---

Having performed a perfunctory clean in the bathhouse, the party returned exhausted to the Howling Harpy. It was three in the morning, and the streets were quiet enough to get back without interference (or imp-erference, somewhat worringly).

The head of Vaaz was taken as a trophy of sorts, Spider showing his precision knife skills when removing it. Madam Portencia claimed she wanted it preserved - “That would look fantastic in a jar” - to use as a prop for her soothsaying sessions. What better to remind patrons of the true power of her visions than a prominently displayed skinned head-in-a-jar?

Spider instructed everyone to clean up before reconvening in the staff-kitchen, where he had prepared a large and wholesome meal to start the recovery process. He also prepared Ma Betts' standard breakfast - eggs, ham, porridge, and a fresh orange juice with a shot of ‘special-sauce’. He also slipped a single agate into everyone’s hand, quietly tapping his nose and mentioning that these weren’t on the general-ledger.

Shortly after everyone started tucking in (to a frankly delicious meal - Spider knew his food), Ma stomped in with a black cloud over her head, holding her hand up - “not until I’ve eaten” - to stall any chatter until she’d chewed through half of Spider’s enormous meal.

“Ok. Tell me what happened.”

“Right. Where to start…” Spider pondered, before running through most everything that had happened in the Dead Three Dungeon. Others chimed in where appropriate, describing in detail or broad brush as required. The only thing left out were the agates.

Ma didn’t speak during the telling, continuing to eat her meal while she listened closely. At the conclusion of both, she leaned back in her chair and rested her arms on her chest.

“So you have proof? Of the link between Vanthampur and the Cult? Mortlock was down there - but the cultists were trying to kill him.”

“No proof,” Torman said firmly. “This is not something that I would take forward in the public realm. The only thing we have is that Mortlock said she was involved.”

“What do you need proof for?” Madan Portencia probed.

Torman continued. “What are you more interested in? Are you interested in the fact that the Cult of the Dead Three are operating? Or are you interested in the connection between Vanthampur and the Cult?”

“The connection,” Ma Betts emphasised. “We know about the Cult. We didn’t know about Vanthampur’s link.”

“Well then it is just the word of the son,” Morad confirmed.

“Ma - it depends if you want proof for Nine-Fingers, or if you want proof for a court of law,” Spider queried.

“We don’t want to go anywhere a court of law.”

“I believe Mortlock. He was all pally with these guys until he wasn’t - so he’s done something to piss ‘em off,” Spider continued.

“He gave us a good description of the crest of the Hellriders, on the ring of the noble they have smuggled into the city,” Madam Portencia added.

“Thavius Kreeg,” Torman interjected. Kreeg’s involvement with the fall of Elturel had been rolling around in his head, and though it went against everything he knew of the High Overseer he couldn’t shake his suspicion. He was a seasoned enough investigator to know to follow his intuition even when that intuition seemed nigh on impossible.

Spider looked rocked by this news. “You think it was Kreeg??”

“It had to have been,” Madam Portencia stated confidently.

“Well that fookin’ changes things. He’s the head of the Hellriders - that has political implications, Madam P.”

Madam Portencia took this in her stride. “No it doesn’t. The only reason he delayed the talks on that precise day was to get away. We knew he was in on it! Were you not across that? From day one?”

“I think that is a big stretch to say he was in on it from day one,” Spider said defensively.

“Trust me. He was in on it,” Madam Portencia emphasised. Torman nodded too, though his face was pale with the knowledge.

“Well you’re the diviner,” Spider parried.

“I am. And trust me.”

Ma Betts leaned forward, her arms resting on the table. “Wait wait wait. You’re saying Thavius Kreeg is here? In Baldur’s Gate?”

“Yes. Well - according to Mortlock, and given he was able to describe that so well, given his wit or lack thereof, I would trust everything else he said,” Madam Portencia confirmed.

Ma looked to Torman. “I don’t normally trust the Flaming Fist. But why do you think it’s Kreeg? You seem certain.”

Torman paused before meeting Ma Bett’s stare. “I’m not 100% sure. But this is all tied to the fall of Elturel. The two cities.”

Spider explained. “My concern is they’re planning on doing it here, and Mortlock said as much.”

“Doing what?”

“Doing to us the same thing what happened to Elturel.”

Ma Betts sat back in her chair.

“Let me piece this together. Duke Vanthampur worked with the cult to… to what? To bring down Elturel??”

“If I was Duke Vanthampur, given that power is what she wants here, I think she was happy to do it to get rid of Elturel and get rid of Ravengard at the same time.”

“Yes. What’s the point of becoming the Grand Duke and then have your city fall into the ground?” Madam Portencia agreed.

“On the other hand - if we are to believe he lives - Thavius Kreeg saw value in that exact situation,” Ma Betts countered.

“He certainly did. The fact that he’s here may mean he’s planning to do the same thing here, or he knew what was happening there and made his escape and he’s just…”

Ma Betts interrupted. “But as far as we know, Thavius Kreeg is a hero of Elturel, not a villain.”

“People make deals. People change,” Spider theorised.

“His actions don’t make sense otherwise,” Madam Portencia nodded.

“So you believe he escaped Elturel knowing this was going to happen.”

“I do.”

“And Vanthampur placed Ravengard there in order to remove him from the board.”

“I’m not sure if he’s been removed,” Torman insisted.

“Well he’s not back.”

Spider shook his head. “I don’t necessarily think Vanthampur believes the same thing is going to happen here, but the Dead Three might have other plans. I mean - she’s pretty clever, but I don’t know if she has any control over people that can sink a city if they need to.”

“This is bigger than we could possibly have imagined,” Ma Betts said emphatically.

“Ma you didn’t see what happened to Elturel. It happened right in front of us. It’s pretty fooking' big,” Spider reinforced.

“Eltruel is gone!” Torman cried, “But I’m not sure where it’s gone.”

“Indeed. We thought Elturel was bad enough. But now… perhaps Baldur’s Gate too.”

Madam Portencia spoke into the silence. “Let me ask you something. The Hhune family - what does your organisation know about the Hhune’s?”

“The Hhune’s? They were a very powerful family, for many decades. They rose to power in a hurry, over a century ago. They held great power in Baldur’s Gate for some time. But in the last five or so years they fell from grace, hard. Their fall was almost as fast as their rise.”

“Why?”

“No-one knows.”

“But scandals are your stock in trade, surely?”

“That’s just it - there wasn’t any scandals. They just lost their power.”

“The source of their power,” Torman speculated.

“Perhaps. Whatever gave them their rapid rise may also be responsible for their fall, or perhaps lost, or no longer allied with them. We don’t know.”

“Or taken,” Torman suggested. He went on to explain how the Vanthampur’s had employed the cult to retrieve a mystery artefact from the Hhune vaults.

“This object you are talking about is curious. Because if it is now in the hands of Duke Vanthampur. And if it was responsible for the Hhune’s rising,” Ma Betts considered, “then perhaps she thinks she can do something with it. My guess is she has taken this object believing she can empower it. And maybe Kreeg has something to do with that.”

“When men start playing with gods, then the follies of men are revealed,” Torman pontificated solemnly. “I think Vanthampur doesn’t know what’s happening. I think she has opened up Pandora’s Box.”

Madam Portencia started at Torman with new respect. “I am going to use that line,” she whispered to her weasel.

---

Ma Betts laid her hands flat on the table and addressed the group.

“This entire situation is far more complicated than we first thought. Let me lay out my understanding of your tale.

“First: you discovered some, admittedly shaky, evidence that the cult knew of, or perhaps were involved with, the destruction of Elturel. A prophecy read from entrails, if I understand correctly?”

Madam Portencia nodded weakly, for once not relishing her role as a reader-of-signs. Mind you she did have a head in a bag, so entrails weren’t that outrageous.

Spider jumped in. “And - no disrespect Madam P - but as much as those things are gospel, there were also the prophecies of ‘the one that will rise’ which is pretty obviously Duke Vanthampur. And the ‘one damned to hell’, possibly, is Duke Ravengard. The one struck by lightning - fook knows.”

Ma Betts smiled and continued, “Secondly: the cult were fronted cash - and a sewer base - by Duke Vanthampur, as a reward for something they dug out from below the Hhune family manor. That something is thus far unidentified - but it may be a factor in repeating the Elturel disaster right here in Baldur’s Gate.

“Next: you found one of Duke Vanthampur’s sons down there - Mortlock, the big one. And you let him go, probably wisely. Hopefully he hasn’t gone running to mummy.”

“I - and the rest of us - think that he gave up everything he had to tell. He’s not going back,” Spider asserted.

“Very well. Now, Mortlock told you of the Hhune connection. But more importantly, to my ear, he also told you the Vanthampur’s have somehow managed to smuggle Thavius Kreeg, Grand Overseer of Elturel, into Baldur’s Gate. That is very valuable information if true.

“And finally, to further Thalamra Vanthampur’s ambition toward the Grand Dukedom, the Vanthampur family engineered the removal of Ravengard by the rather dramatic method of destroying Elturel itself - sucking both the Grand Duke and the city into the pits of Hell.

“This last I find hardest to reconcile with what I know of the Duke - as Spider observed, destroying a city is likely beyond even her undoubted abilities. This suggests there are greater powers at work - Thavius Kreeg is a prime suspect. If it be true he was granted - or cursed - with some kind of eternal life, then he is obviously trucking with forces stronger than even the four Dukes of Baldur’s Gate.

“This is quite the tale. Some might say too tall to be true. And yet Elturel is gone. As is Ravengard. The Three have certainly been creating more than their fair share of problems. And Duke Vanthampur has made no secret of her ambitions. It adds up, and whilst some of the evidence is scant, my gut,” and here she patted her pleasantly full stomach, “tells me it’s true.

“It sounds to me like the cult may be a red herring. It’s the Vanthampur’s - and Kreeg - we need to be worried about.”

Ma Betts stood. “You’ve done well to clean out that dungeon - thank you, you will be paid as promised.

“The Vanthampur’s are next. I’ll double your fee - in fact, let’s make it a round hundred. See if you can find this Hhune object, and get to the bottom of this conspiracy.

“I’m more than a little worried about what’s going on here. Normally I’d be looking to see what leverage we can find, but I am deeply concerned about what you tell me about Elturel, and what they are planning in Baldur’s Gate.

“I’ll leave it to your judgement what to do with Vanthampur and her family. Same with Kreeg, I don’t care if he lives or dies. Remember Vanthampur is one of the four Dukes of this city - she will be well guarded, as I’m sure Mak can confirm. Be careful.”

---

After divvying up the loot chests (Spider having already extracted Ma Betts' 30% cream), the party retired for a badly needed sleep. Madam Portencia hit Spider up for some assistance on that front, “Is there anywhere I can grab some laudelum, or similar?”.

“Do you smoke a pipe?” Spider queried.

“Been known to…”

“Well that’s easier,” Spider laughed.

Morad took an exceptional amount of time cleaning everything he carried, leaving no trace of sewer. Things he couldn’t clean he replaced with brand new clothing (and four backup sets), venturing out onto the mean streets of Baldur’s Gate to find a tailor. Madam Portencia followed suit, visiting her favourite milliner to rapidly drain her hard-earned riches.

---

In the late afternoon the group regathered to develop a plan. Or, as it turned out, several plans.

Madam Portencia wanted to address the Thavius Kreeg situation. “How long has he been in control of Elturel?”

Torman, having studied Elturel history, explained. “Centuries. He is human, but he brought the light, the Companion, and saved the city. People have always believed he was blessed by the angelic host, giving him his unusual longevity.”

“I can’t help feeling that my late-coming cynicism about this guy is a flaw in my character,” Madam Portencia rued.

Torman shook his head. “Until this event, there was no sign that he was anything other than a saviour. Elturel was one of the great holy cities thanks to him. A thriving city. It rivalled Baldur’s Gate. Nothing to suggest he might be involved in anything like this. "

“He is a human who has lived longer than an elf,” Madam Portencia countered.

“Sure. But it was well established why. A boon granted him by the gods.”

Madam Portencia disagreed. “My experience is people given boons by demons live for a long time. And people given boons by gods get sacrificed on something. So as I say - hindsight is a wonderful thing. And a poor showing for a sayer of the sooth.”

Plan the First: The Bluff

Attention turned to Madam Portencia’s imp. If it had scampered off to report back to Thurstwell, as Mortlock had suggested, then the chance of a surprise approach to the Villa seemed scant. If however the imp was working from some other hidden motive - it was an imp, after all - then it might be possible.

“If Thurstwell is in fact keeping all those imps, then he will know what has transpired,” Spider declared.

“That’s right,” Madam Portencia agreed. “And he’ll know Mak’s disposition viz-a-viz the Vanthampur’s.”

“So we may not be able to bluff our way in, we may have to second-story it.”

“It’s funny, actually. Mortlock implied that his brothers wouldn’t really want him dead - but perhaps the cult would. So would his brothers really be pushing to murder him if that wasn’t their intent?” Madam Portencia pondered.

“Well the imp was pretty keen,” Morad recalled.

“Yes, he was. I mean his brothers are bullies, sure, but…”

Mak cut in. “Duke Vanthampur loved all her sons, in her way - so they would be crossing their mother to kill him.”

There was no way to know either way, but it did seem the risk of a Mak-driven con was too high. Working on the assumption that the imp did report to Thurstwell seemed safer.

Time for a new plan.

Plan the Second: Non-negotiable

“So, are we visiting the Villa?” Mak asked, straight to the point as ever.

“Definitely. The question is, are we going in the front door or are we sneaking in? You’ve been there Mak,” Spider questioned.

“I don’t think we should go in the front door. I’m pretty sure I won’t be welcomed.”

“We don’t know that,” Morad countered, and Spider nodded.

Torman agreed. “As much as people are still making the connection between him and the Vanthampur’s - he’s left. He hasn’t reported back since returning to the city.”

“Maybe Vanthampur knows Mortlock is missing,” Morad added. “But that doesn’t mean the guy on the gate know. So Mak could maybe get us in, or at least in the front door.”

“It’s the imp we’re worried about,” Madam Portencia reminded everyone. “They’ll either know, in which case the guy on the gate will be told. Or they won’t know, and neither will the gate guy.”

“Either way - I don’t think we’re going to get in with Mak. Mak’s just a bodyguard,” Torman figured.

“But he knows some of the guards - the layout, the first level password, that kind of thing,” Morad countered.

“Could go either way,” Madam Portencia nodded. “You want my advice, as someone who can see the future - quite literally?”

“I welcome your advice,” Mak grunted.

“My advice is: it could go either way.”

Everyone laughed. “Incredibly insightful,” Mak smiled. “I have another insight. It’s about myself, and I have to be honest: I am not very good at negotiating.”

This brought another round of hearty laughter. “The man who knows himself,” Madam Portencia nodded, “Is the wisest man of all.”

“So maybe we will try a method that does not involve me negotiating with anyone.”

“Well you know the layout of the place, Mak. Is there any chance of us sneaking in?” Spider questioned.

“Yes.”

“Could you be more… specific?” Madam Portencia pressed after a long pause from Mak.

Intermission: Mak’s Map

Mak called for some paper and a pencil, and drew a surprisingly good map of Vanthampur Villa. He also laid out what he knew of the guards and servants.

---

The Vanthampur’s employed guards to patrol the yard of the Villa, which was enclosed by twelve-foot stone walls. Nine guards patrol in three groups of three, usually circling the yard counterclockwise. The guards live elsewhere and change shifts every six hours. He suspected the guards were too well paid to accept bribes, and they definitely had no respect for the Flaming Fist. They were all hardened professionals and loyal - he didn’t like many of them.

The Vanthampur’s also employed four full-time live-in servants:

• Fendrick Gray, a decrepit seventy-year-old butler
• Sarvinder Peck, a salty fifty-two-year-old groundskeeper and stable master
• Gabourey D’Vaelan, a fussy thirty-five-year-old cook
• Ambra Fallwater, a plainspoken nineteen-year-old maid

Ambra was a recent hire to replace the previous maid, who Duke Vanthampur threw down the stairs for breaking a vase. Hearing this Spider cursed the Duke. “All bets are off,” he said angrily.

“There’s a reason I’m not going back to work for her,” Mak agreed. He stressed the servants were good people, insisting that they were to be kept safe. “I don’t want my servant friends hurt.”

“Will they they take kindly to instruction?” Madam Portencia asked. “Like, stay in the goddam pantry?”

“Yes,” Mak nodded, knowing they were all loyal employees (some for many years) - but not stupid. They weren’t going to risk their lives for the Duke.

Plan the Third: Horseplay

“Looks like there are windows on the outside of the stables, is that correct?” Madam Portencia said and Mak nodded. “We could come through there,” she pondered. “Do they have horses - how many?”

“Four draught horses.”

“They don’t scare easily. And the stable master - in the stables?”

Mak nodded “Sarvinder often slept there, having bedded down with a drink or two. A man of few words.” Mak and Sarvinder got on well as a result.

“My money is still on the stables,” Madam Portencia confirmed. “I don’t know about you Spider, what do you reckon?”

“I’d have to go take a look,” Spider demurred. “Depends how quick you want to do this. Normally I’d case it for a few days.”

“I’m not sure we have a few days.”

“The stable windows are too small for me,” Mak added. “I’d go over the wall. Or if one of you could get in, you could open the gate.”

“We boost Spider in, through the window,” Morad suggested. Mak noted there were trees and buildings on the outside of the walls, near the stables and so the South. All could be used to get over the wall or onto the stable roof.

Compliation: The Guards

“What about the patrolling guards?” Madam Portencia asked.

“The problem is, killing three guys without alerting anyone is really hard. Killing one, sure, but three - much harder,” Spider asserted.

“I can sleep them,” Madam Portencia offered. Spider said he could too - maybe two or three guards could be taken down with this.

“If we were quick, we can take down two patrols - six guards - before the third realises. Then move inside fast,” Spider suggested.

Plan the Fourth: Don’t hurt the horses…

“Or we could create a distraction,” Mak proposed.

Spider perked up. “That’s not a bad plan.”

“That’s all it would take,” Madam Portencia enthused. “Get them all to move to one end of the yard. 20 seconds…”

“Or the stables,” Mak suggested.

“Ohhh. Yes. Who doesn’t like setting stables on fire?” Madam Portencia clapped.

Bili shook his head. “I don’t want to kill those horses. What sort of crazy people are you?”

Madam Portencia nodded. “Oh, yes, good point. Sorry - enthusiasm got the better of me Bili.”

Plan the Fifth: …but do spook them

“Distraction is still good, using the stables.” Spider reiterated. “Can we do something at a distance?”

Bili spoke up. “I can. I can create a thunder-clap, or a thunder-wave. Things that make noise.”

“The problem is if you do something that causes physical damage, instead of just a noise, that’s going to tip people off straight away - put everyone on alert.”

Madam Portencia agreed. “That’s the thing. The distraction has got to be such that when they discover the source of the commotion that they don’t think it’s a distraction. They think it’s something else.”

Spider had an idea. “Look the other thing that’s possible is we can spook the horses.”

Bili like this idea. “I can talk to the horses! They can make a lot of noise if you want?”

Mak nodded. “That’s sounding good.”

Spider too. “That’s probably not a bad plan. But you gotta really roil them up though. Get them to make a lot of noise to the point where they’re kicking their stalls. That’s going to draw a lot of attention.”

“Oh I’ll talk to them,” Bili assured. “I’ll feed ‘em up, and get them angry. And hungry.”

Spider rubbed his hands. “Good. We go over the South-West wall, get the guards attention drawn away, in we go. Chances are we’ll distract six of the guards, but not all nine.”

Mak emphasised the guards were disciplined enough that they wouldn’t all be drawn to a single spot - unless they were called over. “Unfortunately they’re pro’s.”

Plan the Sixth: Flattening the curve

“Maybe we can do this differently then,” Madam Potencia suggested. “What about we get them to come into the stables, when the horses make a lot of noise, and then we quietly kill them.”

Spider thought this sounded better. “We can do that.”

“The other things is at some point this is going to from stealth, to strength. We just have to work out when that moment is,” Mak advised. “Once we get into the Villa, and we head upstairs, there are more guards all through the second level.”

“Look. It’s just about flattening the curve,” Madam Portencia said bluntly. “We just don’t want to agro too many at once.”

Everyone paused to consider this latest plan, nodding slowly - it seemed a good one.

“Ok,” Madam Portencia probed. “Is that the plan? Was that plan better than all the other plans?”

Plan the Seventh: Never split the party

Spider listed the options. “There’s either sneak over the wall, there’s distract, or big distract and kill ‘em in the stables.”

He was suddenly struck by a new idea. “Wait. The other option is: we divide into two groups, three of us go into the stables, and the other three go over the wall at the South end.”

“To what end?” Madam Portencia questioned. “Let’s use their professionalism against them. We don’t want to fight nine guys, but if they’re only going to come three at a time…”

“We can’t let them run. We can’t let them signal,” Torman warned. “My thinking is - there’s a back gate near the stables. If we operate in the stables, and can somehow get that back gate open…”

“Well we can if we draw three guards into the stables,” Madam Portencia claimed. “If we kill three who go to investigate the horses, we quiet the horses down to stop anyone else checking up, there will be a gap in the guards and we can get through the back gate.”

Plan the Eighth: Nothing to see here

“You know what,” Spider had another thought. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Well god save we need one right now,” Madam Portencia laughed.

“Ok. Right. I’ve got a plan. I can whip up something that’s gonna make it look like the gate’s closed. But we can open it.”

Everyone’s ears pricked up at this.

“So I sneak over the wall with someone else - Madam P’s a pretty handy climber. Maybe she comes over in case we need to sleep a couple and then I can have a crack at ‘em. But I can get to the top of the wall and then do a little hoo-ha to make it look like the gate’s closed.”

“I understand the kind of hoo-ha you’re talking about,” Madam Portencia nodded.

“And someone is poised to come in when the guards have gone past,” Torman understood.

“Absolutely. It gets the gate open, and gets us inside.”

Plan the Ninth: The stable thing

“Are we still doing the thing with the horses?” Bili enquired.

“I think we’re still going to have to kill three,” Madam Portencia stressed.

“Definitely. But while the stable thing’s happening, I can get the gate open.”

“Ah. So we’re still doing the stable thing.”

“Unless you want to try and sneak in and just take our chances trying to quietly kill three,” Spider asked.

“If we kill three, we’re going to have to kill nine,” Torman said.

“No, if we kill three and hide the bodies, the other six won’t notice, it will just give us a big gap in the run. Big enough to hide the fact that the gate is open.”

Torman was sceptical, his Fist training suggesting a flaw. “So we are working on the assumption that they never see each other. And yet they’re professionals.”

“…yes?” Madam Portencia said slightly shakily.

“No, I don’t think it’s a good assumption at all,” Spider mused, seeing the wisdom of Torman’s warning.

“I think is is about the curve. Let’s kill three, kill three, kill three. And then we’re done,” Bili stated.

Madam Portencia paused. “If we can… I think that’s the best way to go.”

Intermission: But why?

Torman stood. “Let’s just take a step back for a minute. This is the, perhaps, ruler of all of Baldur’s Gate. And we’re going to kill nine of her retinue. Right now. Before we even walk inside the building. I think what we need to do is sneak. I think we’re going about it the wrong way if we’re going in all guns blazing.”

“We put two of her guys in the sewer only yesterday,” Madam Portencia reminded him.

“Yes. But we really don’t put ourselves in a strong position if we just mess up the house.”

Spider jumped in. “Then we just sneak in. That’s fine, we can do that. Everyone can be quiet, can’t they?”

“I don’t know how we’re going to sneak in. I can’t see a way of getting past the guards unless we take three out,” Madam Portencia said, shaking her head.

Everyone was quiet.

Plan the Tenth: A rough jerkin

Bili spoke up. “Fight them in the stables. Kill three. Start with them. Wave after wave.”

Madam Portencia agreed. “Let’s try and take out three in the stables. And if the other’s don’t notice… We don’t have to wait all night for them to notice. Just time enough to bridge the gap to the house.” As she said this she was struck by a new idea. “And maybe a big noise inside the stables is not the way to go. Maybe a subtle way to draw them in?”

Bili agreed.

“And if this stable-master is in there - I’ll change my wig, slip on a rough jerkin, I’ll be him for the evening, call the guards in… "

Bili looked confused, whilst Mak’s eyes opened wide. “Say no more. Nudge nudge, wink-wink. Three happy guards!”

Torman scratched his head. “I, uh, I don’t know. We’re in the upper city, I don’t know that a jerkin-clad lady will…”

“I am talking about literally taking on the visage of the stable-hand!” Madam Portencia cried.

“Ohhhh,” everyone suddenly understood.

“You people. Your minds are in the gutter, 100% of the time. You do not respect me as a human being and I resent that!”

“I’m sorry,” Torman chuckled. “I’ve been walking through the sewers and a little bit has stuck to me.”

“Lady, I have never questioned your honour. You are a very noble woman,” Bili protested.

“You’d better beleive it, my big hairy friend,” Madam Portencia scolded.

Plan the Eleventh: Morad’s Plan

Spider tried to get things back on track. “Ok. What do you think, Morad?”

Morad had been quiet for most of the discussion, but he too had a plan. “This all seems silly. We go in, we just kill everyone, and we take what we need, and then we leave.”

Mak looked pleased. “Yes!”

“Right. Ok then, let’s do that,” Spider offered with a smile.

“There is a beauty to this,” Torman laughed.

“An elegant simplicity,” Madam Portencia agreed.

Plan the Twelfth: Almost there

Spider tried once again. “Ok. Cut to the chase. When we get there, if the stable window needs unlocking then I’ll get someone in there. In the meantime I’ve going to go over the wall, and I’m going to open the back gate while casting an illusion to make sure it still looks like it’s closed. It’ll look exactly the same.”

“Got it,” Madam Portencia nodded.

“The simple fact is, there is going to be no good way to go in. There’s no good way. If we go in any way we’re going to get sprung. At least going through the gate we’re not climbing over walls.”

“And we draw three into the stables to give us a chance to kill them before the other guards arrive,” Madam Portencia elaborated. “So apart from Mak, the rest of us can come in through those stable windows, surely.”

“What about you Morad? Stables or gate?” Spider asked.

“I go wherever you need me. I’ll come in stable, I’m very good with horses.”

Mak spoke up. “The guards won’t question me being there. Unless they have been warned.”

Plan the Thirteenth: A simple plan

Madam Portencia saw an opportunity. “You could draw them into the stables.”

Mak nodded.

“As long as that’s not too much negotiation,” Torman reminded him.

“I won’t be saying anything, just catch their eye.”

“Stand in the stable doorway with your vest undone,” Madam Portencia suggested, recovered from the earlier slights on her character well enough to offer similar to Mak.

“That sounds like a plan,” Spider agreed. “And the simple fact is they’re not going to worry about how you got in the gate. In fact the fact they don’t now how you got in is going to work to your advantage.”

“I do say again though,” Mak cautioned, “That when it stops being quiet this is going to get real loud.”

“Sure, but let’s try and keep it quiet for a wee bit.”

“Ok. We might not need the horse distraction, but keep it on hand, Bili, in case we need it.”

Madam Portencia nodded. “Keep it as Plan B. Or is it C?”

“And Bili and Morad can make sure the horses don’t make sounds until we might need it,” Torman added.

Mak added another complication. “The bar holding the gate closed is heavy, you will need two to lift it.”

“Bili can handle the horses,” Morad suggested. “So let me come over with Spider. Then we let Mak in.” Spider agreeds this sounded best. “Me, Morad, and Mak at the gate. And the other three at the stables.”

“This is all going to go to shit, as soon as it starts happening. So just be prepared,” Spider emphasised.

Everyone laughed nervously.

A Simple Plan: The Walkthrough

Madam Portencia stood and swept the table clean, placing Mak’s map dead centre. She grabbed six salt shakers and positioned them on the North side of the map, then ran through the Simple Plan.

“Alright. The Bear, and the Cop, and the Soothsayer, are climbing in the stable window, and they’re waiting.” She placed three shakers inside the building.

“And if Madam P sees a stable guy in there she sleeps him,” Spider added.

“Don’t waste a spell,” Morad asserted.

“No no, we’re not killing the help, they’re not kobold’s buddy,” Torman warned.

“Just knock him out, that’s what I’m saying,” Morad protested.

“Once we’re inside we signal the Goblin, who climbs over the fence with the Arab,” Madam Portencia continued, moving shakers into position. “They take the bar off the gate, covered by an illusion, and let the Giant in.

“And then, when there’s no-one looking, the Giant steps out of the illusion and moves to the stable door where he says, ‘yoo-hooo’ to whoever is coming past, and lures them into the stables.”

“Or even, instead of going ‘yoo-hoo’, he very quietly, with weapon drawn, makes out like there is someone inside the stable,” Spider suggested.

“Good idea,” Torman nodded.

“Do we need to write your lines down, Mak?” Madam Portencia queried politely.

Torman shook his head. “No talking. Action.” Mak nodded vigorously in agreement.

Madam Portencia went on. “Once the three guards are within the stable, they will be set upon by all hands. And the Arab and the Goblin will follow up and assist with said setting upon.

“Once that’s done, we all take a breath, look to see what the other guards are doing, aaaand…” Madam Portencia ran out of steam.

“…and we see if we can squeeze through the gap,” Spider finished for her.

“Yes! And that’s as far as we’ve thought,” Madam Portencia smiled widely.

“After that point it goes to Morad’s plan,” Mak suggested, drawing a round of laughter.

“It’s a plan. I’m very intelligent, it will work.” Madam Portencia said confidently.

Torman’s experience told him otherwise. “We’re doomed,” he grimaced.

“I’m not as wise as I am smart, unfortunately,” Madam Portencia shot back. “I may have overthought the plan.”

“Don’t worry, I have contingencies,” Torman added.

“Good. Someone has to!”

Torman wanted to look further ahead. “Tell me what happens when we get to Mortlock’s room.”

“Well he won’t be there. If he’s in there then he’s in trouble,” Madam Portencia insisted.

“That is true. If he is in there he has broken his word,” Morad said sternly.

“I’m a little unsure how this is going to play out,” Torman insisted, “if we want informtion from the Duke. Is this a coup? Are we looking to overthrow and kill the Duke?”

“We’re not necessarily going in there to kill the Duke,” Spider jumped in.

“I just ask, because there are the brothers, and the Duke. If we go in and kill Amrik and Thurstwell, and then we go into the Duke and say ‘so anyway we’re just here for some information, oh and by the way - we’ve just killed your heir apparents’…”

“Well you’re a police officer,” Madam Portencia said wryly. “You should know ways to frame these questions in a way that will draw answers.”

“What are we actually trying to achieve,” Morad asked, his plan weakening. “Maybe we’re not supposed to kill everyone? Are we supposed to just get the Duke?”

“Information,” Spider asserted.

“We need to find this powerful magic item,” Torman added. “It’s not going to be given up lightly. At the same time, there is a bigger story.”

“So we’re going to have to kill everyone, empty the Duke’s desk, go in the tower, get the thing, get out.”

“Eat everyone, that’s what you’re saying,” Bili confirmed.

“That’s not… that’s what you’re hearing, that’s not what we’re saying!” Morad shook his head.

“If we get said magic item,” Torman continued, “That would imply that the Duke is dead.”

“There’s no subtle version of this,” Mak contemplated.

“Look I was planning to get out of town anyway,” Madam Portencia shrugged. “So let’s just go.”

“My understanding was we’re going for information, the instructions were not to lop the head off the Duke,” Torman stated.

“There’s no version of this where I’m standing there and the Duke doesn’t go, ‘Mak, what are you doing here’,” Mak reminded everyone.

“Yeah, we have to kill them all,” Bili concluded.

Torman pondered. “I have another point to make. Don’t we all think that she is in league with the Dead Three?”

“I don’t think anyone who has spent so much time trying to become in charge of Baldur’s Gate is going to want Baldur’s Gate suffering the same fate as Elturel,” Spider argued.

“I think she was behind the plan,” Torman said firmly.

“For Elturel? Absolutely. But not for here.”

Torman made up his mind. “OK. I’ve worked through my position on this. I’m quite fine to see her die under my hand. So from now on, I’m leaning more toward ‘we can’t leave any witnesses’. Everyone must die. They may give us a reason not to kill them, but the default position is that we are cleaning house. We’re after the object, but we have secondary set of instructions, and she’s the prime target.”

Everyone understood, and, mostly, agreed.

Spider looked around. “Right. Uptown is not my patch. But I can get us through the gates at night, I have friends. But we’ll have to watch ourselves getting up there - the Watch may be lazy fucks but they’ll be walking the streets. At the very least we’ll need to dress like a bit of a toff to pass inspection.

“And just to be clear. Everyone is going in with their face covered and no identifying information on them. None.”

The plan was decided. All that remained was to put it in motion.

---

The party reconvened at midnight.

Spider - who looked much more like a gnome than a goblin now - was as good as his word, getting the party through the Upper City gates. The streets up here were wider, the houses larger, and the Flaming Fist nowhere to be seen. Members of the Watch lounged against walls.

After a short walk, Vanthampur Villa stood imposingly ahead, a stately stone edifice with red clay tiles covering the rooftops. Madam Portencia peered through the stable window as planned, seeing that Sarvinder was indeed present, resting with a bottle of liquor. The horses stood quietly in their stalls.

The soothsayer spoke a few words and waved her hands. The stable-keeper took another swig, looked at the bottle in surprise, and instantly dropped off to sleep. Bili and Torman slipped quietly through the window, Bili whispering to horses to be quiet while feeding them Ma Betts’ offcast carrots. Madam Portencia followed, warning the others as she heard footsteps from the guards passing outside.

Torman knelt over Sarvinder and quickly gagged him and roped his hands together. The stable-master woke with a start, eyes wide. Torman looked at him and put his hand to his lips, “shhhh”, pointing to Bili and Madam Portencia. He looked around fearfully, and nodded slowly. Torman started tying his feet. Sarvinder kicked out in protest, but Torman drew his knife and held it to the stable-master’s neck. Sarvinder undertood, closing his eyes and lying still.

The gate crew meanwhile stood under the eaves of the gate, hearing the crunch of the guard footsteps passing on the other side. Once they had moved on, Spider set Samael loose to climb up the wall. Samael reported where the guards were, giving Spider the best opportunity to climb over during the longest gap in the guard rotation. The gate crew were getting nervous, not seeing any sign from Madam Portencia that the stable group were inside.

Suddenly Samael saw a weasel scurrying over the rooftops. Spider understood this was Madam Portencia’s message - he had been expecting something more direct, but this would do. Spider scurried up the gate to the top and did a quick survey, noting the position of the guards. The timing was right, so he spoke the words that created the illusion over the gate, the change spilling several feet out into the inner courtyard. He leapt down into the illusion, indicating to Morad that he too should climb over.

Mak boosted Morad, who dropped down to join Spider. Three guards were approaching from the East. Morad was confused as the guards approached but obviously didn’t see anything untoward - magic! He indicated to Spider they should hurry with the gate. They braced against it and lifted the bolt quickly out of its sconce and placed it on the ground quietly as the guards moved past.

Madam Portencia and Torman watched the guard rotation, preparing for the next stage. The weasel updated Madam Portencia on the other team’s successful infiltration.

With the guards gone, Spider slowly started to pull the gate open, but he stopped immediately as the gate hinges screeched as they protested at being opened. One of the guards stopped and turned. He walked over toward the gate, joined by another. They drew near the gate, before shrugging and turning back. “Gate’s closed,” one mumbled.

Once they moved away, Spider rapidly pulled it open. The guard glanced back as it screeched, but could see nothing out of the ordinary and continued on. Mak quickly slipped inside. “Go, now!” Spider whispered.

Mak nodded. He stepped out of the illusion along the North wall, before stepping into the line of sight of the three guards approaching from the East.

“Mak??”

Mak drew his weapon, putting one finger up to his mouth to shush them, and beckoned them over as he moved toward the stable.

“Mak! Where are you going? Why are you here?”

Mak shushed them again, and pointed into the stable.

The stable crew prepared for the arrival of the guards, hearing their calls from outside.

“Mak hold up - what’s happening?” the guard called, their pace quickening. Mak didn’t reply, standing in the stable doorway before stepping inside and closing the doors.

One of the three guards ran down South, calling out to the other visible guard group. “Mak’s here, he’s calling us into the stable.” The three turned and walked toward the stable to the North. They stopped thirty feet away. “You check it, we’ll wait here.”

The lone guard moved to the doorway, his two companions standing ready whilst the three from the South group watched carefully. He pulled the door open and immediately saw Sarvinder tied and bound on the floor. Mak knelt over Sarvinder and indicated the guard should enter to assist.

The guard’s eyes opened wide. “What’s happened here?” He called back to his team who started approaching, “Something’s wrong! Mak - speak! What the hell’s wrong with you?!”

“Say something Mak!” Madam Portencia whispered to Mak. “I should have given you the bloody lines when I had the chance!”

The guard stepped around to look into the horse stalls, seeing they were calm and still. “What happened to Sarvinder, Mak? Bring him out here.” Mak shook his head. “Bring him out here Mak,” he insisted, to no avail.

The other guard called back to the three standing further away. “Sarvinder’s been trussed up like an animal. Mak’s trying to free him - I think. But Mak won’t say anything. Something’s not right!” The other three guards moved up.

Samael warned Spider that the final three guards had rounded the Eastern edge of the Villa and would shortly have eyes on the scene.

Mak dragged Sarvinder into the stalls, breaking the line of sight of the guards. “Mak! What are you doing?!”

One guard stepped inside the stable to follow Mak, dropping quickly to a crouch to see under the horses. He immediately spotted Bili. “There’s someone else in here!” he yelled, and the other two guards rushed inside…

…right into the path of a blast of burning flame that erupted from Madam Portencia’s hands. Two fell screaming to the ground and the other was badly burnt. As the flames flared, Bili tried desperately to calm the horses, but they were having nothing of it. The reared up in fear at the explosion of flame, crashing into the stalls.

Mak swung and missed at the last guard standing, the commotion from the horses ruining his focus. Bili scrambled out of range of the huge beasts, also missing his strike as a result. The guard swung his spear wildly but he too couldn’t connect. Even Torman fluffed his strike in the chaos.

Outside, Spider managed to put one of the guards protecting the doorway into a magical slumber. The other guards ran inside, attacking Torman and Madam Portencia, hitting the soothsayer with a nasty slash. Morad sprinted over and tried to grab the sleeping guard and shove him inside - hoping Spider would follow inside and close the door before the third patrol arrived.

Unfortunately the doorway was crammed with combatants, and Morad bounced back outside, landing unceremoniously on his back. The third guard gang started sprinting to the stables, running directly past the still concealed Spider who stepped outside the illusion and buried his dagger in rear-most guard, dropping him. Morad hauled himself to his feet and savaged the nearest guard with his blade, instantly killing him.

Inside the stable, Mak tried again, but his recklessness wasn’t rewarded with a strike. Bili finished off the injured guard, who fell lifeless to the ground. Torman’s skull flail pounded into one of the guards, killing him too.

After a difficult first sequence, the tide had turned. The remaining two guards tried to bring down Morad and Spider, but both missed badly. Morad dropped his opponent, his second swing as deadly as his first. Spider likewise felled his foe, leaving just one guard left alive inside. Madam Portencia took another blow from him, before trying to sound the tolls of the dead. Alas the toll tolled false this time. Mak, infuriated by his impotent attacks, finally crashed his axe into the last guard. Bili finished the job with a short swing of his obsidian axe.

All nine guards lay dead. Morad and Spider quickly collected the bodies outside and dragged them into the stable, pulling the doors closed as Torman calmed the still fractious horses.

Everyone was breathing hard as they stared at the mound of bodies.

“Just as we planned,” Madam Portencia observed wryly.

---

With the guards dead, getting to the house was going to be easy. But before Spider could slip out, a familiar high-pitched voice called out from the corner of the stables.

“My my, you do like killing, don’t you?”

Madam Portencia’s imp friend appeared, perched on a woodpile next to the hearth, rubbing it’s hand with grin on its face.

“In fact you’ve killed everything you’ve seen except… Morlock.”

“And you,” Morad pointed out.

“And me! That is well observed. But I think we have an understanding, don’t we?”

Morad surprised everyone with his reply, “Yes.”

“Very good. Now, this all makes me think that you are all working for the Vanthampur’s? Is that correct?”

Spider quietly palmed a shuriken.

“We’re on the side of the Vanthampur’s??” Morad clarified with confusion.

“Yes! I have worked it out. I asked you to kill one of them, and you did not. And now here you are killing more and more, but still the Vanthampur’s live. Therefore: you are in the Duke’s employ! Isn’t that right?” the Imp concluded happily.

“Fuck off,” Madam Portencia said bluntly.

“Oh! Why would you be so rude?”

“I am sick of consorting with demons…”

“Demon?! I am no demon! How dare you madam,” the imp said in a small fury. “That is an insult, I am deeply deeply wounded by your implication.”

“Not as wounded as you’re going to be in a minute,” Madam Portencia mumbled.

“What do you mean working for the Duke? The Duke is a Vanthampur?” Morad questioned again.

“And you are working for her in some way that I have not yet uncovered.”

“No. No, we’re not…”

Madam Portencia interrupted Morad, “Why are you information to this creature?”

“The creature seems to be very helpful, knows a lot.”

The imp smiled widely at Morad, “This one speaks true, he is a smart fellow.”

Madam Portencia disagreed, “He didn’t tell us anything we weren’t going to find out for ourselves in that cellar.”

“No! I told you which way to go, would saved you a lot of trouble down there had you listened!”

“Little creature!” Morad called its attention. “What’s inside the house?”

“Well. I can’t just give you that information. There would be a price.”

“You are creature. What do you even want?”

The imp grinned. “Let me see. What price would you put on… three souls?”

Morad looked taken aback. “I would put a very high price on souls.”

“So if you could save three souls, you would pay a very high price?”

“Yes,” Morad said firmly.

Madam Portencia was suspicious. “Which three souls?”

The imp pointed to the still bound Sarvinder. “It would have been four but you have one already.”

“You’re talking about the servants?”

“You’re a smart one, Madam, even if you’re rude!”

Morad shook his head. “I don’t harm servants.”

“You don’t harm servants, but other people harm servants…”

“No! Maybe the bear, but anyone normal - they’re not harming anyone.”

Bili’s protested the implication. “Hey!”

The imp rolled his eyes. “I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about Thurstwell. If you’re not careful, he’ll kill them. And it will be on your heads.”

After scowling at Morad, Bili questioned this. “Why? Why would he kill them?”

“Because he knows, that something is going wrong here, doesn’t he. You made quite a racket out here.”

“Why would he kill the servants though?”

“It’s a negotiating position for him, just like this is for us,” the imp smiled.

“Why do you want the servants saved?” Madam Portencia pressed.

“I don’t want the servants saved. What I want is to get my… dues, from you. I don’t care either way if they live or die. I assume that you do, however, and that you would be willing to pay for it.”

Mak jumped in. “What is it that you want?”

“Well this is an interesting question. The wise man,” he said pointing to Morad, “has said that he would pay a high price for those three souls. So I just need to work out what that price would be.”

“But he also said that I would eat them,” Bili countered, “and I wouldn’t. So he’s mistaken.”

The imp raised an eyebrow and turned to Morad. “So you wouldn’t pay a price for three souls?”

“There is no reason for me to pay a high price. Because I wouldn’t harm those three. They are not soldiers.”

“Ah. You still misunderstand - perhaps you are not as wise as I first thought. I am saying: I can save those three souls, if you are willing to pay a price to me, in exchange.”

Morad’s hackles rose. “I am going to go into the house, and kill everyone! And so they will be safe!”

“Not if he kills them first - and he will.”

“What is your bloody price?” Madam Portencia asked levelly.

“My price? Ahhhh. One of you - should you be willing to enter into this deal - one of you will owe me a favour. I can call in that favour whenever I wish, and you must pay it. If you do not pay it, you will forfeit something.”

Madam Protencia looked unimpressed. “Mak - you’re the one that is fond of these people.”

“Yes,” Mak said slowly. “I don’t want them to die, but…”

“Looks like you are at a crossroads, Mak.”

Morad wanted more details. “The problem is imp, you call favour and it could be much worse. You might say ‘you have to do something horrible’, I will not do that. So…”

The imp looked pleased. “I knew you were the wise one. What you say is true! If you don’t honour our agreement, you will pay a different price.”

Morad shook his head. “My feeling is, we pretty good. So far we go in, we take out whatever we come against. He can turn into a bear, she is magic, the little one - very creepy, but you know you can’t hear him, stars into head. I think we take care of things, we don’t need you.”

The imp looked doubtful. “So you are willing to take the risk that those three innocent lives will be lost as a result of your gamble?”

As he spoke the last words, a shuriken flew from Spider’s hand and embedded itself in the imps left eye. For a moment he looked toward the now revealed Spider in shock, then toppled off the woodpile to the ground. Thus proving Morad’s point about ‘stars into head’ being a solid tactic.

There was stunned silence for a moment. Spider walked over to the dead imp, recovered the shuriken, and walked to the door. “Right then. Everyone ready?”

Bili picked up the dead imp. “You don’t want to eat that, sweetheart,” Madam Portencia warned. Bili nodded and stuffed the carcass into his capacious bag.

“Don’t eat the demon!” Morad reinforced, “I hope you’re not keeping that for later.”

“I hope your gut feeling was right on this one,” Madam Portencia said to Spider. Samael agreed, telling Spider “That was risky.”

“Well. I tired of talking to the fucker.”

Madam Portencia nodded. “I hear you, but…”

Morad shook his head. “I can’t help but think was that the right thing to do?”

“Doesn’t matter now,” Spider shrugged, “he’s dead.”

“It just means, well… we need to act decisively,” Madam Portencia stressed.

“Precisely. It means we gotta hurry up otherwise Thurstwell might kill someone,” Spider said impatiently. “Let’s go.”

---

As the bodies were hauled into a pile in the corner of the stables, Spider darted across the yard outside to the backdoor of the Villa. He quickly determined the door was untrapped, and called everyone over while he quietly unlocked it.

Inside lay Duke Vanthampur’s ‘gallery’, a long hall displaying an eclectic collection of tapestries, paintings, and alabaster busts on pedestals meant to impress guests. Wooden stair led upstairs. Spider’s eyes opened wide with glee when he saw the artworks - this place was a goldmine! Madam Portencia’s reaction was more accurate: the Duke had clearly bought the pieces thinking them to be valuable art objects, but all were knockoffs acquired from dubious sources. The haphazardly assembled collection was a testament to bad taste.

As if to prove this point, the pièce de résistance of the exhibition was a 6-foot-tall wax statue depicting Duke Thalamra Vanthampur cradling the family pet, Slobberchops, in her arms. The cat even had a wax rat in its mouth.

Mak was in no mood to linger, knowing the servants lives were at stake. He signalled for Spider to check and open the door to the foyer. Inside a plaster shelf lined with ornate vases circled the room, and spread across the flagstone floor was a ten-foot-wide, fifteen-foot-long rug of exquisite design, depicting a royal coronation. Two tapestries hung on the walls depicting a dragon flying over a ship and pilgrims on camels, respectively.

Morad was surprised, and slightly offended, to see just how badly done the camel tapestry was - a very poor imitation of the splendid creations from his homeland.

Mak pushed open the door to the servants quarters, hoping to find them safe inside - but it was too late. The four beds were empty, three of them with linen obviously ripped off in a hurry. Mak cursed under his breath.

“Which way will he have gone Mak,” Madam Portencia asked. “Would he have gone to the cellar or upstairs?”

“Upstairs. There are guards up there to protect him.”

Mak directed everyone North through the kitchen to get back to the stairs in the hall. Pots, pans, and cooking utensils dangled above three wooden preparation tables in the middle of the room, and Spider was impressed to see the shelves lined with herbs, spices, and dried goods of a high quality. Gabourey knew her stuff.

Sitting by the hearth was a large silver-haired cat sitting on its paws purring: Slobberchops. On seeing Mak, it stood, stretched, and padded over to rub itself on his ankles. Everyone but Mak was taken aback to see the cat had a pair of wings. Mak was pleased to see Slobberchops, and bent down to scratch it behind the head and drop a morsel of food from one of the tables.

---

Bili watched Slobberchops with apprehension and fascination. He spoke a few words of infernal, then abyssal, but the cat merely turned a lazy head in his direction before continuing to follow Mak. Bili didn’t take his eyes of it, still suspicious - was this some kind of demon?

“Spider I know we can just do this one room at a time,” Madam Portencia suggested, “but given there are three lives at stake, I think you really should get out onto the roof and take a look at what we’re up against.”

Spider agreed. He pulled the North window open and popped Samael out onto the wall. Samael scouted the floor above, but every window but one was blocked by heavy curtains. The one unblocked window looked into the upstairs hall, and he saw two guards standing ready just beyond the second floor landing.

Samael told Spider that there were also three chimneys that he could climb down - two were smoking slowly from lit fires, one cold. He checked the chimneys leading to Amrik and the Duke’s rooms and found both empty. But he struck gold with Thurstwell’s room - he got half way down the chimney and determined that there were several people in the room. He didn’t want to go any further for risk of being seen.

Spider reported all of this. “Two empty rooms, but Thurstwell’s has more than one person inside. There’s two guards at the top landing - I’m going to go in through the window. Make your way ‘round to the stairs and give me a 200 count.” He hopped out the window and vanished. Madam Portencia pondered how Spider’s spider had managed to climb down lit chimneys without harm - the jury was still out on Samael as far as she was concerned.

As instructed, everyone moved to the stairs, Slobberchops comfortably perched on Mak’s broad shoulders. “This is going to be about speed,” Mak whispered, “Straight to the room - no more stealth.” Morad understood: “We just run up and kill them!”

On a 199 count, Torman started sprinting up the staircase followed closely by Mak, Morad and Bili. Madam Portencia was the back-marker. Suddenly the double doors from the dining room behind burst open and three guards charged out.

Madam Portencia yelled out a warning. Morad immediately turned back to assist while everyone else continued upstairs. One guard hurled a spear at Morad, striking him in the thigh. The other two guards slashed at Madam Portencia with their longswords, but she swayed lithely out of the way. And in return she unleashed a burst of flame from her hands that drew yells of fury from the guards.

Bili, Morad, and Madam Portencia felt something land on their heads, and cried with pain as venomous tails stung into their necks from three imps that suddenly appeared.

Upstairs, Spider had snuck through the window. He heard the commotion from downstairs, but it didn’t stop him from dropping the nearest guard. Bili morphed into a bear and lumbered over to the other guard, swiping and biting but missing both times. The guard swung his longsword but was so surprised by the sight of a bear that he too missed.

Morad attacked his imp, but the confusion allowed it to jump aside. Torman flung a guiding bolt at one of the downstairs guards, but it unguided itself straight into the wall behind. Frustrated, he summoned a spiritual weapon but it too swung wide.

Mak spun around to confront the greater numbers downstairs. Recalling his amazing flying leap in the Dungeon of the Dead Three, he leapt over the railing intending to hurl himself on a guard from above. Alas his foot caught on the balustrade and he fell ingloriously to the floor below. The guard standing over him took easy advantage of this disaster and slashed his blade into Mak’s shoulder.

Madam Portencia wore two further attacks from the guards, one driving his sword deeply into her torso. She staggered and started swearing like a longshoreman, but stayed on her feet, desperately flinging another cone of flame at the three guards. All three fell screaming to the floor under the flood of fire, much to her relief.

The imp attacking her tried again, but Madam Portencia anticipated the strike and redirected it to empty space, much to the imps displeasure. Morad wasn’t so lucky, the imp again striking his neck, the poison causing Morad’s nervous system to cry out in pain.

Spider jumped over the railing, putting Mak’s effort to shame, and one-shot the imp as he landed, plunging his blacksteel-dagger into the creatures skull.

Bili finished off his guard with a vicious swipe, ripping chunks of flesh from his torso as he fell. Morad finally hit his imp, his scimitar making decisive contact to kill it instantly.

Torman’s skeletal flail continued to fail him, but his spectral weapon finished off the final imp that was attacking Bili. All the combatants were dead.

Madam Portencia looked shattered. She was trying to redo her wig bun which had fallen loose, and was most seriously displeased. Bili gave her a quick heal, which settled some of her nerves. Mak tossed a healing potion toward her, which Torman tried to intercept as he had other ideas. Unfortunately his hands failed him and the vial dropped to the ground and shattered. Morad looked stunned, but Torman made up for it - slightly - by further healing Madam Portencia’s wounds.

Slobberchops flew to one of the fallen guards and started lapping the blood pooling below. Bili approved, though didn’t follow suit out of respect for his companions.

---

As Mak had suggested, the element of surprise was well and truly lost, so Spider sprinted back upstairs to Thurstwell’s door and signalled to Mak it was neither locked nor trapped.

Mak hauled the door open and rushed inside, but was stopped in his tracks by what he saw.

Standing terrified against the outside wall were the tree servants. They weren’t bound, but all held their head tilted back as if an invisible assailant was holding a sharpened blade to their necks.

Thurstwell Vanthampur stood next to them by the fireplace, smiling evilly at Mak. In his hands he held a 5-inch cube that he was subconsciously tossing from hand to hand.

---

“Mak, Mak. I knew you were coming you know! But you can’t come any further,” he cried pointing to the servants. “Take one more step and they will all die, instantly!”

Mak held his hands up and started backing away. “What do you want?”

“What do I want? I want you to leave me alone, and I want you to leave my family alone. I suggest you leave - right now!”

“I can’t.”

“Yes you can! Else they will die!”

“I think they’ll die if I do leave,” Mak replied glancing at the servants who looked pleadingly toward him. “Are you promising you’ll keep them alive?”

“Yes, yes they’ll live. Why would I kill them - they’re servants! Stupid man. You always were a stupid big man!” Thurstwell cried testily. “So leave - and they will live.”

Spider asked Samael if there were imps in the room - but Samael didn’t know. “Judging from how they’re standing though, it wouldn’t surprise me.” Torman blessed the three servants, silently giving them the strength of Torm.

Thurstwell was growing impatient. “Make your decision, and make it fast. And tell your friends not to come in either!”

“Thurstwell, sweety,” Madam Portencia called from outside.

“Who’s that?! Who’s that speaking??”

“It’s the famous oracle Madam Portencia here.”

Thurstwell raised an eyebrow. “The Madam Portencia?”

“The Madam Portencia.”

“I see,” Thurstwell paused, confused. “Why are you here with these men?”

“I am here to give you some advice.”

“I don’t need any advice - unless you can help me with this,” he said suddenly, holding up his cube.

Madam Portencia saw her opening. “I can certainly help you with that,” she said with her best convincing tone.

“Can you now - how?”

“I know a lot of things. Things that might surprise you.”

Thurstwell looked at the box. “This thing is confounding, I must say.”

“Unless you know its secret of course…” Madam Portencia teased.

“Well you don’t know its secret. You’re a fortune teller!”

“I can see the future.”

Thurstwell looked impressed. “Ok - then what’s inside this box?”

“It’s not about what’s inside it is it? You should know that,” Madam Portencia scolded.

“Well…no, why not? It is about what’s inside it!”

“I’ll tell you what the difference is about the box and what’s inside it if you let those people go,” Madam Portencia proposed.

Thurstwell was no fool. “No no no, you’ll kill me - I know you’ll kill me and take the box anyway. I’m not going to fall for that!”

“Ok. I didn’t want to have to say this,” Madam Portencia said threateningly. “The thing is: you’re going to die within the next ten minutes.”

“Well so are they, in that case,” Thurstwell said looking to the servants. “Riddle me that, Madam Portencia. Now go! Leave! Everyone leave!”

“That’s not certain at this point,” Madam Portencia countered.

“What? That they will die? You wish me to demonstrate?”

“No I don’t want you to demonstrate.”

“It is quite certain. Quite certain that they will die. Look at those pathetic creatures. Can you see them escaping the clutches of my pet friends?”

Spider smiled as the secret was revealed - he had a plan.

“There are avenues where that might happen,” Madam Portencia admitted. “But do you really want to die without knowing the truth about the box?”

Thurstwell paused. “Well. No. But… I shall find my own truth about the box when you leave. Unless. Unless! If you can open it in the next… ten minutes. Then - I will let them live. And you will let me live, of course.”

Madam Portencia smiled widely. “Sure, sure. That sounds like a deal I’m willing to make.”

“Very well - come inside. Mak, you leave.”

Mak backed off to a corner of the room, but Thurstwell was having none of that. “No Mak! Out, you big hulk of a man.” He did, swapping places with Madam Portencia who slowly entered and closed the door as requested. Hovering out of sight behind her was Torman’s spiritual weapon, and Spider successfully hid himself in Madam Portencia’s slim shadow to also slip inside the room.

“Very good. Now - sit, on the bed, and I will give you the puzzlebox.”

“Not until you take the imps away from these three,” Madam Portencia countered.

“No no, that wasn’t the deal. You have ten minutes to open it - if you do, they live, if you don’t…” Thurstwell drew his hand across his throat melodramatically.

Madam Portencia and Spider both noticed he didn’t contest the mention of ‘imps’, confirming Spider’s suspicion and course of action. Madam Portencia turned and walked to the bed, hoping Spider would manage to follow and stay hidden - but Spider had other ideas.

He stepped into the open, drawing a gasp from Thurstwell, muttered a few arcane words and waved his arms to cast a spell which instantly sent all three servants tumbling to the ground in a deep sleep - as did a suddenly revealed imp that dropped to the ground next to its intended victim.

Thurstwell started cursing as he saw his plan literally collapsing in front of his eyes. “You betrayed me Madam Portencia!!” he screamed.

Hearing the commotion, Mak pushed the door open and stormed inside. He was horrified to see the three servants lying dead on the floor. Madam Portencia was looking aghast at the bodies, and Spider’s hands were spread in mid-cast. Mak roared with fury and swung his axe hard at Thurstwell, but as he started the swing he suddenly realised he couldn’t attack him - it would be a terrible mistake. His axe thunked harmlessly into the floor instead.

Thurstwell mumbled something under his breath and pulled down a pillar of flame from the ceiling directly onto Madam Portencia. “If I’m going to burn, you’re going to burn!” he yelled hysterically.

Spider felt a nasty sting on his neck as an imp appeared behind him, but he managed to swat it away. Two more imps appeared, hovering above the motionless servants. Thurstwell yelled out “Do it!”

The imps grinned maniacally and jagged their tail spikes into the bodies - killing both instantly. Madam Portencia and Mak looked on in horror and confusion - weren’t they already dead?

Spider cursed and impaled the imp attacking him into the wall. Madam Portencia threw a chromatic orb toward Thurstwell, but like Mak she felt it impossible to continue the attack - though she was able to redirect the orb into one of the imps, exploding it instantly.

Bili started chanting as he cast a fairie-fire into the room, creating an advantage for all attacks, allowing Torman to accurately direct guiding bolt directly into Thurstwell. For a moment he felt the same hesitation as Mak and Madam Portencia, but he called on the might of Torm and a beam of radiant power shot over Mak’s shoulder and crashing into Thurstwell, flinging him back into the fireplace. He screamed and screamed as the flames engulfed him.

As he fell to the ground, his hand opened, and the cube rolled out onto the floor in front of his body.

---

Torman’s spiritual weapon finished off the last imp, leaving all the opponents - and two servants - dead.

“We can save them!” Madam Portencia called out desperately. Morad ran into the room and laid his hands on each body, bringing a gasp of life to both.

Mak breathed a sigh of relief as Spider turned to him. “What about the arsehole? We can’t question him if he’s cactus.” He patted down Thurstwell as he talked, retrieving a small iron key and noticing his eyes had turned pure black, like nothing remained within.

“Do we need to question him?”

“Well probably, if we want to find out what he was doing.”

“He was solving the puzzlebox, that’s what he was doing,” Madam Portencia offered.

“And he couldn’t do it,” Torman continued. “I think we found what we were looking for.”

Morad walked to the cube, nudging it with his toe. “What is this cube?”

“Don’t touch!” Madam Portencia warned, recalling the words of the prophecy found in the Dungeon:

When the box is opened, the path forward will be revealed

Morad picked it up anyway - these kind of devices were somewhat common amongst the nobility in his homeland. This however was unlike any he had ever seen - and the aura of evil from it was clear. “That is evil,” he said, putting it immediately down on the ground.

Madam Portencia picked it up. “Spider - put it away.”

Spider opened the iron chest at the foot of the bed with Thurstwell’s key. Inside was a jumble of wrinkled garments, red wax candles, quills, blank sheets of parchment, and jars of ink. It also held an unlocked wooden coffer containing 73 gp, 120 sp, and a potion of healing, as well as a black-covered tome titled Apocalypto - a poetic prophecy by an unknown author envisioning the end of the multiverse.

Bili showed an intense interest in tome, flipping through it quickly as if he was looking to check for something that the mysterious book might contain.

Torman was also interested in the book, but was in no great hurry to tear the book from Bili.

---

After settling the now stable servants onto the bed, Torman had a question. “Is this house clean?”

Madam Portencia shook her head. “No. This house is not fucking clean. We fucked up. I fucked up. This went badly, okay? So we now need to go and kill everybody - efficiently.”

Morad nodded - once again his plan had proven the right plan.

Everyone else looked somewhat taken aback by the outburst, before settling their shoulders and heading back to the hall. Spider decapitated a few of the imps to keep their heads as evidence.

As Samael had reported, Amrik’s room was empty. The room was tastefully appointed, Amrik obviously a man of some refinement - unlike his mother. An unlocked iron-banded chest contained neatly folded and tailored apparel, and a tiny jewellery box carved from bone containing a gold signet ring bearing the Vanthampur motto: “Stone hearts never bleed”.

Next door, Mortlock’s room was also empty, and far plainer than his brother’s. His chest held only a few drab garments and worthless personal effects.

Mak led everyone to the Duke’s rooms, which he had never ventured inside. The middle chamber was her powder room, full of bottles of perfume, brushes, and cosmetics, as well as a wardrobe filled with corsets and fine clothes. A decorative gold rug was laid out in front of three unlocked wooden chests. One chest was full of shoes, another contained three old bridal gowns, and the third contained a selection of seasonal hats.

Inside the vanity was a haul of some value: six bottles of fine perfume, a silver hairbrush inlaid with lapis lazuli, and a wooden jewellery box with electrum filigree which held a pearl necklace, a platinum cameo shaped like Slobberchops, and two more potions of healing in thin crystal vials.

Morad noticed the brush. “Not that anyone cares about a hairbrush, but I am willing to take it as part of my share. My sister… no, my mother would like it and I can use it in the meantime… but only if no-one wants it, I don’t care really.”

The next room was Duke Vanthampur’s bedroom. It was empty despite the fire blazing strongly. The room contained a canopied bed with a gossamer shroud for keeping insects at bay, a freestanding wooden privacy screen, a cast-iron bathtub with clawed feet, and a padlocked iron chest. The padlock was cast in the shape of a horned devil’s scowling visage.

Spider carefully studied the chest, picking the lock and deciding the chest was untrapped. Inside were three thin, black-covered ledgers with entries written in Infernal, a set of calligrapher’s supplies, a poisoner’s kit, a bulging coin pouch made from a sheep’s bladder, and a set of pipes with dancing rats carved onto the wooden flutes.

Spider was suspicious of the chest, redoubling his efforts to work out what was making him hesitate. Then he saw it: the chest wasn’t as deep as it should be. There was something wrong with the contents vs the dimensions. He used his knife to lift the books marginally, and as he did he noticed everything else shifted up very slightly. He realised that if the weight distribution was wrong, a trap would trigger, so he pulled a bag of sand out from his belt, swapping it for the books, and continued to swap items for weight until it was empty.

Spider closed the chest again, rigging it with a wire that would lift the pressure plate and set off the poison trap within.

Madam Portencia flipped the black books open, but all were written in infernal. Bili and Torman offered to translate, and Spider looked over the shoulders with interest. They seemed to contain ledgers of transactions over many years - there was a lot of mention of obscure sewer technology that no-one understood.

Bili said would like the sheep’s bladder purse, approving of using every part of the animal in such ways.

Spider opened the way to the final upstairs room, the Duke’s study. An oak writing desk was angled to face the middle of the room, two black candlesticks atop it. The walls were framed by three bookcases, and a freestanding suit of black plate armor stood in one corner, topped with a bucket helm and equipped with a longsword and a shield. A wrought-iron spiral staircase led upstairs.

As everyone entered the room, the armour lurched into life, a fiery orange light filling the construct’s hollow interior as it attacked.

This thing was tough. The battle took longer than it should have, thanks to the cramped quarters and sheer fortitude of the armour. Madam Portencia’s attacks were completely ignored by the creature, which didn’t help, and Morad got himself tangled in the iron staircase. Eventually it was felled, but not before it had struck several telling blows, and almost killed bear-Bili with two brutal blows from its sword.

Bili was still in bear form at the end of the combat, but very badly wounded.

---

Slobberchops wandered into the room, licking the fresh blood from his lips and flying up to Mak’s shoulder.

Madam Portencia studied the bookshelves, observing that most books looked unread - obviously purchased by the square meter, to impress rather than be read. Every now and then there was a book of some small worth, but the majority were worthless.

Spider studied the sturdy desk. One draw contained writing materials and a fresh, blank ledger similar to the ones found in the safe. The other draw was locked but proved easy enough to pick. Spider recoiled in horror when saw what lay inside.

---

The draw contained a rag doll in a knitted dress, bald headed with bulbous eyes that looked ready to burst. Recovering his nerves, Spider prodded it carefully but couldn’t feel anything that may be hidden inside. The head was solid, giving the doll a strange unbalanced weight.

Morad warned everyone that the doll was emitting a clearly evil aura: “It could be voodoo or something. It is not just evil - it is very evil.” Bili nodded - he knew of such objects from the warlocks in his tribe. Effigies would be imbued with the essence of enemies, and curses and hexes applied.

The doll stirred Madam Portencia’s memories too, bringing to mind practices she had read of in Candlekeep of infernal and extra-planar contracts being issued and sealed with effigies and other objects - perhaps this was one such item.

“Does anyone know the implications if we tore this apart now?” Torman asked.

“I don’t know the implications, but if we’re going to cleanse it, let’s burn it,” Bili suggested, recalling this method being used in his homelands.

“I just need to know whether we’re going to take it, as we need to get moving,” Spider urged. Bili took the doll and stashed it in a leather bag he carried.

---

Spider quietly ascended the spiral staircase. They led to a small square room with a crisscrossing beams below a peaked roof - the tower. Two filthy padlocked cages stood on the floor, and each cage contained a human figure and chamberpot.

He padded back downstairs. “There’s two prisoners locked up. I can only see one of them from where I was. There’s a woman, and someone big in the one I couldn’t get a look at. Both padlocked.”

“It wasn’t Mortlock was it,” Mak asked. Spider shrugged.

On hearing of the prisoners, Morad immediately started upstairs. He sensed evil from the tower, but couldn’t see any obvious source. He turned to the obscured cage and was shocked at what he saw: “Mortlock! Mortlock is in the corner!” he cried, seeing the Vanthampur son’s prone body.

As Mak reached the top of the tower, Slobberchops suddenly squeezed his claws into Mak’s shoulder-blade and hissed, staring at the space above the cage containing the woman. Mak understood and flung a coin into the gap. His suspicion was rewarded when it hit something invisible and bounced back.

Spider flung a shuriken atop the cage, hoping to catch the invisible opponent, but it flew past harmlessly, as did Mak’s wild axe throw. Torman shot a beam of radiant light into the void, and an imp suddenly appeared high up in the rafters, jumping frantically out of the way of the beam.

Morad pulled a whip from his waist and cracked it hard into the air above the cage, wrapping the end of the thong around the imp’s foot and hauling it toward the ground. Everyone was very impressed.

Madam Portencia tolled the bell of the dead and the imp dropped dead to the floor. “Sometimes I predict the death of a creature and it comes true.”

With a flick of his wrist, Morad untangled the whip from the imp and somehow coiled it back onto his waist in a single motion. Everyone was even more impressed with this.

The woman in the cage was cowering in the furthest corner, quivering with fear. Spider unlocked the cage and Torman approached her slowly. “Who are you?”

The woman put her hands over her eyes and shrunk further into the cage, whimpering. “No, no, no, the imps, no.”

“We have taken care of everything here, you are safe now.”

She pointed at Mortlock’s prone body and shook her head. “Don’t let them… don’t let them…”

“What did they do to him?” Torman asked gently.

“Don’t let them kill me!”

“Who is going to kill you?”

“Them!” she cried, pointing at the dead imp.

“Are there more imps?” Morad asked.

“Many!”

“No. We have taken care of them,” Torman said convincingly. Morad agreed, sensing no evil: “There are no imps here. We have killed them. We killed lots below, lady, and now this one is last.”

She looked hopelessly at Torman. “What is your name?” he asked.

“Shaleen. Shaleen Zoraz,” she whispered.

“Please please please please…” she cried, shaking and clutching Torman’s arm. He talked quietly with her, calming her and offering what support he could. He could feel her slowly settle and draw strength from him.

Spider unlocked Mortlock’s cage, and Mak stepped inside. He turned the cold body over, and saw his neck was riddled with barb wounds from the imps. Those that had suffered from the imps attacks knew the pain he must have endured from the poison would have been great indeed.

Mak shook his head in surprise. He didn’t think the Duke would have wanted to kill any of her sons. Something had gone way off the rails for Mortlock to be dead in his mother’s own prison.

Torman had calmed Shaleen enough for her to talk. “Was it only the imps? Did you see anyone else?”

“The guards bought him up, yesterday.”

“How long have you been here,” Madam Potencia asked.

“I’ve been here days, many days, too many days.”

“How did you get here?”

“I’m a sewer maintenance supervisor. I discovered the sewers beneath the Frolicking Nymph bathhouse had been diverted around it, and was trying to get that rectified. Then I was taken, and I’ve been here ever since.” She started rocking again. “I was merely doing my job, trying to fix the sewers,” she sobbed.

“Do you know how the sewers work, throughout the city?” Torman asked.

“Yes, well, most of them, mainly the lower city.”

“You should stay with us. We will keep you safe.”

She clutched Torman. “Please, don’t leave me, get me out of here,” she pleaded.

---

Spider looked toward Mak. “So Mak. You said there was a cellar here?”

“There is, below the kitchen.”

“Right. Well we should go take a look.”

Morad agreed. “Let’s go to the cellar. If it’s just a cellar, that’s ok. If more - we take the girl away.”

The group ventured downstairs, quickly checking the dining room and parlour. The dining room chairs were carved to look like devils, and a large tapestry hanging in the parlour depicted burning angels falling from the sky into a pit of hellfire. This so offended Morad that he slashed it in half with his blades. No yellow mould this time.

Mak was pleased at this - the tapestry had always bothered him. Bili pulled the tapestry halves together and studied the picture before letting it drop. The pit of fire recalled the fate Elturel had suffered. Madam Portencia wryly observed the tapestry was hardly an antique. “New evil, like the rest of the tawdry artwork,” she said. Spider was surprised - tawdry?

Bili thought he knew what the picture depicted, and slowly recited his thoughts, almost chanting memorised facts: “The Nine Hells of Baator. Infernal home of the devils. A plane of sinister evil and cruelty. Organised in a strict caste system. A rigid chain of command.”

Morad nodded as he listened to Bili. This was knowledge he and Bili shared. He too knew of Baator, of the infernal bureaucracy of Hell.

The Baldur’s gate locals had grown increasingly uncomfortable with the amount of infernal symbolism being discovered, and Bili’s verse only deepened that discomfort. This was a Duke of Baldur’s Gate, a pretender to the Grand Dukedom, and she was clearly trucking with dark powers. And she wasn’t hiding it.

---

Spider opened the door to the basement, revealing stairs leading down into darkness. Mak had been down there a few times, lugging kegs of ale and wine, but never ventured any further.

Spider led the party down, with Torman escorting Shaleen at the tail end. Madam Portencia had suggested locking her in the pantry - “for your own safety” - but Shaleen wouldn’t leave Torman’s side.

Spider did a quick reconnaissance, and hearing and seeing nothing unusual he called everyone inside. Four stone pillars braced a ten-foot ceiling, and the walls were lined with a dozen barrels on wooden braces. In the middle of the room was a stack of wooden crates.

The minute Mak arrived, Slobberchops again sunk his claws into the big barbarian’s shoulders and locked his eyes on the crates in the centre of the room. Mak tried his coin trick again, this time flinging a handful, but they all passed cleanly over the crates and pinged off the wall behind.

As the coins dropped to the floor, the crates burst open and three pitchfork-wielding, evilly-grinning devils sprung forth, bodies and tails bristling with spines.

---

Shaleen screamed in terror and ran back to the stairs, shepherded by Torman. Everyone was taken aback at the sight - these were unlike any creature anyone had seen. These were things from not here.

Madam Portencia, the least perturbed, stepped forward and lit her hands with flames before flinging it in the direction of the devils. They laughed as the fire engulfed them, “More heat! More fire!”

In return, all three pulled their tails back and fired six spines across the room: but all six somehow missed their targets.

Morad didn’t hesitate. These were evil creatures - he knew what to do. He swung his scimitar but the devils flew out of the way.

Torman ran across the room and his flail crashed into the nearest foe who wailed with pain. His second blow caught it again, buffeting the beast back into the wall. Spider took the opportunity to finish it off, burying his knife and killing it.

Bili roared with rage and jumped toward the devils, smashing his axe into one, which Mak followed up with a crunching blow from his own axe, raging in fury like his compatriot. As he did, a group of spectral ancestors appeared by his side, each as large as Mak, demanding the attention of his opponent.

Madam Portencia knew what time it was: she tolled the dead on the barbarian’s devil, and once again it tolled true, returning the devil from whence it came.

The last devil retreated to the corner of the room, and again flung two spines, this time directly at Mak. One hit his chest and exploded in flames when it struck.

Morad didn’t miss this time, cornering the beast and slicing it with his scimitars - a cry of “go get him” from Spider inspiring his swing. Torman joined the fray, his flail finishing off the final devil.

Torman crossed the room to find Shaleen quivering on the floor, her trauma fully returned.

“Torman. Take her upstairs and lock her in the fucking pantry!” Madam Portencia called out. “Just get her out of here.” Shaleen sobbed.

Spider walked over, causing her to shy away in fear. “There’s a tavern in Eastway called The Howling Harpy. Go there, ask to talk to Ma Betts - tell her Spider said to look after yer. You’ll be safe there ‘til we get back. She’ll make sure nothin’ happens to yer.”

She nodded, but spoke only to Torman. “I can’t be in this house another minute. Get me out of here, please, get me out of here.”

Torman agreed, escorting Shaleen to the back gate. “My name is Torman Halestormer - of the Flaming Fist. I will find you.” He watched as she ran down the street, then headed back downstairs.

---

Mak pointed to the west door and explained the room was a wine cellar. Inside were hundreds of bottles of wine, some fairly good quality. Mak pulled a few bottles out looking for wall mechanisms, but both he and Spider found nothing.

Spider moved to the East door, which was made of rivetted iron plates, unlike the wooden doors in the rest of the house. Spider tried to open it, but the lock frustrated his attempts, snapping a tool in the lock.

Bili called Mak over. “Why don’t we take the door out,” he grinned. Before Mak could arrive, Bili managed to almost haul the door off its hinges. “Wasn’t even locked,” he smiled at Spider.

Beyond the door was a lit tunnel, with turns to the North and South. Dim green-glassed lanterns hung overhead, and the corridors were well maintained with brick walls and stone-tiled floors. The sewer corridors had smooth four-foot wide and three-foot deep stone trenches cut into the floor, which carried water and waste. Three-foot wide stone ledges ran either side of the trenches.

There was the familiar sewer stench, but it was overlaid with a scent of incense, something very familiar to Morad. “This is a temple,” he suggested as he stepped inside.

As he did he suddenly stopped. A voice spoke to him, deep and sonorous whispering inside his head:

Find me. I have been waiting for you. Find me.

Morad didn’t say anything for a moment, then strode purposefully forward and turned to the South corridor. “This way!”

Spider darted up North, ignoring Morad, and peered down the corridor to the West. In the dim light he saw two black-robed figures fifty feet away, walking slowly toward him, each swinging something as they approached.

“There’s two guys coming slowly up the corridor. We can jump ‘em if we get up there.”

“Morad seems to think we’re going the other way,” Madam Portencia indicated.

Morad shook his head. “No, no, it might be that those things are coming a different way?”

“Morad. You seemed so sure a moment ago?”

“Well this an evil place? Lots of sewers, who knows?”

Everyone moved to the North, preparing for the approaching humanoids. A low chant could be heard as they drew near, and the incense smell intensified. As they were about to round the corner, they suddenly paused, then charged ahead - something had alerted them to the party’s presence. They wore thin, golden masks shaped like a devil’s face, and hurled their incense-burning censers against the wall as they attacked. “Die in her name!”

One slashed Spider with her scimitar, the other missed Bili with a wide swing. Mak pushed past Spider to attack, taking a slash from the scimitar as he did which caused his axe swings to miss. Madam Portencia didn’t, a flaming bolt drawing a cry.

Morad destroyed the same cultist with a vicious swing, showing her how to use a scimitar. As she fell, the voice whispered to him again: “Good. Continue.”

Bili raged into the other cultist, smashing him with his axe, followed up by a killing blow from Spider’s blacksteel dagger.

Torman suggested donning the cultist uniforms, and he and Bili shrugged the gear on after Madam Portencia made it quite clear they weren’t interested.

Morad pointed West. “I think we keep going this way.”

The two ‘cultists’ moved to the front of the group and headed quietly down the corridor. They soon found a door to the North, which was far colder than it should have been and sealed at the bottom.

“That’s a dangerous room,” Mak warned. Bili agreed, and opened the door slowly. It was freezing inside. Six hooked chains hung from the ceiling. On four of the hooks were flayed boar carcasses - which was something of a relief given what was expected. Bili was upset at what he saw as potential waste, but he also realised the cold would keep them for later use.

Torman was struck by an idea - he called Morad outside and together they quickly dragged the cultist bodies into the cool-room. “That’s a good plan,” Spider said approvingly.

A little further down the corridor were two doors, one North, one South. The North was nondescript, but the South doors were double-width, and there were infernal runes carved into the arched door frame:

That which falls can rise again

Torman translated for the group.

“Could that be a reference to the city?” Bili whispered.

“Why would you write it above a doorway?” Madam Portencia countered.

“I think the Duke has bitten off more than she can chew,” Torman said quietly. “I think this city is destined to fall as well.”

It was quickly agreed that searching the North room was wise. Spider heard nothing, allowing Mak to open the door. Inside was an empty common room, two wooden trestle tables brightly lit by tall iron candlesticks, each with nine lit candles.

Torman spoke quietly. “Let’s keep things down. This is a lived in place - we are about to burst in on the people who are here.” Everyone nodded understanding.

Spider checked the only door leading from this room to the West. The door was strangely warm, and he could feel heat from below but no sound from within. “Might be the kitchen.”

Bili pushed it open and confirmed Spider’s suspicion. It too was empty, with a pair of cast-iron stoves. The door exiting the kitchen led back to the corridor.

“Now the double doors,” Torman whispered. “This may be where we find what we seek.”

Behind the doors Bili could hear maybe half a dozen humanoid voices chanting something in infernal. “Demons,” he whispered. “Devils. Let’s take them, I’m keen.”

“I’m not keen, but I’m optimistic,” Madam Portencia agreed - despite all evidence to the contrary.

Mak looked unsure, seeing that Bili was still quite badly wounded. “I’m fine,” Bili said, seeing Mak’s doubt, “it’s just a flesh wound.”

“Hmmm,” Mak was unconvinced.

“I agree with Bili,” Morad added. “Let’s go.”

“You two are dressed like cultists,” Spider observed. “Go in.”

Everyone but Bili and Torman, who were in cult regalia, stood to the side, and Bili pushed the doors open.

Inside was a temple. Two rows of wrought-iron candlesticks lit the chamber, each with nine-candles. On the walls, nine tapestries hung which Bili knew depicted the layers of the nine hells: “Avernus, Dis, Minauros, Phlegethos, Stygia, Malbolge, Maladomini, Cania, Nessus”, he recited under his breath.

Half a dozen cultists kneeled in the room, chanting. They faced the South end of the chamber where a seven-foot tall statue of an angel with white glowing eyes and a raised longsword stood atop a dias. Torman was shocked, immediately recognising the figure as Zariel, the angelic saviour of Elturel.

---

Standing in front of the statue was a six-foot tall fiend bristling with spines, who turned to face the open door with piercing eyes and a hideous grin.

---

The suppositions and suspicions that Torman had been turning over in his mind suddenly gelled: Zariel. Elturel. Kreeg. Hell.

He whispered a quiet prayer and strode into the room.

---

The fiend beckoned Torman and Bili inside, “Close the door, then kneel. Worship in Her name. Supplicate yourself to Her. You are nothing, She is all.”

Both obeyed, kneeling behind the furthest cultist and trying to catch onto the infernal chanting, which luckily they could understand and mimic. Torman was careful to leave the door very slightly ajar. There were six other cultists in the room, four dressed in the same black and gold masks, and two in red robes with black face masks.

The barb-covered devil stepped down from the altar and slowly walked between the chanting cultists, drawing nearer to Torman and Bili. It passed them by with only a brief pause, their infernal language skills enough to convince it of their legitimacy.

It dawned on those waiting outside the room that there was no plan for knowing when or how to help those inside. When the screaming begin, perhaps? Madam Portencia sent an urgent mental message to Spider: “What the fuck are we going to do??”. Spider looked toward her and shook his head - for once he had no answer. “We should just go? We’ve done all we can,” Madam Portencia sent, only half-joking.

She turned her mental attention to Torman, questioning him. “What is going on?”

She was surprised at the urgent response: “He’s coming towards the door - attack now!”

As the creature drew near the door, Morad kicked the doors open and charged inside, coming face-to-face with the fiend. Alas his scimitar failed to connect, but Bili made no mistake, instantly killing the cultist still kneeling in front of him.

“Attack the monster!” Madam Portencia yelled from outside.

Spider heeded her call, burying his dagger in the fiend’s side as he slid past into the room. Mak growled with rage, and pounded his greataxe heavily into the devil with reckless fury, while his ancestral protectors ghosted into the melee to draw its attention to Mak.

Having seen Madam Portencia, the fiend smiled and closed his fist, summoning a ball of fire that he hurled toward her, but she skipped out of the path of the flames. The creature simultaneously wound back its tail and unleashed it into Mak’s torso, but Mak shrugged the wound away, his rage healing the damage instantly.

Torman jumped to his feet and turned to the devil, crashing his flail into the spines on its exposed back. As he did, the red-robed cultists rushed over and grabbed Torman and Bili, sending a shock of pain through both. Bili cried out and almost fell as the strike hit particularly hard.

Both cultists also summoned spiritual weapons that struck at Morad and Torman, missing Morad but hitting Torman hard.

From the corridor, Madam Portencia targetted the devil with a thunderous orb, but it drifted wide and missed everything. The three remaining black-cloaked cultists attacked with their scimitars, all missing with wild swings.

Morad, angered by his first strike missing, made amends with two enormous slashes from his newly sacred weapon, once again showing the cultists how a scimitar was meant to be used. As he landed the blows he prayed a thank you, and the voice whispered to him again, “Destroy it”.

Bili, despite being on death’s door, charged into a red cultist and smashed it, a mad glee in his eyes. Spider saw Bili couldn’t afford a retaliation, so he finished off the same cultist with his dagger and backhanded another, embedding a booming blade inside it.

Mak, realised the devil needed to be taken care of, pulled out all the stops, putting everything into a huge swing of his axe. It thumped into the beast, staggering it but not taking him down. It growled at Mak with fury, cutting deeply with its tail and a swipe of its claws. Then it tried to leap onto Mak to take him to the floor, but Mak was too strong for it - and Morad added a cut to the beast’s back as it jumped away.

Torman crushed the other red-cultist, almost dropping it, who in turn set about teaching Torman a lesson but Torman was ready for it this time. The spiritual weapon missed horribly too. Madam Portencia decided it was time to ring the bell for the devil, but the fiend merely turned its head her way and shook his head: “No”.

The cultists swung at Torman and Bili, and somehow Bili managed to dodge the blow that would have killed him. Bili killed him as a reward. The third cultist stepped toward Spider, and suddenly clutched his chest in surprise as the boom went off, dropping him.

Spider grinned at his trap bearing fruit, then whipped his blade into the devil, thrusting up into his ribcage from below with enough force to kill him. The fiend fell to the ground screaming in futile fury.

Mak pounded over to the remaining red cultist and absolutely destroyed him. His greataxe continued its trajectory directly into the final terrified cultist, who stood no chance.

Everyone was panting with exertion and adrenaline, but the result spoke for itself: all of the enemies were dead. And Bili was still alive.

---

As everyone prepared to catch their breath, a hidden door suddenly slid open on the South wall, and through it stepped an unwelcome sight: Duke Thalamra Vanthampur and her eldest son, Amrik Vanthampur.

---

Amrik was dressed to the nines in a fancy cape and fastidiously cared for armour - and great hair, clearly styled after the legendary Zane Dreamrider. The Duke wore a fine but simple dress with her hair tied up in a bun. She was barrel-bodied with strong hands and forearms that spoke to her beginnings as a sewer-labourer. She had fists you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley.

The Duke stood by the statue, Amrik lounging against the wall by her side, and addressed the room with a voice obviously used to being listened to.

“My, my, my. You’re the ones that have been causing me all this trouble, are you? And you too Mak? I am disappointed. Well you don’t look like much - but the proof is in the pudding.”

Everyone stood frozen. “And what did you do to poor Mortlock?”

Torman stepped forward. “Mortlock? Oh that was your business.”

“It was once we caught him. Trying to run - my own son. Terribly disappointing, but hardly unexpected.” Amrik smirked at this.

The Duke continued. “We bought him back here. And I guess you’ve seen what we did?

“Yes. To your own son.”

“Yes, my own son. He never did live up to expectations.”

Amrik smiled. “The big scar-faced dolt deserved everything he got.”

“Let’s just say I’m glad I’m not a blood relative,” Torman added.

The Duke smiled. “Now, tell me - why are you here? What are you trying to prove?”

“This is all business,” Torman said firmly. “Nothing personal.”

“Business? Well that is my bread and butter. What can I offer you to make all this stop?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” She shook her head. “Clearly you are here to do something to me. You do realise I am soon to be the Grand Duke of Baldur’s Gate? I can offer you almost anything…”

“It seems to me you are losing control of something you’ve started,” Torman suggested.

“Oh no. I am not losing control. Far from it.”

Bili scratched his head. “Sorry lady, but… who are you?”

The Duke glanced at Amrik with a raised eyebrow, then turned to Bili. “Who am I? Mak - you seem to have changed sides. Tell your handsome friend who I am.”

Mak didn’t mince words: “You are the destroyer of Elturel.”

“Ahhh,” the Duke said surprised. “The destroyer of Elturel. Yes - there is a title I would gladly accept.”

“We will carve that on your headstone,” Torman interrupted.

“But it wasn’t me. Not me. Someone else.”

“You supported it,” Mak stated bluntly.

“Naturally. They were competitors to this fine city, and I am soon to rule here.”

“It was Kreeg,” Torman risked.

“Thavius Kreeg,” she nodded. “You are a smart one.”

“Where is he,” Madam Portencia called out.

“Where is he? Is that the price you ask?”

“Oh you are not in a good bargaining position,” Madam Portencia added. “It doesn’t work like that. This is just a question.”

Torman took a few steps toward the Vanthampur’s, chugging down a healing potion as he did. Madam Portencia and Bili followed suit, and Morad started praying under his breath, imbuing his weapon with sacred power.

Amrik stepped in front of his mother, pulling out dual daggers and shaking his head at Torman, “No no no. No closer.”

Duke Vanthampur spoke up. “You could kill me here an now. It’s very impressive what you have just done,” she said pointing to the dead fiend. “You killed Odius, but there are more where it came from.”

“We’ve dealt with more than that,” Torman boasted, stepping forward again, menace in his eyes.

“Have you now?”

Amrik waved his daggers. “Not another step my fine fellow.”

“What are we talking for?” Bili mumbled under his breath.

Duke Vanthampur held up her hands. “If I give you Kreeg, will that satisfy you?”

“No guarantees at this stage,” Torman answered. “I think we have the upper hand.”

“You have the upper hand,” the Duke conceded, “But I have things I can offer you that no-one else can. The Grand Duke is not a position that comes without power.”

“I do not seek power. I seek answers.”

“And what answers do you seek?”

“What happened to Elturel?”

“Kreeg can tell you. And I can give you Kreeg,” she smiled.

“No. You know more than you say. Tell us now.”

Morad had heard enough. He pulled his scimitar and walked determinedly toward Amrik, not disguising his intent. “You truck with demons, this will not stand!” Inside his head he heard the voice whisper, “Do not let her escape. She must pay.”

Torman, hearing Morad charging, pulled out his flail and ran to Amrik.

“You’re making a bad mistake,” Amrik suggested as retaliated with two whip-fast slices from his knives, though his third attempt caught on Torman’s armour and one dagger dropped to the ground.

Madam Portencia called from the back of the room, “Now is your time to die!” She fired a bolt of flame across the room that exploded into Amrik’s chest. Mak took a deep breath and charged over to Amrik, cutting into him with a massive swipe from his axe. Morad arrived in a flurry and swung his sacred weapon into Amrik. A whisper came: “Finish him, finish him for us”

Amrik fell to his knees under the barrage and gasped, “I yield, I yield!”

Morad acknowledged the yield and immediately pulled his last blow, holding his sword poised above the pleading Amrik.

It all happened so fast. Duke Vanthampur saw her last son falling and cried out: “Leave him! Please, leave him!”

Paying this no mind, Bili swung his weapons into the Duke hitting her twice. She spun in a fury and cried, “You do not touch me!” Hellish flames shot up from the floor below Bili and scorched him badly, undoing most of the good done by the potion he had just taken.

Spider surveyed the scene, noting that the Duke seemed barely wounded by Bili’s attack. He recalled Ma Betts saying she didn’t care if the Duke lived or died, so hurled a deadly shuriken into the Duke’s belly. She gasped in pain.

“Spare my son, and take me! Or die!” she cried.

“Kill the bitch and her last son!” Madam Portencia yelled.

Torman stepped over to the Duke. “So what do you have to say?”

“Will you spare him?” she asked, looking to her son.

Torman swung his flail slowly over his head, ready to strike Amrik. “Lay it all out now, or he dies.”

“Will you all spare him?” she asked, looking around the room.

Morad withdrew his sword. “He has yielded, now you must.”

“You have my word,” Madam Portencia offered, “I won’t hurt him.”

Torman lowered his weapon. Amrik stood and moved slowly back to his mother’s side.

Duke Vanthampur spoke. “You can kill me, but let him live.”

“Your blood will die here if you do not tell us everything,” Torman threatened.

She sighed. “Ask me.”

“What happened to Elturel. I want to hear it from you.”

The Duke rubbed her hands and locked eyes with Torman. “Elturel was drawn into Hell, into Avernus. Thavius Kreeg made a deal with the ruler of Avernus, centuries ago. And that deal came due. That deal sacrificed all of Elturel, all of the souls of Elturel, to Avenrus, fodder for the Blood War. And Avernus is where Elturel still is.”

Silence enveloped the room as this information sunk in.

“Can it be recovered?” Bili asked eventually.

“It is not destroyed, it is merely… relocated. I do not know if it can be returned. Merely that it is waiting in Avernus. The souls are waiting to be collected for Hell’s endless battle against demonkind.”

“How do we get there?”

She shook her head, “That is not something that I know.”

“Where is Kreeg?” Torman questioned.

She looked behind her. “There is a vault, to the South-West. He is inside.”

“You have him held there?”

“Oh no, I am working with him.”

“What is your plan?” Madam Portencia probed.

“To become the Grand Duke of Baldur’s Gate. He… he advised me that if Ravengard should be in Elturel at a certain time on a certain date, then the Ravengard would no longer stand in the way of my ambitions. His advice turned out to be true, so now I am helping him.”

“You’re a bitch,” Madam Portencia spat.

Duke Vanthampur laughed. “I have been called worse, believe me.”

Torman looked angrily at the Duke. “What’s to stop us killing you now?”

“Nothing. Other than your word. In fact - you may kill me. But you may not kill my son.”

“And what’s to stop you killing us later?”

“Also nothing,” the Duke replied smugly.

Madam Portencia rolled her eyes, then pointed and rung a Toll the Dead over Amrik. The sonorous bell rang out once again, causing Amrik to keel over clutching his stomach against some unseen blow.

The Duke spun toward Madam Portencia. “You swore you would not hurt him!”

“You don’t know the Carny code, do you?” Madam Portencia retaliated archly.

Morad moved quickly in front of Amrik, turning to stand in front and protect him. “This man has yielded!”

Bili again ignored his pain and wounds and hit the Duke again. She staggered back under the blows.

Amrik tried to push in front of his mother to protect her, but Morad hauled him back and threw him against the wall. Madam Portencia tolled her bell again, and Amrik grabbed his belly, grimacing in pain. Madam Portencia groaned with frustration at her pitiful bell tolling skills.

Inspired, Torman swung his flail into the Duke, who was dripping blood but seemed to be relishing what was clearly her last stand. “You go against your word,” she accused Torman as she summoned hellish flames to surround him, causing him to cry out in pain.

She smiled, rolling her sleeves up and clenching her massive fists, which she crunched into both Torman and Bili with a brutal blow into their faces. Bili reeled away, barely staying on his feet.

Morad pushed Amrik into the hidden room, getting him out of harms way. “Don’t let them kill my mother!” Amrik begged.

“I have no control over that,” Morad countered, “You have yielded to me.” Mak followed Morad inside, holding the door position.

Amrik begged Mak. “Mak! Please! Save her, stop them from killing her! I will give you anything - coin, women, men, anything! Save her!” Mak ignored the pleas. “No,” Morad reaffirmed. “She is with demons, it is a miracle I have kept you alive.”

Amrik started to back toward the South wall, suddenly throwing something to the floor at his feet, causing a thick black smoke to envelop him. Morad cried out and swung into the cloud but couldn’t connect. Another secret panel opened in the South wall and Amrik ran through it into the corridor outside. Morad and Mak sprinted after him.

Back inside, Spider leapt off the wall using the statue as a fulcrum, hooking a leg around the Duke’s shoulder with a knife at her throat, calling out “That’s enough Duke, this is finished now!”

“Oh I know this is finished,” the Duke spat with fervour. Somehow she managed to writhe out of Spider’s embrace and both landed on the ground struggling to escape one another.

Bili, barely recovered from his latest blow, stepped up and hit the Duke again between Spider’s wrangling.

The Duke cackled, spitting blood but relishing her last moments. Madam Portencia had had enough. She ran to the front of the room, bringing down a pillar of flame on the Duke Vanthampur as she did. The Duke screamed with joy as the flames engulfed her, almost as if she was enjoying the inferno: “I will see you in Hell!” she cried as she fell lifeless to the floor.

Torman collapsed to the ground in exhaustion, both he and Bili barely more alive than the late Duke. Madam Portencia rushed past, hissing “Get up!” as she ran after Amrik. Bili staggered over to Torman, dripping blood and asking if he was alright. “Get off me you freak!” Torman scowled, slumping in shock.

“Are you ok?” Bili insisted.

“You’re covering me with blood for god’s sake!” Torman protested. Bili continued to fuss, and Torman continued to warn him away.

“Fucking amateurs,” Spider cursed, bolting after Madam Portencia, slipping past Morad, and driving his dagger into Amrik’s back. The last Vanthampur fell face down to the ground. Spider spun around and raised his guard to Morad, not sure if he was still protecting Amrik. Morad merely raised an eyebrow and sheathed his weapon. Spider sighed with relief.

The entire Vanthampur family was now dead. Torman crawled over to the Duke hoping to revive her, but when he rolled her over he saw her eyes were the same blank void as had been seen on Thurstwell. It seemed her last words may have been prophetic.

Bili felt for the doll he had carried from the Duke’s office, and realised suddenly it was gone. The contract was fullfilled.

---

Everyone was exhausted and hurting. It was nearing 3AM, and there was still work to be done. Tempers were getting frayed, Bili and Torman’s bickering not helping. Madam Portencia collaspsed to the floor, her reserves spent. Torman was struggling, leaning against the wall and trying to recover his energy.

Morad looked around the small room. It too was lit by the candlesticks arranged in nines which cast a flickering light across a claw-footed altar carved from a single block of obsidian. A small angel-shaped flame erupted from the top of the altar, like a fire being forced through the stone. Morad strode to the altar and started breaking the unholy object apart. The voice encouraged him, “Yes, destroy it. It is an ancient evil, and we must work together. You and I shall open the path and end this evil for eternity”

Having destroyed the altar, Morad moved back inside to study the angelic statue. It was an impressive carving, not to his taste but he recognised it was finely crafted. He noted the glowing eyes, and determined that the glow seemed to be coming from within the statue itself. He checked for a panel or opening, but could find nothing - the stonework was seamless.

Spider dragged the bodies back into the chapel. He frisked everything, recovering a pouch of gold from Amrik, a pair of nice daggers, and a two ornate keys from the charred pocket of the Duke. He pocketed the keys and let everyone know he was going to scout ahead, bring Mak along for insurance. Bili leapt up and started to follow.

“Bili just sit down for gods sake,” Spider said, exasperated.

“I’m fine,” Bili insisted, all physical evidence to the contrary. Spider rolled his eyes and led on. They discovered the channel that drained the sewer, blocked by iron bars sunk deep into the walls. Further East they found a locked door, which neither key would unlock. They left the door and moved ahead until they found they had wrapped around to the corridor from outside the cellar.

They started moving back to rejoin the group, Spider patting Bili on the shoulder: “Come and have a sit down.” As they turned past the locked door, Mak heard it scrape open, and a large well-muscled fiend with a snake-beard ran into the corridor and attacked with a vicious swing of its glaive.

---

The devil charged into Spider, the snakes on his chin wrapping themselves around his head and biting repeatedly, poison seeping into his bloodstream. Spider retorted with a thrust of his dagger and stepped out of range, exposing Bili. The devil saw how damaged Bili was and licked his lips in anticipation of sending his soul to Hell.

Mak was having none of that. He swigged down a potion of fire-breathing and unleashed a mouthful of flames onto the fiend - who merely laughed as the flames flared harmlessly around him. Bili stepped up, showing no fear nor care for his own survival, crashing his weapon into the fiend, and looking hungry for more.

Morad, Madam Portencia, and Torman came sprinting out of the altar-room to join the fray. Madam Portencia shot a bolt of flame as she ran, but it passed harmlessly by the creature.

Spider thrust his dagger into the beast again hoping to draw its attention, but the fiend swung his weapon at Bili instead. The beard reached out and wrapped itself around Bili’s throat, but Bili shifted away. The devil raised his glaive above his head and pulled it down hard, but he stumbled on the edge of the sewer channel and missed Bili again.

Bili, still alive and taunting the fiend, buried his axe into the creature’s side. Madam Portencia tolled her bell, again, and yelled with frustration as it tolled for nothing, again. Her powers were weakening with exhaustion. Torman called a sacred flame down on the fiend, but it ignored the glowing pillar of holy light.

Spider knew he had to finish this, and with a final blow from his dagger he dropped the fiend.

Torman stared at the combatants in the corridor. “You fools, we need to rest! Kreeg will destroy us!” Madam Portencia reinforced Torman’s message directly into Spider’s head: “What the fuck are you doing?!” Even Morad agreed, “Look at this one,” he said pointing to Bili, “the Bear is nearly dead. Let’s go.”

Bili shrugged and picked up the devilish glaive, handing it to Mak. It had infernal runes carved over the blade, with a spiked motif carved on the handle - a nasty if impressive piece of work. “Cool,” Spider said. Mak shook his head, and handed it back to Bili.

Madam Portencia watched this with incredulity. “I don’t know which one of you idiots is the bigger fool,” she hissed, “But if you don’t come inside now there is going to be trouble!”

---

Bili dragged the devil into the altar room while Morad pulled Spider into the worship chamber. “Spider I found something. There is something inside here - look at the eyes.”

Torman watched on, exhausted but needing to know. He was conflicted about the statue, and what it meant. He knew this figure, but not why it would be being worshipped by a devilish cult. This was her in her sacred form. Madam Portencia knew it too, but she felt no doubt about what was going on.

Spider clambered up the statue to study the head. Despite his doubts, Torman spoke up: “Spider. What are you doing?”

The thief stuck his finger inside one of the eyes, feeling for anything hidden inside.

“Wait - what are you doing?” Torman called sternly while Spider continued his examination. “Do you know what this is a statue of?”

Spider continued working. “Let me guess - it’s an angel with four wings.”

“We need to know more about this before we start playing with it.”

Madam Portencia spoke up. “Torman. It’s not what it seems and it never was.”

Torman disagreed. “This is Zariel. Zariel! The angel who led the Hellriders into Avernus to save Elturel!”

Morad was confused. “Well why is the demon worshipping it?”

“That’s the question,” Torman insisted.

“You heard what she said, right?” Madam Portencia said, indicating the body of the Duke. “She said that it made a deal, and the price has finally come due.”

“Kreeg has made the deal,” Torman said quietly, uncertainty swirling around his mind.

Spider tied the pieces together. “Yes - Kreeg made the deal with Zariel.”

“But why would they worship her here?” Bili questioned.

“Because there is scant difference between angels and devils in my book,” Madam Portencia sighed. “I said it to you before: anyone who makes a deal with a god gets strung up. Anyone who makes a deal with a devil gets to live forever. And how old is this Kreeg motherfucker?”

“This Kreeg motherfucker is old,” Torman agreed.

“How old?” Bili asked.

“He was old when I was born,” Madam Portencia said forcefully.

“He’d older than me,” Torman nodded.

“You only look young,” Bili complimented. “Hard to tell with the beard.”

“I’m just a middle aged dwarf. Half-dwarf.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” Madam Portencia laughed.

Spider returned his attention to the statue, poking his dagger inside. Nothing. “I can’t see anything. I mean we can smash the head off?”

“No no no don’t do that, that’s not good!” Bili protested.

“It’s just a bit of rock,” Madam Portencia said dismissively. “Its likely just a light spell.”

“Spider - leave the statue alone. Enough desecration,” Torman decided.

“It’s not desecration. There’s something inside it’s head.”

“It’s not desecration, it’s just a bit of rock,” Madam Portencia reiterated.

“Plus also you can’t desecrate, because evil,” Morad commented.

“Yes, it’s evil. Spider - break the eye sockets open, for the love of god.” Madam Portencia ordered.

“How can you tell it’s evil?” Torman countered.

“Because of the long-con with Elturel which ended with it being sucked into the pits of Hell!” Madam Portencia said pointedly.

Torman held his hands up, submitting to the argument and leaving the room - let what will be done be done. Spider suggested everyone rest up before he worked on the statue with a less subtle tool, like a mace.

“Are we resting here?” Morad asked.

“Yes we’re bloody resting here,” Madam Portencia swore.

“Or we could go to the kitchen - and I can make up some food for you,” Spider offered.

“But people might come into the kitchen,” Madam Portencia countered, “And there’s a secret room just here - no-one would know.”

“I think we should leave. The creatures are just going to keep coming,” Morad said tiredly.

“We can’t leave until we’ve found Kreeg,” Spider emphasised.

Torman agreed, “We can’t go forward, we can’t go back. We need to rest.”

---

Everyone withdrew to the hidden room, dragging the bodies with them. “This is going to be very restful, isn’t it,” Madam Portencia observed looking at the pile of cultists, devils, and Vanthampur’s.

“What about food?” Bili asked, thinking of the boar carcases. “We need to eat. Can we go to the cold room?”

“No!” Madam Portencia cried, “I can’t rest in there!”

Torman was fed up. “Bili - I’m going to give you your last chance. If you don’t stop being crazy, we’re going to cut you loose.”

“I’m not crazy, I’m hungry.”

“Yes I understand, but you’re not doing anything that’s rational. Sit down. Rest.”

Bili frowned, confused and upset, but he sat down against the wall, “You’re not the boss of me.”

“No, I’m not the boss of you,” Torman snapped, “You can fuck off, I don’t really care.”

“Torman - if I hear another peep out of you…” Madam Portencia warned as she slumped down, “Don’t make me come over there.”

Torman sighed and sat, “I’m a bit tired.”

Spider scowled, “And besides, Fisty, he can slap the tar off you.”

“Usually,” Torman grunted.

“Well how ‘bout you guys punch each other to death, I reckon it’d take about 3.5 seconds.”

“Oh dear god you guys have got to shut up! I’m trying to remember my spells!” Madam Portencia growled.

“I don’t know why you’re telling me to fight, I’m trying to rest,” Torman complained.

As the bickering continued, Morad heard the voice inside his head: “Find me now, before it’s too late.”

Morad whispered back inside his head. “We are resting. My men… "

“You must find me now. He will stop us. Only together can we defeat them.”

Morad stood up and addressed the room. “The Voice says we must go now.”

Everyone sat up. “I’m sorry?” Torman asked incredulously.

“The voice??” Madam Portencia said with surprise.

“Al’Akbar says we must go now and find him!”

“Oh hang on,” Madam Portencia sighed, “Who says?”

“Al’Akbar!”

“Riiiight.”

“Do not look at me like that!” Morad cried. “So far the Voice has known a lot!”

“The voice? Or god??” Madam Portencia asked.

“The Voice of God!”

Torman stared at Morad.

“Torman. You are a cleric. You would believe as well, so do not look at me like that. She, maybe,” he said pointing to Madam Portencia, “You, no.”

“Is god speaking to you now?” Madam Portencia asked sceptically.

“He was…”

“What’s god saying?”

“That we must go now. That he is here now, and we must get him. If we are not united, right now, he will stop us.”

“We are united. We’re united in having a kip and a cup of tea.”

“No. Obviously the Voice is telling us something else is happening. We must go now and stop him.”

“Who’s he?” Spider asked.

“Can god see everything?” Madam Portencia asked innocently.

“God can see everything, but whether God tells me everything…”

“Right. Can God see Bili?”

“I am not playing silly games now,” Morad frowned.

“Bili is pissing blood from fourteen different wounds!” Madam Portencia cried.

Torman studied Morad. He felt that Morad spoke true, or at the very least believed what he said.

“Has god told you any actual useful information?” Madam Portencia queried.

“Not specifics. But that we should come here. That people are worshipping demons. That seems pretty spot on.”

“I think if god wants anything from you, he wants to see you very soon,” Madam Portencia snapped, “Because that’s the only thing that’s going to happen if we don’t have a fucking sit down.”

“I’m telling you. Something is about to happen. I think Kreeg, or something like that, will disappear.”

“Yes, Kreeg. Kreeg will stop us” the voice whispered.

“He just told me Kreeg will stop us!” Morad cried.

“But Kreeg is locked in a vault,” Spider countered.

“Find Kreeg and you’ll find me”

“Find Kreeg and you’ll find me,” Morad repeated

“Find me?” Madam Portencia asked with despair.

“Well that’s not god, is it then pal?” Spider added.

Morad gave up. He walked to the South door. “Good luck,” he nodded, and walked outside.

Torman looked desperate. “Do we have any potions left? Can we do any basic medicine?” Morad heard this, turned around, and rolled his remaining potion back into the room toward Bili before walking away again. Bili picked it up and drank, grateful.

“How badly wounded are you, Madam P?” Spider asked.

“I’m not injured, I have no spells,” she spat.

“That’s ok. What about you, Mak?”

“I’m not great, but not as bad as them,” he said waving at Bili and Torman.

Spider grunted. He pulled out a potion and started to hand it to Torman, holding it back at the last moment to give a message. “That’s two. Stop mouthing off to Bili. You lost one by chucking it and playing silly buggers before.”

“I didn’t…” Torman started to protest.

“STOP IT! Now! Or I’ll smash this on the ground and you can die!”

Something inside Torman snapped. He sprung to his feet and backhanded Spider across the jowls. “Don’t fucking talk to me like that you little prick!”

Spider stood for a moment glaring at Torman. He had killed people for less than that. Then he carefully put the portion back in his pocket, turned, and followed Morad.

Morad arrived at an intersection in the corridors to the West. He prayed, “My Lord, Al’Akbar, please give me direction.”

“Come closer”

Morad continued on and quickly came to a huge steel door, heavily reinforced. A vault. Spider placed his ear against the door, but heard nothing. It was a very solid door.

In the altar room the tension still simmered. “Are we leaving?” Bili asked.

“No, Bili, you are staying here,” Madam Portencia ordered. She stormed out into the corridor and strode up to Spider, hissing “These guys - they’re not up to it. Look at them.”

“I feel fine,” Bili protested, “I just drank a potion.”

“You,” Madam Portencia scolded, “First of all - there is still blood coming out of your loincloth. And you, shortstuff,” she said pointing to Torman, “You’re no better.”

Spider ignored Madam Portencia and pulled out the keys. One seemed pretty obviously made for this kind of door and lock. He slipped it inside and the lock turned smoothly.

Morad pushed the door open. Inside sat a balding man on a chair, staring up at an ornate golden shield hanging on the wall. The shield seemed to scowl at the room, a fiend’s face traced into the ironwork.

---

“Yessss” the shield whispered to Morad, who’s eyes opened wide in fear. “Oh no,” he whispered.

The man turned to look at the group. Torman and Madam Portencia knew him immediately: The High Overseer of Elturel, Thavius Kreeg. He smiled and spoke softly.

“Can you help me?”

---

“I have been studying this shield, trying to find it’s secret. But so far - nothing. Perhaps you will be able to assist?”

Inside his head, Morad heard the deep whisper again: “Finally. Come, take me, do not let this man corrupt me further.” He ignored Kreeg and walked to the shield. “I do not trust you any more. You tricked me.”

Everyone else looked confused - Morad was addressing the shield, not Kreeg.

Thavius Kreeg pulled himself out of his chair and walked to stand beside Morad. “Is it talking to you?”

“Yes. Yes it is - but you get back old man.”

“Finally! I have not been able to get it to say anything - what is it telling you?” Kreeg reached up to put his hand on Morad’s shoulder, but Morad was having none of it, reacting quickly to grab the old man’s wrist and twist him away.

“Old man. Please. You already this close to being killed. Get back away from me - I know what you did. The old lady told us.”

Kreeg looked surprised and held his hands up in surrender. “Please - no! You must be mistaken. I have nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of.”

“You do not have to worry about me! You turn around, old man.” Morad nodded his head to the gathered party.

Kreeg turned and looked around, and smiled apologetically. “I don’t have anything to fear from you…do I?”

“Oh. I think so,” Morad disagreed, “You destroyed a world, and put people in Hell.”

“Me? No - you must be mistaken.”

“You talk to the smart people in the room, and they tell you,” Morad said, turning back to the shield.

As Kreeg stood and faced the group, Spider, Bili, and Torman noticed something disturbing. Thavius Kreeg’s shadow didn’t match his form. Instead of a man, he cast the shadow of a pudgy, winged, horned creature.

Spider caught Morad’s eye, looked to the ground, and said simply: “Shadow.”

Morad looked down and before taking another breath his scimitar was drawn and at the throat of Kreeg.

“Don’t kill him yet,” Spider said calmly.

Kreeg was horrified. “Please, I am innocent! Why would you attack an old man? Do you know who I am??”

“You are no man - I can see your shadow, demon!” Morad cried.

Kreeg looked down. “Oh that,” he shrugged. “It happened years ago, I don’t know what it is.”

“You a demon! It’s pretty obvious!”

Madam Portencia had heard of such things. A person who had sold their soul may take on the shadow of the form they will assume upon their death. It seemed Kreeg was more than he said.

“I agree it does look strange, the shadow. But really I have found it no problem,” Kreeg simpered.

“Ohhh, you no problem? I don’t know if you’ve been to the old city where they are in Hell? Bit of a problem for them!” Morad spat.

“Ah, you mean Elturel.” Kreeg looked crestfallen, putting his hand on his heart. “I am in great shock at what happened. My heart bleeds for those poor souls. I was there! I saw it disappear, my god, I prayed, I prayed, but… I mourn deeply.”

“Why weren’t you there?” Madam Portencia demanded.

“Why? I was visiting a local parish, outside the city walls. They had invited me, unavoidable you know - part of the Grand Overseer’s duties. That is me by the way - the Grand Overseer of Elturel - in case you weren’t aware?”

“Oh we know,” Morad growled.

“You do know? Right. Well you can just imagine how this hurts me, how it strikes deep into my soul.” Kreeg looked distraught, wringing his hands in anguish. Madam Portencia rolled her eyes at the performance, being rather familar with this kind of show.

“You be careful with those words,” Morad warned.

“I turned, I saw the city disappear. The memory is seared on my heart, I will never forget it.”

“Why were you visiting a local parish when you were supposed to be meeting Grand Duke Ravengard?” Madam Portencia asked innocently.

Kreeg frowned. “How would you know I was due to meet the head of Baldur’s Gate?”

Spider pulled his daggers. “You have about 5 seconds to stop your bullshit, or I’m gonna drop you old man.”

Kreeg look impassively at Spider and shook his head. “What ‘bullshit’ do you mean? I can’t stop if I’m not doing it in the first place.”

“5…4…3…2…”

“Looks like you’re at a crossroads, my friend,” Madam Portencia opined.

“One. You’ve got one second. We know where you were. We were in Ravengard’s party.”

Kreeg raised his eyebrows. “You were? Ah - you were his escorts - of course!”

Spider moved toward Kreeg menacingly, daggers spinning.

“Please!” Kreeg held his hand up. “I abhor violence! There is no need for this, threats of this kind.”

“I’ve just dropped three demons outside,” Spider scolded. “Do you think I care about you, old man? Start talkin’.”

“Oh, no, please. No violence.” Kreeg looked worried, taking a step back.

Morad’s blade was instantly at the Overseer’s throat. “If Spider says this - you’d better start talking old man.”

“I see. Well, you have me at a disadvantage. I will tell you anything that you want to know - as I say, I have nothing to hide!”

“Tell us about Zariel,” Spider asked pointedly.

“Zariel? Well now that is an unexpected question,” Kreeg smiled leaning back against the wall.

“Ohhh, give me a reason,” Spider said in exasperation.

“Don’t even start,” Madam Portencia reinforced. “We haven’t got time. We are very tired, all of us, okay?”

Kreeg was unfussed by the threats, taking his time and enjoying himself. “Zariel - mighty Zariel! Do you know the legends of Zariel?”

“Demons were worshipping her!” Morad accused.

“Oh, no, no. If they are - that is a terrible, terrible, misunderstanding. You must be mistaken.”

“We saw it all, and we killed them all, old man.”

“No! Zariel saved Elturel, centuries ago! She led the riders into Avernus to fight the devil and demon hordes. She is our greatest hero, and will always be our greatest hero!”

“And what was the price?” Madam Portencia asked.

“The price? What price?”

“For leading the riders into Avernus.”

“And for Elturel,” Morad added.

“I mourn for Elturel, as I have said. But I know not how or why it happened. I know nothing about it.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “I’ll tell you someone who might know something about it: Duke Vanthampur.”

Morad shook his head. “She said you know all about it.”

“No I know nothing,” Kreeg said forcefully. “She captured me as I arrived in Baldur’s Gate, she captured me and she put me in this vault and she said, in no uncertain terms, ‘You will discover the secret to this shield or I will kill you’. It’s as simple as that.”

“Here’s the problem with that,” Madam Portencia noted. “I set her on fire about half an hour ago.”

Kreeg paused, recalculating his position. “You set Duke Vanthampur on fire?”

“Yes. We killed her whole family, because she demon worshipper,” Morad reinforced. “Just like you, demon.”

Madam Portencia nodded. “So. Look. The only reason I’m not over there to cut your throat is because I know that little goblin there will do it for me. So as I said, we’re tired, we haven’t got any time for this. We all need a good sit down and if you don’t start talking I’m just going to let him.”

Kreeg stretched before continuing. “It’s a great shame that you killed her. Because she, I strongly believe, she…”

“Oh Spider, shut him up!” Madam Portenia said contemptuously.

Spider did.

Kreeg looked down at the rent in his chest, trying to pull it back together, before falling to his knees. “It was my time,” he gasped, “I will see you again.”

---

Spider quickly searched the body - a Hellrider signet-ring and the necklace symbol of Torm - and checked his eyes: black voids, just like the Vanthampur’s.

“That is the first step, now we can start,” the voice whispered to Morad. “You must free me from this shield.”

“What do you mean ‘we’,” Morad said out loud, “You’re not coming across as good.”

“You’re not coming across as sane,” Madam Portencia observed. “Who are you talking to?”

“I am talking to the shield. It tricked me - I thought it was Al’Akbar.”

“It is no trick. I am a celestial being, trapped within this shield.”

“What being?” Morad asked.

“I am an angel, I have been trapped within here for an eternity.”

“Why are you not good then?”

“It is the shield. The shield, and the binding spell that has trapped me within, hides my true nature. I have been use for ill, constantly, and it must end.”

Morad hefted the shield off the wall, sensing its immense power instantly, and turned to Madam Portencia. “The shield is saying angel bound within - very powerful. But I can’t tell - good or evil.”

“My power has been corrupted”

“He says - he was corrupted, and then used by bad people. I do not know. I cannot tell.”

Madam Portencia looked at the shield, impressed with its craft. This was no faux artefact like those upstairs, this was the real thing. She touched the shield and she too felt the latent power within - but nothing more. “I need more time, a cup of tea, maybe a few pipes and a lie down, to offer something more constructive.”

“We take it with us. We see,” Morad decided.

“I can help you”

“It keeps talking to me, so you know and don’t think I’m crazy. Can you speak to others, shield?”

“No, just you”

“Why?”

“You are my conduit. I needed to find one who’s soul was pure, and that is you.”

“Who do you worship?”

“I worship no-one. I am an angel.”

“But who was your god? Angel is for a god.”

“I cannot say, I cannot remember. I have been trapped here that long, my mind has wandered. I know only that you are the one.”

Morad remained cautious. “This is all very tricky. Everyone tricky around here, and this is tricky too.”

“You must keep me out of the hands of those that would use me for ill as they have been. They will not use me for good. Keep them away from me.”

“That is an easy promise to keep,” Morad agreed.

“Spider, do you know a fence who may know something about this? About the provenance of this thing?” Madam Portencia asked.

“Someone will know,” Spider nodded, “Though they would be more interested in selling it than its history.”

Spider moved to check the six coffers in the room, finding a haul that was about to make everyone very rich: gold, gems, platinum, and a broken ceremonial dagger: a curved ivory blade bearing Draconic runes, with a bone hilt wrapped in leather strips and studded with gemstones.

---

Despite being desperate for a rest, it was nearing 4AM and everyone realised getting out of the villa before it came alive at dawn was paramount.

“Quite frankly,” Torman said exhaustedly, “unless we rest, I don’t want to meet anyone else.”

“I’m the same,” Madam Portencia agreed.

“Too many people can get hurt - Bili and Torman, everyone - we need to go. We go to upper house and out,” Morad urged.

Everyone agreed, and headed back upstairs. The servants were gone from Thurstwell’s room - and so was Sarvinder, his ropes lying cut in the stable. Mak was relieved they were gone, though worried about their survival.

As Madam Portenia jumped out the stable window, she heard a voice from above. “That was very interesting.” She glanced up and caught site of an imp briefly, before it vanished.

The trip back to the Howling Harpy was uneventful, Spider having cast a quick cantrip to disguise the blood and gore covering everyone. He didn’t hide the bags of coin, so the Upper City gate guards demanded double - paid without blinking.

Everyone collapsed at the tables: alive, but barely, and still in some shock at what had transpired: killing the nominative Grand Duke of Baldur’s Gate, her entire family wiped out, and the Grand Overseer of Elturel dead too.

Regicide was rare enough, but double regicide? Unheard of.

---

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Session played: 7, 14, 21, 28 September, 12 October, 2020