---

Morad took a path that avoided any of the major landmarks on the map, skirting around them as much as possible - but using them as markers. After several hours a pair of huge monoliths appeared to the South, mirroring the image sketched on the map.

Morad started to head onwards, but Spider turned back to Madam Portencia. “Do you want to find out what those things are, Madam P? Because if we get closer the map will start speakin'”

“Is there a reason to,” Madam Portencia sighed.

“Well there’s always a reason to know where things are.”

“Most of the things here-” Madam Portencia started, gesturing to everything and shaking her head.

“Yeah yeah, they’re all a total shite-show,” Spider nodded. “But the thing of it is we might have to come back, and someone might say ‘Go to the Pillars of Armpit’ or whatever, and these might be the Pillars of Armpit,” he said convincingly.

Madam Portencia nodded slowly. “Alright, I’m with you. South, Morad.” Morad had already turned. Madam P sent the same message to Bili, finding his mind still buzzing with happiness.

Morad slowed as the structures loomed ahead. Acrid smog swirled around a barren hill, rising from which were the pair of leaning monoliths, like giant tombstones, each soaring more than fifty feet into the smoky red sky. Dozens of armoured knights knelt in motionless reverence before the monoliths.

The map duly started its reveal. “Zariel’s fallen companions cannot rest. Nobody can in this nightmare hellscape.”

“Amen to that,” Torgun said.

“Well this might be the tomb of the Hellrider’s right now!” Madam Portencia said excitedly.

“Let’s go and find out,” Torgrun encouraged.

“No!” Morad and Spider chorused together.

“And we only have half the key, brother” Madam Portencia reminded Torgrun.

Spider scribbed this new information into his recipe book, adding “Could be the Crypt?”

Morad and Mak swung away and headed onward.

---

Four long hours later the vehicles slowed to a stop at the boundary of the flaming fields inscribed on the map. A hot, windswept plain wracked by magical firestorms lay ahead. Flames crashed down from clouds overhead, and vast tornados of flame swept across the parched ground. Morad estimated he could stay ahead of the chaos, but it wasn’t going to be easy. Mak relished the chance to use his newfound bike skills.

Madam Portencia insisted on a rest - eight hour of travel had drained her energy, and clearly everyone else’s too. Despite the extremely exposed position, there was palpable relief as she stepped down and pitched her magic tent.

“We need to keep guard,” Morad said quietly to Madam Portencia, “And Bili can’t be a guard any more.”

Madam Portencia paused, then nodded slowly. She passed the word on to Spider, quietly, who grimaced but agreed. A watch, sans-Bili, was quickly organised and those off duty immediately collapsed into sleep.

Mak sat atop the Holy Terror II on his rotation, wishing the sky would darken for a moment so he could glimpse the stars again. Instead it pounded down relentlessly red, relentlessly hot, and relentlessly unpleasant.

As he stared upward he caught movement off on the horizon, something in the sky, obscured by the waves of heat rising from the burning plains. He watched with growing disquiet as the shape started to take form: it was one of the massive flying fortresses he had witnessed in Hellturel, and it was slowly but surely heading this way. The deep rumbling engines were audible as it drew closer.

Mak couldn’t be sure if its heading was coincidental or targeted, but thought it wasn’t worth the risk if it were the former. He shook Spider awake, who instantly agreed and roused the rest of the sleepers - “Everybody up! We gotta go!” - not welcomed by those that had only recently sunk into slumber.

It was quickly clear the fortress was heading directly toward the camp, whether it was searching or not. Madam Portencia vanished the tent, and everyone moved to position quickly. Spider encouraged Bili onto the Holy Terror II, arguing he needed more protection that the bike offered. Mak was safe with his ring of fire protection.

Bili resisted strongly, refusing to move despite his new condition. Spider shrugged and mounted up. Morad and Mak fired up their screaming engines and shot out into the firestorm ahead.

Navigating was hard work, but both drivers by now had a good handle on their machines. The ground was thankfully rock hard, baked by the cascading fires from the sky, which allowed a fast pace to be maintained.

Madam Portencia spyglassed the fortress as it floated ever closer, knowing the vehicles stood little chance against whatever firepower that thing mustered. It had veered toward the East as the vehicles headed that direction, so there was no question it was tracking.

To Madam Portencia’s relief, it slowed as it approached the fire-field, drawing to a complete stop once it reached the boundary. For a moment she wondered why, then remembered the destination: a wrecked flying fortress on the far side of the hellfire storms. Perhaps the cause of the wreck was the storms?

---

After some hours of wearying travel, the crashed fortress loomed ahead. A towering metal wreck rose from the scorched hellscape. It looked like a giant sword blade, tilted to a twenty-degree angle and partly buried underground. Much of its exposed hull was rusted and torn asunder. Hot wind screamed as it tore through the hollow structure, and six giant vulture-like creatures circled high above it.

It was the largest artificial construction anyone had ever seen - a staggering sight up close. Morad guessed 80-100 feet loomed above ground level, the rest was driven like a wedge deep into the ground. He was surprised it hadn’t collapsed on its side, it was like it had been thrown into the ground by a giant force from above.

“Spider,” Madam Portencia asked, “Does your little friend know if anyone lives here?”

“You heard him,” Spider asked Samael.

“‘Little friend’ I have a name you know.”

“She knows you’ve got a name.”

“No-one would live here now, look at it, it’s a wreck. I’m surprised it’s still here. Picked clean no doubt.”

“He doesn’t know anything,” Spider reported. “And he’s doubts there’s anything left inside.”

“And remind me why were are here again?” Madam Portencia asked innocently.

“Rods, pal.”

“Right. Well let’s hope these rods haven’t been stolen. Strange if they weren’t removed too…”

Spider assessed the outside, which had plenty of climbing points, no challenge for him, but considerably more risky for the less experienced climbers. Morad scouted the outside and saw it was riddled with holes, allowing several easy entry-points to the internals of the wreck.

“I think we should try and go inside,” Madam Portencia decided, “I don’t want to climb up the outside, not in this skirt.”

Stepping inside plunged everything into dim light, the only light source coming through the rents in the metal. There were huge slabs of metal hanging loose, but nothing smaller or easily moved. Samael was right that it had been scoured.

Torgrun looked around to find a source of possible power, calling on what he had learnt about the bike and Demon Grinder. He spotted a 5-foot diameter cylindrical pipe running through the floors above and down into the earth. Some kind of conduit for power.

“We need to follow this up,” Torgrun suggested. The pipe had small hatches placed at regular intervals, perhaps for maintenance, and Spider popped his head in to see if it was climbable. It looked blocked higher up, so he rejected that option.

“It’s huge,” Madam Portencia noted.

“And don’t the vehicles run on souls?” Bili said with trepidation.

“That one we saw in Hellturel has some kind of hook,” Spider recalled. “Maybe that’s where the collection point is. They just hover around, sucking up souls.”

Everyone stared at the pipe with horror, imagining the volume of souls that would burn to power this thing.

Spider started the climb, clambering up the floors toward the peak. Each floor had 10-15 food ceilings, and it was relatively easy to progress. There was no life, and no scrap left to be collected.

At about the half way point, forty or fifty feet into the climb, Spider signalled a halt. On the level above he could hear what sounded like a slow sucking or slurping noise, like a slug moving over a surface.

“Ok, Sam-” Spider begun.

“I know, I know,” Sam complained, scuttling away. A moment later he returned. “Yuk. Huge snails. Or slugs. I don’t even know.”

---

Spider had been watching through Sam’s eyes. “Snails,” he announced, “Five big ones. Horse sized. And they have shells that look like they’re made of the bones of their victims.”

“Spider,” Morad suggested, “You a cook - do you have any salt?”

Spider laughed, “I wish, not enough for them - good plan though!”

Bili tried to use his animal sense to talk to them, but there was no animal presence to contact. These weren’t your regular molluscs. “I don’t think they’re living, as such. I suggest fire.”

“Ok, burn them all to Hell, so to speak. Let’s go,” Madam Portencia directed.

On Spider’s signal, everyone moved quickly up to the floor above to confront the snail-army.

Morad attacked first, slashing well and true. The snail shrunk on the first hit, and died on the second. But when it died it let out a hideous blood-curdling shriek, deafening in the confined space. Morad reeled back from the explosion of necrotic slime. He felt his sword almost get stuck in the suction of the snail’s torso, but yanked it free with an extra effort.

Bili dropped a flame spell between the two far snails, causing them to screech with pain. The foul smell of cooking snail flesh filled the room.

“Don’t go near them!” Madam Portencia yelled.

Spider acknowledged this wisdom, using his shadow-blades instead, staying at range. His target let out a similar death-wail, but no-one was in range this time.

Mak wasn’t quite as quick as Spider and charged into the fray instead. He killed his target quickly and efficiently, but suffered the same fate as Morad, necrotic slime gooping him.

Torgrun sent a guided bolt of light, but surprisingly the snail crawled on. Madam Portencia’s orb exploded her target, but it also survived.

The two remaining snails made a very-slow beeline to Mak, raising their hideous snail maws and biting. The first missed, but forced Mak back into the other, who chowed down on Mak’s muscular arm. It was disgusting.

Bili sent another bonfire, almost but not quite killing the already scorched snail. Spider finished the job - but Mak was again showered with slime and grunted in pain. He was tired of this - smashing his mace through the bone shell of the whelk and exploding it all over him, again.

Mak emerged from the pile of dead snails dripping with snail-mucus, not looking happy. Torgrun shook off his disgust and laid his hands on the big barbarian, helping him recover somewhat.

---

The climb continued until the penultimate floor was reached. Flashes of the Avernian sky could be seen above. Torgrun noted a scuttling, scratching sound from the intake pipe, deciding it was best left undisturbed.

Everyone hauled themselves up to the top deck. Sparks rained down from gashes in the ceiling of what used to be the bridge, much of which was open to the sky. The room had been picked clean, though rows of stripped-down metal boxes and a few dangling chains remained.

The deck was open to the firestorm plains, an epic landscape of fire and destruction, impressive in its scale and depressing in its relentlessness.

Overhead the creatures continued to circle, though it was much clearer now that they definitely weren’t vultures.

---

As Morad stared out, the shield suddenly woke.

“There is someone here. Someone we know.

“What? What is here?” Morad snapped.

“A presence I have felt before. One that you too have felt before. But different.”

“Just name it!”

“I am not sure…not the woman.”

“What’s going on, squirrel?” Madam Portencia asked, watching Morad talking to no-one.

“Shield talking,” he explained, before continuing. “Not the woman? You mean from back in the Villa?” Morad could only think of the Vanthampur matriarch.

“Yesss, the Villa.”

“There was the woman - and the man.”

“Morad, darling, what are you talking to it about?” Madam Portencia pressed.

“The shield sense someone here. You know, like last time, when we had the evil people in that Villa. I can’t remember his name.”

“Spider?” Torgrun prompted, turning to the walking memory bank.

“Kreeg,” Spider whispered, indicating everyone should be quiet as he slipped into the shadows.

“Kreeg?” Morad whispered to the shield.

“Yes, Kreeg. But also not Kreeg.”

“Kreeg is here?” Morad found it hard to believe. “Shield say ‘Kreeg, but not Kreeg’.”

Spider had crept forward and spotted a barred room. Through the bars of the cell he saw a sobbing figure huddled in the shadows. It appeared to be a paunchy devil with small wings and horns, bound by shackles to the far wall. The walls of the cell were covered with unreadable runes that glowed with an infernal red light.

The creature inside lifted its face and Spider grimaced as he stared back into the warped face of Thavius Kreeg, the man who had doomed Elturel to Hell, and dragged everyone down here with him. He was metamorphising into a Amnizu devil from the looks of him.

---

Spider spat and turned to Madam P. “I think it’s Kreeg,” he whispered, “But he’s been turned into a devil. It looks like Kreeg though.”

“Is there any reason we shouldn’t just kill him again,” Madam Portencia said, cutting to the chase.

“I don’t know - he might know stuff? And then we can kill him,” Spider suggested. “I tell you what, he’s not there by choice though, he’s shackled up against the wall and he’s locked into that cell.”

Torgrun strode to the cell, pushing past Spider.

“Ok then so we’re going with the direct approach,” Spider grinned.

“Spider - who shackled him?” Madam Portencia pressed.

“Well, I don’t know?”

“That’s the only question that matters as that’s the only person that’s outside the cage.”

“Are we outside the cage or are we inside the cage?” Torgrun asked.

“Now that’s another good question,” Madam Portencia answered philosophically.

---

“So Kreeg,” Torgrun said, facing the trapped devil-creature, “We meet again.”

Kreeg looked up, his hideous face a mess of emotions. He looked shattered. “Who are you? Why have you come to see me in my misery?”

“We know you from your other life. If this was your plan, it seems that it has not gone well.”

“My plan is nothing. I am waiting to be given what I was promised,” he said miserably.

“And what were you promised?” Torgrun asked, fascinated despite himself.

Kreeg looked down at his clawed hands. “This. But I am trapped. She hasn’t given me what she promised,” he whined, “She hasn’t given it to me!”

Madam Portencia laughed.

“I should kill him now?” Morad asked her.

“Hang on a second, big guy. Good plan, but let’s find out if he knows anything first.”

“Why has she forsaken you?” Torgrun asked.

“If I tell you - will you help me?”

“Yes, I swear it by the Carney code,” Madam Portencia smiled.

“No!” Morad said firmly.

“This one says no,” Kreen said, pointing a scaly hand at Morad.

“No I not help you, you a demon,” Morad said.

“I’m not a demon, I’m a devil.”

“Still evil, still horrible.”

Kreeg turned to Torgrun. “She is keeping me here until Elturel falls. Elturel was my treasure, I made Elturel what it was, I saved it. And this is my reward.”

“You doomed Elturel,” Torgurn spat.

“I saved Eltruel from the undead hordes, for a price I was willing to pay. And now she has trapped me here. The contract…” Kreeg paused. A smile started to form on his flabby lips.

“Hmmmm?” Madam Portencia prompted.

“As far as we can tell, your contract has ended,” Torgrun said.

Kreeg was starting to regain some of his confidence. “What contract do you know of?”

“The one that brought Elturel to this place. The one that saved and damned Elturel.”

“My contract,” Kreeg smiled. “Are you here to save Elturel?”

“Yes!” Morad cried.

“I can help you,” Kreeg said with satisfaction. He was back in his element, making deals.

Madam Portencia grabbed Torgrun by the scruff of his neck and whispered, “Just be careful what information we give up, ok little fella,” she warned.

Torgrun nodded and turned back to Kreeg. “How can you help us?” he asked mockingly.

“What do you know of infernal contracts?” Kreeg asked innocently.

“Well I’ve never signed one.”

“Nothing? Well, let me tell you about infernal contracts,” Kreen said, steepling his fingers. “They are signed by two parties - in this case myself and the Archdevil Zariel. If one party should retrieve their contract, then the contract becomes null-and-void.”

Torgrun raised an eyebrow as Kreeg continued. “I can lead you to my contract - I know where it lies. If we repossess it, why then Zariel cannot claim Elturel. Simple,” Kreeg smiled.

“No need to lead us there,” Madam Portencia smiled in return.

“How else will you find it? It’s impossible.”

“Why?”

There was a tiny, almost imperceptible pause before Kreeg answered. “Uh - only I have the key! I must be present, and I must be alive to unlock the contract,” he said smoothly.

“Where is it?” Madam Portencia queried.

“It is in Avernus.”

Torgrun had heard enough. “It is good to know you are here, and it is good to know the terms of this contract. And we might just leave now.”

“You doom Elturel if you leave,” Kreeg said, staring at Torgrun with his baleful eyes. “Let that be on your head, young Hellrider. For I recognise your emblem now that I see it - you are one of us.”

“So you remember.”

“Of course. Not you, but the Hellriders I will never forget.”

“You don’t remember him?” Madam Portencia prompted.

“Why would I?”

“He was there when you died.”

Kreeg leant back into the wall. “Ohhh, you. You’re the ones that came to Vanthampur Villa. You’re the ones that released me. Yes. Well - release me again!”

“No. I think not,” Torgrun stated simply.

“Every soul in Elturel is forfeit to Zariel, thanks to my contract. You, a Hellrider, would send those souls to their eternal damnation?”

Torgrun bristled. “If you see in us a hope, you need to give us more.”

“More? More than saving every soul in Elturel - your city?”

“What can you offer us as a token of trust,” Madam Portencia asked patiently.

“My life,” Kreen answered instantly. “I will be at your mercy.”

“Will you? Or will you just fly away on those beautiful wings of yours?”

“These wings can’t fly, look at them, they’re pathetic,” Kreeg grumbled. Madam Portencia had to admit they were pretty weak-looking.

“I repeat: I will be at your mercy. You may kill me at any time. And let me be clear - I understand your anger at Elturel falling, but now this is your opportunity to let it rise again!” Kreeg smarmed condescendingly. “Will you miss that chance? Dare you miss that chance?”

“Why do you seek the rise of Elturel?” Torgrun demanded. “You have damned it here, you have followed it here.”

“Because here I am, after all my work, locked in this gods-forsaken vessel,” Kreeg cried angrily. “I have not been given near what I was promised. I am ambitious. And my ambition is to get out of here and to raise my own army.”

“For what purpose?”

“Avernus. Anyone can rule here if they are strong enough, and I am strong enough,” Kreeg said convincingly, but then faltered. “Or at least I will be - right now I am weak. And trapped. But not for long!”

“If we free you, and you lead us to the contract, and Elturel is saved, and you are still not strong enough - we could just kill you,” Madam Portencia suggested. “Sounds like a bad deal for you.”

“You could. As I said, I am putting myself at your mercy.”

“Our mercy is…a poor choice,” Madam Portencia said bluntly.

“And in order for you to rule,” Torgrun added, “You must cast her down.”

“Indeed. I must.” Kreeg seemed unperturbed at the suggestion.

---

Spider stepped to the front, his features settling into an impish demeanour. “Well. We could always just drag him out and torture him, with knives and holy water, until he tells us where it is anyway.”

“That was my second suggestion,” Madam Portencia agreed.

In fact you know what - I’ve seen somebody, and I’m pretty sure I can reproduce it, pulling intestines out by a slit in the gut.”

Kreeg shrank back.

“And I bet that’d hurt a devil just as much, and I reckon you might hurt enough that you’ll wanna scream to us where your contract is, rather than end up a pool of ichor on the ground.”

Kreeg’s eyes went wide.

“So you know what? We’re going to do that. We’re going to open this door in a second and I’m going to start gutting you like a fish,” Spider finished, spinning his best knife in his fingers.

“Spider, no!” Madam Portencia called, without a hint of sincerity.

“I sent you here the first time, and I’ll send you to perdition right now. So you can start talking, or I’m gonna start working!” Spider sparked his blade along the cell bars.

“Spider, that’s cruel!” Madam Portencia cried encouragingly.

“I’m going to count to a number in my head, and then when I open these bars the only thing you’re going to know is pain…”

Kreeg had lost all semblance of calm under this verbal assault. He looked pleadingly at Morad, got nothing, turned back to Madam Portencia - also nothing. He turned to Torgrun.

“T..th…this is not an honourable offer!” he pleaded. “You must stop this man! I am offering to save your city, your people, don’t let him…I don’t…please don’t…”

Torgrun stared silently back at the miserable creature.

“I agree,” Morad said suddenly. “I won’t let him do that. I will free you and I will cut you down.”

“Thank you,” Kreeg said with relief, misunderstanding slightly.

“You will die under my blade,” Morad nodded.

Madam Portencia burst into laughter again.

Morad continued, nonplussed. “There will be no torture. You will have a clean quick death, for eternity.”

“Or no death!” Kreen cried, catching up.

“So basically what we’re saying is that guy there,” Spider said, pointing to Morad, “He’s the moral beacon. He’s your best option.”

“Hellrider,” Kreen begged, “Stop them please. You are my only hope.”

Torgrun glanced at Morad, then Spider, then back to Kreeg. “If they are the two side of the moral compass, then I am to be swayed one way or the other.”

“You are a Hellrider! You know what Elturel means - you can save it!”

“I know what has happened to Elturel at your hand,” Torgrun accused.

“Yes I did it. I am not afraid to admit it. I did it though, to, I did it to…” Kreeg wrung his hands.

“You did it to make yourself powerful and a saviour for a couple of hundred years not thinking you’d ever have to pay of the debt you stupid fat fuck!” Spider grinned visciously.

“No! I saved the city, I had no choice, I had no choice,” he begged, pulling on his chains.

“Tell us why you had no choice,” Torgrun asked accusingly.

“The city was doomed! The vampires! The only chance was me. Me! I did what I had to! Tell me that Elturel did not thrive under my rule!?”

“How is different to it dying then, and it dying now?” Madam Portencia demanded.

“The difference is I saved it, and now you can save it.”

---

Torgrun sighed. No matter how pathetic Kreeg was, the slim possibility he might speak true meant he couldn’t do what he dearly wanted. “I feel I am compelled to save Elturel, but there are some strong arguments amongst my colleagues. So again, tell us more. How did you lose your contract?”

“One always loses one’s contract when one signs it. It is not held by the mortal, it is held by the devil. If we take it, and I use my soul to unlock it, then it is forfeit.”

“You can use your soul to unlock it?”

“My soul, yes,” Kreeg said, licking his lips.

“All right Spider, kill him,” Madam Portencia ordered.

“No! Don’t kill me!”

“I have another plan,” Spider offered. “Maybe we can talk to Maggie about grinding him down into a coin, and then we can just use the presence of the coin to unlock it.”

“That is the one coin I would be ok to use,” Morad offered.

“It won’t work!” Kreeg said unconvincingly. “You kill me, you kill Elturel. It is your choice.”

“No, we’re not going to kill Elturel, we didn’t need you as part of our plan to start with!” Spider yelled.

“Kreeg, you were vainglorious in life, be wary of being vainglorious in death.”

“Well your plan must be a foolish if you think you can do it without me!” Kreeg’s arrogance was coming to the fore once more, seeing a window of opportunity with Torgrun’s hesitation.

Morad pulled his sword out and spoke calmly. “The difference is, you see all these people here? They came here, no contract. They weren’t trying to do a deal. They came here to save Elturel. You say you save Elturel, but yet you make contract to become devil? You no hero. Don’t say you hero.”

Everyone felt chuffed at the implication of Morad’s words. We are heroes.

“You help us, or we kill you. I won’t let them torture you - but I will kill you.”

“I make no claim to being a hero,” Kreeg said tiresomely.

“No more talking,” Morad ordered.

“I am no hero,” Kreeg continued, ignoring Morad’s words. " I accept that. Although - it was heroic saving Elturel all those centuries ago…"

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Spider said under his breath. “How would we get the door open anyway? How are we going to open the bars?”

Kreeg looked confused. “Unlock it? Break it? I don’t know?! How would I know? I’m the one trapped in here, I’m the jailed, not the jailor!”

“It seems like too much trouble to me. Let’s just kill him from here.”

“I think we can all agree that we can all kill him from here,” Madam Portencia agreed.

“Don’t kill me again,” Kreeg pleaded.

“If we kill you here, as far as I know, everything that was Kreeg becomes a giant doughnut,” Spider grinned. “There’s nothing left. No immortal afterlife for you.”

“Don’t kill me,” Kreeg begged, turning to Morad, to Torgrun, even to Madam Portencia.

“Stop. Stop bargaining. Right now,” Spider threatened. “It’s making it worse. Tell us where your contract is - he’s going to kill you quick, best case, or, most likely scenario, I’m going to come in there and torture you to death really, really, really slowly.”

Kreeg shrank back to his corner, and plonked down onto his flabby haunches. “I tried to save Elturel,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “I have already damned it, you damn it again.”

“Well that’s telling,” Madam Portencia said.

“This guy’s a useless asshole,” Spider spat. “He couldn’t tell us shit anyway, and Zariel will have his contract so we know where it is regardless.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Madam Portencia agreed. “All right, Spider, do your thing.”

Kreeg wasn’t ready to give up. “Zariel doesn’t have it,” he mumbled, keeping Spider on the hook.

“Oh so you do know where it is! So tell us!” Spider yelled.

“Zariel doesn’t have it,” Kreeg repeated sulkily.

“Pfft, I’m getting really sick of this,” Spider steamed.

“It’s alright, Spider, torture will show us the way,” Madam Portencia suggested calmly.

Kreeg looked to Morad.

“I can’t get in there to kill you,” Morad said almost apologetically.

“But Spider here can,” Madam Portencia added.

“Oh I can get in,” Spider threatened.

“Stop him. Stop him from coming in here,” Kreeg said to Morad calmly. “That would be against your code - you would have to witness the torture if you do not stop him.”

Despite the outrageous presumption, Morad knew Kreeg was right.

Spider unstopped his holy water, and threw a splash onto the chained Kreeg.

“Argh! Ow! Now look! There is no need - do not!”

Spider repeated the dose.

“AARGH. Stop! I will make a noise!”

“Make a noise - we’re not worried, we’ll kill whatever you bring,” Spider taunted, tossing more water.

“HELP! HELP!! HELP!!!”

Torgrun put his hand on Spider’s shoulder, “Stay alert.” Madam Portencia looked behind warily.

“Spider, please,” Morad said, “Let’s kill whatever is out here first - this ‘jailor’? - then we come back here and work this out?”

“I don’t think there’s a jailor-” Spider started before suddenly stopping. Mak and Madam Portencia pointed to the sky at two of the horse-sized winged creatures from above swooping down on an attack vector.

“Ok people, game time!” Spider yelled.

---

The beasts let out hideous wails as they landed with a crash. Morad already had his weapon out, and made no mistake with both his swings. Mak hollered with rage and sprinted over, bringing his mace down with thundering force.

The vrock screeched under the combined blows, then sucked itself inward and expanded outward, showering Morad and Mak in green spores. Morad quickly pulled his mask over his face, and Mak forced himself to breath shallowly, avoiding the poison.

The vrock tried to bite Morad with its beak, missing, but swung a nasty talon into the warriors arm. The second vrock tried the same, flying behind Mak and exploding with spores, then ripping its talon into Mak’s shoulder.

Spider flung a shadowy dagger into the second vrock, avoiding the poison cloud. Bili charged across the room, leaping up onto one of the metal boxes and leaping down on the beast. He was prepared for the poison and seemed to almost thrive in the spore chaff. His axe blow landed true, though his off-hand got jammed into the metalwork.

“By the power of the Redeemer!” Torgrun yelled, calling on Torm to give everyone a little extra something, then summoning his spiritual weapons for further body blows on the vrock. Madam Portencia floated and exploded a chromatic orb which shook the room when it landed true, the metalwork rattling in unison.

Morad heard the sound of beating wings and glanced up to see another vrock screaming down toward the fray. He grunted, realising he needed to drop the closest vrock quickly, and made no mistake, striking twice with great precision. The down-stroke cut through the wing of his target, dropping it dead. The beast dissolved into a pool of demon-ichor, which Morad was quick to move away from. Morad spun and cocked an eye at the second vrock: Mak’s turn.

Mak took the hint, moved out of the ichor, and finished his vrock with an unstoppable blow, smashing the vrock’s kneecap, cracking the bones that were supporting the creature. It threw its head back and let out a deafening screech that echoed around the chamber. Mak, Bili, and Morad clamped their hands to their knees, but Torgrun was too slow, and fell stunned to his knees clutching his head in his hands.

The vrock then turned and swung at Bili, missing with its beak but landing a punishing slash with its talon. Spider threw another blade that dropped the vrock, exploding it into more goop.

The third vrock landed with a thump, to be met by Bili who charged into it with his axe. Madam Portenica followed up with another thunderous orb. Mak and Morad moved toward the new creature just as it exploded with spores - this time Morad sucked in a lungful of spores at just the wrong time. He felt the poison spread quickly, but used his powers to neutralise it almost instantly.

The vrock pierced Morad’s chest with its beak, missing with a follow-up talon slash. Spider jumped up on one of the consoles to get a better angle, but missed, the morass of green spores disrupting his aim.

Bili swung, hard, crushing, Torgrun hitting too as he came out of his stun and poured radiant damage down on the winged beast. Madam Portencia took her cue from Torgrun, dropping a necrotic bomb on the bird.

Morad stepped up and again swung fast and true. He slashed through the wing, and drew the blade up to the vrock’s throat halting it just shy. He looked at Mak and nodded, and the big barbarian brought the hammer down on the vrock’s head, forcing it down on Morad’s blade, slicing it clean off.

All three were dead, and before the ichor could drain away, Spider was hustling to collect as much as he could in three empty skins he hauled from his bag.

---

Madam Portencia, standing nearest the cell, heard a tiny voice. “So, will you free me now?”

“Oh sweet darling,” Madam Portencia chuckled, remembering Kreeg. “You’re speaking to the wrong one.”

“You’re obviously quite powerful,” Kreeg acknowledged, “So you can help me in the quest to bring Elturel back!”

Madam Portencia looked at her companions collecting ichor, at the pathetic figure of Kreeg locked in his cage. She was starting to feel slightly hysterical. “Yes I can. But I’m very inclined to kill you while no-one is watching.”

“How much ichor do you think he’s worth?” Bili yelled.

“Oh, he’s a devil, darling, not a demon. But I had the same thought,” Madam Portencia smiled.

Kreeg continued his whispers. “Perhaps once I am free…you could sign a contract with me? I am a devil, I could empower you! Once I am…free.”

“I used to know a guy like you at the circus,” Madam Portencia responded.

“Good guy?” Kreeg prompted.

“Great guy. He didn’t work for us, he was an estate agent - used to rent us fields to put our tents up in. And there was this other circus-guy - ‘small-fellow’ we used to call him because he was a dwarf - he used to look after the big cats. One fine night he put the agent into the cage with the tigers. Oh what a sight - I still find myself dreaming about the organs being ripped out.”

Kreeg stared. “Don’t put tigers in here, please?” he stammered.

“I don’t have any tigers. But I do love the fact that you’re in a cage - takes me right back to that time.”

“Well I’m ready to exit this cage,” Kreeg said hopefully. “I’m ready, if you are, to lead on. You seem like a leader, somewhat, as I was, and as I shall be.” He smiled warmly, a hideous sight.

Torgrun lent on the bars of the cage wearily. “Kreeg, I don’t trust you. I don’t think you’ll bring us the fortune that we seek, which is the rise of Elturel.”

“Well. I will bring you that. I will. Where else will you get it from? As I have told you: from no-one but me.”

Mak looked at Torgrun, well out of his depth. “Is that true? How else are we going to do this?”

“I’m trying to leverage a contract out of him, so that we can hold him in thrall,” Torgrun said quietly.

Madam Portencia shook her head. “Torgrun. I don’t know if you know anything about contracts with devils,” she whispered furiously, “But when you sign a contract with a devil you’re the one in thrall not them!”

“But can he sign himself to us?”

“No! It doesn’t work like that!”

“I can offer you great power,” Kreeg responded, overhearing. “I can have contracts with each of you for whatever you wish, whatever you desire…”

“Yes, yes, see how he can offer us great power,” Madam Portencia said wryly, “No strings attached, no doubt.” She wandered off to collect Spider, who was still busy scooping ichor - and talking to Samael.

“Sam, where do we stand on the whole ‘one end of the contract’ thing he’s proposing?”

“Oh it’s rubbish.”

“Ah. So we can kill him? It’s totally fine?” Spider said, surprised.

“I don’t know what he’s talking about. He’s making it up as he goes along. I’ve never heard of it. He may have a special deal with Zariel, but I’ve never heard of it.

“So everything he’s saying is complete garbage, basically?”

“Complete garbage. In my experience, I mean I’m only an imp, I don’t make contracts. But I’ve never seen a contract where he can walk up to the Archduke of Avernus, take it, and the contract becomes null-and-void? Rubbish.”

Spider smiled and looked up at Madam Portencia before wandering over to Kreeg. “So I’ve spoken to my legal representative here,” he said, pointing to Samael perched on his shoulder, “And he says that every word that came out of your mouth is total, complete, utter, rubbish. And I’ve known him my entire life.”

Kreeg paused for a moment. Then settled his shoulders and pointed at Samael. “That? That’s an imp. I am an Amnizu. Do you know of the Infernal Hierarchy? Those things are the lowest of the low, let me tell you, they have nothing. Whereas I-”

“So just so we’re clear,” Spider interrupted, unstoppering another holy water vial, “You’re going to spend the last few minutes of your life insulting my friend?”

The revelation that Samael was an imp didn’t really surprise anyone. Everyone realised something was going on - Samael knew too much about Avernus - so why not an imp? Morad felt slight discomfort, now really knowing the implications, but he trusted Spider. Torgrun merely checked off the mental theory he had been building.

As Morad watched on impassively, the shield piped-up again. “Use me to kill him.”

“Why you want that?” Morad asked, again surprised.

“I wish to show you my powers.”

Morad announced this to the group. “Shield say I should kill him, but use shield.”

Spider grimaced, his earlier promise to the shield unforgotten. “Can you tell the shield something for me? See that glow over there,” he pointed to the fields of fire outside, “That’s coming from lava.”

Morad took this at face value. “Shield - Spider say: ‘you see that red glow, that’s lava’…Oh, I see what he mean. He don’t like you. None of them like you - we all don’t like you - that made it sound like I like you - I don’t like you!”

“I understand his threat, but I am true to my word.”

Kreeg could see the tide turning against him - but he wasn’t done yet. “So do we have a deal? I will save Elturel once again - as I have in the past - we will save it again. The Hellriders will ride again and the city will be free! As will I. And I, I will take my revenge. My redemption.”

Torgrun shook his head. “Consider yourself redeemed,” he said with finality.

Bili held his hand out to Spider, who poured a measure of water into the open palm. Bili transformed it into a holy ice-knife, and rocketed it into Kreeg’s flabby flesh.

“ARGH!” Kreeg yelled. “Stop that, please stop that!! Free me! Please!”

“Morad, what were you saying about the shield?” Madam Portencia prompted, stepping out of Morad’s way.

“Hold me to the bars of the cell.”

“The shield say he can do it,” Morad said, raising it to the bars as directed.

Spider sighed with frustration. “I’m going on record sayin' this is a bad plan.”

“I’m keen to see it,” Madam Portencia disagreed.

“Yes, me too,” Mak nodded.

“That thing,” Spider tapped on the shield, “Is an evil piece of shit, and you’ll find out one day.” He backed away.

“I already found out,” Morad agreed, “The shield is bad. Me agree with you. Shield - people here don’t trust you because you’ve been bad.”

“There is only one way to earn back the trust. Let me show them.”

Morad turned to Kreeg. “Look. This shield? He evil like you, but think good. He about to kill you. You better, if you have any plan, show it now.”

“There is no plan from here, Morad,” Madam Portencia said gently.

Morad looked at Kreeg unhappily. Kreeg, despite everything, was an unarmed, shackled prisoner. But if he didn’t kill him, Bili and Spider would, one dagger at a time - and worse.

“Morad,” Torgrun said sternly, “Be our hand of justice.” The scales had tipped.

Morad nodded to Torgrun, grateful for the backing from the only other not to have drunk the mirror cool-aid. “The Redeemer says do it.” He turned back to Kreeg. Held the shield tight to the bars.

“Ready?”

Morad nodded.

The shield surged with power and a wall of searing flame surrounded Kreeg, who cried out in terror. He looked over to Morad, one last desperate plea in his eyes, before a massive ball of fire shot out from the mouth of the shield and exploded into the last Regent of Elturel. His wails of pain were short-lived as he burned, leaving only charred remains dangling from the smoking chains.

“Oh Morad, you sly goat, I didn’t know you had that in you!” Madam Portencia said approvingly.

“Burning him to death? That’s holy justice right there, pal!” Spider said sarcastically.

“That felt goooood,” the shield said lustfully.

Morad’s looked into at the remains of Kreeg, distraught. What was this thing strapped to his arm? He felt in shock at the power displayed, caught between two moral sharp points. Madam Portencia squeezed his shoulder sympathetically. “It’s dirty work being the good guy, Morad.”

“The pathway to redemption is littered with the corpes of devils,” Torgrun added prophetically.

Mak considered what had just happened. How did the shield manage to burn a devil - a creature immune to fire? The best he could come up with was that the transformation from human to devil was incomplete. Either that or the shield’s flame was of a different order. He shrugged his massive shoulders, adding this mystery to the many others he had witnessed in his time with this strange crew. A crew he now felt an almost familial bond with, none-the-less.

“Spider,” Madam Portencia said warily, “These bird-things, they’re not the one’s that locked him up.”

“No, they’re demons.”

“So who locked him up and where is the jailor?”

Spider shook his head. “Zariel locked him up. He said.”

“So there’s no jailor in your mind that we need to worry about?”

“Oh I can’t give any guarantee, but I don’t imagine there is. It’s an abandoned fortress - it doesn’t look like a manned prison. If the guards were snails, well that sums it up. These guys up here - he just knew they were flying around and so called them down ‘cos he knew they’d cause us problem.”

“He said ‘help’,” Madam Portencia reminded Spider.

“But they’re demons, not devils - they’re not on his side.”

“I hear you. But he said help - so who was he asking for help from? Demons?”

“Well nobody has turned up have they. That’s not to say nobody will turn up, so why don’t we have a look around the place and get what we need before someone does.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Madam Portencia agreed.

---

Spider headed to the western portion of the deck, seeing some pipe-work hard against the metallic wall. A valve controlled whatever flowed through the pipe. The next room had the continuation of the pipe, leading into the floor below. Three more pipes ran from wall to ceiling, one rent with a two-foot hole, and a large metal box hunkered down in the corner. Torgrun set about trying to figure out what this all meant.

“Don’t kill us big guy,” Madam Portencia hinted as Torgrun fiddled. After some consideration he decided this was all mechanics to control the flow of fuel for this ship. It reminded him of the systems on the Holy Terror, but this was all damaged.

“But what does it all do, Torgrun?” Madam Portencia asked as the dwarf-man tinkered.

“I haven’t worked it all out yet, but definitely there is the potential to have some energy flow through these pipes, that gets these ships up in the air.”

“On the off-chance we are one day standing in one of these machines that works, I suggest that you pay good attention.”

Torgrun nodded and waved everyone on so he could concentrate.

Spider poked around the next corner and found a corridor leading to the North West, with four closed doors. He called Mak over for backup, then carefully opened the first and stepped aside for Mak. Inside was a closet-sized room with a miniature version of the metal consoles seen on the command deck, and a chair bolted to the floor. A small, imp-sized set of keys - like a pianoforte - was embedded in a metal frame in front of the console, each key embossed with a letter from the infernal alphabet.

“Do you know what this is, Sam?”

“No idea. But what’s that?” Samael said, pointing to the ceiling.

Rigged overhead was a long, slender horn, with a flared opening at the lower end. “Any ideas?” Spider asked.

“Also a no.”

“Looks like something you could talk into?”

“Maybe?”

So what you’re saying is you’ve never been on any of these before.”

“That would be yet another no.”

“Torgrun!” Spider called, before moving on and finding the next three rooms were more-or-less identical.

Torgrun arrived and pondered this new mystery. Some kind of message sending system? But why the horn? And what did the console box do? He checked the other rooms and came to a conclusion. “The horn amplifies the voice of someone on the other end,” he muttered. One console was still mostly intact, with a slot above the ‘keyboard’, from where something might emerge. “This looks to me as it’s sending instructions to the engine room.”

“What does that even mean?” Madam Portencia said, perplexed.

“This is where the engine is controlled.”

“What ‘engine’?”

“What is an engine?” Morad said, equally confused.

“The engine is what we feed to power those beasts outside,” Torgrun explained.

“And they are controlled by these tablets with runes on them? Fair enough. With all my years as a magician, this means nothing,” Madam Portencia said, slightly impressed at this new strangeness.

“Like a printing press,” Morad suggested.

“Good thinking,” Torgrun nodded. “They receive instructions via the horn, and type them on this.”

“How do you know they don’t receive instructions from the runes?” Madam Portencia challenged.

“Because it’s one way communication, from on-high,” Torgrun explained.

“They might see the runes light up in a certain order and then yell it into the trumpet above?”

“Doesn’t make sense. Maybe when this is fully manned, this is the communication to whoever is running the other consoles. Instructions come from above to the communications here, and the instructions are passed onto the person in charge of the demonic flow of fluid to the egines.”

“Why don’t they don’t just use the trumpet straight to that person?” Madam Portencia asked.

“Because this machine is so large, there are multiple people giving instructions.” Torgrun felt pleased with his theory.

Madam Portencia stared at Torgrun for a moment, then waved her hand dismissively. “It’s too technical for me. You’ve bored me.”

“That’s why I’m doing this,” Torgrun beamed, very pleased with his theories. “I’m having a great time!”

“It’s the first time I’ve seen his little face light up the whole time we’ve been here,” Spider laughed, patting Torgrun on the shoulder. “See, take a break from redeeming for a bit - you’ll have a much better time!”

“I must admit I have been focussing a little on the redeeming,” Torgrun grinned wryly.

Morad scooped up a scrap of paper on the floor and scanned the infernal script. “Genre crime” he read. Morad shrugged, screwed up the paper and dropped it, and moved on.

---

Spider moved away to scout the Eastern side of the deck. Torgrun hung back to he could study the pipes further, intrigued by what might have caused the tear in one of them. As he prodded around the edge, working out the explosion must have come from within due to the pattern of the jagged metal, he suddenly heard movement from inside the pipe. A microsecond later a swarm of Stirges emerged from within. “Help!” Torgrun cried as the creatures surrounded him.

Morad and Spider sprinted back, seeing Torgun covered in the winged horrors. Spider flung a shuriken into the melee - but missed, the weapon clattering of the metalwork. Togrun lashed out and felled several, and Madam Portencia arrived to blast several more with a bolt of fire. Bili reduced two more to paste before the Stirges retalliated.

Two of the giant mosquitos latched onto Bili and Torgrun, piercing skin with their proboscises and sucking up precious blood. Morad sliced another down with his blade, Spider taking two more with his daggers, free Bili from it’s grip. Torgrun did the same to his, then magically mended the damaged pipe to stem the flow of beasts from within.

Madam Portencia stepped forward, and shocked everyone by pulling a dagger from her garter and nonchalantly flinging it with pinpoint accuracy at the last Stirge, pinning it to the wall as a grisly trophy. Spider turned and stared with disbelief at the soothsayer. “What are you wastin’ your time with that spell-stuff, Madam P? You’re a natural!”

Madam Portencia smiled. “Now Torgrun, we were going to the other side. What were you doing back here?”

Torgrun pointed weakly at the console, but agreed. “Understood.”

The next room had two rusty iron crates in one corner and an iron, bell-shaped contraption bolted to the floor in the opposite corner. The bell was nine feet tall and painted black, with several dents and dings in it. On a 30-second interval the bell emitted a loud ‘ka-clunk’ sound. Torgrun put his ear to the bell, hearing gears or similar grinding inside, followed by the ka-clunk. Machinery of some kind, he thought, and malfunctioning?

“Leave it alone, Torgrun. We don’t want it working properly. We don’t want anything here working at all,” Madam Portencia instructed.

The crates held half-a-dozen empty iron flasks. Spider had a sniff of the container: “This is what they were storing their demon-ichor in,” he said with satisfaction. He grabbed the four with sealable ones and made a plan to transfer the stored ichor from his rather more permeable skins.

Sparks rained down from torn holes in the ceiling of the room to the South, falling onto another pair of rectangular machines that had been torn from the walls. The machines now stood in the middle of the room, their loose wires sticking out like bad hairdos. Each resembled a metal file cabinet covered with switches and dials. Torgrun studied them while Spider moved South again. No sound from behind the door, so he opened it for Mak to advance.

Jagged gashes in the outer wall allowed the hellish sky of Avernus to light the room. There was a closed hatch in the floor, and there was a largely undamaged console, still bolted to the floor and connected via pipes into the wall behind. Perhaps carrying cables like the ones ripped out in the previous room, Torgrun guessed. He wiped the front of the console to clean away the Avernian grime, and was surprised to see a faint glow from some of the switches revealed. He reached toward one.

“Torgrun,” Madam Portencia warned. “Don’t…touch…nothing.”

Torgrun looked over his shoulder at Madam Portencia and raised an eyebrow… then pulled his hand away with a grin. He assessed this to was part of the communications system, perhaps the other end of the one the imp stenographers horn-rooms.

Spider hauled the hatch open, finding the remains of the giant snails below. An escape point, he noted.

---

There was only one door remaining on this level. Spider was surprised - and rather pleased - to find it was locked. “It’s locked!” he grinned, finally getting to pull out his tools. “Everyone stand back in case it’s booby-trapped,” he cautioned. He stepped away and used his mage-hand to direct the tools to the lock, which he picked with ease. He hadn’t lost his touch despite the lack of opportunity - Baldur’s Gate had been a fine training ground for the budding thief.

He stepped forward and swung the door open, into darkness.

“Ahem,” a voice sounded from within, clearing it’s throat.

Spider stopped in his tracks. His eyes told Bili to get inside.

Bili stepped into the room. On a mound of bones in the diagonally opposite corner sat a well dressed man, in a suit and bowler cap, resting his hand on a cane. He twirled an impressive carny’s moustache with one finger and looked over to Bili.

“Ah. A visitor. You’re welcome, of course.”

“Thank you,” Bili replied, nonplussed, as he moved toward the figure.

“Wait - no further please,” the man said as Bili reached the centre of the room, “And I must apologise, but no further. I don’t want to have to kill you.”

“Oh…why is that?” Bili asked, now ever more confused. “Why would you want to kill me?”

“Well if you went any further I would have to.”

“I see. I have some friends here - let me just call them in and we can have a chat.”

“By all means, but remember - no further.”

Bili nodded, then scraped a line across the floor with his foot.

“That’s a very good line,” the man said seriously.

“There’s a chap in here,” Bili called out. “Good looking bloke.”

Morad lit his lantern so he and Bili could see, and everyone entered. “Don’t cross the line,” Bili warned.

Torgrun immediately noticed a pair of glass, bellshaped horns attached to some loose wires. It looked like they had been removed from a pair of tall, slender, metal machines standing against the wall opposite. On the Eastern wall of the room there was another closed door.

“Hello, you,” Morad said to the man. He noticed the main was wearing no armour, nor carrying any obvious weapons.

“My greetings to you to. You are well dressed,” he said approvingly.

“Well for this place. Why are you here?”

“I am here to stop anyone going any further.”

“Like a quest?”

“A guard.”

“In which direction?” Madam Portencia asked.

“Across that line your friend has drawn,” the main pointed.

“Are you devil, or demon?” Morad probed.

“No.”

“Don’t tell me you’re good guy?”

“I am doing what I must.”

“For who?” Madam Portencia questioned.

“For they who sent me here.”

“Who is?” Morad prompted

“Zariel.”

“Oh no. Bad guy,” Morad said, turning to everyone else.

Torgrun pulled his weapon, but didn’t move. The main picked up a finger bone from the floor and started picking his teeth with it.

“Morad,” Madam Portencia said sotto voce, “I need a cup of tea.”

Morad looked blank. “Is that code for something?” Spider whispered.

“She needs, a cup of tea,” Torgrun stressed.

“Are we leaving? Go in tent?” Morad whispered to Madam Portencia, still confused.

Madam Portencia sighed and turned to the man. “I didn’t catch your name?”

“I have no name.”

“Then what do we call you?” Torgrun asked.

“You don’t.”

“I see. And is is through that door that you don’t want us to go?” Madam Portencia said, pointing to the door in the East wall.

“That line, on the floor.”

“Ok. Well we don’t really have any interest in going past that line, we’re just a little surprised to find you here.”

“I am sorry to have surprised you,” the man inclined his head.

Spider scanned the room, looking for food, or a latrine, or anything to indicated how long the man might have been here. But there was only the bones, and they were stripped bare of any flesh.

“You must have a name,” Bili interrupted.

“Why?” the man asked.

“All things have names. I’m confused - how long have you been here?”

“Too long. And not long enough. I will spend as much time as I need.”

“What is your purpose here?” Bili pushed.

“To stop you crossing that line.”

“For what reason?” Madam Portencia asked again.

“So you don’t cross that line.”

“Why?” Bili and Madam Portencia asked together.

“Because I have been told you must not.”

“I think we might be at a bit of an impasse,” Torgrun warned, silently switching on his aura, sensing trouble ahead.

As he spoke it suddenly dawned on Bili that he was talking in the native dialect of Bili’s tribe. Morad too realised with a jolt that he was being spoken to in Jak’kari: no-one speaks that?! Spider heard thieves cant, Madam Portencia carney, Torgun the secret language of Torm, and Mak the word of the high-mountains.

“Get ready,” Bili warned as he realised.

“Ready for what?” the man smiled.

“We have things to do here. Is there anything in here you are worried about us taking, or stealing?”

“Just don’t cross, and I won’t kill you.”

“Hey! Hey - you!” Morad demanded the man’s attention. “What’s through that door?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been through it.”

“Aren’t you curious?” Bili asked.

“No.”

“What’s your job before this?” Morad pressed.

“I had no job.”

“Tsk. You make me angry!” Morad cried.

“What have I said to anger you?”

“Morad - tea.” Madam Portencia stressed.

Morad turned to the man. “If we go, we sleep, you guard us? We don’t cross line.”

“No. That is not my task.”

“When was the last time someone crossed the line?”

“Some time ago,” he said looking down at the bones.

“Are you always this boring?” Morad steamed.

“Morad, please, that’s not very polite” Madam Portencia scolded,

“He not nice. He kill a lot of people - and I think he eat them.”

“Rules must be followed,” the man explained.

“I agree, that is true,” Morad said wistfully.

“I didn’t set the rule, I only obey it.”

“You were created for this task?” Torgrun queried.

“No.”

“What will you do when this task is done?”

“I will be free.”

“Do you wish to be free?”

“When my task is done.”

“Oh that is such an invitation,” Torgrun said with hunger.

“Torgrun. I need a cup of tea,” Madam Portencia stressed again.

“Madam P, what’s with the tea?” Spider hissed quietly.

“I need a good lie down before I try and kill anyone,” Madam Portencia whispered back.

“Ohhhhh,” Spider and Morad slapped their foreheads, finally getting it.

“I don’t now if we can stay here that long,” Spider whispered.

“Just put up a tent outside,” Madam Portencia shrugged.

“It seem pretty safe,” Morad suggested.

“Oh out there?” Spider spoke out louder. “Ok guys - we’re off.”

The man stood and rested on his cane with one hand. “So you will rest, and then you will kill me?”

Everyone spoke at once:

“-We’re going to rest, who know what happen after,” Morad said firmly.

“-Well you’re not going anywhere,” Torgrun said dramatically.

“-No, no, we’re just going to rest and then go,” Madam Portencia said unconvincingly.

The man raised a well-manicured eyebrow. “But Madam, that is what you just said.”

“I didn’t say that! Are you reading my mind?”

The man gave grinned lasciviously. “I have a job to do,” he said, and vanished.

---

The door slammed and locked closed as a cloud of poisonous gas exploded into the room. The spores made visibility impossible, leaving only a hideous slurping sound to fill the void. Everyone choked on the noxious cloud and frantically tried to find the source of the noise.

Spider scouted with his sharp hearing and felt sure it was coming from the corner below where the man had been. He hurled a shuriken into the corner, disappointed to hear it ping into the wall instead of hitting flesh. He cursed and retreated toward the entrance.

Torgrun changed his aura, summoning a fleet of Dwarven Spirit Guardians to protect anyone nearby. Mak cleansed his body of the toxins and took a defensive position by the wall, preparing for whatever was out there.

Bili called on the forest-spirits to light up the creature in the room. In the far corner a hideous shadowed creature started to emerge from the darkness, wisps of smoke drifting from its body, jaws slavering.

---

Morad leapt at the opportunity. “Ok! Now we see you!” he cried, droving his weapon hard into the glistening skin of the fiend. Madam Portencia tried to summon a thunder ball in her hand, but it fizzled into nothing in her palm. She groaned in frustration.

The creature raised its huge fists into the air and crunched them into the ground. A thunderous crash rolled around the room, rocking everyone and everything - followed by another wave of necrotic rot. Everyone reeled from the double whammy as the best gurgled out more horrendous noises. The cloud of gas was still sworling around the room, unable to escape, and everyone struggled to breath as they breathed in the foul air.

Spider knew what had to happen. He quickly unlocked the door again, pushing it open with a grunt. The gas started rushing out of the room, the pressure differential sucking it out to the deck outside. Spider gasped a lungful of clean air in relief.

Torgrun saw the poisons and thunder had caused some serious damage, and called on Torm to deliver a circle of healing. His damaged companions could start to breath again, and now they felt the surge of strength. Time to fight. The Dwarves started affairs with radiant blows from their ghostly hammers.

Mak charged over to the beast, still choking but determined, staring with horror at the hideous being - like something from the depths of the earth, things his tribal shaman had warned should never have existed. He crashed his axe into the manifestation, and he felt the blows hit hard. The thing screeched out in what he assumed was pain. Bili followed up by summoning a beam of radiant light, guessing correctly that radiance was not going to be well received.

Morad sliced and diced again, shoving a particularly telling blow up under the creatures arm, whipping it free as it howled. Madam Portencia tolled a death knell, the other bells on the floor ringing out in resonant sympathy.

The creature spun to face Mak, hauling a black greatsword from its back. Necrotic ooze flashed from the blade as it swung and dug deep into Mak’s flesh, striking twice, hard. Mak shuddered backwards as the creature tried to bring its jaws down around Mak’s shoulder, just missing.

Mak tried to retaliate, swinging wildly as he pushed himself back toward the creature, unable to connect after the body blows it had landed on him. Spider sprinted around the walls of the room and drew his dagger across the beast’s back opening a vicious slice as he passed, using the momentum to keep flying free of the creatures range.

Bili smashed his weapon into the black flesh, and Morad followed suit. Wisps of black smoke were now leaking from the creatures wounds as it staggered under the rain of blows. Torgrun’s Dwarves continued their assault, and Madam Portencia stepped forward with what was just about her last spell. She summoned her most faithful spell, an orb of lightning forming in her hand. She looked down at it, muttered a prayer to the Carny gods, and flung it at the beast.

It connected full into the beast’s chest. For a moment nothing happened, then the creature seemed to shrink into nothingness, before expanding again and splintering into a thousand points of black void. When the room cleared there was nothing left.

Madam Portencia turned to Morad. “I said, I need a cup of tea.”

Morad laughed with relief. “He was rude to us!”

Meanwhile, Bili slowly stepped over the line - and lived!

---

Spider opened the unlocked door to the next room.

Inside there was a three-foot block of infernal iron, clawed feet bolted to the floor. On the face of the safe was a pentagram, and in each corner of the star was a soul-coin sized slot. In the centre of the pentagram was a bas-relief of a devil’s face, with a forked tongue emerging out into the room.

Somewhat disturbingly, in the far corner of the room was the flattened body of a devil that looked like it had been pancaked into the wall.

“Looks like a puzzle,” Morad groaned.

“We’re fucked,” Madam Portencia sighed wearily. “I’m happy to wait outside.”

Torgrun studied the body of the Spined devil with the block of iron, trying to work out if it had been flattened by the same. It wasn’t clear - possibly it had been flung into the wall by some mechanism? There was also a loose console with severed wires lying on the ground, so perhaps that killed the devil?

“Let’s move this out of the room,” Torgrun said, pointing to the box. “Something killed this devil, and this is large and metal.” Mak and Bili hauled it into the Slaad room.

“Spider - there are five slots - how many coins do we have?” Madam Portencia asked.

“Ahhhh…not quite enough? But I want to take a look at it first.”

“That’s why I’m standing outside the room, Spider.”

Torgrun turned his attention to the iron structure, trying to determine what the mechanism for opening it might be. It seemed pretty obvious that coins should be fed into the slots, and a closer look at the devil’s face carved in the centre revealed a fist-sized ‘mouth’ behind the tongue. There also seemed to be a slight seal around the pentagram, indicating that it would open if given the right key. Various infernal texts were etched into the circle around the pentagram, boasting of the superiority of devils and the decrepitude of demons, but nothing indicating how this puzzle might work.

“Doesn’t it seem a bit weird that you’d have to feed in five coins just to open a safe?” Morad asked. “That’s an expensive transaction.”

“It is a lot to pay,” Madam Portencia agreed. “Torgrun, another request. Remember that port-hole in the other room? Let’s go down there and see what’s underneath this room. What if this isn’t a safe, what if it’s a fuel store or something? Let’s not feed our coins into it for nothing.”

Torgrun agreed, calling Mak to assist. They dropped down to the lower level, avoiding the pools of snail-slime, and clambered through the ripped metalwork toward the North-Eastern corner. They were met by crumpled wall that barred any further progress without significant effort.

“Nothing,” Torgrun reported back. “But thinking on it there are no pipes connecting safe to anything.”

“That doesn’t preclude magic,” Madam Portencia mused, “But let’s assume not.”

Spider stuck his eye next to one of the coin slots, but couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary inside. He stuck a knife inside, and felt it jam up the metal at about the same depth as a coin. He figured he might be able to feed a coin in and pull it out without too much trouble.

Spider also suddenly caught a whiff of demon ichor, and quickly worked out the source was the mouth of the devil. “Everyone should get out of the room,” he announced, before opening a skin of ichor and tentatively dripped a few drops of ichor into the mouth.

For a moment nothing happened, then the ichor was suddenly spat out onto the floor. Spider stepped back, but nothing more happened. “I’m really loathe to use the soul coins,” he muttered.

“How many do we have?” Madam Portencia asked.

“Four.”

“Could we unbolt this thing and take it with us?”

“To what end?” Torgrun asked.

“Because we don’t have enough coins,” Madam Portencia explained patiently.

“But I can get the coin back out,” Spider said confidently. “If it comes out.”

“It may get consumed,” Mak suggested, “And I don’t think we should assume otherwise. But if the rods are inside, it may be worth doing this.”

“Well we’re going to have to test with at least one,” Spider said. “And if we burn them all, we’ll be out of fuel other than the ichor. We may have to abandon the bike.”

Mak groaned.

“And I only have four,” Spider said, turning to Morad and locking eyes. He knew Morad had coins, three if he recalled, given by Mad Maggie after witnessing Lulu’s dream. But he also knew Morad had sworn not to destroy the souls in those coins.

Morad glared at Spider. “I don’t think this is worth it,” he said bluntly. “We don’t know this work. I’ll ask shield! Shield: what is this? You not so bad now.”

“A lock.”

“You know how it works?”

“You feed the lock, it opens.”

“What do you feed it - bits of metal, something?”

“Soul coins.”

“Oh,” Morad said, disappointed.

Torgrun put his hand on Morad’s shoulder, trying to inspire him. “Consider that the cost is worthwhile, in order that we should achieve our goals for a greater good. We’ve already been cutting a few corners, ethically and morally, in order to achieve those goals.”

“If the circus has taught me anything, it’s that the ends justify the means,” Madam Portencia nodded.

“This is a single soul, for a greater purpose,” Torgrun finished.

“Al’Akbar would now say that one soul should be given up so easily. To a machine we do not understand, we don’t know if it work, we don’t even know if anything in there.”

“This machine is but a tool for our greater purpose,” Togrun stressed.

“Any soul you have down here has already been forfeited to Hell, you realise that?” Madam Portencia added.

“Not necessarily,” Morad responded quickly. “We’re down here.”

As Torgrun was about to reply, a voice spoke in his head. “You’re right.” Torm?! He redoubled his efforts.

“I have been given a message from Torm himself!” Torgrun cried. “We are on the path of righteousness!”

“Why don’t you pray to Torm and ask him what is in that box!” Morad answered.

“He has spoken directly to me, through me. I know the way forward.”

Spider had heard enough. He stepped to the side of the safe and used his mage hand to direct a coin into the top slot of the pentagram, planning to haul it back out. Everyone noticed just in time and quickly got out of the way. As the coin reached about half-way it was suddenly sucked inside, ripped from the grip of the magic hand.

And then the screaming started.

Souls burning, in agony, the cries exacerbated by the small room.

Torgrun spun to Spider. “You’ve made the first move - you’ve got to continue!” he urged. “Do not let this soul die in vain!”

“Yes. You are a better choice.”

“Don’t let it expire before the other coins go in!” Madam Portencia yelled over the screaming.

Spider slotted a second coin. The screaming intensified, echoing off the metal walls. This wasn’t like the vehicles, there was no abstraction. Souls were dying, right here, right now. Morad was horrified.

Spider looked up at Morad. “This is on me, not on you.”

Morad dropped his head, turned, and walked out of the room. Madam Portencia reached over to give him another hug, but Morad pushed her off. “No!”

Torgrun looked down to where he had stood, where a single coin lay abandoned. He reached down and picked it up.

Spider nodded, and added his last two coins. The volume was deafening, forcing ears to be covered. Torgrun grimaced and stepped to the safe, waved to the side by Spider, and he shoved the final coin in.

The screaming reached a crescendo, a chorus of pure terror and pain, pulsating in a harmony of horror.

“The ichor Spider, the ichor!” Madam Portencia yelled.

Spider nodded and poured ichor into the mouth of the devil. This time it kept flowing inside, and soon he had emptied the entire skin. As the last drops were fed, the devil’s tongue withdrew into the mouth, sealing the hole, and a small handle appeared in its place.

Spider smiled. He reached up and turned the handle, then pulled on the door. As it cracked open, the screaming suddenly stopped. The silence was deafening.

Inside lay ten three-foot long adamantine rods.

---

Spider breathed out. “That’s one expensive lock,” he sighed.

“I can’t help but feel that we have opened up something that is more expensive yet,” Torgrun said.

“Don’t overthink it,” Spider responded.

“The cost has been borne, but worth it.”

Spider carefully picked up one of the rods, surprised to find it only weighed a few pounds. Each rod pulsated gently with glowing infernal runes, more blather about the wonders of devilhood. On the top of the rod a single infernal rune was etched: D.

A quick check of the other rods revealed different letters on each: D A T I S N I I R O.

Spider only needed one look: “Insidiator!” he blurted. “Holy crap.”

Madam Portencia looked at Spider in shock. He had solved it before she’d even had time to read the letters - what other talents were hiding in that green head of his?

“We know that name,” Morad said, returning sullenly to the room. “Remind me?”

“That’s the thing that was used to drag Elturel down. That’s the sun,” Spider said in awe.

“It’s the power of the Insidiator,” Torgrun said in awe.

“Why would you put the letters on the top of the rods?”

“Have you met devils?” Madam Portencia asked rhetorically. “Devils are all about this stuff.”

“Maybe they punch into something?” Morad offered.

“Maybe they’re all keys to a slot?” Spider added. “That means we can’t give these back to the guy who wants it. That’s going to cause…complications.”

“There you go. We do this our way,” Torgrun nodded.

“Spider, what’s your thinking?” Madam Portencia asked.

“My thinking is that these rods have something to do with that thing floating above Elturel. So basically, I don’t know how these things work - you’re the mage - but if they fit into a mechanism, or we can get up to it, maybe it’ll do something? Our problem is we’ve signed a deal with that icy-faced guy who tips water on his face to talk.” Everyone shuddered at that memory.

“You think it will give him control of the Insidiator?”

“It might?”

“Let me throw this logic at you,” Madam Portencia continued. “That would imply that whoever has the rods now, has control of the Insidiator. Which is us.”

“No-one has control of the Insidiator because Zariel has put them here,” Torgrun chimed in.

“Because Zariel doesn’t want anyone controlling it,” Spider nodded.

“So how do they control it? The Insidiator is still working, is it not?”

“I don’t know!” Spider said. “Bel made the rods, right? And if Zariel wants these locked up, it means they do something with the Insidiator that Zariel doesn’t want.”

“Let me try something else,” Madam Portencia tried. “Zariel has a fleet of flying fortresses. One of them has the rods on it. It crashes, and Zariel doesn’t go and get it?”

“Because she can’t. The flying fortresses can’t get past the firestorms.”

“Ok. That checks out.”

“And there’s a guard on the door. And if Zariel wanted them, she could just waltz in here and fly out with them using those wings of hers.”

“And why wouldn’t she take the rods with her?”

“Maybe she just wanted them out of the way, and this is about as out of the way as I can think of,” Spider shrugged.

“Where is she going to take them?” Torgrun prompted. “They’re safe here, behind the Slaad. Anywhere in this plain is as bad as anywhere else.”

“And it’s pretty clever,” Spider added, “Because what Devil in it’s right mind is coming down here with five soul coins, to blow ‘em all on opening up some box that belongs to Zariel, which is going to get ‘em in shit anyway.”

“But if we have five coins, there must be others with more,” Madam Portencia insisted.

“But why do they need the rods?” Torgrun asked. “They don’t need them - we need them.”

“No-one else has a vested interest,” Spider agreed. “In fact - it’s a good yardstick because normally anyone that’s going to come down here and finds this safe isn’t going to pay the price that’s needed to open it.”

Torgrun looked at Morad, both recognising the price that was paid.

Morad sighed. “Do we have a problem that everyone but me and Torgrun signed a contract to give these? Should we carry them?”

“Oh it’s not the first contract I’ve signed,” Madam Portencia said offhandedly.

Torgrun perked up. “Oh! That is a way out of the bargain! Those of us that did not sign carry the rods. And until such time as we give those rods to you, who have signed, it is still just an incomplete contract.”

“And I don’t think there’s going to be any imperative to take them back. No geas,” Spider added.

“So we were going to return these in exchange for a key - the other half of the key Red Ruth gave us,” Madam Portencia recalled.

“We might be able to get another part of the key from someone else?” Spider suggested. “And you aren’t taking into account that Devils are all lying sacks of shit too. No offence, Sam.”

“None taken, Spider,” Sam hissed.

“You don’t need to say ‘present company excluded’,” Madam Portencia observed, “Because I’m sure he is a lying sack of shit.”

“Well then,” Spider grunted.

“It wouldn’t be the first imp I tried to lightning-bolt.”

“Um.”

Torgrun collected five rods, strapped them together into a bundle, and strapped it to Morad’s back, doing the same for his collection. “This is our burden,” he said with convincing faith.

“You know what I’m going to do next, Spider?” Madam Portencia asked.

“Have a cup of tea in your tent?”

“Have a cup of tea in my tent.”

---

Session played: 25 May, 8, 22, 29 June 2021