The Red Belvedere

The Five Door Problem: “If I were a betting man which room would you go in?”
The Stygian Tomb: “Do you want to live forever?”
Bridgerton: “I think we should do some toe touching”
Musical Beds: “I fully endorse this spa!”
Living on the Ceiling: “I’ve seen kobolds with a more noble lineage”

The Five Door Problem

Shrieking gusts of hot air assaulted the senses as the company stepped into Avernus. Miasmic clouds roiled over a ravaged landscape of broken rocks, bleached bones, and jagged metal. The dusty atmosphere reeked of sulphur and tar.

In the near distance jagged mountains gave way to an unexpectedly beautiful sight at their foot: a sprawling, palatial complex glittering with silver and gold. Light danced through the front rotunda’s red stained-glass dome, reflecting off the overcast sky to shower the buildings with a rosy glow.

The company descended to the unlikely edifice where a carved stone at the front of the complex read in numerous languages: The Red Belvedere.

“I think it’s even money that Eli kills someone within 20 feet of entering the casino,” Three groaned.

“Walk with me Eli,” Sifer encouraged, “You’ll understand every word in here.” His suggestion was double edged: translation, but also keeping an eye on Eli’s righteous temper.

Idris pushed the grand doors open, stepped inside and beamed.

A woman with red wings laughs as a insectoid barkeep pours her a drink. An imp hovers overhead and devils with huge horns, snake beards, and razor-toothed smiles party in the background

Sweet perfume and glittering lights chased away all evidence of the war-torn landscape outside. A gilded statue of a roaring dragon presided over the casino’s lobby, and a smorgasbord of devils of every size and shape lounged around the room. Clattering coins and patrons laughing in preternaturally deep voices sounded from deeper within the casino. Three enormous devils loomed in the corners of the foyer, evidently the muscle used to keep proceedings in order, eyes scanning the room intently.

A winged tiefling soared above the spectacle, patches of multicoloured scales freckling her skin and her prim tailcoat shimmering with every hue. She laughed and beamed, ostentatious and charismatic, making small talk with regular patrons. Upon spying the company she beamed and approached.

A grinning, winged tiefling with multicoloured scales freckling her skin and a prim tailcoat shimmering with every hue — Windfall

“Newcomers! You are most welcome to The Red Belvedere! It is rare indeed that we find ourselves in the company of innocents such as you! Come, come, enjoy our hospitality—I am Windfall, and this is my casino!”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Idris bowed, “A very auspicious name, good lady!”

“I hope that is what you will find during your stay,” Windfall grinned. “Tell me—what is your poison? Where have you come from? What do you seek? Tell me everything!”

“I am…fond of gambling, and I thought I would take my friends to a casino they had never seen before,” Idris explained. “I had heard many rumours about this place and I thought what better time than now.”

“Well you are in for a treat—both you and your friends, who looked thrilled to be here,” Windfall enthused.

“Some more than others,” Idris laughed.

“The Belvedere is my tribute to the Dragon Queen. A celebration of greed and vanity. I think it’s rather lovely!”

Marko did his best to hide a scowl, staring hard at the gilt marble floor. He glanced over toward the bar looking out for anyone of his own stature. Most were far too tall, though the barkeep was a smallish jackal-like creature that reminded him of the character in the Far Realm brain. As he looked around he notice five coloured doors at the back of the room. He scowl deepened as he realised each door represented an aspect of Tiamat’s power: cerulean, scarlet, stygian, viridian, and alabaster.

“This appears a very well appointed atrium, and I look forward to a drink at the bar,” Idris nodded. “Can you also run us through the games of chance you have, fair lady?”

“Oh we have more than simple chance, I assure you. May I know your name?”

“Idris.”

“Well, Idris, my casino is intended as a decadent respite from the Blood War’s horrors. Here, adventurers and devils alike can indulge in their vices in five different rooms, each with its own theme.”

“That sounds most intriguing.”

“Indeed. Through the white doors,” Windfall said indicating, “You will find the Alabaster Racetrack, where you can experience the thrill of racing, and gamble thereon. A magnificent spectacle of Nightmare’s and speed, presided over by my friend Uvashar.”

Windfall moved on to the red doors. “Here we have something quite different, and judging by your well-armed appearance, perhaps more to your liking: the Scarlet Coliseum! Those that dare test their strength against foes of the deadliest nature. You look like you could handle yourselves, but be warned—my pitmaster Khai Kiroth is no easybeat.”

“Mm-hm,” Idris said, glancing at Sifer and Uthar.

“The blue doors conceal the Cerulean Hall. A haven of strategy and intellect where only the smartest may succeed. Nyssa Otellion is my pitmaster and will show you the ropes, should you need. The green doors are the polar opposite—no brains required in the Viridian Den, just luck, pure and simple. Rezran ‘Snake Eyes’ Agrodro runs the shop should you wish to try your arm.”

Windfall turned to the final doors of jet-black stone. “And last, but definitely not least, something very special lies beyond the black entryway. It once was a maze, but I tired of that gambit and commissioned something rather special. Perhaps the greatest challenge…but also the greatest reward. My good friend Kaylan Renaudon awaits your approach.”

Uthar noted the finely dressed figure leaning lazily against the black doors, who caught his eyes and smiled thinly, revealing a pair of sharpened fangs. Uthar shuddered as he realised he was looking at a vampire.

“Thank you, good lady, it all sounds very tempting,” Idris smiled. “And, possibly with the exception of the black door, are we free to peruse the delights behind each door or are there conditions?”

“No, none whatsoever,” Windfall said. “Though you are quite correct that the stygian doors once entered is one way only. Enter, and if you return great rewards shall be yours, but there is only one path.”

“Has anyone returned from the black doors?” Three asked.

“Not yet,” Windfall grinned. “Maybe you’ll be the first!”

“I’m tempted,” Three admitted.

“Well temptation is the name of our game!”

“All I know is I’m not going in the smart room,” Sifer smirked.

“Even I’m more comfortable in the luck room, to be honest,” Idris agreed.

“Though I am a fan of martial sports,” Sifer added.

“Same here,” Uthar nodded.

“You will need currency,” Windfall explained. “You can exchange 10 gold for 1 talon, our 1 soul coin for 300.”

“I think I prefer gold,” Three muttered.

“Take as much as you need—I’m sure you’ll come back with more than you started with!”

Idris made the exchange of a thousand gold for one hundred talons. “Will this be enough to get us started?”

“Plenty enough for the junior tables,” Windfall smiled.

As Idris took the bowl of talons and picked one up. It was an iridescent metal coin stamped with the silhouette of a dragon’s claw on both sides, and as he held it he tasted a growling hunger for more. He looked around the room and felt a burning jealousy for those that held more than he, hoarding what was rightfully his. He shook his head to clear it, his casino nous making him realise this feeling was likely magically related to Tiamat’s mote which Tasha had warned of. He met Windfall’s gaze, which was locked onto his, with a half-smirk.

“Marvellous is it not! You can feel Her need, Her desire,” Windfall said hungrily.

“I can see how you do well with these,” Idris laughed.

“I look forward to hearing of your successes! All hail the Dragon Queen!” Windfall cried, and the room echoed her call raising glasses. “All hail Tiamat!”

Three glanced around the room, seeing a mixture of reactions. Some cheered lustily, some half-hearted, and some barely shifted their position.

“Indeed,” Idris said, emptying the talons into a satchel at his side and doing his best to put the gnawing out of his mind.

“Perhaps we can sit at the bar and have a drink before making our decision,” Sifer urged.

“Of course! And here’s a token—first taste is free!”

The company joined Marko at the bar, finding him already in discussion with the barman. “I see you’re new here,” the foxy barman grinned through sharpened teeth. “My name’s Honore, what’re you drinking?”

“Anything you have,” Marko smiled, handing over the token Three slipped him. “How long have you been here for?”

“Longer than I care to remember,” Honore chuckled. “Here to gamble are you?”

“I dunno what we’re here for, not really sure.”

“To worship our Dragon Lady, perhaps?” Honore tried.

Marko squinted, sensing Honore didn’t really give a damn about Tiamat but wanted to be seen to say the right thing. “Fair enough,” Marko grinned with a wink and a nod.

“Give me a red wine,” Three said placing his coupon.

“Blood wine do the trick?” Honore asked.

“I don’t want anything with blood.”

“How about a spirit?”

“Yes.” Three thought for a moment and quickly added: “But not a real spirit.”

“Hahaha,” Honore laughed. “That’s a new one.” He slid over a shotglass full of clear liquid.

“What is this?”

“Cavruniel, a spirit, as you asked. Wrung from those that hang from the trees on Haruman’s Hill. Very pure.”

Three sipped, screwing up his face at the bitterness. It tasted like suffering.

Sifer took the reigns from Three. “If I were a betting man which room would you go in?”

“Depends on which type of gambling you like,” Honore. “You look like a warrior, so the Coliseum. But maybe you want a change—most do.”

“It’s always best to go with your natural advantages,” Sifer shrugged.

“If you wish to compete then the Coliseum. But if you wish to sit back and wash your money away, try the Alabaster track.”

“I see. Well, I’ll have what’s he’s drinking—” Sifer started before seeing Three giving a sharp ‘no’ nod. “—or instead, let’s mix it up. Something a ring fighter might take.”

“Something with a bit of spice then,” Honore nodded. He slid over a thick red drink. “Rakshasa Red should do the job.”

Sifer took a slug, the dull metallic taste and tinge of iron giving a hint to what it contained. It reminded him strongly of the uncooked meat he had tasted on the field of battle. He glanced over to Uthar who sat between two female patrons.

Uthar paid them no attention, instead casing the doors and observing those that come and go. There was no traffic from the red doors, perhaps because a bout was in progress, but the other doors did have a regular flow of gamblers. As he watched an glass slid in front of him. He looked down. “It’s empty?” he said, looking to the woman on his right who had placed it.

“Perhaps you’d like to fill it,” she purred.

“I think I have my own,” Uthar shrugged.

“You’re not looking for company?”

“No, actually. Not tonight.”

“That’s a great shame,” the woman said, pale blue eyes sparkling. “You look like you could handle yourself…and me.”

“Maybe later,” Uthar stammered as Idris stifled a laugh. “I’m here to, uh, take my chances in the Coliseum. How do you think I’d go?”

The woman reached a ashen white hand and squeezed Uthar’s bicep. “I think you’d go very well indeed,” she whispered. “Perhaps I’ll come and watch.”

“Perhaps later then,” Uthar nodded firmly.

“Is that a promise?”

Uthar stared into the void as the woman tapped her empty glass. “With my winnings,” he muttered.

“I see how it is,” the woman said coldly, snatching the glass away. She whispered something behind Uthar’s back to the other woman who laughed in response. Uthar felt himself blushing, glancing for help toward Idris.

Idris ignored him, happy to watch his friend dig himself in and out of the hole. He supped on his own glass of the Rakshasa, not quite sure if it was indeed blood or just a good simulacrum. Whatever it was it was potent, and he wanted to keep his wits.

“Where do you want to start here,” Uthar said quietly, finally recovered.

“Unless something very untoward happens I think we can ignore the vampire door,” Idris replied. “Otherwise, I think we’re going to have to test all the rooms until we find the game that we like.”

Uthar nodded wearily at the prospect.

“In any casino,” Three said, “There’s the casino, there’s the game rooms, and there’s the back rooms. We need to get to the back rooms.”

“Exactly,” Idris nodded.

Three turned to Honore. “Are there also rooms where we can stay?”

“For some, if you…get invited. Otherwise no.”

“So if you are invited by Windfall? Or is it just if you win enough?”

“If you impress her and her pitmasters enough you may earn an invite to the Dragon’s Pride,” Honore explained. “You have to work hard for that invite, she doesn’t let just anyone down there. But if you do well enough, then yes, and there you will find more luxurious offerings and delights, including a place to sleep.”

“A club, an extra high-rollers room?”

“Both, but mainly the latter. A place those more fortunate can relax in safety and play their power games.”

“Then perhaps it’s time for us to go and become more fortunate,” Sifer nodded.

“It seems like we need to get Windfall’s attention,” Three opined as the company gathered. “We need to get to the high roller room and see where we go from there.” He looked at Uthar, Sifer, Eli, then to the scarlet doors. “The gladiator room might be best, we have a few who you’d think would do ok in there to start.”

Sifer glanced around at the room full of enormous devils and worse and smirked.

“Look, Sifer mightn’t be up to it, morally, but Uthar and Eli should be right,” Three corrected.

“I’m feeling the order is black last, blue second last, and the other three…we have some people with luck, some with brawn.”

“Agreed,” Idris said. “And if we screw up all the others black is our last stop.”

“Let’s go white, lose some on the track, then green and have some bad luck, then red to fight our way back to evens,” Sifer joked. “You’ve gotta go down to go up.”

With everyone’s agreement, Sifer led the way through the alabaster doors.

A roar of excitement announced a race in progress, as ahead sleek white pillars surrounded a dusty racetrack. The stands bustled with patrons clutching tickets and hollering their favourite on. On the track what appeared to be a half-dozen clouds of rolling smoke hurtled along, resolving to jet-black horses with mane, tail, and hooves wreathed in flame as the company drew closer. Each beast was jockeyed by devils covered in barbs who used their thorny protrusions to urge their infernal mount on.

A muscled, black-skinned horse rears, mane, tail and hooves aflame

Marko, trailing behind the company decided to vanish, making himself scarce the better to understand the situation. Just as he did an elf in a stylish white suit approached, smiling widely. He took a seat by Uthar’s side and looked out over the just finished race. “Marvellous is it not?” he beamed.

“It’s fantastic!” Idris exclaimed, soaking in the brimstone atmosphere.

“Looking to make some coin on the races are we?”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Uthar nodded.

“Well it might just be your lucky day,” the Elf grinned. “My name’s Shav, and I’m very pleased to meet you.”

“You know who’s running well today?”

“As a matter of fact I do,” Shav smiled, leaning in as the other patrons started vacating the area to make their next bets. “I have a certainty for the next race, a tip that might be very useful to you…”

Sifer snorted, but Uthar merely raised an interested eyebrow and kept going. “Great! Is this something we would both be investing in, or?”

“Of course! A reward shared equally—I am a man of honour, after all. I have a little trick planned that will clinch the race in our favour; a thousand talons at least!”

“That does sound good,” Uthar said carefully.

“So: you want in?” the elf said, narrowing his eyes.

“He is almost certainly trying to rip us off with a scam,” Three whispered, sitting behind Idris, “But that doesn’t mean we can’t use this to our advantage. The kind of guy like Shav might be a pathway to the Dragon’s Pride.”

Idris, sitting by Uthar, agreed; this was a bullshitty sales technique he’d seen a hundred times before. Who approaches a bunch of strangers with an honest wager? “Before we commit—is there a form guide?” he said pleasantly.

“I’m your form guide,” Shav grinned, “You don’t need another.”

“Who’s in charge here?” Three said, leaning forward.

Shav turned to look back at Three. “Another of your friends?” he said to Uthar.

“One of my closest. Treat him like you would me,” Uthar assured.

Three pulled his hood down. “As you can see, I’ve lost a few bets. Makes me more cautious.”

Shav didn’t blink. “Ha! Well—I am here to make sure you don’t lose your next one. Uvashar is in charge, and if you were to win this race in the way I suggest, I will make the strongest recommendation to him.”

“And is Uvashar here?”

“Almost always. He has his private box, as you might expect, so the only way you’ll meet him is through me,” Shav smiled.

Three nodded. “And who takes our bets?”

Shav thumbed over his shoulder. “The bookie ring is just behind us.”

Sifer turned to look over the railings to the betting ring. Bookies were paying out and (more often) collecting from patrons, who looked in appropriately delighted and distressed. “Obviously you can win here,” he muttered to Three, “Unless you listen to Shav!”

“Depends on what kind of scam he’s running. Maybe you win with your first bet, he hooks you in, then your next bet is bigger and then the third time he fleeces you,” Three said.

Marko meanwhile was scouting the stands and watching carefully. It appeared a legitimate track, as much as they ever were. The crowd were mostly devils, with a smattering of humanoids and creatures he wasn’t sure of. Several of the massive guard devils stood at attention in strategic spots. He settled down behind Shav to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“So. Are you interested? You seem to be playing hard to get—this is a sure thing!” Shav said.

“Well what are you offering?” Three said.

“As I said—1000 talons at a minimum, split each way. Listen; time’s running short here, are we doing this?” Shav pressured.

“What do we have to do? What’s the stake?” Uthar said.

Shav rubbed his hands and leant in conspiratorially. “There’s a nag named Sunshroud in the next race. A filly.” He opened his very flash white jacket to reveal an inner pocked that held a small vial. “This potion will guarantee she wins. All you need to do is get it into her. Deliver the potion, make the bet, winners are grinners!”

Marko perked up as he saw the potion. As luck would have it the recognised the colour and viscosity from the few times he’d needed to quicken his step when on a second-story job. It was a Potion of Speed, he was sure of it.

“Why don’t you do that?” Three said, full of suspicion.

“Well my face is rather well known around the track,” Shav protested, “I’d be nabbed in an instant.”

“This is getting more interesting all the time,” Sifer smirked.

“What are the odds,” Idris said.

“On Sunshroud winning? 100-1. Easy money.”

“Easy money when we get Marko the invisible to slip the potion,” Idris send to Uthar.

“And who’s the favourite?” Three asked.

“Crunchy. Every step it takes the ground rumbles in protest. Never been beaten,” Shav said. “Come on fellas, don’t look a gift nightmare in the mouth! I’m handing this to you on a platter!”

“Where are the stables?”

Shav pointed the opposite direction from the bookies. “Down the steps, into the stables. Sure there are guards but that’s why you’re getting half the take.”

“And what differentiates Sunshroud from all of the other flaming horses?” Idris asked. “How will we find her?”

Shav frowned. “Not much of a track man, I see. There’ll be a plinth above her stall, don’t you worry.”

“How long until the race?” Three said. “We need to scout the area.”

“Fifteen minutes now,” Shav guessed.

“As long as we get this done and we’re out of here before the steward’s enquiry, we’re good,” Sifer said. Patrons were filtering back into the stands.

“This would be a way, if we pull it off, to get to the prize,” Three agreed.

“Excellent,” Shav said rubbing his hands. “Follow me.” He led to a thick wooden door. “Through here you’ll get to the stables. I’ll lay the bet, you do the work.”

Three frowned. “So you’re going to bet your money, and give us?”

“A half share. Let’s get to it. Who’s taking the potion?”

Idris put out a hand and Shav dropped the potion into it.

“I’ll stay with you, Shav, to watch you put the wager on and stay with you as you collect.”

“Keep me honest,” Shav grinned with a nod.

“Have you seen Marko anywhere?” Idris said quietly to Three. Three raised a destroyed eyebrow. “I assume he’s ‘around’,” he said knowingly.

Marko sidled up to Idris’s side. “I’m here. I’m invisible” Idris nodded once, shortly, and backhanded the potion, feeling Marko take it.

“Why don’t you put our own bet on for 10 talons?” Idris said turning back to Three, counting them from his stash. “Careful with these.”

“I will,” Three agreed, and once he clutched the coins he felt a thrill of excitement at the prospect of getting more. Many more.

Eli stood by the door ready to ‘take care of the guards’, as Shav had indicated would be necessarily. He wasn’t sure exactly what the plan was, but assumed Marko would be involved. As he waited impatiently, he jumped when a loud crunch rang out and the ground beneath his feet seemed to rock. One of the huge fiends was stomping over, thumping his mace into the ground with each step.

A deep-red devil clutching a dark-iron mace growls, large wings tucked back and tail writhing

The pit fiend pointed the mace at nothing and bellowed. “SHOW YOURSELF!”

Eli looked around.

The pit fiend leapt into the air and seemed to be following something. Eli groaned and followed, jumping into the stands.

“NOW!” the devil roared.

“It’s gone tits up already,” Idris sighed.

Marko sped toward Sifer and dropped the potion into his pocket, before revealing himself. He cowered defensively, hands above his head. “Don’t hurt, don’t strike!” he whimpered.

The fiend leant down, looming over Marko. “LEAVE. NOW.”

“I’m scared, I was scared,” Marko tried. “Of everyone! You’re too big”

“I WILL CRUSH YOU.”

“B…b…but….”

Sifer stepped forward, causing the devil to turn it’s head slowly. “BACK AWAY.”

“You must excuse my friend,” Sifer smiled, “Surely his money is as good as the next?”

“NO EXCEPTIONS. HE CHEATED.”

“He is fairly wealthy,” Sifer tried.

“HOW WEALTHY?” the fiend said, holding out a massive open palm.

Sifer smirked, dropping forty gold into the fist.

The devil growled, a deeply unpleasant rumble. “PATHETIC. LEAVE. BOTH OF YOU.”

Sifer held out another sixty.

“ONE LAST CHANCE,” the devil spat, leaning down so its face was inches from Sifer.

Sifer didn’t panic. “Double?”

“LEAVE.”

Marko, quivering artistically, sighed deeply. “Let’s go,” he muttered to Sifer, who shrugged and started toward the portals.

Idris wasn’t so ready to give up. “Good sir!” he called to the fiend, who lifted its gaze to meet his. “MORE TO EJECT.”

“I’m simply enquiring what is the precise issue at hand here?”

“ARE YOU SERIOUS.”

“We’ve never been here before and we were just invited by Windfall,” Idris snapped, “To come and enjoy the games. We haven’t even placed any bets yet and you’re kicking good customers out. Which we will mention to her. "

“I AM REMOVING CHEATS.”

“What is the nature of the cheating?” Idris bluffed.

“HE WAS INVISIBLE. THAT IS NOT ALLOWED.”

“Well now we know that,” Sifer grumbled.

“And where is that stated?” Idris tried, realising he was on thin ice. He wouldn’t permit an unseen patron at the Shining Serpent either.

“STATED?” the devil scoffed. A small crowd was gathering, enjoying the conflict, and they too laughed.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but the only way to find that out is to actually do it?”

“OR BE SMART. WHICH YOU CLEARLY ARE NOT.”

Ignoring the slight, Idris put a hand on Marko’s shoulder. “My companion is very small and very skittish and turns invisible almost compulsively.”

“Very small?” Marko muttered, but he excused Idris (just this once) given the fragile situation.

“Surely a warning would suffice, and then we can all get about a business of losing money for Windfall,” Idris continued.

“NO WARNINGS, NO EXCUSES. TAKE IT UP WITH WINDFALL.”

“Oh I will. Right now.”

“THANK BEL.”

“We’ll be right back.”

“I HOPE NOT.”

“We’ll see.”

Shav, witnessing all of this with Three, was crestfallen. He rubbed a weary hand over his forehead. “Oh you fools,” he muttered.

“Should I try and get your potion back?” Three offered.

“Oh I have plenty more. I’ll try again with the next lot,” Shav sighed, walking away.

Three watched him leave, curious that he neither placed a bet nor collected. Three had been surprised to see the bets flow as Shav had advised—perhaps he was more trustworthy than he appeared. He waited for Sunshroud’s race to finish, and she did indeed finish at the tail of the field. Shav’s Crunch ran second, so perhaps there was more than one Shav in the arena.

With a sigh he withdrew and followed the company back to the lobby, walking with a disappointed Eli who had been looking forward to some devil-slaying.

Idris was draped at the bar, watching Windfall but not approaching. He ordered another glass—“3 talons”—and nodded to Honore. “Is there an established set of no-goes in the house?”

“Don’t cheat, simple as that.”

“That seems to have a lot of scope. A friend of mine was bounced from the races.”

“For doing what?” Honore said polishing a glass.

“It’s the small chap you were talking to. He gets skittish when confronted and turns himself invisible.”

“Well that will do it every time.”

“So that’s a definite no-go?”

“What do you think?” Honore scoffed “You’re an intelligent fellow, say you were running a casino and a patron turns up invisible?”

“Absolutely.”

“Say a guys is gambling on cards with an invisible friend at his side. Be a bit stupid to let it go, wouldn’t you think?”

“I get it,” Idris snapped. “It all seems rather unreasonable. I just want to find out the broad scope of the houe rules. Pretend we haven’t been to a casino in Hell before, my friend.”

“Number one: don’t cheat. Number two? Don’t cheat.”

“Ok. I’m just not sure how invisibility counts as cheating when you’re watching a horse race, but ok.”

“It’s a general principle. Use your common sense is my best advice and you’ll be just fine.”

“Thank you for at least answering the question…in a very obtuse way,” Idris sighed.

“There’s no rules that can’t be worked around, so it would be absurd to try and list them all,” Honore shrugged.

“That’s what I—”

“But invisibility is a rookie mistake,” Honore interrupted, “You won’t get anywhere near the Dragon’s Pride if you try and pull that kind of thing.”

Hearing this Sifer put a hand on Idris’s shoulder. “If you’re not going to talk to Windfall I’m going to scope the Coliseum,” he said to a nod.

After finishing their drinks, and once Three and Eli appeared, the company joined Sifer through the scarlet doors.

Jeers and shouts rose from a huge open-air coliseum made of deep-red stone. Over the sound of roars and clattering metal, a speaker excitedly commentated on a fight just finished.

A booming laugh sounded over the arena as a huge Red skinned dragon-devil leapt down to stand amidst the carnage. “A defeat most worthy! I dedicate the fallen to our Queen, Tiamat!” The crowd cheered mildly, more interested in discussing the fight than toasting the Dragon Queen.

A red skinned dragon-devil clutches a gold sceptre topped with a claw — Khai Kiroth

“Who will stand next? Who will fight? Who will emerge triumphant with honour!?”

Sifer summoned his companions to the stands on the left of the arena. “I’m not ready to leap into the ring yet,” he advised. “They bring out the challengers and then release creatures from the wings,” he pointed. “A trio of massive gorilla devils with blue skin last round, who made short work of a couple of the winged devils.”

Sifer say by a large, insectoid devil with a mantis head who vibrated with cold and was chattering to a similar companion. “Wouldn’t get through a third round if it killed them.”

An insectoid devil with a mantis head and a long carapace made of ice, holding a spear — Bil

“Well Bil, it did kill them so you’re right,” the second devil laughed.

Sifer shuffled closer. “So, Bil, three rounds? What’s the deal here?”

“Win three matches and eternal glory is yours!”

“How long’s eternal glory last?”

“Until the next fight,” Bil and his companion laughed uproariously.

“Champion for a day.”

“Khai down there,” Bil said nodding to the dragonkin still stalking the arena, “He’ll give you his mark if you win glory, which is enough for most.”

“Doesn’t pay for drinks,” Sifer laughed.

“A victory token from the pitmaster?” Uthar mused. “I think it might.”

“Your friend is right,” Bil nodded, “Pick up three of those marks and you’re on your way to the Pride.”

“Is it one stamp per fighter?”

“If you’re a team you’ll all get a stamp, even from the stands.”

“And why aren’t you down there, Bil?” Sifer teased.

“I’m a lover not a fighter, can’t you tell?” Bil’s friend stifled a chuckle.

“And can you win esteem as a team?”

“Interested are you? You look handy—and yes, three in a team. Three combatants, three tiers, each one harder than the next.”

“And what do we fight?” Eli asked.

“It’s not a set menu, young one. Khai will take a look at you, see what he thinks, and send out his best guesses to crush you.”

“Has anyone ever won all three?” Three said, sensing another set-up.

“‘course.”

“Who?”

“That two-eyed fella…never seen anyone fight like that in all my days. Quite something to behold.”

Three felt suddenly watched, spinning to see who it was, but there was nothing, just the glint of a shadow. He turned back to Bil. “And magic is banned, I assume?”

“Naturally. This is a show of strength, pure and simple. You get caught using magic…”

Hearing this, Idris relaxed, slumping back in his seat and lighting a cigarello. “Marko would be a good bet with his disembowelling shiv, though Uthar is no slouch even without magic.”

Uthar slapped Sifer on the back as they met eyes. “I think we’re fucked,” Sifer laughed, “And Uthar’s not using magic, it’s an aura.”

Idris raised an eyebrow. “The rules on what’s cheating here are very amorphous. But invisibility is definitely out,” he grinned.

“Eli’s pretty handy,” Three protested. “What weapons can we take in?” he asked Bil.

“Anything you like within reason,” Bil advised. “Take in a vorpal blade you might be in a bit of trouble,” he said glancing at the sword strapped to Uthar’s back.

“You got a vorpal blade?” Sifer quipped, causing the devil’s to break out in laughter again.

“Next fight in an hour if you’re wanting to fight,” Bil said.

“I think we’ll watch a bout first,” Three said cautiously.

An hour later the next fight got underway, the crowd having swelled and throbbing with bloodlust. Two bearded devils and a chain wielding devil stepped into the arena, greeted with a swelling roar.

An purple-skinned devil with a tentacled jaw clutching a red tipped spear

A devil with glowing red eyes wrapped entirely in chains, many of which swing wildly around

There was plenty of side-hustle bets happening in the stands, and just as much flowing through the official bookies. “Three-to-one against the challengers,” Three advised.

“Those chains the devil is using are snaking around of their own accord,” Idris pointed out, “So that’s magic. Based on that, Red, you could smite someone and no-one would blink.”

Uthar agreed. “I hope you’re right, as it’s not something I can turn off. Every hit will be like that.”

“There are two reasons Khai might let you fight,” Idris mused. “A: you could skirt around the cheating rules, and B: as soon as he pays attention to you he’ll work out exactly the kind of power you wield, and where it comes from, and that will gee the crown up a lot.”

Khai crunched his sceptre into the arena’s blood-stained dirt and called for quiet. “Our three challengers will face Mudbane! He rises from the depths of the Abyss, yet to defeated, yet to taste anything but the blood of his victims!”

An enormous hound stalked free from the innards of the coliseum, saliva dripping from fangs stained with the remains of all those it had hunted. It roared hungrily as the crowd leapt to their feet, the devil’s stepping back and exchanging glances.

“Those three don’t stand a chance,” Sifer grunted, not sure that his three would either.

As the fight got underway it was clear Bil was right about the non-weapon magic—there was no sign of magic from the combatants or any allies in the audience. The hound snarled into the battle, tearing into the panicked trio, but they soon found their feet and started to fight back. The chain-devil tangled Mudbane’s rear leg allowing a bearded devil to leap atop and plunge a spear—and the tentacles of the beard—-into the beast’s flank. But Mudbane was too much, too big, and too fierce. Before the fight had even begun the devils lay sprawled about the arena, dead or close to. Only the chain devil stayed on his feet, staggering as the wolf stalked closer.

“Enough!” Khai cried, “He will live to fight another day, unlike his bearded friends!!” The crowd booed as the devil scuttled below the stands, but cheered when Mudbane released a victory howl. “For Tiamat!” Khai cried triumphantly.

“That was only the first round,” Three groaned.

“I saw no healing from the stands,” Sifer added. “Just fighters.”

“Bil? Does anyone ever assist from afar?” Three asked. “How do they stop it?”

Bil nodded to the ever-present Pit Fiends. “You have to deal with him.”

“He knows when magic is being used?”

“Oh yes, they know. But you’re welcome to try,” Bil grinned.

“No, no, I just want to know the rules. Has anyone ever beaten that dog?”

“Not in my time. I’d like to see him up against old two-eyes though,” Bil said thoughtfully.

“I know you’re a lover, Bil, but tere’s plenty in the crowd big enough, like you, to take it on,” Sifer said. “What’s stopping them?”

Bil shrugged. “People are here to relax, bet, soak in the blood. Not everyone wants to jump down there, but some will. Like the three we just watched.”

“So Bil, just to clarify,” Idris said, “By no using magic you mean no casting spells.”

“Right enough.”

“So that guy over there,” Idris pointed, “Say he could shoot fire out his arse, as an example. Not a normal thing for most, but for him it is. So that doesn’t constitute magic, does it?”

Bil pulled out his ice-covered spear. “This, this has magic. I can use it in a fight. But if I were to spit fireballs out my arse, that would be cheating.”

“So if it’s weapon-related it’s all good?”

“Within reason, my friend. Jump down there was a flaming sword, you’re all good. Jump down there and start casting lightning bolts from your sword? Not so much.”

“Got it. Hack and slash with a little stank on it.”

“Use your commons sense, that’s my best advice,” Bil grinned.

Idris rolled his eyes and nodded. “So anything you do Sifer, and you, Marko—discarding vanishing—and anything you do Eli. And, if you can make it look good, anything you do Uthar, will probably pass. You all could give anything a run for their money.”

Sifer nodded. “Put it this way; we’ve been kicked out of one room, we’ve got to find our esteem somewhere before we lose everything.”

“There’s always the black doors,” Three smirked.

“We now what we’re up against here. Let’s check the other rooms before we get started,” Idris said.

“We’re not going to fight?” Eli wailed, frustrated again.

As the company emerged into the lobby and started toward the green doors, the vampire who guarded the black doors hustled over. “People, people!” he cried, “Please may I have a word before you proceed?”

“Definitely!” Three beamed.

A finely dressed vampire in a long cloak with red eyes and fangs — Kaylan Renaudon

“Very good! I have watched you wandering aimlessly seeking great rewards, and I am here to tell you that I, Kaylan Renaudon, have what you desire behind my stygian doors. Everything you could want lies within, all you need do is step through.”

“What is in there?” Three asked keenly.

“Well there is a tale,” Kaylan smiled. “What lay beyond in times past was a maze. I trapped dozens inside, hundreds even—they begged for their release and I gave them what they asked,” he grinned, bearing his trademark fangs. “But, in her infinite wisdom, Windfall decreed the maze too simple, not enough of a challenge. Pah!” Kaylan scowled.

“Which is?”

“Something she believes is a little more challenging…and, I will admit, perhaps it is, for none have returned! I present to you: The Stygian Tomb! That’s right: a tomb! What do you make of that?!”

Three looked unimpressed. “Well we’ve done tombs, so tell me more.”

Sifer groaned, turned, and started again toward the green doorway. “No, wait!” Kaylan cried. “You have not heard all!”

“Describe the tomb,” Idris said, intrigued.

Kaylan smiled slowly and raised a very pale hand, spreading his fingers. “Five rooms only. Absurd, you might say! Ridiculous even! But Windfall would beg to differ: she claims a famed lich designed it just for her…and for you!”

“Here we go,” Three said hungrily.

Kaylan rubbed his hands together. “You know you want to…

“I do. I do want to!”

“Me too,” Marko said, eyes glittering.

“But wait, there’s more!” Kaylan announced dramatically. “Windfall is so excited to for a survivor to emerge from the tomb that, should you be the ones, as I have no doubt you will be, you will recieve not one, not two, but three marks of esteem!”

“Which will get us to the Dragon’s Pride,” Three smiled.

“Unusually generous, I think you will agreed,” Kayan nodded.

“Except not one person has survived,” Three grimaced.

“A minor inconvenience! Just look at you all! A finer selection of gentlemen I have yet to see,” Kayan said looking around the company. “You sir have lost an eye, but perhaps you will find another within? You with the glowing red skin, a holy man if I am not mistaken? Well behind these doors stands a holy place!”

Uthar grunted.

“What do you say, gentlemen? Are you game to step inside the Stygian Tomb? Or will you continue your fruitless, piffling search for success amongst the lesser rooms my so-called equals so wilfully present?”

Eli stepped forward. “We’re going in, thank you very much for the offer.”

“No Eli!” Three cried, grabbing his padawan. “We should look at the other rooms first, as tempted as I am.”

“Brother Cooper, gambling is a sin. The temptation of devils.”

“It is a game of chance that some religions consider a sin, but many do not,” Three said patiently. “Many a priest has gambled and then gone and taken mass. And you have to think, again, why are we here?”

“We have to get downstairs and this is the quickest way,” Eli said simply.

“Young sir!” Kaylan exclaimed, “You speak the truth, the honest truth, more truth than I have heard in this establishment for many, many a year. It is the only way. The quickest way. The path to glory!”

“I only ever speak the truth,” Eli agreed, finding it odd to be agreeing with the pale-faced vampire.

“Stop telling the truth,” Sifer muttered.

“Let’s just have a look in green and blue before making a decision,” Three repeated.

“You turn your back on eternal fame!” Kaylan cried.

“Eternal fame will be there when we return,” Sifer shrugged.

“What if someone else should venture in and take it from you!”

“I don’t like their odds,” Sifer smirked.

“Given your pitch I suspect there has been quite a while between customers,” Three said wryly.

Kaylan’s shoulders slumped, and with a deep sigh he spun on his toes and walked away to resume his spot in front of the black doors.

The walls and ceilings of the cosy den through the green doorway were made of luminescent jade. Rowdy patrons gathered around game tables, drinking heavily and scowling at dice and cards as they tested their luck. Idris smiled, feeling right at home: this was more like it.

A green-scaled draconic devil moved between games, idly chatting with players. He spun as the company entered and smiled hungrily.

A green skinned dragon-devil with long curling claws grins maliciously — Rezran ‘Snake Eyes’ Agrodro

“Gentlemen, welcome! You can call me Snake Eyes! Comes from a winning penchant for rolling ones in Triple Hydra,” he grinned. “Hard to beat, I think you’ll agree!”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Snake Eyes,” Idris nodded. “Mind if I peruse the tables?”

“By all means, sir! You’ll find the money that flows through these rooms dwarfs all else—earns me a great deal of Tiamat’s favour, I assure you. But maybe your luck will change that!”

Idris grinned, then wandered the rooms. He recognised every game: the aforementioned Triple Hydra, Bel’s Bones (a dice rolling game of luck), 21 Demons (cards), and Zariel’s Hold (more cards) were typically popular. He turned to the company. “I can win easy money down here,” he announced, “It just depends how much we need.”

“How much?” Snake Eyes overheard. “Earn 1000 talons and I’ll give you each my mark.”

“We’ll be back,” Idris nodded.

The Cerulean Hall, the final room, was far more subdued, concentration filling the atmosphere like an thoughtful mirror of the Viridian Den. Blue crystal pillars reached toward hall’s ceiling, and a pair of sculptured blue dragons festooned a pool in the centre of the room, occasionally breathing clouds of ice that formed into fish which dropped into the water below. All was quiet except for the clinking of coins and shuffling of cards and pieces. Dragonchess was the main game being played, along with Three Dragon Ante amongst other less popular tables.

Walking between the tables was a lean, blue-scaled devil with dragon wings, pausing to admire and compliment particularly smart moves.

A blue skinned dragon-devil with holds a long staff, smiling intelligently — Nyssa Otellion

“Come to test your wits against the best, gentlemen?” the Abishai said as she approached, haughty and calm. “You made the right choice coming here instead of Rezran’s hall of fools.”

“Rezran?” Idris said.

“Maybe you know him as Snake Eyes,” she said disdainfully. “My name is Nyssa Otellion and this is my hall. You are most welcome to take a seat, should you wish.”

“Thank you,” Idris smiled, “We just might.”

“To get three marks, realistically it’s going to be blue, green, and red…or just black,” Uthar said, glad to have at least reached that conclusion.

“I think blue, green, and red and we’re there,” Sifer said firmly.

“I’m pretty confident, with some luck, that I can get us all marks from the green room,” Idris said, “And there’s a strong chance of the same from the blue.”

“I think Stygian Tomb,” Marko shrugged.

“I know you do,” Sifer smirked.

“I’m quietly tempted,” Uthar admitted, “But…”

Sifer shook his head. “We’ve got Three Dragon Ante,” he glanced at Idris, “Then we’ve got a little bit of luck, then we’ve got simple fighting. What’s the problem?”

“Tomb of Horrors!” Marko reminded everyone. “If we can survive that we can survive anything.”

“How about we do it our normal way,” Sifer grinned, “See how we fail in green and red, and then we go in the black.”

“I’m not going back into the green room,” Eli declared.

“Oh?” Uthar said.

“Black it is!” Marko clapped.

“But Eli, you came through to the horses,” Three probed.

“I thought we were going to be on the horses,” Eli shrugged.

“What about the blue room then? Could you go there?”

“I don’t want to! I want to go in the Stygian Tomb. This is what we know how to do!”

“I know you’d like to go in there, we all would, but—”

“We have come this far,” Eli interrupted, “By fighting our way through tombs and temples and underground lairs and suddenly we’re going to change that?”

Sifer grabbed Eli by the shoulder and pointed him at the red doorway. “You want to fight? Let’s fight.”

Eli shrugged himself. “We could do that too,” he said. “I was happy to do that and then we left.”

“If we do that then we don’t have to do the black,” Sifer explained.

“The black room won’t be harder than the red room,” Eli sulked.

“Not one person has ever returned from this tomb!” Three scowled.

“No one has ever gone in!” Eli cried. “It won’t be harder!”

“Eli,” Sifer said sternly, “We’ve just come from our wizards, and they said we’re going to a fucking casino! What are you doing here?”

Eli glared at Sifer. “If I commit any sin here, it will be leaving without dying trying to kill every single person down here.”

Three grabbed Eli. “There is a man at the bottom of this place, this place full of sin,” he growled through gritted teeth, “And he has an evil Hand! We have to do this to go down there, cut that Hand off, get the piece of the Rod, and stop he who is destroying the world! With your pride you are going to block us from that?! Think upon that! Will you block the sins of the world because you won’t go into one room!! Is that what you are telling me? Don’t you think I’ve paid?” Three cried ripping his hood down. “Now you must!”

Eli watched as Three stalked away toward the green room. “Brother Cooper?” he called softly. “I think you sin all the time.”

Three stopped in his tracks. He turned and walked calmly back, putting his face close to Eli’s. “Yes. That’s what I have become. And yet I do good all the time.”

The Stygian Tomb

Idris watched Eli and Three with grim amusement. Would they be forever thus? He stubbed out his cheroot and pulled his lucky coin from his belt pouch. He caught Eli’s eye, flipped the coin, and caught it on the back of his hand. He walked over to Eli to show him the facing side: a stylised claw-like hand.

“Black door it is then,” he said, glancing to Uthar and receiving a faint nod of assent. “This is just another gamble, but one that we’re all willing to take,” Uthar said. As he spoke, the sword whispered inside his head: This is no gamble, not with me by your side!

“I guess this one’s on you,” Sifer said placing a hand on Eli’s shoulder.

“At least if we fail we won’t be alive to see the end of everything,” Idris grinned.

“So be it,” Eli said firmly, blinking rapidly as he too felt a voice in his mind: This is the way, you lead well. Together we can defeat anything!

Kaylan, eavesdropping on every word, stepped into the midst of the company “Do I hear correctly? Do I sense…challengers!?”

“We will take the challenge of your doors, sir,” Eli declared.

“Bravo young sir! I never doubted, not for a moment, your determination and daring!” He stepped back toward the black doors and flung them open. “Behold! The Stygian Tomb awaits!!”

In the lobby those nearby turned their attention to the vampire’s theatrics, and Idris sensed a flutter of the gambler’s thrill flutter through the room: something exciting was happening. He looked to Kaylan. “Just to clarify: should we ever return from these doors, we all get a pass downstairs, correct?”

“My word is my truth, Kaylan bowed, “And your statement is entirely accurate. The Dragon’s Pride—and eternal fame—will be yours!”

“Or eternal rest,” Uthar muttered.

“Ha! Jolly good sir!”

“Can I wager one more thing,” Eli said softly.

“A gambler after all?” Kaylan grinned, “And here I was thinking you alone eschewed such temptation.”

“If we return through your doors,” Eli continued, resisting the jibe, “Will you grant me the request of single combat?”

“Oo, how exciting! With who, young sir, with who?”

“You, you fool,” Eli spat with disgust.

Kaylan looked shocked, putting a hand to his heart. “Me? Why would you wish to fight me? I have been nothing but amiable with you.”

“To scour one more piece of filth from this world.”

“I am quite taken aback, young man,” Kaylan said looking around the lobby. “You could take your pick of anyone in this room, why would you pick me?” he asked, waving his spidery hand toward the many and varied horned, spiked, globulous, dripping, flaming, dark-winged devils that lounged and watched with great intent.

“If you don’t want to take my wager, that is completely up to you,” Eli said flatly.

With a haughty snort Kaylan peeled a glove from his hand and slapped Eli across the cheek. “I will take your wager any time you care to make it, sir, and I look forward to meeting you upon the field of challenge when you return—if you return, for I begin to have my doubts.”

“We shall see,” Eli growled.

“I am most seriously displeased with your insolence. I shall make good my name—begone with you! I do not wish to see your face again until it is beneath my boot begging for mercy!”

“‘Begging for mercy’, as you say,” Eli said, stepping through the doors.

Three followed, leaning in to Kaylan as he passed. “You’d better he doesn’t come back, because he will murder you.”

“Oh I am under no illusions that I will ever see him, or indeed any of you, again,” Kaylan bowed.

“This is like the Tomb of Horrors,” Eli groaned, “We’ve got a skull and we’ve got three entrances.”

“Here we go again,” Uthar sighed.

The company stood in a humid jungle of crumbling stone covered in overgrown vines. Two of the entrances ahead led to double doors, and the third led over a rickety wooden bridge that traversed a pit of spikes to a huge carved skull. Clusters of green crystals lit the stone walls, providing a gloomy light.

“I see arrows all over the floor of this one,” Eli pointed, “Which means arrow traps. There will be similar traps to the left, and no doubt something in the pit.” Pockmarks lined the wall of the arrow corridor. “It’s not obvious where the arrows emerge.”

“There’s also a smaller door just to the right of the skull,” Idris pointed out.

“Mister Marko? Fly over and check for traps?” Three suggested, recalling Marko’s great success in said task in the earlier tomb.

“And check those spikes,” Idris added.

Marko started by throwing a handful of sand over the spikes to see if they were illusions, but the sand settled as expected. Idris meanwhile put some weight on the planks of wood forming the bridge, finding them strong enough, supported by several poles that were sunk into the pit. “Unless the posts are somehow weakened,” he warned.

“You have to ask yourself one question about how devils think,” Eli mused. “Did they put these here as an easy test to begin with—all you need to do is test your skills with balancing on a plank—or did devils put these here as a quick trap for idiots who think they know more than they do?”

Sifer saw an easy way around that conundrum. He ran across the wall and landed on the platform in front of the skull: a relief of a scowling, fiendish face made of azure mosaic tiles that spanned the wall. The face’s mouth was open, revealing a black maw, and its eyes are carved from clouded white crystal. Satisfied it was safe enough for now, he proceeded to hammer three pitons into the wall and affix a rope. “Come on over,” he invited.

As the less nimble took Sifer’s assistance, Marko flew over and declared the platform and door truly free of traps. Eli ran across the opposite wall to join him.

“I do think you’re right Eli,” Three said thoughtfully when he stepped down. “Every one of these puzzles we need to ask what actually is the intent. Because no-one is just going to walk over those planks. They’re all going to do what you and Sifer did.”

“How deep can one go into the mind of the enemy,” Eli said staring at Three, “Without becoming the enemy yourself?”

“That’s rather pointed isn’t it,” Uthar smirked.

“You might be able to answer that soon,” Three said meeting Eli’s gaze. “Those who gaze too long into the abyss—”

“Will find the abyss gazes also into them,” Sifer finished.

“Like this mouth,” Idris said pointing to the pitch blackness inside the skull gaping maw. He pulled a copper and floated it inside: he sensed it vanish without a sound as it passed the threshold of the jaw. “That coin is gone,” he warned.

“I don’t think we should go into the mouth,” Uthar said shakily, uncomfortably memories returning.

“We know all about yawning portals don’t we,” Eli agreed.

“We know where that ended up last time. We didn’t go in there, and we shouldn’t go in here,” Sifer declared.

“The door is locked though,” Uthar said, “So we need Marko to have a go at opening it.”

“I would suggest everyone move out of the line of fire,” Idris said. Everyone did so as Marko ran his hand over the simple wooden door. There was no lock, nor a handle, and after a few minutes he shook his head. “This is magically locked,” he said, “I can’t open it no matter how well I fiddle. And there’s no doorbell,” he added, knocking (as everyone cringed). Nothing responded.

He walked back to the mouth. “May I have an arrow please?” Sifer raised an eyebrow, seeing Markos’s full quiver, but handed him an arrow in any case. “Thanks,” Marko nodded. He thrust the arrow into the mouth and held it for a moment. He felt it shudder and jerked it back: the front half of the arrow was missing, cleanly sheared.

“Disintegration,” Idris said after inspecting the cut. “So assuming this is a puzzle of some sort there will be a mechanism to get that door open. And it may well be in one of the other rooms.”

“I have just one idea, Idris,” Eli said. “Do you have any of those talons with you?”

“What for?”

“I’m going to throw it into the mouth. I figure three should suffice.”

“Why don’t you try throwing one and seeing what happens?” Idris said, not wanting to give away any of the precious coins if he could at all help it.

“I’ll start with one,” Eli promised.

Idris shrugged and counted out five talons, keenly feeling the loss of each. When he held them out Eli refused to take them. “Eli these aren’t soul coins. These are talons, they’re just metal.”

Eli settled his shoulders. “You’re right. If there is any inherent temptation upon them, I will be able to resist it.” He held out his hand and Idris reluctantly dropped the talons within. As Eli closed his fist around them he felt a sudden fascination with the talons, and a surprising thirst for more. Maybe gambling wasn’t such a bad idea after all…and how dare Idris hoard the rest? He gave Idris a foul look, then flicked one inside the mouth, glancing over the door hopefully. It didn’t open. Before he could regret it, he tossed the remaining talons into the mouth (Sifer reflexively reaching for them, hating to see the money wasted). The door stayed firmly closed and the coins were gone.

“Mister Marko you said the door is magically sealed?” Uthar asked.

“Heavily magically sealed,” Marko confirmed.

“I could try and dispel that?”

“It could be designed for that very purpose,” Idris said. “But I would suggest we check other avenues first. The skull is designed as an obvious drawcard given you see it as soon as you walk in. If this door does open it could be in fact the exit or final door, but it may be we have to do something in the rooms on either side first.”

Three glanced up at the crystal eyes in the skull. “If you’re right, perhaps we need to do something in those rooms and when we do each eye will light up, opening the door.”

Sifer ran back to the cluster of lights on the far side of the skull, testing them to see if they moved or would respond to touch, but they were firmly affixed and appeared to be just as they seemed: lights.

Eli danced back over the pit and plonked in front of the corridor full of arrows. “So. So this appears to be an arrow trap.”

Three rolled his eyes and stifled a laugh.

“Well the nature of this trap is at least obvious to us, Brother Cooper,” Eli snapped, “Whereas the other corridor isn’t.”

“I can’t see the mechanism that fires them,” Idris observed. “But they are hitting at all heights.”

“I already—”

“I know, but I wanted to do my own check.”

“But there are none in the last five feet near the doors,” Sifer observed shrewdly.

Eli was fed up. “Do you want to live forever?” He leapt up onto the northern wall and sprinted across the thirty feet toward the safe zone. A flurry of arrows immediately started shooting out from both walls, but Eli was like smoke. His every move seemed to dodge the incoming arrow, always one step ahead of the next, and he landed with three arrows clutched in his fists. Somewhere in the distance a heroic theme played as he turned and nodded to the cheering company.

Eli stepped in front of the doors and noticed something: a scribble of tiny text, not visible from the opposite end, was scrawled across the woodwork. He lent in and squinted, reading silently, then turned back to the company. “Who’s Acererak?”

“Acererak?” Idris frowned. “As in the same…”

“Yes,” Three paled. “The lich in the last tomb.”

“He gets around,” Uthar said nervously.

“Kaylan did say Windfall had commissioned a ‘famous lich’,” Three groaned.

At the doors, Eli shuddered. “Well. He commends me,” he said nervously.

“Don’t interpret, just read it,” Sifer instructed.

Eli nodded and read aloud: “'Acererak commends you. Alas! These doors lead nowhere but your skills shall not go unrewarded. Should you wish to plumb the depths of my tomb, head these words: The blue one craves your magic.'”

“What ‘blue one’?” Idris said.

“I wonder if the doors really do lead nowhere,” Eli mused reaching for the handle. “If I was a devil…if I stand to the side and open it, Three will cop a spear in the chest!”

Three unconsciously stepped well out of line of sight, and Idris followed. “Try the handle,” he called.

But Eli was already running back. Again the shower of arrows, but this time Eli’s confidence was such that he had to paff a few away instead of catching them, kicking out and chopping down with his hand. He landed safely, but realised he had got a little lucky on the second try.

“What was behind the door, Eli?” Three said accusingly.

“Are you serious?” Eli scowled. “You want me to go and try even though it says they lead nowhere?”

Idris sighed. “Everyone stand aside, please.” He sent an ethereal hand to the doors and gently pulled them open. A plain stone wall stood behind, the same as the adjoining wall. He picked up a fallen arrow and jabbed it into the stonework suspicious of an illusion, finding it solid. “It’s just a wall. Nothing there, and nowhere to go. Acererak’s pithy note may have some merit. Now we just need to keep in mind that we need to find the ‘blue one’, whatever that is.”

“My guess is we have to get the secret from the other ‘bad’ entrance,” Uthar said, “And then work out a way to combine them.”

Sifer agreed. He walked over and stood at the threshold of the second room. The room was empty with two small alcoves set back on the left and right sides. He took a cautious step inside and glanced back into the left alcove. There was a decaying sheet of paper tacked to the wall, facing into the room. “There’s a note on the wall here. A symbol, hand drawn, of an exploding flame,” he called. He reached in and tore it from the wall, handing it to Uthar as he withdrew.

“This indicates to me someone has been here,” Sifer said.

“Is there anything on the back of the picture?” Three asked, to a shake of the head no from Uthar. “Just an exploding fireball.”

“A explosive rune?” Eli guessed.

“Could be the room, could be the doors,” Sifer nodded.

“Or the note itself,” Eli warned.

“There are no marks in the room,” Three said, “Which you would expect if a fireball had gone off in there.”

Idris stepped forward and summoned his hand. “Given the success of the last time I tried this, why doesn’t everyone step back.” Everyone did, and Idris repeated his trick. Again the doors appeared only to conceal a plain wall, and again Idris confirmed it was solid.

“If there is writing on the door like the other one we will need to get closer to see it,” Eli advised.

“And we need to know what it says,” Three agreed.

“I guess it should be me who goes in there,” Uthar sighed. “Fire is less of a problem for me, just like the arrows for Eli.” He took a diagonal step to the right side of the room, and intuition made him turn and look behind into the alcove. There was another parchment sheet pinned to the wall, this one a skull with a red cross struck through it. “A warning,” he reported, pocketing the note.

“Good luck!” Sifer called.

Uthar took another step, reaching the middle of the corridor, and as he did the floor tile depressed. A stone slab slammed down over the entrance, sealing him inside the room as an inferno of flame flooded the chamber. The movement of the tile had given Uthar a brief moment to prepare, and he somehow managed to dive under the jets of flame that were filling the room. He was singed but hardly burnt, a fleeting thought of thwarting Acererak making him smile despite the chaos. Riding his luck even as the flames continued, he jumped toward the two doors, hauling them closed and seeing there was no writing etched into the doors.

“Get it open!” Idris yelled outside, and Eli was already leaping to the door and heaving with all his might. To his surprise, delight, and relief, he managed to hold the stonework and haul it to half-height. “Uthar! Get out of there!!” Idris shouted.

A moment later Uthar slid under the door into safety, leaving scorch-marks behind. As he emerged the flames just as suddenly subsided, and Eli found the door raising once again into the ceiling.

“These traps would normally mean death,” Sifer said, looking Uthar up and down and glancing at Eli’s trail of arrows, “But we seem to have been able to dodge that.”

“I am worried that just by stupendous luck we are still alive,” Three laughed nervously, “And that will not last.”

“Luck, or destiny, Three,” Idris said with straight face…before smirking.

Eli, missing the smirk, looked with all sincerity at Three. “We are a wish granted.”

“That is true,” Three nodded slowly, looking toward the pit room. “You first?”

Eli shrugged and ran across the wall, approaching the skull which…“It’s blue!” he cried. “Azure means blue!”

“Azure!” Three cried, slapping his forehead at not seeing it earlier.

“Fireball it, Idris,” Sifer grinned. “I’m not taking anyone across.”

“Or just even Flamestrike,” Uthar downgraded.

“Magic missile!” Marko enthused, joining the fun.

“If it needs to be a fireball, so be it,” Eli said, upping the ante now that he had embraced gambling. He stepped in front of the skull’s maw: “Hit me!”

Sifer shook his head. “I’m happy to fire something in to see what happens, but what you’re all missing, or what you’ve all forgotten about Acerarak’s last tomb: there was at least one door that required a sacrifice of a magic item. And I have a feeling this is the same thing.”

“I agree,” Three said. “I read that as an item, not just a spell.”

“Excellent, but whilst we’re here why don’t we pop something simple off?” Sifer said with great practicality.

This logic was hard to deny. Everyone stood aside, Eli hiding by the skull, and Idris sent a Flamestrike into the mouth. As with the coins and arrow, it was absorbed into the darkness…but the two white-crystal eyes flickered briefly brilliant blue before petering back to plain crystal.

“The door didn’t change,” Eli called.

“But the eyes did!” Idris smiled. “It’s going to require either a larger spell, or a powerful item. Have we acquired anything we have taken but not used?”

“I have my tooth collection,” Three said smirking, “But do we have to use that?”

“This Rod of Seven Parts hasn’t really served us so well,” Uthar deadpanned.

“It would probably open the door forever,” Idris laughed.

“We did find that flail,” Uthar said more seriously.

“And they are so dangerous to the user,” Eli said seriously.

“That will do,” Idris agreed, digging it out of his portable hole. “I think we should all be near the door so we can get through quickly. It may not stay open for long.”

“That sounds like famous last words,” Eli said.

After a lot of debate everyone eventually agreed with Idris, clustered near the door but out of the sight of the skull’s eye and mouth. Idris floated the sacrificial flail in front of the mouth and with a short nod shunted it inside.

Nothing happened. The eyes didn’t flicker and the door didn’t open.

“Well it’s not an item,” Uthar shrugged. “We have to go bigger.”

Eli took a deep breath, feeling himself reach breaking point. Five rooms and the company was still stuck at the front door. How long was this going to take?

“Spells then,” Idris said. A mote appeared above his finger, and he shot a relatively powerful fireball into the maw. The two eyes lit again, beaming brilliant and blue. The door didn’t open, but the eyes stayed aglow.

“I don’t know how long this half-life is,” Sifer warned.

“You got some reaction from a cantrip, try throwing more in and seeing if we get more escalation,” Eli said enthusiastically. He saw Idris was sceptical, so with a growl he stepped in front himself and show a Firebolt from his own bag of trick. The eyes flickered again, but didn’t grow in intensity. With a yowl Eli flung two, three, four more, with the same (lack-of) effect. “I’m spent!” Eli cried collapsing to the ground. He worried there was an innocent village at the far end of the mouth, but wisely chose not to share that fear.

“There are two schools of thought,” Idris explained, his experience shining through Eli’s ignorance. “Death by a thousand cuts and waste a whole lot of spells, or blow a couple of big ones and let fly.”

“A magic missile?” Marko repeated.

“Maybe, yes, but—”

Now it was Three’s time to be fed up. He stepped in front of the mouth and opened his. A Bane of no small greatness issued forth, absorbed into silence when it struck the gaping darkness. As it silenced, the skull’s two eyes burst into sparkling brilliance that lit the entire chamber in an azure glow…

…and the door swung silently open.

“Quick, through!” Idris called.

The company stepped into a corridor, thirty-feet long, lined with rows of colourful jewels that shimmered along the walls. At the far end stood an emerald-coloured statue of a crashing wave, and even from this distance writing could be seen carved into the base.

“Are we going to drown in here?” Three predicted as Sifer hammered pitons into the door frame to keep it open should it decide to spontaneously close.

“Yeah,” Marko said.

“Yep,” Eli agreed.

Uthar wasted no time, advancing toward the statue until he could make out the script. “''This wave is green'',” he read.

“Green was bad in the last tomb,” Three recalled.

Sifer glanced to the sparkling gems embedded in the wall, finding green scattered liberally through the reds, blues, and yellows. “So it’s either touch the green ones, or touch everything but the green ones.”

“There are dozens of each,” Eli observed, “That doesn’t sound right.”

Marko flew to the statue and examined it in more detail. “There’s a divot in the base here, big enough to hold a single gem. Behind the statue it’s just walled off, a dead end.” Unobserved, he dug around in his pouch and retrieved his Hag’s Eye. He held it in front of the divot, but it clearly wouldn’t fit.

“It can’t be that simple,” Three said, stopping Sifer who was reaching toward the closest green gem.

“Do we not have a gem that is green amongst our existing hoard?” Eli suggested.

“We have emeralds,” Idris confirmed. “Does the divot look like it would fit the wall gems?” he called to Marko.

“They’re all different sizes, so probably?” Marko said, looking but not touching the nearby gems.

“We could spend forever looking for the right one,” Eli said, “And the moment we pull one off the room will be flooded and we’ll all die.”

“Why don’t we just put our own emerald in and see what happens,” Idris said to general agreement. He floated it into the divot and released it. It toppled out onto the floor with a tink.

“So what we need to do is measure the divot,” Sifer suggested. “Then go up and down the hall until we find a match.”

“Mister Marko do you have divot callipers with you?”

“I’m not a jeweller,” Marko shrugged, “But the space is very precise, with angles and a definite shape.”

Idris had an idea. He stepped forward and retrieved a sheet of parchment, laying inside the divot and pressing it to the shape. He then ran charcoal over the paper to produce an outline of the required gem. He handed the sheet to Uthar, then repeated the procedure for Eli. Both the set about working down the wall, ably assisted by the team. Sifer added a nuance, jimmying up some sticks and string to approximate a holder for the stone.

After a quarter hour of searching, Uthar felt himself getting gem-eyed, the brilliance dimming the more he looked. Then he stopped: a bright green gem, partially hidden behind several others, caught his eye. He overlaid the parchment tracing, careful not to disturb the nearby gems. “I might have one,” he called. “Someone come and have a look?”

Marko hustled over and crouched, looking closely. Eli knelt to provide a knee for Marko to sit upon, which the master thief declined graciously. “Not necessary, but thank you. I agree with Uthar—this is definitely a candidate.”

“Has anyone else found anything close?” Uthar asked.

With his jury-rigged template Sifer had come close, but once he saw Uthar’s he felt certain it was the one. He placed his contraption over the gem and it was a very close match. “This is better than the ones I’ve found. I reckon we should do it.”

“I think it’s probably best for me to do this, again,” Uthar sighed. Sifer retreated to the door, getting as far from the statue as possible. As he waited the door suddenly started to close. He breathed a sigh of relief when it caught on the pitons and stayed open. “Time is of the essence,” he warned.

“Idris: come to the doorway and prepare to make a portal,” Eli ordered. “If that wave goes off, get us out of here.”

Idris paused, then nodded. “That’s a…good idea, Eli,” he admitted.

Uthar put his hand close to the gem, got the nod from the company, and attempted to remove it. He was surprised when it loosened with relative ease, clicking free from the wall with a gentle clunk. He glanced up and down the corridor with trepidation, but nothing had changed.

“Check the tracing!” Sifer hissed. Uthar did so and gave a short nod: he was even more certain now. He walked to the statue and with a deep breath, slotted the emerald into the divot. It was a perfect fit, snapping into the framework with a magnetic attraction: click.

Behind the statue a door slid into the floor, revealing a larger chamber beyond.

“Yay! The fifth room!” Three said wryly.

Eli moved quickly to the doorway, looking ahead and paling. “Snakes,” he said shakily. “Big snakes.” On the opposite wall were two alcoves, within which stood statues of giant jade-scaled cobras. On the facing walls were similar statues, but these serpents were skeletal. He poked a head inside and quickly jerked it back. “There’s an armoured, sword-wielding six-armed statue,” he quivered, “Female above and serpent below.” He described the other statues and withdrew.

Marko’s ear pricked up. “A girl did you say?” He stepped into the room (having cleared the entrance of traps) and smiled. She was very attractive. And, suddenly, she was very alive! Her eyes glowed with white light, raising her scimitar wielding arms.

An armoured woman with six arms wields a scimitar in each. Her lower half is a huge green python

“Hey gorgeous,” Marko beamed.

“WHAT ISSSSS YOUR OFFERING?” the woman hissed.

“Gold is always good,” Eli whispered quickly.

Marko waved Eli off and bowed. “I offer you an introduction to who I am, and what I represent, my lady.” He reached his hand out to take hers to kiss.

Eli groaned and Three shook his head, expecting fangs.

The skeletal cobra in the near wall shuddered to life, sliding toward Marko as the woman loomed closer over him. “WHAT ISSSSSS YOURRRR OFFERRING??”

“I don’t think a ‘how do you do’ is going to do it,” Eli advised. “What about your boat?”

“No! We might need that again,” Marko snapped. “That thing save you all.”

“He’s right, it did capture a piece of the rod,” Idris conceded.

Marko turned back to the six-armed vision. “My offer is my gratitude for helping us pass this room,” he tried. In the alcove, one of the jade serpents materialised and slithered forward. All of the woman’s six blades lifted, preparing to strike. “LASSSSST CHANCE.”

“Stop talking Marko!” Sifer called.

Eli, desperate now, slipped his Alchemy Jug into Marko’s hands. “Offer her this!”

Marko sensing perhaps he had pushed his luck far enough, took the jug and offered it, head bowed. His hands shook ever so slightly. The snake-woman lowered her arms, momentarily hesitating…then the second skeletal serpent shifted into life.

Eli saw only one chance. He quickly pulled out his folding boat, great treasure that it was. So many days spent upon it, toiling over a catch to see his Hinfolk through the harsh winters, or strengthening his physique to meet the challenges of his masters. Even, he thought wistfully, the never realised promise of exploring far lands with a fair lass by his side. Regretfully, but determinedly, he held it forth. “Offer her this.”

Before Marko could take it, Idris jumped forward and snatched it from his grasp. “I wasn’t offering it to you!” Eli cried, but it was too late. Idris stepped boldly into the room, horrified as the size of the skeletal and jade snakes, let alone the six-armed fury that leered over a quivering Marko.

“Might guardian of this tomb, and master of these serpents,” Idris said with practiced grace, “We humbly offer you this wonderous vessel.”

Again the woman’s arms dropped to a less martial stance, but Idris saw they almost immediately started to lift again, the razor-edged scimitars glinting in the green half-light as the final cobra shook itself alive.

Idris realised he needed to show something more. With a quick command, he grew the boat to mid-size, then shrunk it again so it lay in the palm of his hand, which he lifted with a flourish as he dropped his head respectfully.

There was silence. He lifted his head slowly to see the woman sheathing two swords over her back. She reached with her now free hands and took both the Jug and the Boat. “IT ISSSSSS ENOUGH.” She retreated to her position, as did the other four, and suddenly all four were once again inert stone.

Idris breathed a sigh of relief, clapping Marko on the back.

“Nice work!” Sifer called.

“That would have been tough,” Uthar agreed.

Eli looked happy if slightly put out. Two treasured items gone in a flash.

Three noticed and put an arm on his shoulder. “That’s not a bad deal,” he said. Eli wasn’t sure if he was being comforted or teased.

Marko stood in front of the statue. “Good looking girl,” he observed keenly.

“She was twenty-feet tall and had six arms!” Eli said incredulously.

“Bit too tall, you’re right,” Marko agreed.

“Get the hammers boys,” Three joked as he looked around the stationary stone snakes. Did they move?

“Mister Marko can you check the next passage,” Three asked. “If I was a devil I’d put a trap there after we all relaxed.”

“It’s clear,” Marko said, a little surprised.

Uthar led the way around the corner to find another short hall. Eight niches were built into these walls, each containing a musical instrument: a lute, a lyre, a viol, a flute, a drum, a dulcimer, a shawm, and a horn. At the end of the hallway was a double door emblazoned with two theatre masks—one elated and one despairing.

“Time to get the band back together,” Eli joked.

Marko saw the flute and grinned: he thought himself a dab hand at the ol’ flute. As he stepped into the alcove, all of the instruments started to glow a rich purple. They began playing, filling the hall with a terrible discordant din. Eli ran into the hall and grabbed the lute, pressing his hand over the strings to halt it from sounding any further. Everyone clapped their hands over their ears trying to block the ‘melody’, and most mostly succeeded, only Marko, being nearest, collapsing to his knees in agony. As quickly as they had started, the instruments fell silent.

“Fixed it,” Eli declared, not truly sure if it was him or chance. He grabbed the horn and stuffed a handkerchief into the mouth, then grabbed the drumsticks to mute the drum. He glared around to see if anyone was following suit (they weren’t). With a scowl he sliced the strings on the harp, disappointed when they reattached an instant later.

Uthar approached the doors, noting the mouth of both masks was open wide…wide enough to stick an arm inside. “Oh no,” he groaned. He looked above the masks and saw a thin script above: Pay the toll, in blood or song. “Guys?” he called, pointing.

“I choose song,” Eli declared.

Marko agreed. He puffed and flubbered his lips, and lifted the flute to his mouth. The sound that emitted made him drop it in an instant. Marko was confused, and pained: he knew how to play a flute well enough? What happened? He felt sick to his stomach.

Uthar’s attempt on the violin was even worse: the hideous cat-scratching bellow causing everyone turn involuntarily away to try and escape. Uthar found himself bent over clutching his stomach.

“Let’s do something acapella boys,” Eli suggested, as Three threw out a mass heal to bring everyone back to an equilibrium.

Before anyone could stop him, Eli stepped to the sorrowful mask and shoved his left arm inside. Nothing happened. He groped around and found something dried and gross. When he withdrew his arm he held a wasted, shrivelled, humanoid hand.

“Three? Perhaps try the other one.”

Three jammed his left hand into the smiling mask. Again, nothing changed. He reached around inside to search for a handle but it appeared to be empty.

With a grim smile, Eli put a hand on Three’s left shoulder, holding it so Three couldn’t pull it out, held his gaze and put his arm back inside the frowning mask.

Both masks clamped down. “Sweet brother!” Eli said through gritted teeth as Three sweated his own bullets but didn’t make a sound. A moment later the mouths released their grip and both doors popped open.

The company moved into what was clearly a library. Shelves filled with tomes and scrolls lined the walls of the expansive chamber, and five stone statues depicting skeletal warriors stood sentinel throughout the room. Two closed doors stood along the south wall, and a corridor led to the east.

As Sifer hopped atop the middle shelves, Three ran his eye over the books spines. “A lot of books about vivisection, reanimation, automatons,” he said warily.

“Automatons? More Eberron nonsense?” Eli said, memories of that dire—and glorious—time flooding his memory.

“Necromancy,” Three continued, “Creating life and destroying life.”

“Bringing to life these five statues,” Sifer warned.

Eli shrugged. “Let’s get Marko to open one of these doors.”

Marko checked, finding the first door locked. He unlocked it with ease. Inside was a pitch black nothingness. No light penetrated, and even Idris could see nothing within: not how large, not what lay within, nothing. The second door opened to a mirror of the first. “Any more arrows?” Marko asked.

Eli laughed at Marko’s chutzpah and handed him a quarrel. Marko thrust it inside, seeing it vanish as it crossed the darkness threshold. But it didn’t shudder, like the earlier one, and when he withdrew it it was still whole.

“Try the ten-foot pole, Brother,” Eli suggested.

Marko extended his magical pole to full length and started tapping the floor within. After five feet he felt a familiar shudder, causing him to withdraw it quickly. He gasped to see it shaved clean, just like the arrow earlier. “Oh my god my pole,” he groaned.

“Shit. Your usefulness is done without that pole, Mister Marko,” Eli said ruefully.

“Can I suggest,” Sifer called from above, “That if any of these guardians wake up that’s where they’re going.”

“Should we try a dispel?” Three said.

“Not straight away,” Uthar said.

“There’s a corridor to the side,” Eli said, “These rooms can’t be the way.”

“No—but there is a reason they’re here,” Idris said. “Start with the basics.” He cast light onto a copper and tossed it inside. Just like the skull mouth it vanished.

Eli wandered to the corridor and hesitated when he reached half-way. “There’s some weird shit down here guys,” he said softly, “Like waaay too much weird shit for you to be throwing coins into those rooms!”

With a sigh Idris followed Eli and also stopped suddenly. “Oh. Oh, you’re right, Eli.”

A dull roar filled a hexagonal chamber that lay ahead. A bridge consisting of engraved, coloured limestone tiles stretched to a far ledge, leading over pitch-black vortex of energy that churned sixty-feet below. Each tile bore a glowing symbol that throbbed slowly.

“Those symbols are the schools of magic,” Idris said with surprise. “There’s eight total.”

Eli did a quick count. “Eight, you’re right.”

“There’s not an equal number of each school though. We could try casting a test cantrip of the same school on one of the tiles to see what it does?”

“It might solidify it,” Three agreed.

“But we won’t have a cantrip for every school, will we?” Eli asked.

“Between us all we might, though I suspect we would have to use some higher powered spells too,” Idris said.

Sifer turned his back and walked back to the library, wondering why, out of all his literate companions, no-one had examined the books in any detail.

As if reading Sifer’s mind, Idris sighed. “There’s also a small chance there’s something in one of the several hundred books in the library that might give us an indication.”

Eli saw a chance to be useful and walked back into the library, watched over carefully by Sifer. He started along the central rows, searching for something specific to the magic schools. It didn’t take long to find a tome dedicated to Evocation: Wands and Roses: An Appetite for Destruction. He grinned and pulled it from the shelf. As he did the statue directly behind him sprung into life, swinging an iron fist.

But there was no surprising Eli. He spun in an instant and cracked his fist into the stone chest, sending a ripple of fractures and stunning it in place. He drew his sword and crashed it down, then followed up with a flurry of blows from every available appendage. The statue was shattering under his relentless attacks. Eli stepped back to allow Sifer to join the fray from afar, releasing a shower of arrows that just about broke the guardian. With a nod to Sifer, Eli stepped forward and finished the job: his fists reducing the golem to chunks of basalt. It was such a release to finally be using his innate strength that Eli continued the job until all that remained was a pile of rubble.

Sifer watched with amusement, walking forward and picking up the book as Eli continued on relentlessly. He walked it back to the room and handed it to Uthar. “Evocation,” Uthar noted with a nod. “We’re just about to try something with that.”

Idris and Three had agreed on the plan to test the magic schools. Idris fired a Firebolt into the closest Evocation tile. The fire exploded as expected, but the tile didn’t change and nor did anything obvious trigger.

“One more idea,” Uthar said. He stepped forward and tossed the book onto the red eyed (and now slightly heated) Evocation tile. It landed with a thud, dropping open and stable on the tile, but nothing more happened.

“At least we know the tiles are solid,” Three noted.

“Solid if you’re a book,” Idris added.

Bridgerton

“No-one has tried stepping on any tile yet,” Uthar noted. “Maybe that causes a disaster, we just don’t know. This is the thing to solve.”

“Why don’t we put a coin or something on the same tile the book is on?” Three said. When there were no protests, he did so. The coin plinked down and rolled to a stop. “So it’s not only the book.”

“I’m pretty sure I could run around the walls without falling,” Eli mused.

“Don’t we have a small flying guy with a long stick?” Sifer said, drawing a growl from Marko who was still mourning his ruined rod.

“I don’t think it’s about flying,” Three said. “You get the idea that void is where you’ll end up if you make any mistake. Do you see how there’s always one row without a repeating colour?”

Eli nodded, impressed at Three’s observational skill.

“Oh so you’re saying we could walk up the side because there’s an invisible row?” Sifer smirked.

“Sure, let’s see you do it,” Three said wryly.

“What’s on the front row?” Eli said, starting from the start.

“Illusion, Evocation, that’s Enchantment,” Idris said pointing, “This is Divination and this is Transmutation.”

“Ten rows, five tiles in each,” Eli nodded, not sure why that mattered.

“We could try tying a rope around someone so they don’t fall to their doom,” Uthar suggested, “And that someone could try standing on one of the first tiles. We might learn something, and if it was bad we could probably survive it.”

“I think that’s a bad idea,” Sifer said, “We’ve seen various items get sheared off, so a rope is not going to survive.”

“Let try my pole over the edge first,” Marko said. “We’ll see if that void really is 60 feet below.” He tied a rope and tossed it to Uthar, pulling it taut, then dipped the pole. Nothing happened: there was no pull, and the rod didn’t touch anything. He dropped a copper and it fell the full distance before vanishing into the swirling vortex.

“Well we’ve established the laws of gravity work,” Sifer observed.

“How thick are the tiles, Marko?” Idris asked.

Marko knelt along the eyeline and squinted. “Almost no thickness, it’s as if they exist only in one plane.”

Eli had an idea. “If you keep the rope taut, Marko and Uthar, then fly out over either the Illusion or Divination tile, just a little, and see if the tile disappears beneath you. We’ll be able to pull you in before you get too deep in the hole.”

Marko nodded. “I’ll go a foot over, no more, Uthar can pull me back in a heartbeat.”

Sifer rolled his eyes. “Yes, there’ll be no problem, no problem at all.”

Marko gave Uthar a nod and floated five feet above the Evocation tile. As he crossed the threshold he felt himself plummeting, as if his powers of flight had suddenly been banished. He flapped his hands wildly as Uthar, at the last second, jerked the rope. Marko crashed into the stonework, safe but winded.

“Well we still don’t know about the tile safety,” Eli frowned. “There’s nothing to stop us trying this again, maybe me this time to give Marko a break. I’ll just touch my toe to the tile.”

“I think we should do some toe touching, yes,” Uthar agreed.

“This doesn’t seem like the intellectual way to get across,” Three laughed. “There would be an elegant solution to this that we’re missing.”

“Maybe we should read a few books from the library?” Sifer said, jerking his thumb. “I think the solution is behind us.”

“You do gotta wonder what the library is all about and I think you’re probably right,” Eli agreed, “But Marko if you can tie that rope around me, and Uthar if you’d like to brace yourself back in the doorway?”

“Can I get some help,” Uthar said, “Eli is not a lightweight like Marko.” Sifer sighed but did as asked.

Marko chose to take that the right way, and once everything was in place Eli stood carefully before the Divination tile. He planted his heel firmly on the stonework, then eased his toes toward the glowing symbol. The instant he touched the tile shattered and Eli was bodily yanked down toward the void.

Sifer and Uthar were ready, but the power of the pull was so strong they felt that they too would plummet if they held firm. But there was no choice: Eli was doomed if they let go. With an almighty effort they both managed to maintain their position. As Idris leapt over and added his strength to the rope team, Eli crashed into the wall below the ledge. He frantically tried to find a handhold but the surface was sheer.

“The rope is fraying on the edge!” Marko yelled. Even Three joined the effort, heaving for Eli’s life. Just as the rope sheared and snapped Eli came flying over the threshold, grabbing the edge with his fingertips and pulling himself to safety.

“Never in doubt,” Uthar panted.

“Eli, want to try that with Evocation next?” Sifer said, hands on his thighs as he sucked in air.

“That was a hell of a thing,” Eli said climbing to his feet, glancing back at the now missing tile.

“Did you see anything?” Three asked.

“I fear we’re a long way from the grace of God,” Eli said solemnly.

“I agree with that,” Three nodded.

“I’m going to cast a Magic Missile into the Evocation tiles and see if it does anything,” Idris said once everyone had recovered.

“Hold on, hold on,” Sifer said, “Have we thrown a book on any of the other tiles? All we’ve done is verify that the Evocation one is solid for non-organics, and for a book on the same subject from the Library. We haven’t checked with an inanimate object on any of the others.”

“It does seem like the puzzle is that we’ve got to get enough books,” Three said. “And fight all the gargoyles.”

“There’s only five guardians and there’s eight schools of magic,” Eli observed.

“Ten rows, and five to defeat,” Sifer said. “So we could leap two tiles at a time. We just don’t know how it works and which tiles to choose.”

“Sure, the books might not fall,” Idris said, “But it doesn’t resolve the issue that when we step onto it we fall through.”

“We could try stepping onto the books?” Three said.

Uthar nodded. “It might have worked. We actually don’t know that it didn’t work.”

“Let’s throw a coin onto anything other than Evocation,” Eli said, “As a start.”

“That’s not the lesson,” Three frowned. “The lesson is that the book solution might have been correct!”

“We won’t know until we throw a coin onto another tile!” Eli turned and did so, tossing it to the closest Enchantment tile. The coin landed safely with a gentle tink. “Ok. So who wants to put their foot on the red Evocation tile?”

“You, Eli,” Three said patiently, “Step onto the book with all of us on the rope. You either go into a void or it works.”

“The thing I like about that plan is ‘Eli’,” Sifer smirked.

“We could try getting another book?” Uthar said, not keen to see Eli dead.

“Don’t do that by yourself Uthar!” Eli warned. “Those golems are strong.”

Idris had heard enough. Whilst the others went in circles, he lifted a finger and three magic missiles streaked into three different Evocation tiles. They struck hard and true, the tiny blasts reverberating around the chamber. Nothing more happened, the book on the nearest tile only slightly charred. There were no scorch marks left on the tiles itself.

Uthar was struck by a sudden thought. A thought that, had he known at the time, more-or-less solved the puzzle. “What about firing the same but into not those three tiles? Three non-Evocation tiles”

“I could try,” Idris said, slowing grasping Uthar’s point.

“We’re getting all positives: an Evocation book on and Evocation tile, and Evocation spell into an Evocation tile,” Uthar continued. “What happens if we put an Evocation book onto another tile? Or cast an Evocation spell into another? Have we by pure chance immediately done the right thing and therefore we are confusing ourselves?”

“That could well be the case,” Eli agreed. “Idris can pick up that book again with his magic hand.”

Before anyone could act on this suggestion, Sifer called from the library: “No need, there are a lot of books right here!”

And the crucial moment was lost.

“These statues weren’t particularly difficult to defeat?” Idris said staring at one.

“Eli and I made short work of it,” Sifer shrugged.

“Perhaps you have to defeat all of them and then the bridge unlocks,” Uthar suggested, trying to keep his insight streak going.

“Maybe. I’m just confused about the number five versus the ten rows and eight schools,” Eli said.

“It could be completely non-linear,” Sifer said, hinting to an education hitherto hidden. “I want to solve this room first. I want to pick up another Evocation book.”

“We already have!” Three protested.

“I already took one from here!” Eli added.

“Listen to me before you argue. I want to pick up an Evocation book to see if that animates another statue. Because if it does then they’re not linked to schools.”

“Ohhhh, I see,” Eli conceded. “Ok!”

The company set about scanning the shelves, careful not to touch any. Marko stumbled upon a set of engraved copper sheets, bound with a ring, set amongst the more regular tomes, and Idris found a leather journal that stood out. Eli was the first to find another Evocation book.

“Let’s decide which to pull,” Eli said, “Then gather around the nearest statue.”

“Eli’s makes sense,” Idris said, “But if we want to see if something other than more-of-the-same works, Marko and I found something unusual, particularly Marko. Let’s go with that first to see what happens.”

Everyone agreed, until. “I think we should go with the Evocation book first,” Sifer said, crossing his arms.

“But Idris is thinking maybe this won’t trigger because it’s not a book,” Three said.

“But at the same time we came in here specifically to find more Evocation.”

“We’re going to have to fight all of them anyway, most likely,” Idris said, overruling Sifer.

The company prepared spells and weaponry, gathering around Marko ready to target any statue that might spring to life. With a short nod, Marko slipped the copper sheets from the shelving.

The nearest statue rumbled and swung a heavy fist at Marko, which he dodged with ease. Unfortunately for the statue that was the last action it took after finally awakening from its long rest. Uther, Sifer, Marko, half-shattered it, then Eli stun-locked it allowing the company to finish it off.

Marko wiped his hands and held the plate aloft. Each was engraved with glyphs that no-one could read, and the copper was oxidising with exposure and age.

Five oxidising copper sheets engraved with runes

“As luck, or good planning, would have it, I have a way of reading this,” Idris grinned. He cast a quick spell and the secrets of the ‘book’ started to reveal themselves. It was still a struggle given the complexity, but slowly he saw what he held. “A magical tome…that may relate to fortitude. Bodily health and the like. I think with enough study it may lead to permanent improvements.”

“So are we going to do the Evocation book?” Sifer said, unimpressed.

“Sure,” Idris shrugged, then: “Although I did find something else of interest, outside the radius of a golem.”

“True,” Sifer nodded, “But if you wanted to check you would do it near a golem. Else you are not proving anything.”

Idris couldn’t be bothered unravelling Sifer’s logic, so he just pulled the thin, leather-bound journal free. Another statue sprang into action. “It’s not proximity!” he cried. Escaping Eli’s stun seemed impossible for the stone dolts, so it too was dead before it could do anything of note.

The journal contained notes written in a scratchy hand, and Idris’s eyes widened as he scanned it. “Some of this seems to reference this very tomb,” he said. “Give me ten minutes.”

Ten minutes later Idris lifted his eyes. “It is full of sketches of tombs, complications and ideas for traps, some of which we have encountered here, some from the Tomb of Horrors,” he explained. “But most interesting is a note that simply says ‘Belvedere’. And underneath it a single word: ‘Die’. In draconic.”

“That sounds…dire,” Eli said, straight-faced. “Is that face that it’s in draconic important?”

“Well this place was dedicated to Tiamat,” Three said.

“But is he writing that so only a Tiamat worshipper can read it?”

“It just says ‘Die’,” Idris shrugged.

“So there could have, or could be, a trap that just annihilates all of us,” Eli said.

“I’m pretty sure that vortex below the bridge will do that,” Idris observed.

“Or it’s the school of playful, if deadly, traps,” Three mused. “The idea that you could get through. You could trick the devil.”

“Gentlemen let’s pull the other book,” Sifer said, tiring of the speculation. There was a job to do and it should be done.

Eli lifted out the Evocation book. A statue unfroze. It was killed.

“That’s two Evocation books, so it’s not the school, and it’s not proximity,” Idris said looking around. “There’s only one statue left, shall we?”

“Pick a school,” Sifer grinned.

This golem managed two swings. One missed wildly. The second almost sunk Marko through the stone floor. But that was all she wrong; it joined its fellows as rubble moments later as Idris sent a missile into its chest thought a hole left by Three.

“Take a book of each school,” Eli suggested now the library was safe.

“Take multiple of each,” Idris added. “We’re going to need them if this is in fact the solution.”

“I found this,” Three said holding a scroll aloft. “A scroll of Greater Restoration. I’ll keep it for when we will inevitably need it.”

The company stood afront the bridge, a healthy pile of books nearby.

Uthar picked up an Evocation book, and, recalling his earlier idea, lined it up with an Illusion tile. It landed with a gentle thunk. “Oh my god,” Uthar groaned.

“The only thing we’ve got left,” Eli said, “Is to tread onto the Evocation tile that we put the Evocation book on. But the chances of saving anyone that gets sucked down when that goes down is almost zero.”

“Not if we secure the ropes to something that can’t easily be moved,” Sifer suggested. “Something big and heavy.”

The only candidate was the plinths on which the statues had once stood. “Tie the rope around these,” Idris directed.

Sifer added a safety mechanism, placing books at the sharp corners of the plinth and the edge of the bridge where the ropes might fray, offering a silent apology to the librarians of his youth.

When all was prepared, Eli stood in front of the original Evocation tile. The book lay as it had, and the swirling void beckoned below. He laid a new Evocation book half on the tile and half on the stone ledge.

“Turns out you’re gambling anyway,” Sifer smirked.

Eli took a deep breath, tested the rope, and stepped one foot atop the book atop the tile. All remained stable, so with a last look at his companions he took the second step.

Everyone released a deep sigh of relief. Eli was safe!

Before everyone got too congratulatory, Sifer made a suggestion. “Now that we’ve associated books and magic schools, do we want to test that theory out with a completely different school?”

“No. We make a footpath of solid book,” Idris said sternly.

“Give me a Transmutation book,” Eli said reaching back. He dropped the book onto the matching tile in the second row and it flopped safely down. “Everybody ready?” He stepped forward, feeling his weight carefully. One foot. Another foot. Success! Eli was now ten-feet across the room over the vortex.

Everyone relaxed. It was a marvel! A rapid sorting of books into schools started while Eli determined his next move. “We should give this sorting system a name,” Idris grinned, “I was imprisoned with a Gith named Dewey, a good man who didn’t make it—might be a nice tribute.”

“Pass me a couple more Evocation books,” Eli called with excitement, filling the tile behind him to ensure safe coverage. He did the same for the Transmutation tile, then called for Divination. He laid them on the tile ahead, ready to take the next step forward. “Let’s not get sloppy people,” he noted as he stepped ahead.

The tile shattered and Eli was gone in a blink. Unfortunately his warning had gone mostly unheeded such was the company’s relaxed confidence in the solution. Sifer alone had remained alert, but such was the force of vortex that he had no chance. The rope sliced on the edge of the precipice, the book buffer standing no chance, as Eli’s cry rang out.

“No,” Uthar whispered, the rope slack in his hand.

Moments later it was cut short.

“Oh no, what?” Marko gasped in shock. Eli was—

Moments later Eli appeared on the edge of the chasm in front of the company, a puddle of bruised limbs pained grunts.

For a moment no-one moved. “Eli? What happened?” Idris said, eyes wide.

Eli’s heart was racing. He didn’t know what had happened, but he was alive.

Seeing Eli needed time, Idris turned to the company. “I know what caused that.”

“We’d wrecked that school earlier,” Sifer said.

“Exactly. So no Divination tiles are viable, but the others still are,” Idris said seeing the Evocation and Transmutation books were still secure. “My turn.” He walked out to the second row with three Conjuration books tucked under his arm. He laid them down in the third row to cover the matching tile then stepped confidently ahead.

And fell.

Idris appeared almost atop Eli, who rolled out of the way in the nick of time. He stood, holding his aching ribs. “I can tell you what about the void,” he grunted. “You drop the sixty feet and then it feels like you’re being crushed by magic.”

“What’s happening here,” Sifer wondered, bemused as Three cast a wave of healing over the group.

“My theory is you can’t go sideways,” Eli said with a grateful nod to Three. “Only one tile per row.”

Sifer had collected a handful of books, and without warning strode out onto the bridge, following Eli’s path of safety. He stood before the third row and leant over to place a Transmutation book on the diagonal tile ahead. Without hesitating he stepped onto it.

And grinned. He laid two more to fill the tile, then laid an Evocation on the fourth row. He stepped forward.

“There is a path,” Three said with growing wonder, “Just via Evocation and Transmutation!”

Sifer continued, laying his last two books, before turning back with a wide smile. “More books, gentlemen!”

“Watch the tricky patch ahead,” Uthar warned, worried about an adjoining pair ahead.

Idris floated the required tomes and Sifer completed the path, taking the more dangerous of Uthar’s two paths to prove the point. With a dramatic flourish he stepped to the safety of the opposite ledge, turned and bowed.

Once the company was safely across, Sifer pointed out what he had discovered. The eastern wall was covered in a carved relief depicting a river of screaming souls flowing through a ravaged landscape. The wall bore a trio of concentric, rune-carved, platinum circles that could be rotated. At the circles’ centre was an engraving of a leering skull. “Our next puzzle,” he grinned.

“That’s draconic,” Uthar said quickly, “With the letters A to Z on each circle.”

Idris pulled out the library journal and flipped it open. “There’s only space for one letter at the meeting point, so it must be this.”

There could be no doubt, so Uthar rotated the dials to form the magic word: “Die,” he said as he finished, and the wall slid open to reveal a short corridor.

“So how many rooms left? None, right?” Eli sighed.

Uthar led the way, the company quickly stopping as they rounded bend in the corridor.

Sitting in the centre of a tangled rune in the room ahead was a hooded, slumped skeleton. Behind him, three tall glass cylinders lined the back wall of the dimly lit chamber, and a plain desk sat to one side.

“It’s not him again?” Three said softly.

“Acererak,” Idris breathed.

“There seems to be a decaying corpse in each of those cylinders,” Three warned. “Half-buried in white and red powder.”

“We’re talking about phylacteries here, surely,” Eli hissed. “So we should put some effort into smashing those.”

“Do you think we need to fight it?” Three worried.

As Three spoke those fateful words the skeleton lifted a bony head.

“Once more it begins,” it sighed, standing with rattle of bones and throwing back its hood to reveal eye sockets glittering with gems, one black, one red.

A skeleton robed in shredded cloth grins evilly, one eye smouldering the other glinting

Eli charged into the room, negotiation the last thing on his mind. As he drew close he had a moment to question his decision when he saw the insides of the skeleton appeared to be pure flame. “Prepare to die!” he cried, burying his sword. A flurry of follow up blows pummelled the skeleton back, but the heat was so intense he had to flinch back to withdraw his scorched hands. Marko took the opportunity to fire a nasty bowshot into the ribcage of the creature.

Idris stepped into the room, glancing at the cylinders with Eli’s warning in mind. He didn’t feel comfortably releasing whatever lay within, neither the inert bodies nor the powder. He turned instead to the skeleton and pointed an ached finger. A characteristic green beam pierced the chest of the undead horror, causing it to implode into nothingness.

Idris started to grin, before realising, a moment too late, it was a trap. The skeleton exploded outwards in an inferno of flame that flooded every crevice.

“He was a bomb,” Sifer groaned, wiping char from his armour.

Idris blinked and nodded, patting on the flame, noting everything else in the room was completely untouched.

“This is not over,” Eli warned coughing. “We had done far less to him than the golems when that happened. He’ll be back,” he added staring at the bodies in the cylinders, “So should we be smashing these things?”

“No!” Three cried, hurrying over. After a few moments careful study he turned. “These are not a phylactery,” he declared.

“The white crystals are snow, and the red is powdered ruby,” Idris realised after taking a closer look. “Both components for creating simulacra. Living copies of a wizard of no small ability.”

“Then we destroy them!” Eli cried.

“We don’t know what will happen if the glass is broken, Eli,” Idris warned.

“Are they dangerous? Do they pose a threat now that whatever that is is dead?” Three said nodding to the exploded skeleton.

Idris shook his head. “They’re not simulacrum yet. Let’s look around the rest of the room first.”

Sifer, who had been leaning on the desk during this exchange, turned his attention to searching it. It was bare, very simple, with four draws and a wooden chair.

“Don’t open those draws,” Three warned. “Mister Marko?”

“We don’t need Mister Marko to open desk draws,” Eli groaned. He scowled and went to stand by the cylinders which were clearly the greater threat.

Marko started toward the desk, raising an eyebrow as both Sifer and Three quickly vacated the room. “No traps,” he announced after a thorough check (Sifer and Three took a further step away). The top left draw was empty, as was the one below. The two draws on the right side were the same. He slid under the desk to search further and quickly saw what he was looking for. “There’s a false floor on the bottom right drawer,” his muffled voice reported.

He removed the other three to clear the way, making the falseness of the final draw more obvious. He tried accessing it from below, but it was too difficult and inaccessible. Instead he released the false lid from within the draw…without checking for traps.

Bolts of lightning struck out in all directions, shooting into those still in the room. “Look out!” Marko cried far too late. “Argh!” was the general consensus as the chaos dissipated.

“Is there anything inside, Marko, apart from the power of the Lord?” Eli said tiredly.

Marko reached inside and withdrew three objects: a rose-pink crystal ball the size of a grapefruit, an gold-embossed envelope, and a sheath of hand-written notes. “Who can read this?” Marko said holding out the papers.

“I will,” Three said scurrying back inside. He laughed softly as he quickly read. “These tell of Acererak’s endeavours to create empowered simulacra of himself to guard his tombs,” he said nodding toward the cylinders. “He speaks of his simulacra with disdain, viewing them as tools…and finds the fact they can develop sentience a sadistic joke.”

“That’s not him then,” Sifer said to the pile of charred bones.

“Well we kind of knew that,” Three shrugged. He took the crystal ball. “There must be something more to this than simply divination,” he muttered. “Why would Acererak just leave it here, it must have some purpose? Everything has two meanings in his tombs, as we know.” Despite his best attempts he couldn’t deduce any additional function, despite his intuition. “Further study required,” he sighed.

Marko spun the envelope. “Shall I open it?”

“Did you check it for touch poison?” Three said cautiously.

“Of course!” Marko said tossing it over, despite knowing he hadn’t. What were the chances?

Three split the seal. Inside was a stamped token that shimmered with the Dragon Queen’s five aspects, Windfall’s imprimatur on one side and Tiamat’s the other.

As Three held it aloft, the sigil in the centre of the room started to glow and pulse with arcane light. Uthar, who had been standing directly atop, vanished.

“Red!?” Idris cried.

“That’s gotta be the exit, right?” Eli said, rather less concerned. “And that’s our token to the Dragon’s Pride.”

“Windfall’s sign is the most out of character thing we’ve found down here,” Three agreed. He stepped into the circle and was gone. Idris followed swiftly, and soon everyone was gone.

The company found themselves once more in the lobby of the Red Belvedere, disoriented and sore.

“My, my, you have emerged intact, against all expectation!” a dread voice cried as Kaylan rushed over looking astonished. “Tell me: what’s it like in there?!”

“It was fun,” Marko grinned, wiping a stray drop of blood from his scorched face.

“It wasn’t that hard,” Eli agreed brushing himself down. “We have had worse.”

“Ha! Very good, sirs. And I think you will agree I told no lie: five rooms!”

“What I will say, Kaylan, is we can either cash in your reward now, or you and Eli can finish what he started.”

Kaylan snorted. “Well you all look a little the worse for wear, including young Eli, but, as I have stated, I am a man of my word and a man of honour.” He turned to Eli and smiled, a twinkle in his dead eyes. “Young man I believe we have a grudge to settle? Or—would you first like to visit the Dragon’s Pride and enjoy the fruits of your triumph?”

“Fruits sound good,” Marko said, suddenly realising just how weary and, more particularly, hungry he was.

“Fruits,” Idris nodded.

“I’m loving fruits,” Uthar agreed.

“I don’t intend to enjoy any fruits,” Eli scowled.

Kaylan laughed. “Well Mr Eli? What is your decision?”

Eli paused. He felt Sifer’s hand on his shoulder, a soft “Don’t” whispered in his ear. He turned to Idris. “We have to complete our mission, right?” he said through gritted teeth.

“Absolutely. That’s more important than anything,” Idris stared.

Eli turned back to Kaylan and met his amused gaze. “You’ll keep.”

Kaylan took a step back, raising a thespian hand to his heart in faux hurt. “Huh! I am surprised—rather a cowardly choice, young man.”

“You’re not wrong,” Eli said softly.

Musical Beds

“Windfall!” Kaylan called, “I have wonderful news—the five-room dungeon has been defeated!”

A buzz of gentle acclaim rose from those nearby as Windfall arrived in a flurry of flashing gold wings. “Defeated you say? I am thrilled! I was certain the Tomb would remain unchallenged for many a year!” She beamed at the company. “Are these my champions?”

“These are,” Kaylan nodded with a grin.

“But really Kaylan I am disappointed in you, letting it fall so easily. We’ll have to install some improvements.”

Kaylan scuffed his feet sulkily. “The Tomb wasn’t my idea, the maze was perfectly good,” he muttered.

Windfall paid him no mind, turning to the victors. “If you have indeed defeated the Tomb you must have the token?”

“Yes we do,” Three said, as Marko presented the envelope retrieved from the final room. Windfall examined it closely for a few moments, then zipped and spiralled through the air with excitement. “All is in order! You would not believe the trickery some attempt. It is my great pleasure to invite you to our exclusive lounge, the Dragon’s Pride!”

“Hopefully we can rest in the lounge?” Idris said, still feeling the ill effects of the skeleton-bomb.

“Of course—ask for Agnormy. Step forward and I will give you the mark that grants access. Who’s first?”

Marko lifted a hand. “Such soft fingers you have,” Windfall cooed. Marko blushed, but couldn’t resist running his fingers over her palm. “My, my, Mr Marko! You have intentions,” Windfall beamed. She pressed three fingers into the back of his hand and a moment later a brilliant tattoo appeared.

Marko held his hand up to examine the mark, gasping when he saw what it was: three enchanted dragon-claws shimmering through Tiamat’s colours and pulsing with her might.

“Beautiful, is it not? Windfall smiled widely, misinterpreting Marko’s horror. “Wear it with pride! Who’s next?”

Each of the company stepped dutifully forward, Eli requesting his in on the inside of his lower arm. The tattoo was quite spectacular and he figured it might be easier to hide this way.

“A mark of progress,” Sifer nodded admiring his work.

“A mark of damnation,” Eli corrected softly.

“Seeing as you are the first to defeat the Stygian Tomb,” Windfall said as the tattoo work concluded, “I would like to give you a little something extra.” She produced a small sack of talons and dropped it into Sifer’s waiting hand. “Spend it wisely,” she winked.

Windfall turned to hover over the dragon statue that dominated the room. “Now, allow me to open the way.” A moment later the statue shimmered to reveal a stone platform under the now translucent belly. “Enjoy, gentlemen, and I hope to see you soon. Very soon.”

The platform lowered into a small antechamber, walls made of smooth red stone that was slightly warm to the touch. Soft music, hard to follow and seemingly random, yet also sophisticated, drifted from behind a set of double doors.

“I’m a bit scared of that music,” Uthar admitted.

“Should I save my healing before we enter?” Three said.

“I’m not sure what you’re saving it for,” Sifer said. “We could walk through these doors and quickly lose two of our companions.”

“Kneel,” Three commanded, “And put your hand into the centre.” He too knelt and placed his hand over the joined circle. “Kelemvor,” he prayed, dragging the word from deep within. “Kelemvor,” he repeated, gasping now. “Kel-em-vor!” he groaned, sweat pouring from his brow. “KELEMVOR!!” he finished with a strangled cry, and as he did the blessing flowed from his every pore and into the company, who reeled in the received power.

“Wow,” Sifer muttered. “I’m glad to know you can do that.”

“He is giving you a gift,” Three said softly.

Idris pushed the doors open.

Lavish couches surrounded low tables in a dimly lit lounge, populated by devils and creatures of various kind who watched from the shadows you as the company entered, before returning to their distractions. At the centre of the room was a circular bar. Liquor bottles on shelves flashed colours in time with the music being made by invisible players, while a frost-blue devil poured drinks behind the bar. A pair of pit-fiends stood silent and grim by a pair of double doors to the south, and three more doorways led off to rooms off the main chamber.

At the bar a sharply dressed human with a goatee was regaling a pair of fiends with an outlandish story. “It was the greatest heist the Nine Hells have ever seen! Can you imagine: an angel’s crystal skull, the pride and joy of Qirozz’s collection, lifted from under her eyes at her very own ball!” The nearby devils laughed and raised their glasses.

“Welcome friends,” the barman called, “I am Oganath, at your service. What can I get you started with?”

“We were told there was a place we can rest?” Three said, not wanting to waste any time.

“Indeed there is,” Oganath pointed to the single door on the west side of the room. “'Rest for the Wicked', Agnormy should be able to help you.”

Three strode over, finding a pale-faced red-cloaked mage sitting at a small desk. “Rooms are 50 talons per night, or 10 by the hour,” he said without looking up from the ledger before him.

“Fifty?” Sifer gasped. He peered into the bag Windfall had provided, raising his eyebrows when he saw at least two (and maybe three) thousand talons.

“And how many can fit in a room?” Three pressed.

“Two your size,” Agnormy answered, then glanced at Uthar. “One and a half his. For how long?”

“One night,” Sifer declared.

“Three-hundred talons.”

“So you’re charging per person not per room?” Idris frowned.

“Yes.”

“Ohhh-kay.” That would never fly in Neverwinter, Idris grumbled to himself.

“Just pay the money, Sifer,” Three said.

Sifer scratched his head, pulling the bag of talons closed. Why should this pale fellow have all this? It’s mine, after all. “So…how much do we need to rest?” he asked.

Three frowned. “Well I need to.”

“So do I,” Uthar added.

“Give him the money, Sifer,” Eli growled.

“No, no, I mean—I don’t need to rest,” Sifer explained.

“Well I do!” Eli exclaimed.

“I understand. But I don’t.”

“Some of us do,” Uthar pressed. “Who has the money?”

“Sifer,” Idris said pointedly as he quickly checked his own stash of talons was safe.

“Let’s think about this though,” Sifer said. “Do we really all need to rest? It looks a lot safer down here.”

“I feel like I do,” Uthar repeated, voice slightly raised.

“Well maybe you could use the talons Idris holds?”

Idris frowned. “Sifer. The coins want you to hang on to them.”

“No that’s not right—”

“That is right,” Idris interrupted. “I know that for a fact. So what you’re saying is the coins have greater willpower than you do?”

Sifer flushed. “The coins do not control my will! I am in complete control. I just don’t need a rest.”

Eli sighed. “Sifer can you give me fifty so I can pay for my rest?”

“Me too,” Three said holding out his hand.

Sifer looked around. “Well. I think…I think that we just need to be careful…how quickly we spend them.”

“We don’t need them!” Eli scowled.

“If you would let me go and make more money in the gambling rooms,” Sifer said pointedly, “Then I’m sure we would have enough to spare.”

“Fifty. Now. Please.”

“Look, I understand, but what happens when you run out and want something more?”

“I need to sleep, Sifer,” Three hissed, “So give me my share now.”

Sifer hesitated. “That is true, we do need you to heal us…” He finally opened his pouch and reluctantly handed over…thirty talons. Marko, who held a few talons himself, added the missing twenty.

“Agnormy, does this happen all the time?” Three asked as he dumped the pile on the desk.

“Alllll the time,” he sighed. “First room on the left.”

Three nodded and walked through the small curtain into a chamber with a single bed and desk.

Sifer went to follow Three into the room, but Agnormy called after him. “Another fifty if there’s two.” Sifer smiled, waved, and ignored the advice. Inside Three was disrobing, causing Sifer to pale and almost faint when he saw the state of Three’s flesh.

“Ten seconds,” Agnormy called calmly.

“Sifer!” Eli cried, “We’re going to get killed if you don’t give him more money!”

Sifer rolled his eyes. “Ok, ok.” He traipsed back to the table, pulling the pouch free of his belt.

“Sifer—pay now,” Idris snarled. “I’m done! I don’t have time to watch you have a willpower battle with enchanted currency—it is ridiculous and you look ridiculous! Pay 300, or 250 if you want to go sit in the bar. But do it now!”

“Sifer please pay Agnormy as soon as you are able,” Eli said, trying his best to be as calm as Idris wasn’t. “Please, quickly now, so we can recover, thank you.”

Much to his surprise, and Idris’s pain, Sifer immediately handed over a tally of seventy or so talons. Play authority against authority, Sifer thought to himself smugly even as he winced at giving away so much.

“Uthar? This is for you,” Eli said passing the currency. Uthar dropped fifty in front of Agnormy, and a tardy 16 in a smaller pile nearby.

Sifer quickly approached and went to scoop the smaller tally into the pouch. As he did so, Marko scooted behind unnoticed, rent a small hole in the pouch, and drained every last coin. As Sifer swept the few talons, Marko somehow managed to pour an equal measure of gravel into the bag, leaving Sifer very pleased with himself as he hefted his bag of weighty valuables.

Marko immediately dropped the full count of talons onto Agnormy’s table. “Very good,” the pale wizard nodded. “Second and fourth rooms on your left, and last on your right. Some will need to share.”

“You take the bed,” Marko said kindly to Eli.

“Oh! I don’t normally use a bed,” Eli protested.

“It’s up to you, I’m comfortably anywhere.”

“I even find a wooden plank to be too comfortable.”

Marko raised an eyebrow. “Well in that case I’ll take the bed!”

After some further negotiation (mainly Sifer being rejected by everyone except Uthar, who was already asleep), the company bedded down and slept—Idris best of all, quietly pleased he still had his full measure of talons safely tucked away.

Well rested, the company rose to solve the next mystery: where was the Rod? Weary patrons, many having not moved, sat quietly in the bar.

“Aren’t they supposed to be gambling down here?” Eli asked Idris, “Isn’t the a high-roller’s lounge?”

“This is just the front bar,” Idris turning to the double doors at the far end of the room. “I suspect it’s through there.”

Uthar was circumnavigating the bar with Three, stopping when he reached an open door with a sign above: Enchanted Arcana. Inside the room beyond was an array of elegant jewellery and trinkets, and a sleek Rakshasa in shimmering teal robes say behind a glass counter.

“Please, please, come in! All are welcome—my name is Krysocol and I am at your service.”

“Does everyone make the joke about buying a blessed bolt?” Three smirked.

“Everyone does,” the Rakshasa smiled, “Alas I am all out. But I am honoured to receive you in my store. Of course most of what I have are merely trinkets and pretty stones—but I see you have a discerning eye, sir! I have something special that might just take your fancy…”

“I think my friends would also be interested in knowing your wares,” Three nodded as the company, less Eli, cautiously joined him.

“Well! Gather round, gather round. For you shall be the very first to see this collection! An exclusive preview—you have arrived at just the right moment.” Krysocol reached under the counter and drew forth a slim jewellery box, black velvet with a gold clasp. “Take great care—these are unique and precious items, all but invaluable.” With a flourish he released the clasp and threw the case open.

Inside lay four splendid specimens: two black jade pendants, a brass necklace hung with citrine spheres, and a purple ring studded with white diamonds.

“Now gentlemen: do any pique your interest?” Krysocol said with obvious pride.

“You would have to tell us of their utility,” Three said bluntly, despite his excitement at what were obviously powerful magic items.

“Well…where should I start?”

“How about that ring?”

“Ah! A very astute choice, sir—I was right to single you out!” Krysocol lifted the ring and held it to the light, fixing a platinum loupe to his eye. “Magnificent craftmanship, I think you will agree. Forged from the primordial power of the Astral Sea. For embedded in this ring you see before you are the stars themselves!”

“What does it do?” Marko grunted.

“What can it do? What can it not do! What can a ring which holds the power of the stars not do!” Krysocol enthused, then suddenly serious: “There is only one way to find out. Gentlemen of discernment like you know the way. And only 2000 talons.”

Marko pulled out his own eyepiece and held a hand out. “Of course sir, I can see you are a man of great education. Study it and see what you might find,” Krysocol said as he carefully placed the ring in Marko’s palm. It was obviously crafted with high magic, very valuable, and the finely etched motifs of the inner ring were indeed of tiny diamond stars glimmering and shooting through an obsidian backdrop.

“What else you got?” Marko said nonchalantly.

“What else?” Krysocol looked momentarily disappointed before perking up. He lifted the brass necklace and turned toward Uthar. “I think this necklace is made for you, good sir. A man of your stature, the tone of your skin—the gold against that chest of yours would look quite magnificent.”

Krysocol beamed as Uthar held out his hand. “Yes! Please, wear it, wear it, I beg you! I think once you have it you will be unable to resist!”

But Uthar did, in fact, resist, worried about just what might happen if he did don the admittedly gorgeous piece. Krysocol, sensing the hesitation, pressed: “Those spheres you see, pure citrine…could be very useful. But that is all I will say.”

Uthar studied the spheres, seeing swirling fire roil within, and each was warm to the touch. He muttered a few quick words to reveal the necklace shone with Evocation magic. Fireballs, he grinned. At the same time he noted the ring shone with a similar magic, and the pendants Abjuration.

“So how much is each item?” Three said.

“The ring is 2000, as mentioned. The necklace an even 1250, and each of the pendants 300. But of course I am open to offers…and a bundle deal, perhaps?” Krysocol grinned. He turned back to Marko. “I think I can intuit that someone of your…profession, may find those pendants rather useful.”

“An amazing collection,” Three nodded, “But we do need to explore the rest of this high-roller area before committing.”

“Of course, sir, of course—it is not an easy decision to make,” Krysocol smiled. “But be warned: we do have other customers and these goods I have never displayed until this very moment. This is the first viewing! If you don’t take them now I cannot guarantee they will be here upon your return…”

“Thank you,” Three nodded.

“And sir,” Krysocol said to Uthar, “I was right: the necklace suits you very well.”

“I see that,” Uthar said, “I have some interest, but we must finish some other work first.”

“I’ll be here!”

Outside, Eli was sitting stock still at a small table just outside Rest of the Wicked, his hands resting coldly. His eyes moved between each patron in the room, sizing them up, seeking their weakness, preparing his steeled approach.

“I’m a bit worried about Eli,” Three muttered.

“I know,” Uthar said anxiously.

“Particularly in this next room,” Three said indicating the next open doorway. Above it hung a sign, Virtuous Vices, and inside a topless devil with red-leather wings relaxed on a sofa. Fluffy clouds of steam billowed forth, redolent of ginger and citrus. Further inside were pools of steaming liquid, the nearest populated by another woman accompanied by a red-skinned male devil who appeared to be wearing nothing but chains.

“Gentlemen!” the woman toward the front smiled warmly, “You look like you are in need of something special—please step inside.”

Surprising everyone, Marko turned his back and walked to sit by Eli. “How rude,” he muttered.

Eli nodded firmly. “We have to get the next bit of the Rod, not a rub and tug,” he scowled.

“A what?”

Idris, meanwhile, had stepped into the spa, noting a long room that ended in a closed door.

“Ah, welcome to Virtuous Vices,” the closest woman said, standing. She was quite magnificent and her voice deeply soothing. “My name is Vitia and that is my sister Vertu,” she said waving toward her otherwise occupied companions. “Are you after something special?”

“Or something very special?” Vertu teased.

Idris drew in a sharp breath, tempted despite himself.

Noticing, Vitia grinned. “The Brimstone Springs await, the natural heat sure to melt away all of your worries. You can choose to bathe alone, or have one of our specialists accompany you.”

“She means me,” Vertu purred.

Idris took a deep breath. “Dear lady, I would like nothing more at this point than to take a bath in one of those enticing pools, but alas, I have business in the main room. But it is a pleasure to meet you.”

As Idris emerged, Marko took a leaf from Eli’s book. “Aren’t we here for the Rod? Why are you in there?”

“Yes, Idris. That’s not the ‘rod’ we’re looking for,” Eli scowled.

“It’s ok, Marko,” Idris assured, “We’re ready to go through there now,” he said pointing to the southern doors.

Marko leapt to his feet and hustled to the double doors. As he drew near, the Pit Fiend closest moved for the first time, its eyes shifting to follow Marko’s every move. Marko grinned and gave a thumbs up. “What’s behind this door, my friend?”

The hulking fiend didn’t react.

“He doesn’t have a tongue?” Eli whispered.

Three moved to stand beside the nearest patron, a black-leather clad devil idly tightening a whip. “Is this the way to the main room?”

The woman looked over her shoulder toward the Pit Fiend and shrugged. “Not my business.”

“We’re here to gamble and I heard there was a high-roller room. Is is through there?” Three pressed, showing his tattoo.

“No gambling that way, that I know of.”

“Then where is it?” Eli asked.

The devil pointed to the ceiling.

“It’s a lounge, not for gambling,” Idris guessed.

She nodded. “We come here to get away from all that.”

“Then what’s in there?” Three asked.

“As I said, not my business.”

“Then who’s business is it?” Marko insisted.

The devil simply stared, blank eyed.

“To hell with it, I’ll just open the door,” Marko sighed. As he reached for the lock, the Pit Fiend shook his head with definitive clarity.

Marko backed away. “Sorry.”

Three, seeing it was hopeless, shifted over to the bar. “Oganath? One ale, fit for a human.”

“I get the feeling you want something strong?” Oganath reached behind and reached up for a bottle full of a brown-green thick liquor. “This is a rare fungus wine, grown in the lightless caverns below Icewind Dale. Strong, a dark aftertaste, we call it Octavian’s Pleasure. Fifteen talons, but you won’t regret it.”

“Hit me!” Three grinned, overriding the talon hunger with only a little resentment. He swirled the festering drink, taking a deep smell and finding a rich, earthy delight. “Octavian!” he beamed, then drained the mug. It was stellar: potent and heavily brewed, unlike anything he had ever tasted. He wiped his mouth. “God bless the kobolds,” he sighed with satisfaction. “Look, Oganath, everyone talked about this place and I see why, but what’s through the doors? Or is that just the boss?”

Oganath nodded. “Windfall’s office. Only those she invites get inside.”

“And how do you get an invite? High rollers, or?”

He shrugged. “Well I’ve never been in there. Takes a smarter fella than me.”

“Does anyone but Windfall?”

“A dragonborn is the most frequent visitor, plus a few other odds and sods.”

Eli’s ears perked up. “Could we skin the dragonborn and wear his face as a mask?” he whispered to Sifer, who started awake, his rest having been less than thorough—he woke constantly to check his talons.

Three rejoined his companions. “It’s Windfall’s office.”

“Do we just fight our way in?” Eli asked.

“Look at the room,” Three said, “There are a lot of devils here.” It was indeed full of large, unpleasant, efficient looking killers.

“I’m not so sure,” Sifer said sizing up the room. “There are staff,” he said nodding to the Pit Fiends, “And there are patrons,” he indicated the rest of the room.

“Maybe we don’t need to get in there,” Idris said, not liking Sifer’s theory. “Let me check if the Rod is responding.”

“Idris, now is not the time,” Eli scolded.

Idris rolled his eyes, paused, then grinned. “Eli. The Rod points directly to that room.”

“Maybe we can tunnel through the walls of the hotel, or the baths,” Eli suggested.

“If we make a deal with the madam,” Uthar suggested.

“There’s only one deal she’ll make.”

“What’s the deal?” Sifer said, interested.

“It’s awkward,” Eli blushed.

“Leave it to me,” Sifer grinned. He waltzed into the spa and nodded to Vitia, who beamed in return. “I didn’t think it would take long for one of you to return, but that was quick. We have all sorts of treats ready for you, should you be willing.”

“Is this all there is?”

“Aren’t you overlooking something?” Vertu said, standing. Water trickled down her figure invitingly as a similarly well-adorned man stood dripping by her side.

Sifer raised…an eyebrow.

“You won’t find a nicer, more relaxing spa,” Vidia said. “These pools are pure brimstone heat, filtered through all the layers of Hell to arrive pristine and ready, just for you.”

“You don’t need to convince me, I’ve been in many an establishment,” Sifer said.

“Not one like this,” Vidia smiled. “We do have one special service. It’s called ‘Bili’s Reawakening’, a unique rejuvenating experience that takes the best part of three hours. 450 talons and worth every claw. A creature that partakes finds themselves with many benefits. The release is unprecedented.”

“Releases,” Vertu corrected with a lascivious smile.

“Three hours, you say?” Sifer said glancing back into the main bar and seeing his companions still scratching their heads and gesticulating. Only Three had moved, sitting back at the bar again. “They won’t miss me,” he grinned. “450 you say?” he said, plonking his sack on the counter.

As he opened it his face fell. His paltry sixteen talons sat atop a mound of gravel. Vidia raised an eyebrow as Sifer flushed. “I seem to have been swindled,” he mumbled, “I’ll be right back.”

He hustled over to the company and looked at Idris. “Since we were so keen to spend our money before, I need 450 talons.”

“I’ve only got 200.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sifer frowned, turning to Marko. “Mister Marko? You wouldn’t happen to have all that money on you would you?”

“What money?”

“The talons that were in my bag that you replaced with gravel,” Sifer growled. “Can I have 450 please?”

“What for?”

“I’m going to check out the closed room at the end of the spa pools. It may be a way into the office.”

“No. Those are not nice ladies,” Marko said shaking his head.

“What’s the problem? If you give me 450 I’ll go to the back room.”

“You need to check…the back door?” Idris smirked.

“This is what Hell does to people,” Eli sighed.

Sifer thrust out his hand. “Are you having trouble getting rid of them, Marko? Is it a battle of wills?” he sneered, looking at Idris.

“Is it worth 450 talons?” Marko asked Idris.

“It’s worth investigating. The talons are useless anywhere except here,” Idris shrugged.

Easy for him to say with his 200 safe, Marko thought bitterly.

“Listen Marko, the idea has merit,” Idris explained patiently. “We were given these talons for free. And as enticing as it is, I’m spoken for. So if Sifer wants to take the…hit, then I think he should be allowed to.”

“But I think they’re ladies of the night,” Marko whispered, barely audible.

Idris leant in. “He’s going to have sex with at least one of them.”

Marko went bright red.

Eli saw his chance. “Or, Mister Marko, we could sneak in, shut the door behind us, and kill everyone in there.”

Marko’s eye lit up.

“Marko. The money,” Idris demanded.

Marko gave up and handed it to Idris…who, for a moment, considered doing a runner with his 650…before handing it over to Sifer, who vanished happily into Virtuous Vices.

Three ordered another Octavian’s, enjoying it more slowly this time. As he mused he became aware of someone sitting beside him. He was surprised as he hadn’t heard him approach. A hood covered the face of a well-built, sinewy human, who tapped the bartop twice. Oganath reacted immediately, abandoning a cocktail mid-mix to attend to the shadowy newcomer. Three frowned—if he was not mistaken, and he rarely was, Ognath appeared nervous, and even scared.

Moments later he slid two pitchers of crystal-clear liquid in front of the stranger and Three, dipping a pincer in each to instantly semi-freeze the liquid.

“Baldur’s Water,” the stranger grunted, downing it. Three took a long draught, finding it was indeed water, but incredibly refreshing. He wiped his mouth and turned to the man…but he was gone.

Three looked around quickly, but couldn’t find the figure. He glanced to his companions, but it was clear none had noticed anything. Three turned back to Oganath but he too was suddenly busy with other things.

With a shrug Three finished his water.

Sifer’s time passed in a fug of extremes. He chose Vertu as his company, declining the offer of Gnar’s chains joining the session despite Vertu’s urging. The small room at the foot of the baths was revealed to be a sauna full of all manner of indescribable implements, and the heat therein was matched only by that generated by the ‘Awakening’.

For ten minutes Sifer did his best to search the room for hidden exits, and in those brief moments where he was able to control himself, he saw no obvious signs of exits. Vertu was soon to introduce him to exits he was hitherto unaware of.

In his dotage, Sifer’s mind would often turn back to those three hours. His carers knew better than to interrupt.

The company outside drifted into a kind of dull stupor as they waited for Sifer. Eli did his best to stay alert, certain that Sifer would soon emerge with actionable intelligence. Idris watched the patrons with interest, though they soon lost their lustre.

After an hour or so, something finally happened. A door to the office swung open, and Windfall emerged from within. She looked delighted upon spotting the company lounging. “My new friends! I trust you are enjoying yourselves—but one of you is missing?”

Idris raised a weary glass and gesticulated toward Virtuous Vices.

“Ah of course. I’m surprised more of you aren’t partaking in their particular pleasures,” Windfall shivered with alliterative pleasure.

“Tempting,” Idris conceded.

“Temptation is almost a motto at the Red Belvedere! Do you intend to stay long?”

“Maybe for a short time. To finish taking in all the sights.”

“Or spending your winnings, perhaps?”

“Well that’s not hard to do here, is it?” Idris smirked.

“We try to make it as easy as possible,” Windfall grinned. “You look well rested?”

“Yes…the rooms were a little small, but I understand the limitations of the environs we are in.”

“Speaking of which, tell me of the Stygian Tomb! A challenge? Are there improvements we should make? I was astonished you had defeated it so soon.”

Idris shrugged. “I can see that for many who would try the Tomb, they would enter and that would be the last anyone saw of them.”

“Well that was precisely the case in all previous attempts. However you gentlemen did return triumphant—albeit it a little worse for wear?”

“It was by no means without challenge.” Idris took a swig of his drink. “There are two observations I would make. First, there is cache with us having survived, as now you can prove to any potential customers that it is in fact doable.”

“That is true, we can now boast that some do survive, which should draw more interest.”

“But let’s just say that, by pure luck, we have had some experience with Acererak’s work in the past,” Idris smiled. “There are not many that can say that.”

“Have you indeed! I am fascinated.”

“Whether it was luck of fate, it probably helped us out a little,” Idris said, flipping his lucky coin idly.

Windfall tapped her nose knowingly. “Inside information, so to speak, from the great lich himself! Well played sir, well played indeed.”

Idris tipped his head in acknowledgement. “And how long have you been the proprietor here?”

“Oh years beyond count. I built this place you know,” Windfall beamed with obvious pride. “With a little help, but it was mostly me.”

“No small feat,” Idris said drinking a toast.

“And Tiamat is grateful for what I have done.”

“Ah. Due to the…implied veneration that goes with this place, I assume?”

“It is not implied, it is wholly dedicated to Her glory. Her champions appreciate my works and speak to Tiamat in my favour…I believe. You too should seek Her grace. Her fortune should fall upon all who choose to worship.”

Three detected a subtle need in Windfall’s declaration, almost as if her confidence regarding this favouritism needed some assurance. He glanced sidelong at Marko, wondering at his reaction to such a bald declaration, but the wise thief kept his counsel. “Windfall,” he said stepping toward her, “If someone, and I’m not saying all of us, but if some of us were interested in converting to the charms of your dragon queen, what would be the process?”

Windfall raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Oh! Now this is unexpected. I had tagged you as already committed, but I am very curious if you, and I sense it is you that you speak of, are tempted.”

“Well I am interested in spiritual realms. I am a scholar and priest of Kelemvor, but I am also interested in how I can effect the world more. And you seem to be implying that Tiamat may be more powerful than my current deity.”

“Kelemvor? He is a god, of course, and has his powers. But they are rather dull when compared to Tiamat. Her magnificence drowns out all others, the power of Her will, Her sheer beauty and grace. It is unmatched when compared to your colourless god. Tiamat offers something more, something special. I would talk to you at length, should you wish.”

“Do you have books, texts that would explain the tenets of the faith? I know only that Tiamat is the most powerful of dragons and her cult is extremely powerful,” Three enthused, laying it on. “But that is the limit of my learning.”

Windfall considered Three for a moment, and he did his best to hold his nerve. “I can see you are a serious man,” she said finally, and Three’s heart sank as he saw she had seen through his ruse. But he was surprised when she continued: “Despite that I can see that you are not serious about this ‘conversion’. You wish to obtain knowledge, am I correct?”

“Yes,” Three nodded slowly. “You are of course correct. When I reflect…I hunger for that I don’t know.”

“I would prefer honesty to duplicity,” Windfall said lightly.

“The person you should speak to is that guy,” Three said pointing to Idris. “If I had to put money on it, he of all of us would be the kind of person that could end up worshipping Tiamat. I won’t waste any more of your time.”

Before Idris could protest, Windfall fluttered down in front of Three. “You intrigue me. I did not dismiss you, I just asked for honesty. Come inside my office and I will quench your thirst as best I can. The more that know, the more Her word spreads.”

Three shivered with anticipation. It had worked! But he needed backup. “Can my friends come with me, or?”

“It is a personal invitation,” Windfall said, closing the door behind him.

Sifer’s personal invitation had blanked his mind. He was pure emotion. Pure light. Everything everywhere all at once. He cried out in either uncontrollable ecstasy or uncontrollable pain, he was not sure which.

“My turn,” Vertu grunted as she pulled Sifer off the burning pinions. “Beg!”

And Sifer, almost unconscious, begged.

Bookshelves lined the walls of Windfall’s study. A bed draped in plush linens was built into an alcove, across from which was a simple work desk covered in papers and books. Mounted on the back wall was the sculpted bust of a grinning red dragon.

Three took it all in quickly as Windfall engaged in a spirited discussion of Tiamat. She was very versed in the history and lore, and she spoke with religious fervour despite, or perhaps because of, her obviously superior intelligence. She was sharp and quick, but Tiamat was a weak point.

“And what exactly is entailed in conversion?” Three pressed.

“It is the same as any other,” Windfall said breezily. “A total commitment, which, depending on how far you wish to go, can involve some sacrifice. Generally of someone you know, perhaps love.”

“Of course,” Three said quickly, though somewhat shocked, “Though that wasn’t the way of Kelemvor. The problem might be that I am not sure my company would welcome a switch of that nature.”

“There are other ways—scarification, branding, dark rituals. She is a dragon. Giving up your every worth to Her is something she loves.”

“As you can see, my God has already asked much of me,” Three said, displaying his ruined face to the light.

Windfall was quiet for a moment. “I can see that. It is not something I…expect of Kelemvor.”

“I once worshipped a different god, and that god left me bereft,” Three confessed, finding himself saying more than he should. “And then I became a worshipper of Kelemvor on my deathbed…and was saved.”

“I see.” Windfall had the grace to wait.

Three lifted his head, “If I was to continue at least researching the idea, is there a temple I should visit? Acolytes, priests of the faith?”

“There are many. One very close.”

Three perked up at this news; was that where Arkhan could be found? “That makes sense, having a temple here in Hell. How have you found the experience of worshipping Tiamat? What gifts has she graced you with? Powers, items? How has she repaid your faith?”

Windfall considered this. “She repays my faith with my faith.” (Three groaned inside, only too familiar with this kind of circular religious logic). “I expect no rewards, but because of my faith I know the truth of her.”

“Yes,” Three nodded as if understanding.

“And I have sacrificed something of great worth, to Her,” Windfall continued, again trying to reinforce to herself the rightness of her choice. “And when She returns, when Her champion brings her back, then I know that She will reward me greatly.”

“May I ask what you sacrificed? As you can see, my God had taken everything and left me barely alive. Was it a similar cost?”

Windfall considered Three, and chose to trust. “It was not a part of me. It was part of an ancient artefact I used to build the Belvedere. An object with the power of creation—or that is what people believed, and that was enough. Having established the Belvedere, Arkhan asked me to make a sacrifice to Tiamat and I did. I relinquished the relic on the understanding that upon Her return he would speak to Her of me of my sacrifice.”

“And Arkhan is the priest you worship with, who gives you spiritual enlightenment?”

“He speaks to Tiamat.”

“And does he have a Temple here?”

“He does.” Windfall’s answers grew short but Three pushed on.

“Would it be possible that if I did wish to convert…is that the person I would approach?”

Windfall frowned. “You do not wish to convert. I am surprised and disappointed you continue to try and convince me otherwise.” Her face closed as she dusted herself down.

Three tried one last time. “You misunderstand me. When I say I want to convert what I mean by that is I wish to know more about that faith. I already…this is my second god,” Three stumbled.

Windfall opened the door. “You have heard enough, and I have heard enough. There is no need to continue the charade, I have told you what you need to know.”

“I see.” Three hesitated, wondering if he should take an action from which there would be no turning back. He looked at Windfall trying to discern her readiness to respond, but she was impossible to read. His confidence fell and he stood and walked toward the door. “I will leave, but I cannot tell you on stronger terms that if you wish to find allies for you faith you will find them within my companions.” With a grunt he plodded back into the bar.

Three debriefed the company as best he could. “I just didn’t know whether to go for it or not,” he grimaced. “I had a plan, but if it didn’t work…”

“If it didn’t work you were finished,” Uthar said shaking his head. “You were right not to act, it was too dangerous.”

“You got the information we needed,” Idris said, forgetting the earlier Rod reading. “The piece isn’t actually here.”

“The Rod says it is,” Uthar corrected, not forgetting.

“Of course! She’s a lying demon!” Eli declared.

“Let’s wait until we get Sifer back, he might have learnt something,” Three shrugged.

“He’s been in there for almost three hours,” Eli said, worried.

“We don’t know what they’re doing to him,” Idris said darkly.

“Might be ninety days, might be the rest of his life,” Uthar nodded wisely.

“You are a thing of great power,” Sifer gasped as Vertu did something he thought impossible. “But are you the greatest power here?”

“In this room, yes,” Vertu grinned hungrily and spat in his mouth. “Now swallow!”

“If only we had a magic user who could change a fireball into an iceball,” Eli mused. “Then we could attack the demons with iceballs.”

“There’s a lot of them,” Three counted, “I don’t know if that would work. And we need to get the Rod and the Hand.”

“The Hand was just a bonus though,” Idris reminded everyone. “The reason was if we have it, then you-know-who doesn’t have it. And the other thing is Tasha confirmed Kas is in possession of the final piece, and we might be able to use as a bargaining chip.”

Three nodded. “So we think the Hand is somewhere else, but the Rod is here?”

“The Rod of Idris thrusted strongly toward those doors,” Eli agreed euphemistically.

As if on cue, Sifer emerged from his rapture. Far from being exhausted he found himself invigorated, near bursting with might and energy. Ready for anything. He looked wistfully back at Virtu. “I’ll be back!” He was pleased to see that she too had that certain glow that only came with vigorous pleasure.

“I certainly hope so,” Virtu grinned hungrily, “I haven’t enjoyed a patron so much in a long time. But next time Gnar is in here too. Trust me, the things he can do with those chains…”

“Oh, I trust you,” Sifer beamed. He walked jauntily over to his company, arms aloft in triumph. “I fully endorse this spa!” From the bar, Oganath snorted and laughed. “Everyone does!”

“Was there another exit?” Three asked, trying to ignore Sifer’s triumphant grin.

“It took me three hours to get there, but no, there isn’t.”

“Well then.” Three briefly explained what Sifer had missed, focussing on the need to get into Windfall’s office. “My idea is we convince her we want to convert to her faith, which at least gets us into the room. Once there we can hold her, grab the Rod, and get out.”

“How do we get out of here once we have it?” Uthar asked, concerned.

“With the power of the Rod, just like we did in Eberron?” Sifer said. It seemed obvious.

“Which would get us outside the casino at least,” Eli nodded.

“The only problem is we wouldn’t find Arkhan,” Three noted.

“We can hunt down his temple once we’re outside,” Eli shrugged.

“We don’t even know where that is.”

“Which is why we torture her,” Eli said, surprising everyone.

“Does anyone have a better plan?” Three asked, breaking the stunned silence.

“We could wait for her to not be here?” Uthar suggested. “We saw a lot of her upstairs so the room will be empty soon enough.”

“But my plan gets us in without raising any alarm,” Three protested. “They’ve seen me go in, and if she invites us all the better.”

Uthar wasn’t convinced. “I think that even on my best day there’s too many,” he said looking around the bar.

“We’ll shut the door behind us,” Eli said.

“Snatch and grab,” Three agreed, “Knock her out. My only worry is it doesn’t get us the Hand.”

“Why don’t those of you who don’t mind tarnishing your soul go and buy all that fancy jewellery?” Eli suggested. “They we use all that on everyone here.”

“Fireballs won’t work on most of them,” Idris said looking around.

“Well then we just fight them!”

Sifer nodded vigorously. “When did we become not heroes?”

Uthar jumped to his feet. “Wait. I have a better idea. We take another night in the ‘hotel’, and during that night we bampf through the walls. One of you guys has some transport shit, right?”

Sifer’s eyes lit up. “Right…now that Three has been inside!”

“You’re right, Red,” Idris agreed. “I saw inside too when the door opened. So technically I could teleport in there.”

“We wait for Windfall to leave,” Three said, “Then Idris teleports in, uses the Rod to locate the next Part.”

“It would be better to use the Rod to make a gate straight in there from the hotel,” Eli countered. “That gets us all inside.”

“Or I could get you into the spa,” Sifer teased.

“No,” Marko frowned.

“Eli’s right,” Idris said, “And then we can use the Teleport to get out of here. Three, you use a clairvoyance to see into the room, and cast the Arcane Gate using the Rod. Not the other way around, because the Gate has a limited range, but teleport is infinite, and we have no idea where we are—this place could be a demiplane for all we know.”

The company quickly agreed: Uthar’s plan was good.

“The hardest part will be working out who pays for the room,” Eli smirked.

The company sat on drinks for what seemed like an eternity. Idris ran a private game of cards which passed the time, slowly—particularly for Eli who refused to participate. A patron even joined in (“Is that…Acererak?” Eli whispered as the skeletal figure was dealt in).

Eventuall Windfall emerged, waving as she made her way upstairs. Shortly afterwards the company was safely ensconced in Rest for the Wicked, the talon negotiations surprisingly easy this time.

Three went to work: he ‘saw’ inside Windfall’s office and summoned a golden portal using the Rod.

“It worked!” Uthar said, somewhat astonished. “A reconnoitre, or do we just go?”

“Dive in!” Eli hissed, jumping through.

Idris took the Rod and swung it around the room. It pointed directly to the red dragon bust grinning from the southern wall. “It’s here somewhere—search around the dragon.” Sifer and Marko went to work.

Three hurried over to the desk, finding notes and three tomes. “All written in Draconic—Uthar?”

Uthar scanned the books quickly. “Historical and religious texts: ‘The First World', ‘The Ruby Dragon', and ‘The Mirage Ruse'.”

“Just bag them,” Eli urged, and Three did so.

“This dragon is concealing a secret door,” Marko said, finding it immediately. “And it’s not trapped.” He slid open the panel to reveal a glimmering portal.

Idris directed the Rod toward the portal. “It’s through there,” he declared.

“Let’s go,” Three said determinedly.

The company stepped into a vast cavern, the walls made of faceted, ruby-red crystal. Narrow tunnels jutted into the chamber, rising from glowing red depths.

In the centre of the cavernous space an enormous dragon skeleton lay curled as if sleeping. Standing atop the skull was a dragonborn. He held a ragged skeletal hand aloft in which he clutched a glowing section of the Rod of Seven Parts.

A dragonborn with red scales holds a skeletal hand aloft — Arkhan the Cruel

Living on the Ceiling

Arkhan, for there could be no question the dragonborn was he, thrust the Rod piece toward the skeletal dragon and howled: “Rise, Sardior, rise! The power shall be mine!!”

By his side loomed a hulking black-skinned minotaur in gold armour clutching matching swords, eyes glued on the spectacle, whilst nearby a half dozen white and black skinned fiends milled around aimlessly.

A hulking minotaur with gold armour and matching scimitars — Torogar Steelfist

Arkhan cackled wildly as flesh began to shimmer and form around the skeleton…then spun his head as he sensed the company’s arrival. “You dare interrupt Tiamat’s glory!? Kill them, kill them all!!”

“I’ve seen kobolds with a more noble lineage,” Marko snarled as battle was joined. He sprinted forward to cover behind a stalagmite before firing a fairly harmless first salvo into the dragonborn. Eli followed suit, veering toward the centre of the cavern. He too let fly a warning shot, Arkhan smirking at the rather ineffective efforts.

“Don’t get too close,” Idris muttered as he pulled the Rod free and started to focus.

“We need to interrupt that spell!” Three urged. He loosed a vomit of insects from his mouth, centring it on Arkhan and catching the minotaur and a two fiends—both who crumpled to the ground under the plague.

“That worked!” Three cried as he saw the flesh-weaving around the dragon start to crumble. “Take him down!”

As Uthar started to charge forward he felt Kas’s blade start to shudder for release on his back. “The creature wears the Hand!” it whispered hungrily, “Draw me! For this is my purpose—we must destroy the Lich’s every work!!”

Uthar hesitated for longer than he should. The temptation was great, so great that he felt his hand start to drift toward the blackened hilt of the terrible blade. But he pushed the urge away, burying it…for now. He felt the sword bubbling with frustration, begging for freedom. Instead he drew his regular blade, pale by comparison, and swung it into the closest white fiend. The abishai flinched back, then leapt forward and sunk it’s teeth into Uthar’s shoulder-blade. Uthar growled and slashed again.

From behind Idris lifted the Rod into the air and spoke the word of command: “FIAT!”

A terrible rumble boomed around Tiamat’s chapel as without warning the massive dragon skeleton started to plunge toward the ceiling fifty feet overhead. With it went Arkhan and many of his minions, including the roaring minotaur. They slammed into the cavern roof with a mighty crash, the magnificent skeleton shattering in many places. Despite their wings, several of the abishai were unable to control their ‘fall’ upwards; a few even ended their lives up there.

“Nice,” Uthar smiled with characteristic understatement.

Those abishai that survived turned and swooped back down toward the company as Arkhan released a string of surprised draconic curses. He pointed a ragged finger at Uthar and spoke a single word: ‘"Die…"’

“I will not,” Uthar said calmly…then almost did. He felt a necrotic growth spread through his every fibre, and for a moment feared those words would be his last. Then he looked around to his companions—Three, the scarred mystery, Marko, the diminutive leader—and knew that this was not the end. He would not die whilst they still breathed. With an almighty effort he drew a deep breath and purged the curse from his bloodstream.

Far overhead he heard Arkhan curse again. “Asojano! Come forth, defend me!” he cried. From the northern tunnel a deep rumble followed…

Sifer leapt beside Marko, focusing his bow on the wounded abishai. “Target reduction,” he explained as a first, then second, fiend plummeted into the ceiling. He turned his attention to Arkhan and landed three telling bolts.

A white abishai plummeted into Uthar, plunging swords but missing. Instead he took another chunk of Uthar’s neck with his bite, digging claws in for good measure. A black fiend tore downward, unable to engage but very able to cast: a pool of swirling blackness materialised around Marko, Sifer, and Three, leaving them in utter darkness. A third abishai vanished into the darkness, and moments later Sifer felt rather than saw scimitar blades slashing into him.

Marko spun in the void. Whilst he could see nothing, his preternatural hearing allowed him to make out the fiend clearly. He plunged his rapier and dagger into the exposed back, wiping them clean as the creature collapsed, dead. “Are you ok Sifer?” he whispered.

“Yes. Let’s stay in here?” Sifer laughed.

“Sifer,” Marko said, and even in darkness the bowman felt the glare of disapproval.

“To them, Torogar,” Arkhan commanded from above. A bellow sounded from as the minotaur charged forward, his scimitars bursting into flame as he advanced. When he reached the threshold of the antigravity he dropped unceremoniously to the floor with a crash. He clambered to his feet and lowered his head, ramming into Eli with his horns.

Eli, taken aback, retaliated. First, his blade. Second, a flurry of punches (it was like hitting a saddle, so tough was the leathery skin). And finally, the coup de grâce: he shunted the great bulk backward. The minotaur bellowed with frustration as it shot back into the ceiling with a resounding crack.

From the darkness Three emerged, calm in the face of all that was going on. “Kelemvor, Kelemvor,” he murmured and the trademark toll rung through the chamber, causing Torogar’s skin the blister and fester with rot. The great cow did not look happy.

Uthar finished off his abishai, ducking away reactively from the fiend’s attempt at one last bite. Idris loaded the ceiling up with a circular zone of synaptic static, frying Arkhan and Torogar’s brains with agony and confusion.

Arkhan was flummoxed. He wore the Hand of the archlich Vecna. He was Tiamat’s chosen. So why was he losing his mind stuck on the ceiling of Her chapel! With a howl of fury…he vanished.

Below, Sifer stepped cautiously from the darkness, immediately seeing Torogar and a lone abishai above. His aim quickly trained on the minotaur and he unleashed a flight of arrows. Torogar, having failed to do anything other than annoy Eli, collapsed to the ceiling with a final lowing sigh.

As he stepped back into the black a snarling, roaring, hissing cry came from the Northern tunnel as Arkhan’s backup finally arrived.

A creature the body of a lion, red dragon wings, and three heads: dragon, horned ram, and lion

It flew into the chamber, barrelling toward the company, before hitting the antigravity. It hauled to a halt in confusion as it tried to reorient itself. Eli lined his bow on the chimera, but he stepped too close to the gravity well and his bow was torn from his grasp to slap into the roof.

Three was assaulted by two glancing blows from a black abishai who dived into the pool of blackness.

Marko, also inside the pool, saw the distinct outline of not one but two foes. The first had just attacked Three, but the second was…Arkhan?! Thinking quickly, Marko closed his eyes and acted on pure instinct. He did not need to see— in fact the darkness confused him—he just needed to hear. Silently he slid forward and slipped his rapier in into the dragonborn’s exposed spine. With a deft jam, twist, and flourish he landed a lethal death strike, a particularly effective attack he had only recently perfected. He felt Arkhan’s body go limp, then slide off his blade.

Outside, Three flinched as a body fell at his feet. He looked down to see Arkhan lying dead, Vecna’s withered Hand clutching wildly for a few moments before stilling. The penultimate Part of the Rod rolled free with a gentle clunk. He raised a surprised eyebrow, leant down and pocketed the segment. With singular focus he then knelt and unrolled his mortuary bag. He carefully positioned the embalming cloth below the hand, drew forth his cutting implements, and, with a silent prayer, went to work detaching the festering skeletal Hand.

Meanwhile, the battle continued. Despite the two main combatants being downed, there was clean up work to be done. Uthar charged into the darkness to seek out the abishai. He was about to swing wildly before thinking better of it, instead grappling for the nearest thing he could hear. As it happened that was Marko, making him very glad he had abandoned his sword plan. “What are you doing!” Marko squealed.

Idris vortex splinched the chimera into the insect plague that still swirled furiously. Then he dropped the antigravity field, and the dragon skull fell unceremoniously atop the three-headed beast. Sifer emerged once more, and pinged the creature with a great number of arrows.

Asojano was a simple creature, so the total chaos didn’t dissuade it too much from its main task. It flew toward the company and the dragon head unleashed a cone of flame over Eli and Idris, licking Three as well. Eli leapt to the beast and pounded, thumped, sliced and kicked, until the beast dropped sadly to the floor.

Despite the flames Three hadn’t paused. Even several blows from the final abishai were shrugged off. Marko, enjoying himself, killed the attacker, causing the circle of darkness to finally drop and a spray of blood to cover Three’s ruined face. “Sorry,” Marko grinned.

Three cut through the final sinew. The Hand dropped onto the embalming cloth, clutching reactively as if still alive. He carefully, very carefully, rolled the Hand into the wrap to preserve it. “This is imbued with divine magic to ensure whatever it holds remains at repose,” he explained solemnly. “As is the bag I will carry it in.”

“Let me move it so you don’t have to touch,” Idris said to a nod from Three. He dropped it into the funereal bag, sensing the foulness even through his mage hand.

Three sealed the bag. “Oh, and there is this,” he added, tossing the Rod Part to Idris.

The company ransacked the bodies quickly. Torogar’s swords, gauntlets, and magnificent belt were retrieved, and Arkhan stripped of his armour and impressive axe. There was a great deal of coin and gems destined for Tiamat’s horde, and much was scooped into Idris’s handy portable sinkhole.

Marko spent much of the time dancing on the remnants of the dragon skeleton, his ‘affinity’ for Tiamat making him keenly enjoy the destruction. Sifer took a more practical approach, stripping two giant incisors with the thought of crafting it into a weapon.

Through all of this Three sat quietly with the bag. “Kelemvor,” he said, this time with no ceremony, healing his companions handsomely.

Idris gathered the company and produced Alustriel’s scroll of return, leaving Tiamat’s now desecrated chapel for Windfall to mourn.

Session played July 20, August 3, 17, September 14, 28, 2026

Map of a five room tomb, connected by corridors, bathed in a olive green light — The Stygian Tomb

Map of a bar bathed in soft red light, with open rooms to either side and a closed office to the south — Dragon’s Pride

Map of a cave with an enormous dragon skeleton wrapped around the centre — Tiamat’s Chapel

Vecna: Eve of Ruin