Behind Mak Bili raised his eyebrows as Uldrak appeared. He had forgotten just how attractive the Titan was.

An armoured woman with blazing eyes, flame-red hair, golden wings, and a huge sword — Uldrak the Titan

“My friends, you have found me once more! My debt is to be paid? Tell me how!”

“It is,” Mak bowed, “And there is one task to be done.”

Uldrak pounded her fists together enthusiastically. “I am ready - who shall we fight?”

“We must free this city from its binding,” Mak said.

“Right! Who holds it - I will destroy them!”

Mak felt slightly embarrassed by what he was about to ask, but ploughed on. “It is held by what you see before you.”

Uldrak looked around, nonplussed. “I see no combatants??”

“We must sever the chains that bind the city, and we need your assistance to do so.”

“…”

Mak smiled weakly.

Uldrak’s shoulders slumped. “Oh. The chains? Very well.”

Bili reached up and put his hand sympathetically just below Uldrak’s enormous thigh - which was as high as he could reach.

Mak rolled his eyes and continued. “Those that bound the city are also our foes, but first we must free the city.”

“We think that when chains cut, devils will come,” Morad added.

“I will cut the chains. If that is your wish, I obey. It is a little dull I must say, but let us begin.” Uldrak drew her enormous sword and swung it hard into the nearest link. The chain let out a deafening ring as the blow landed. Uldrak swung again, and again, each time making progress. “More of a challenge than expected,” she grinned, “But still dull.”

Morad watched impassively, and after the fourth blow scratched his head. “You can do it, can’t you?” he said innocently.

Uldrak frowned. Her next swing had the force of two and the chain shattered. She raised an eyebrow at Morad, who nodded respectfully, smiling to himself as he watched the huge chain unravelled slowly and collapsed to the ground below.

“Next!” Uldrak cried. Morad pointed to the North and Uldrak took to the air, the Holy Terror II racing below to keep up with her.

After a few rotations Spider confirmed the first slot - being extra careful not to pick the wrong “I”. He pulled out the matching rod and lined it up with the slot as it rotated below him, stepping on either side of the equator to keep the slot in place.

“Look. Before I put this thing in, you should fly over to the edge, ‘cos if this thing blows up I couldn’t live with myself if you go at the same time,” Spider said softly.

“Spider. As I said, one for all and all for one. That’s you and me,” Sam replied.

“Why do you have to be such an eejit?”

“What would I do once you exploded? Find another orphan?”

“Weirdly enough there’s one down in Elturel,” Spider hinted, thinking of Grace.

“No Spider. I’ve got a good feeling about this,” Sam winked.

“I hope so. Here goes nothin’,” he whispered to Sam as he lowered it slowly into the waiting receptacle. The rod got about half way into the slot, then Spider released it as he felt it being drawn mechanically down. It bottomed out with a satisfying “chunk”, and the etched letter started glowing with an fel-green light.

“Game on,” Spider grinned.

Uldrak was half way through the next chain when the Holy Terror II skidded to a stop. Bili leapt off and as he landed he grew to almost twice his size. Mak groaned, but Bili was full of enthusiasm. He ran over to Uldrak and started swinging his own axe using the rhythm method to get in sweet synchronisation.

Uldrak raised an eyebrow. “Very helpful,” she nodded. He was quite handsome, in a small way, the thought to herself as her final blow snapped the link. The ground shuddered as the support dropped, rumbling angrily before settling back into shape.

Uldrak didn’t need direction this time, taking to the air the minute the chain started to topple. Morad raced off after her.

Spider continued his careful work, dropping rods one-by-one and waiting for the glowing letters to light up. As each one dropped, another line of green connected each letter, creating an unbroken path as the rods slotted into place.

He hefted the final “R” and stood above it’s waiting slot. “Sam, just in case, it’s been…” Spider stopped as the words caught in his throat.

“I know,” Samael said softly, wrapping his spindly arm around Spider’s neck.

“You know.” Spider pushed the final rod home, taking a couple involuntary steps away. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as the circle was completed. Under his feet he felt gears starting to grind. He opened his eyes and watched as the two hemispheres locked into position then started to peel open like a lotus flower. Spider positioned himself so he wouldn’t get crushed by the shells, then clambered up over the top once the petals were fully opened.

Inside there was a huge muscle-bound humanoid, with hairless blue skin and featured wings, being held crucified by magical bonds. “Shit,” Spider whispered. This was not what he had been expecting. As he watched, eyes wide, the bonds holding the creature started to fade.

It slowly looked up, directly at Spider. Spider swallowed, then smiled nervously. “Hello? The name’s Spider. I have let you out?”

“You have freed me,” it intoned with a timeless voice. “I am weak, but I will carry you.” He lifted into the air and grabbed Spider as he flew past. Spider couldn’t help but grin.

A muscled, blue skinned angel emerges from a metal sphere

“My name is Nascius. What would you have me do?”

“Me and my companions, down in the city below, which is in Avernus now, are trying to get it back to Faerun. And I think now you are free there is going to be a lot of fighting before we can do that. So, anything you can do to help us while we finish off what we need to do would be fantastic.”

“As I have said, I am weak, I have been trapped here too long.”

“By who?” Spider asked innocently.

“I do not know.” Spider considered telling him, then thought better of it. “Give me time. This city which is in Hell, I can return it. I will lift it on my back and return it to your world.”

“That’s great! But it’s still chained down, we’ll need to get rid of them first?”

“Do that. I will be ready.” Spider silently pumped his fist and Samael slapped Spider’s neck excitedly.

Torgrun and Albert stared in wonder as Spider appeared, carried by what looked like a giant blue angel. Torgrun sighed with relief and Albert let his spell leave the tip of his tongue and return to his spellbook. Behind the flying figure the black sphere was dissipating rapidly, the lightning gone, only the small metal globe left in the sky above.

“Presumably that thing is on our side?” Albert grinned, almost as happy to see the Planetar as he was to see Spider.

The giant figure landed gently next to the gawping pair, lowering Spider to the ground. “Thanks Nascius,” Spider called, “We’ll be back.”

Torgrun took the cue and immediately grabbed Albert and flew him toward the chains.

Uldrak was several swings into the third chain when Aziz Morad heard the distinct sound of beating wings. “Incoming!” he yelled as three Horned Devils swooped up from below.

Uldrak glanced down at Bili. “Stay on the chains or kill these three?”

“Stay on the chains,” Bili growled as he turned toward the new arrivals.

“Easy for me,” Uldrak said, turning back to her work.

Bili rumbled to the nearest devil, thankful he was still enlarged, and slashed him twice. Morad charged into another, pointing Olanthius to the South - “Kill it!”. Olanthius obeyed, trudging away as Morad swung his weapons hard into the fiend.

The devils were well spread, and each attacked their assailant. Bili took two burning pitchfork blows but managed to dodge the barbed tail. Morad was the reverse, avoiding the pitchfork stabs but crying out as the tail embedded deep in his thigh. The infernal wound left his leg bleeding - and burning - freely. The third Horned Devil summoned a ball of flame between its claws and hurled it at Mak who couldn’t avoid the burning explosion. The Devil laughed and pierced Mak with its tail, but not deep enough to create a wound like Morad’s.

Mak growled with rage and swung Zariel’s weapon with a purist fury. The Devil reeled away under the unstoppable blows, radiant damage slashing its wings and blinding its vision. Despite his rage, Mak revelled in bathing in the power of the sword. The other Devils glanced fearfully in Mak’s direction. Olanthius also stepped away, wary of the holy instrument, then brought his sword down twice on the staggering Devil.

Bili and Morad continued their assaults, trading blows with the devils. Morad’s wound continued to gush, the devil focussing on the injury to compound the pain. Mak stepped easily out of the path of his blinded Devil and destroyed it with a flurry of holy blows, then followed through by moving to Morad’s foe who leapt out of his path. Olanthius backed further away then turned to assist Bili.

Torgrun arrived and dropped Albert alongside Uldrak before turning and smiting Morad’s devil, healing those he can after his attack. Albert quickly prepared a ball of acid and flung it into the fray. Morad followed up with a hefty slash, but his second swing got tangled in the ripped wings of the fiend.

With a resounding ring, Uldrak sliced through the chain at last, the ground rolling as it resettled. Uldrak turned around, grinned, and crashed her sword down on the nearest Devil. The Devil staggered under the mighty blow, but somehow managed to stay on its feet.

Mak stepped forward and rent the other devil almost in half, allowing Olanthius to finish it off with a precision blow. The final devil tried to fly to freedom - and presumably to report what was happening - but Uldrak was having none of it, using her long reach to bring the devil down. “Not much of a challenge,” she grinned. Morad, still bleeding freely, just pointed North and Uldrak bowed in mock obedience before shooting away.

“I’m off to get Spider,” Torgrun called. “He was successful - and not only that, inside he found someone who will lift the city free once the chains are done. The tide is turning in our favour!”

Bolstered by this everyone climbed quickly onto the Holy Terror as Morad roared after Uldrak, staunching his wound as he did, assisted by Bili’s magical healing.

By the time Morad and company arrived, Uldrak was mostly done. Everyone quickly took up defensive positions around the Titan, expecting another attack but none came. She landed the final blow and the fourth chain broke free. Why were there no attacks? Surely it was clear what was happening now, especially with the Insidiator neutralised.

The answer arrived moments later. Everyone heard, then felt, a deep and ominous rumbling from the sky. The huge flying fortress spotted earlier was moving slowly but surely over Elturel, positioning itself alongside the disabled Insidiator. Morad looked at it briefly but couldn’t afford to be distracted from the driving.

Spider had no such problem, sucking on a cigar and staring up at it apprehensively as Torgrun returned. “I don’t like the look of this,” he said quietly. Torgrun agreed, reporting the good news about half the chains being done before turning to Nascius. “How much longer do you need?”

The blue-skinned Planetar turned its inscrutable face to Torgrun. “I will be ready when the chains are cut.”

Morad was driving full throttle toward Torm’s Reach, needing to cross clear to the other side of Hellturel to reach the next chain. He debated using possibly the last teleport, deciding against it in case it would be more useful when things got even more desperate.

As it turned out that moment of desperation was only seconds away. Spider’s eyes went wide as he saw a flaming figure dropping like an arrow from the flying fortress, a shooting star of fire that crashed into the Elturel earthmote directly in front of the High Hall.

Bili cried out as he too saw it. Morad assessed the situation in an instant. He spun the wheel of the Holy Terror II hard and fast, drifting around to face directly South up the High Street road to the High Hall. He gunned the engine forward and smashed his fist into the Teleporter.

The Holy Terror II reappeared exactly where Spider, Torgrun and Nascius waited. Spider leapt gracefully from his rooftop perch onto the vehicle as it screamed past, and Torgrun spread his wings and rode the slipstream of Morad’s relentless progress toward the High Hall.

Redemption - or annihilation - lay ahead.

Morad screeched to a halt at the steps leading to the courtyard. Everyone leapt off and sprinted up the stairs, skidding to a stop when what awaited was confirmed.

Zariel hovering calmly, wreathed in flame, halo burning white fire — Zariel the Archduke

Zariel hovered gracefully in front of the barred doors to the Chapel, flanked by her two Erinyes lieutenants, two-hundred feet ahead. They watched calmly as the company stepped forward onto the bridge. For a moment there was silence as both parties sized each other up.

Two feather-winged devils — Zariel’s lieutenants

Then Mak broke the quiet: “Gnolls!”

A pack of snarling gnolls charged out of the burning buildings toward the bridge. Ahead of them six shambling Dretches were clustered around a burning wagon, tearing the vehicle apart to try and reach a human woman trapped beneath. She screamed for help as they tore into the wagon. “Dretches are demons,” Spider called, confused why Zariel would tolerate them without acting. Before anyone could act, the woman screamed a final time as the Dretches ripped her to shreds, then turned and lumbered toward the gnolls.

Morad frowned - that couldn’t be real - no human would still be on the streets. He ran forward and smashed the leading gnoll, dropping it instantly with the force of his blow. Torgrun lit up three more with a radiant beam of holy light, dropping the closest with his follow-up flail blow. Mak followed suit, his blade singing as he sliced through a gnoll that leapt toward him, allowing him to step to the next and destroy it too. A larger gnoll leapt atop Mak as the swarm arrived, missing, but it inspired Morad’s nearest foe attack again - but also missing.

Spider spat as he saw what the Dretches had done, ripping a glowing bead from his necklace. “Fuckers,” he growled, lobbing the bauble into their midst. It exploded in a riot of flame, all of them catching aflame - but they kept coming, now dripping pools of molten flesh as they advanced.

Bili summoned a cloud of crackling lightning which crashed down in the thick of the gnoll pack, dropping three instantly. The pack was thinned now, only a few larger remaining. “I got this,” Albert declared, taking a step forward and unloading a bolt of killing flame into a gnoll. Another slashed Mak with its glaive, but he easily deflected the other attacks.

Just as everyone started to relax slightly, another large demon appeared, snake-skinned with six clawed arms wielding gleaming swords. It hissed with furious intent and raced forward.

A rakish thin demon with six clawed arms and a snake body — Marilith

Morad cursed as he attacked one of the leader gnolls, allowing Torgrun to toll it with his next move. Torgrun was about to turn to Albert with a “I can do that too” grin when he realised with a groan the gnoll-fang was still going.

The Dretches arrived en-masse, bringing with them a cloud of fetid poison - which had no effect (other than dry-retching thanks to the stench) thanks to Torgrun’s earlier feast - and slashing claws. Spider continued cleaning his anti-Dretch campaign, finishing one with his blade as Bili used his lighting cloud to destroy the rest.

Mak silently thanked Torgrun before finishing off no less than three gnolls in one perfectly executed sequence, Zariel’s sword anticipating his every move, Mak punishing anything that got in its path. His rampage opened the path toward the new demon.

Albert summoned something no-one had seen before, a shimmering field of flashing blades appearing by his side that he used to bampf around the battlefield shredding the remaining gnolls with consummate ease - unfortunately missing the snake-demon.

Olanthius finally stepped into the combat - the Gnolls and Dretches were not worth his time, but the new arrival was. He crushed his blade into the demon, once, twice, causing it to recoil hissing in fury. Morad followed the Death Knight’s path, his blows also landing true. The demon reacted by striking with all six blades, drawing sheets of blood from Morad but missing Olanthius completely. Mak saw Morad being struck hard and redirected some of the damage as best he could. Morad nodded in thanks - the demon-strikes had hit hard.

Torgrun tolled again, ringing doom on the demon-creature. It turned its head toward him and shook her head - not today, holy-warrior. He smashed it with his flail instead. Mak continued his relentless attacks, the blade never missing - he felt like it never would. As he finished his attacks, he saw movement to the South - another pack of yelping gnolls charging into the fray, led by a pair of giant hyenas.

Torgrun glanced up to where Zariel continued to hover perfectly still, watching the battle unfold but not reacting. Her face was unreadable. None of the demons paid her any heed, as if they couldn’t or wouldn’t see her. “They don’t see her,” he yelled, “Maybe we’re all playthings of Zariel and she’s both demon and devil?!”

As Torgrun yelled the ground heaved again, giving everyone a boost of confidence - Uldrak was still at work! “Three more!” Morad cried, “We need to buy her time!”

Spider heeded Morad’s call and ran into cover mid-way toward the citadel. He yanked another bead free and lobbed it into the incoming pack, flames engulfing the hollering hounds and dropping several in piles of smouldering fur. Bili followed Spider and redirected the storm onto the new gnolls, finishing more.

Albert wasn’t interested in the giant dogs, continuing to focus on the six-armed demon with an acid orb - alas floating missing wide. Olanthius made no such mistake, hitting slow and hard, followed by Morad doing the same. He felt the demon was faltering, but before he could push the advantage he spotted more Dretches from the North, along with a Barlgura demon - this one skinless and uglier than Ubbalux who’s head Bel had mounted in his fortress. “We need to knock some of these things down before we’re overwhelmed,” Morad yelled with some urgency.

As if reacting to Morad, the demon-snake vanished - only to reappear directly beside Albert. It grinned with hunger as all six swords flashed down. Mak cried out with anger, distracting many of the blows and absorbing some of the damage as a result. Albert staggered back none-the-less, badly cut.

A red-skinned, furless ape with raking claws — Barlgura

Torgrun noted again how Zariel didn’t react to the new demons, nor they to her. He had a theory that needed ranged help. “Someone hit Zariel!” he yelled, “They can’t see her!” He couldn’t reach Zariel, but he could the demon-snake, bathing her in burning radiance.

“Are you sure?!” Spider yelled behind his cover. Dispelling whatever was hiding her from the demon hordes was a good idea, but attacking Zariel directly seemed like a death sentence.

Torgrun realised what Spider meant and quickly reconsidered: “Not her - a lieutenant!” he called back.

Spider swung back toward Zariel and fired a bolt into the flanking Erinyes. It struck true, piercing her upper arm. Zariel turned her gaze to Spider, causing even Spider’s confidence to shake. “Not yet,” Zariel said calmly, yet with the impact of a hailstorm. Spider gulped and shrunk below his suddenly extremely rickety-feeling cover wall. “Well that’s not fuckin' scary,” Spider said under his breath to Sam. “Was that wise?” Samael whispered, just as shaken. “Probably not,” Spider said with a forced smile.

Mak, meanwhile, was determined to finish the creature before it could strike again. Lit up as it was in Torgrun’s light, he had no trouble accomplishing his goal. He could feel the sword hungered for Demon flesh, and with one almighty blow he struck it down. Morad and Torgrun cheered as the creature dropped, and Albert mouthed his thanks to Mak.

Bili covered the Dretches and Gnolls in his storm, causing them all to stagger and shriek under the lightning. Albert was fed up with the endless waves, summoning and dropping a ball of acid into the centre of the shuddering mass of Dretches who all melted into pools of ichor under the combined assault.

The only creature between Olanthius and Zariel was the ape-demon. Nothing was going to stop him. He walked slowly forward and brought his blade to bear on the demon. Zariel watched her Death Knight’s inexorable advance, reacting for the first time. “You too, my Olanthius?” she said, her voice an irresistible force. Olanthius ignored her.

Torgrun, suspecting the demon-surge may have been stopped, surveyed the field. If Zariel was next, everyone needed to be at their strongest. Morad and Mak were hurting, but not badly enough yet. He turned to Albert - “Are you good?” Albert pulled out a potion and chugged it down. “Save it,” Albert said. Torgrun nodded and instead tolled the ape-demon.

Morad and Mak decided to leave the demon to Olanthius, drawing up to flank either side of the Death Knight. Bili wanted it over faster than that, and his lightning cloud did the job.

Nothing remained on the killing fields.

Olanthius dropped his sword and lifted his head. The ground rumbled as if in response, a chain breaking somewhere to the East. Zariel floated fifty yards ahead, impassive.

Mak felt the sword vibrating in his hand, glowing intensely. Zariel turned her head slowly and pinned Mak with her burning eyes. “That belongs to me,” she said convincingly.

“Come and get it,” Mak said quietly.

“Bring it to me.”

Mak didn’t move. Aziz Morad stepped forward and put his arm on Olanthius’s shoulder, stopping his relentless advance. Aziz Morad locked his eyes on the Archduke. “Actually it belongs to me,” he said firmly, “And you will not take it.”

Zariel turned her gaze to Morad. “I will not take it, you will give it to me.”

Aziz Morad reached up and calmly undid his blindfold. His skin shone with golden light as he stared at Zariel with his holy eyes. “I see you. I see everything. And I see your whole with utter pity.”

“And I see you,” Zariel responded. “A petty man, raised above his station.” Morad laughed. He knew this was not true, Al’Akbar had chosen him. Where once he might have doubted, now he knew. He was a Voice.

“But a holy man,” Zariel continued. “One with power. One that I could use. This war that I fight, it is for the good of those that you would defend. The demon hordes would destroy all you care for. Fight by my side and we will hold them back. As I have held them for centuries. Protecting the humans, protecting the elves, the dwarves, all those in Faerun. I have sacrificed all for you. What have you sacrificed?”

“I will sacrifice you if necessary,” Aziz Morad said.

“So you will sacrifice nothing?” Zariel said archly.

“You have made the wrong choice.”

“Tell me a better choice? Would you have had the demon hordes overrun your home?”

“It would have been better to stay pure in your faith.”

“So you would?” Zariel asked again. “The demon horde destroying everything?”

“Yes,” Moard said, burning with faith. “My God, Al’Akbar, would come and help.”

“And has he? I see no evidence. He has done nothing,” Zariel spat.

“I am the evidence!” Aziz Morad boomed, his voice The Voice of Al’Akbar.

Zariel waited a few moments as Aziz Morad’s cry echoed. “So you do speak for Al’Akbar. That makes you even more valuable. Would you not use your power? Would you not fight the eternal battle, turn back the tide of chaos and death?”

“You must think where you wish to be for eternity.”

“Here,” Zariel answered immediately.

“And that is wrong. And you know it. And the two in front of you know it. And we all know it. And it breaks my heart,” Aziz Morad said passionately. He felt the tragedy of Zariel’s fall from grace, the wrong path she had taken, and the futility of her decision.

Zariel paused again. Her eyes pierced Aziz Morad’s, both unreadable to the other. “Without me your family would be dead. Without me all of your families would be dead. Without me Faerun would be overrun. Only I stand between you and them. Only I was willing to pay that price.”

“Such vanity,” Torgrun muttered, loud enough to be heard.

“You are a liar!” Morad thundered. “You speak falsehoods. Because you have lost your faith. The good people of Faerun would rise, as we have risen, and you have forsaken everything - not sacrificed, forsaken. And the horrible, horrible thing is you know it. There is a seed in your heart wherein you know you have lost everything, forsaken the love of your god, for nothing! Not that your god hates you, but that you have broken the divine cord and you can never get that back…Unless you choose.”

Zariel considered Aziz Morad carefully. “I have made my choice,” she said quietly. “I have turned my back on the light. And I have done that for all of you. That was my choice.”

“That is your vanity,” Torgrun repeated. “This is a moment of redemption. All can make choices.”

“And I have made mine. None of you have made yours. You have not chosen to give your everything.”

Torgrun shook his head. “We have chosen.”

“And what choice is that?” Zariel sneered.

“We have chosen the path of redemption. Your redemption is laid out before you. You can choose again which side you are on. We are here to save those few souls that mean so little to you, those few souls that you would cast down in the name of your vanity.”

“It is not vanity that stops the demons. It is power.”

“And there you are blind.”

“Have you not witnessed the Blood War? Who keeps the demon horde from Elturel if not I?”

“Who are you that you would say that you are that which holds back the demons?” Torgrun scoffed. “You are but another devil, fallen from the Celestial Plane. As Aziz Morad has said, you have forsaken. You play the role of protector, but no. The devil horde and the demon horde are locked in eternal battle. You are but a pawn here. Your vanity raises you above momentarily, but you are fallen.”

Zariel stayed silent as Torgrun continued, his voice burning with conviction. He was the Redeemer and this was his time. “Your choice stands before you. You seek the sword. The sword is pure. If you wish, you can hold the sword again, but not as the fallen one.”

Zariel grimaced. “If I hold it, I will destroy it. It is the last bastion of my old self and with its destruction, my sacrifice will be complete.”

“That is why it is a moment of choice. It is the last symbol. Should it be expunged, then all is indeed lost.”

Torgrun beckoned Lulu forward, finally revealing herself after remaining hidden for so long. Zariel stepped back, clearly shocked. Spider silently rose from his spot and lowered his crossbow on Zariel’s left eye as he stepped forward. The tipping point was rushing closer and he needed to be ready. Bili settled down nearby, holding his still brewing storm ready.

Lulu fluttered slowly forward and gazed quietly up at Zariel. For the first time it seemed Zariel’s confidence wavered.

“It is me Zariel,” Lulu said quietly. “It is really me. I have come to you at the last.”

“Lulu,” a whisper came from Zariel.

“And I have brought these six here to bring you back. Yael has protected your weapon, your holy weapon. The sword still holds your spark.”

Zariel took another step back, involuntary. “Why are you here Lulu?” she said quietly.

“For you.” Tears welled in Lulu’s eyes as Zariel turned her head away.

Olanthius shrugged Aziz Morad off, resuming his slow steps toward Zariel. Aziz Morad watched him but did not stop him. He knew Olanthius has his own path to follow now.

Zariel turned to Olanthius. She shook her head as if to clear it. “Olanthius. You are my Death Knight.”

Olanthius continued his slow walk. “No longer, Lord Zariel. I seek my freedom. I have completed my duty, my Hellriders are gone, thanks to these. All that remains now is to free myself. And to do that I must slay you.” He raised his weapon to his shoulder.

Zariel stared. “Why are you abandoning me?”

“Because you have turned your back on your true self. You turned your back on those that believed in you. I begged you to destroy me and instead you raised me as an unholy abomination. You have destroyed me, and hence I will destroy you.”

“Very well, if it must be thus.” Zariel lowered herself to the ground and glanced back at Mak. “Bring me the sword,” she commanded.

Mak didn’t move. He looked at Aziz Morad, who saw again in Mak the inner strength he had known he had when he gave him the sword. He nodded at Mak, projecting his utter trust that Mak knew what to do, then turned his attention back to the Zariel.

“Bring me the weapon,” Zariel repeated.

“Never.”

Zariel stared at Mak. Olanthius was drawing closer, but Torgrun saw he was slowing, his hitherto unbreakable stride faltering slightly.

“There is a way that Zariel can achieve redemption. And then hold the weapon as her true self,” Torgrun said quietly. “But until that point, we can’t give her the weapon.” Zariel destroying the sword would mean the end of any chance. The risk was too great.

Morad considered Torgrun’s statement, unsure. Torgrun may be right, but he felt there was yet another choice. Spider wracked his brain, recalling Lulu’s original vision. “Didn’t Lulu say the sword was the key to her turning?” he whispered to Albert.

Albert agreed. “We should just give it to her, and she will think she can destroy it. But it will have too much juice, and she will be overcome with the spark that lies dormant within.” He felt the tendrils of prophecy in his veins, despite having not partaken in his own special juice for quite some time.

Zariel settled her shoulders. “If you will not give it to me, I have an alternative proposal,” she said, recovering her equilibrium somewhat. “You fight strongly, and repelled my demon horde just now with ease. A test, passed. I could destroy you, but I would have you by my side. If you will not join me willingly, I offer you a contract instead.”

A sheet of parchment materialised for everyone, held closed with Zariel’s seal. Torgrun unfurled and read his copy aloud:

The heroes shall immediately return Zariel her Sword

The heroes shall immediately forfeit their claim on the Shield of the Hidden Lord, handing it to Zariel

The heroes shall immediately pledge their life and eternal souls to Zariel

The heroes must immediately obey all of Zariel’s orders

Zariel will release her claim on all souls still living who are bound by the Creed Resolute

Zariel will return Elturel to its previous location in the mortal realm

Zariel will only ever order the heroes to slay demons on the front line of the Blood War

Zariel will guarantee upon their mortal death, they will be raised as Pit Fiends

Zariel will release them from the Infernal Contract when she is victorious in the Blood War

Spider guffawed as he scanned the contract. “What?? That’s never gonna' happen.”

“Never? Freedom for the souls that you wish to protect. Freedom for Elturel which you fight to save.”

As she spoke, the seventh chain broke, ringing out over the courtyard.

“One left,” Zariel smiled. “But breaking the chains will not be enough.”

Bili felt the contract had some merit, though he wasn’t sure about the Pit Fiend line.

Zariel continued her pitch. “You will fight on the frontline of the Blood War. You will turn back the Demon Tide. You will save those that you love. Just as I have. The cost is great, but the reward greater. You will be saving those that you love.”

Spider shook his head in disgust, screwing the contract up and tossing it over his shoulder. “Really? That’s the worst deal I’ve ever seen in my life,” he snarled. Albert laughed quietly - Spider would have seen some pretty woeful deals, so this was saying something.

Spider had been determined to let Morad and Torgrun carry the argument to Zariel, but this was too much. “Zariel, for fuck’s sake. This tiny little soul,” he said, pointing to Lulu, “This tiny ball of goodness, came down to Hell to save your worthless hide. When I got down here, I just thought ‘we’ll just knife that cow and get outta here quick sweet, all done, job done’. But you know what? Spending so much time with that one, I’m a better person since I’ve been here that I was when I came here. Here of all godforsaken places!”

Zariel held Spider’s angry stare as he went on. “I didn’t give two rusty shits about anyone other than my own immediate circle before I came down here. And you know who helped me? This tiny little soul here, and this one here,” Spider added, this time pointing at Sam, who grinned nervously under the Archduke’s gaze. “So don’t tell me your path is set in stone because I’ve seen what Lulu’s prepared to go through to get us to you, because she believes you can be saved.”

Zariel glanced at Lulu who hovered by Olanthius’s shoulder. The Death Knight was barely moving now, halting for long moments before forcing another step.

“We all know who your boss is,” Spider continued. “You can choose to turn your back on him and go back to being the person you were before, and wake up everyday - or whatever the hell it is that angels do - and actually be the thing you’re supposed to be! You got conned by your boss. I’ve been conned too - you got done over, trust me. You were tricked, convinced yourself it was your choice, they guy down there (and I’m not going to say his name ‘cos we all know what happens if you do) - you know who tricked you.”

“Asmodeus,” Zariel muttered, “I have no fear of him.”

“That’s your problem there, he could squash you like a bug!” Spider exploded, much to Albert’s amusement. “Look at Lulu! She’s tiny! She trusted us to get her to you. And we’ve done it, and we’ve seen how you fell. We’ve seen what happened to you at the end, and it wasn’t your fault.”

“But it was my choice.”

“It was your choice because a silver-tongued devil convinced you it was the only way. And it’s not. You can fight the good fight. Like other angels do, the regular types, the way you are supposed to do it.”

“Like we have,” Torgrun interjected.

Zariel looked over to Torgrun. “How have you fought? How have you saved more in the world than what I have?”

“We have fought by embracing our frailty.”

Zariel stared back hard. “I have protected you…” she said uncertainly.

“We have walked a path. We have made mistakes. We walk the path still. We have been blinded by our vanity and we have turned our back on that blindness. The path you put before us in this contract is a simple path - but it is a folly. "

“I think she’s looking for something a little more concrete than that,” Albert muttered.

Torgrun shushed Albert with a wave of his hand. “We have passed all of our trials so that we can be here. We have done that to save Elturel. And Elturel is the path to your own redemption. You are still able to make a choice.”

Zariel looked around at the ruined city. “All the souls of Elturel, over centuries, will join my army. And all of those souls will turn the Blood War on our favour.”

“How long has the Blood War gone on?” Torgrun asked rhetorically.

Silence.

Lulu flew closer to Zariel. “It has been centuries. And nothing has changed. Nothing has changed. Before you the Blood War was fought. After you, the Blood War will be fought. The Blood War is eternal.”

Zariel’s eyes flickered as Lulu spoke.

“The Blood War is of this place,” Torgrun said quietly. “You are not of this place.”

Zariel pounded her fist. “Without me…I…Asmodeus would have killed me! I made the choice to fight on!”

“And so you lay that choice in front of us. You may kill us, as Asmodeus would have killed you. But we choose not to take your path.”

“You can do the same,” Spider added.

Zariel turned her head to the sky, her fists balled by her side.

Spider walked to Morad, looking up at the holy figure. “Are we gonna give her the sword or what?” he whispered.

“I’m worried about the sword,” Aziz Morad replied.

“Morad. Don’t we need to have a little faith?”

Morad stared at Spider, nodded, and turned to Mak. He held his hand out for the sword, and Mak immediately handed it over. Mak felt a wrenching loss as the joy of holy battle fell away, and Morad felt suddenly whole, resolute, and complete. Zariel whipped her head down and stared at the angelic figure of Aziz Morad as he strode forward. As he walked he reached a hand back to dig around in his pack, searching for something.

Torgrun and Mak fell in behind Aziz Morad, following his stride, as did Spider and Albert, flanking the holy warrior as he approached Archduke Zariel. Lulu fluttered by Aziz Morad’s shoulder. Only Bili remained seated, watching Olanthius and the Erinyes closely.

Olanthius was a few steps ahead of Aziz Morad. As he reached Zariel he stopped, gazing up at the Archduke. Zariel stared down at him. Aziz Morad stopped too, giving Olanthius the space he needed and the destiny he sought.

“I came to slay you, Lord Zariel,” Olanthius rasped. Then he dropped his head, shuddering slightly. With laboured movements he slowly climbed to his knees, supporting himself on his sword. He breathed hard, leaning his head on the hilt of the weapon.

“Mercy.”

Bili cursed. Olanthius bowed to Zariel? He was a traitor. His words promising revenge nothing but empty promises. Bili fumed, his heckles rising and a red mist clouding his vision. The opportunity Olanthius had sought lay in front of him and he did not take it! Bili was too infuriated to recognise he was still angry at himself for freeing Hedrun. For not taking the opportunity he had so long sought. He cried out in anguish, at much at losing Betrask as losing the Ice Witch.

He directed the lightning cloud to Olanthius and crashed down the punishment he deserved. Olanthius went rigid under the assault, his armour conducting the electricity into his every sinew. Aziz Morad gasped and looked at Zariel, shocked that she would strike so cruel a blow. He started to raise the sword, then heard Bili screaming: “You make me sick, get up!”

The Death Knight was too strong to fall to such a strike, and paid no heed to Bili’s cry. He slowly lifted his head and looked again at Zariel. “Mercy, my Lord, Mercy. I have followed you, I have served you. Mercy.” He lowered his head again.

Zariel hesitated, then reached out an open hand to Olanthius, who kept his head bowed. “Olanthius. You served me, and you served me well. Both here…and there.” She paused for a long moment then laid her hand on the Death Knight’s head. Her body tremored as she spoke: “I release you,” she whispered.

Olanthius collapsed into dust, drifting away on a sudden breeze that whispered like a sigh through the courtyard, his soul finally at rest.

Aziz Morad resumed his slow approach, sword lowered, followed closely by his companions. The lieutenants stepped aside to let the group pass and Morad stopped in front of Zariel, who towered over him.

“I pity you,” Morad said. “But I want to give you the gift that you denied yourself.”

He offered the sword, holding the hilt toward her in his gloved fist. He unravelled the scroll he had retrieved from his backpack. A scroll he had commissioned a priest in Candlekeep to devise, inscribed by a gifted calligrapher on vellum originally from a consecrated lamb. A scroll thrice blessed and sealed with Morad’s own blood to make the final phrase: “Ahullah Al’Akbar”. God is Great.

And Aziz Morad, Voice of Al’Akbar, spoke: “Even in the darkest of darkness, Al’Akbar is the light.” As his voice rang out, the scroll exploded like the sun with holy light, bathing Zariel in golden dawn for the first time in six-hundred years. It was as if the Heavens had opened a window on Hell.

Zariel staggered back under the beating sunlight. With great effort she stepped forward again, reaching her trembling hand toward the gleaming hilt of the sword, her sword. She paused, her hand inches away. Aziz Morad held his gaze on Archduke Zariel, Lord of the First Layer of Hell, Ruler of Avernus.

“I believe in you.”

Zariel grasped the hilt of the sword and pulled it free of Aziz Morad’s willing grip. She grimaced as radiant light flooded out from the sword, her spark released, searing her flesh from within. As her grip tightened, she gasped in pain, throwing her head back and crying out.

Aziz Morad watched as the angel struggled to defeat the devil. He reached out and put his hand on her shoulder: “I believe.”

Zariel shook under his firm grasp, and he felt a sudden release, of letting go, of acceptance, of return. Her charred flesh burnt away, centuries peeling off in moments, the skin below shining with the same golden hue as Aziz Morad, rich and lifegiving. Tears of confusion, sorrow, and dawning joy rolled down her radiant face as she locked her eyes on Aziz Morad.

“I supplicate myself before the holy light of justice. IF it should accept me, I vow to take this blade once more in its service.”

In a blinding flash Archduke Zariel was gone forever. In her place the angel Zariel arose, resplendent and almighty.

An angelic figure rises above grasping claws, sword raised to strike

She immediately struck down her two lieutenants, and as she did the final chain broke with cracking ring. Zariel turned to open-mouthed gathering. “I return. Let us out of this accursed place. I will open the way - prepare yourselves!”

Lulu cried out in joy, transforming into a giant version of her tiny self, much to Torgrun’s delight. Zariel smiled warmly burying her head in Lulu’s neck, then jumped atop her golden mount, shooting up into the sky. A vast rent opened as she sliced open a portal to Faerun.

The ground shuddered underfoot and everyone grabbed for something solid as the earthmote of Eltruel started to rise through the searing sky toward the brilliant daylight ahead.

On the ground below, for the first time in centuries, the devils and demons of the Blood War paused their eternal conflict to look to the heavens, where they saw a glowing blue figure lifting the city on its massive shoulders. As if to prove Morad, Torgrun, Albert, Spider, Mak, and even Bili right, the angel Zariel had accomplished what the devil Zariel never could: the end of the Blood War - if only for a moment.

Elturel emerged into the brilliant sunshine of Faerun. For the first time in what felt like years, a cool breeze floated through the air. The Chionthar River glistened like a silver road, stretching to Baldur’s Gate in the far distance. Nascius slowly lowered the earthmote into the crater from which it had been torn. The scent of morning dew cut through the odour of smoke, brimstone, and rot that clung to Elturel’s stones. The city was still a disaster, but it was home.

Torgrun fell to his knees, relief flooding his soul, as Albert took a deep breath of the startlingly fresh dawn air. A bird alighted on Aziz Morad’s shoulder, chirping a bright welcoming tune, and Aziz Morad said a quiet prayer of deepest thanks to Al’Akbar. Mak crouched down, finding it hard to believe it was over, tracing his finger through the charred soil. Bili slapped Mak on the back, already dreaming of their cold homes in the frozen North. And Spider reached up to stroke Sam. “We did it, pal,” he beamed.

Zariel landed in front of the High Hall, Nascius by her side. Lulu changed back to her tiny self and fluttered excitedly around her friends.

Zariel strode forward, bowing her head in solemn gratitude. “You saved me,” Zariel said quietly, “And for that I can never repay you.”

“You saved yourself,” Aziz Morad correctly gently.

Zariel smiled. “No. It was you. And Lulu. And Olanthius. This dark chapter has at last come to an end, and it is a brighter end than I ever dared to hope for. Thank you. Your selflessness will live on in my memory forever. If ever you should need my power or aid, you need only call and we will heed you.”

Lulu floated in front of the gathering, tears of joy glistening in her large eyes. “Thank you my friends. We will meet again, soon.” She changed back again, and the three Celestials flew away into the vast blue sky above.

As their silhouettes were swallowed by sunlight, the doors of the High Hall Cathedral burst open. Standing at the front was an exhausted but jubilant Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard, who raised his arms in greeting before opening them wide to the sun above. Behind him the huddled survivors stepped warily out, only slowly daring to believe it was over.

A small voice cried out from behind Ravengard, who stepped aside to allow Grace to pushed her way free of the crowd. She sprinted over, eyes shining with a beaming smile on her face, sqeualing with joy. She leapt through the air to bury Bili in a huge hug, flinging her arms around his neck.

“Bili! You did it!!”

Zariel the angel, masked, holding her sword, with Lulu by her side

Final session played: 5 Dec 2021

Descent Into Avernus

Raising Hell