---

The company stepped through the portal to find their feet sinking into the mucky basin of a sprawling wasteland. The shattered remains of trees, roads, and whole mountain ranges dotted the barren landscape. In the distance, a lone castle was silhouetted against the crimson horizon of a low hanging sun, the only structure of any note.

“An hours walk at least,” Sifer estimated. “We should rest.”

---

Sifer’s guess was close.

Despite the castle appearing to lie away from the setting sun, it was only by walking toward the light that progress could be made.

“We must be in a demiplane,” Three muttered as the company trudged through the heat and squinted into the piercing sunlight.

“And the entire time we’ve been here, through rest and walk, the sun hasn’t moved,” Idris nodded.

The landscape was spookily empty, the air stagnant and still, and slain fiends were strewn about the desolation. “Kas’s work,” Uthar grunted.

“This reminds me of Oerth,” Marko said. “The lands before the Tomb of Horrors? And remember when we escaped the Far Realms and emerged at a sodden field?” It made good sense.

As the castle drew closer it was clear it was a ruin. Aside from a few antechambers, the once-impressive structure had been reduced to scorched rubble. Around the castle’s baily, two bipedal creatures covered in spikes lay freshly dead, smeared with blood from bodies impaled on the spikework. Orcs, humans, some fresh, some ancient, most decomposing.

“These abominations look like they are from Eberron,” Eli muttered. They were covered in armour that resembled that of the Mournland inhabitants, the Lord of Blade’s servants and his mothers’ enemies.

“They were felled by sword strikes,” Uthar said examining the blows. “Kas’s sword.”

The baily had a single door leading further inside, and Marko could only hear nothing. “Ready?” Inside was a open-air walkway lined by six statues of Vecna standing in lofty poses that mocked those that walked below. Bodies of newly slain nothics were scattered along the hall, viscera leaking from their giant eyes.

The company advanced, carefully avoiding the statues and bodies. Another door stood on the north wall, opposite a pile of rubble from a collapsed wall. Again there was no sound beyond so Marko stepped inside, finding a vaulted chamber with an empty throne at the far end. He pulled out his new 10-foot pole and prodded the floor, moving swiftly to the throne…and, once happy it was safe, sitting atop.

“Oh god he’s done it again,” Sifer said on seeing Marko. The throne was far too big for the small-statured rogue, but Sifer held his tongue. Instead he scrambled up a collapsed wall opposite to check the ground outside, giving a nod to Idris that it was clear.

Marko hopped off the throne to check the two doors either side. “A chain dragging,” he whispered pointing to the north door, “Something is inside.” He moved to the second door and found it silent. “We’ll open this one first.”

Stagnant blood filled the basin of an old fountain at the centre of the chamber. The tranquil surface seems to be reflecting something. “That’s there for a reason,” Idris whispered. “Maybe a scrying pool—let me take a look.” He walked carefully to the basin and peered over the lip and gasped.

Reflected in the pool, Vecna stood in a crystal-lined chamber. The lich-god’s eye was closed as he murmured silent incantations. In his outstretched hand, Vecna held a volatile, light-consuming orb of magical energy that resembled a black hole.

---

“I don’t want to describe it,” Idris said softly. “Everyone have a look.”

“Maybe it’s a good sphere of annihilation,” Three said darkly.

Marko looked briefly before checking the lone door. Again he heard the chain. Not waiting, he pulled the door open.

The unmistakable form of Kas stood hunched in a dank, stone room, flanked by a rotting bipedal hound and knight in blackened armour. He was staring at…himself. Another Kas sat on the floor staring hungrily toward the room with the bloody font, raising dead eyes as Marko appeared. Each of the replica vampire’s limbs was shackled to a ten-foot-long adamantine chain, with all four chains fastened to a large adamantine ball. Tattered tapestries and ruined fixtures adorned the chamber’s crumbling walls.

“This is what he thinks of me,” the real Kas said in a melancholy tone. “A toy. A plaything. Something to torment, shackled and impotent.” He kicked one of the chains. “These keep him—me—from the font that could sustain, taunting me for eternity.”

He spun, face burning with anger. “I took his Hand! I took his Eye!! And this is my judgement??”

Eli nodded to the chained creature. “Kas, are you sure that isn’t the real Kas and you aren’t the doppelganger?”

“Don’t be absurd. Vecna has placed this here so that ‘I’ can never approach him,” Kas scowled.

“A doppelganger for his amusement,” Uthar muttered.

“And who are your extra fools?” Three nodded to the knight and hound.

“They’re with me,” Kas said.

“Are you a simulacra then?” Idris said, still confused.

“I am not. This is. A toy for Vecna. He knew if I found this place it would torment me. Unfortunately he was right. My castle, my homeland, Oerth transformed to a Hellscape.”

“How does this stop you from approaching?” Eli probed.

Kas stared toward the font of blood. “That is the path to Vecna, but the way is closed. I can see him weave his ruin, but I cannot pass through.”

“Why not?”

“I need your newly fashioned Rod,” Kas said with sly smile, “For it is the only way to unlock passage.”

“Holy shite,” Three said softly. This would not end well.

“You’re not getting the Rod,” Idris declared.

“Am I not?” Kas said, placing his hand on the hilt of his blade.

“You can come with us,” Three suggested, hoping.

“No. He is mine, as I have said repeatedly.”

“We will witness his demise at your hand,” Three tried. “A witness for history.”

“This is my fight, mine alone. I need no witnesses,” Kas said drawing his sword. The hound slavered as the deathknight took a step forward. “Only fools and mortals need validation of their deeds. The multiverse will know of my triumph.”

“Let us use the Rod and we’ll send you through,” Eli said. It seemed an obvious solution.

“And you will not follow?”

“Why would we?” Eli scoffed.

“Very well. Give me the Rod and our business is complete.”

“No,” Idris, Sifer, and Uthar said in unison. “The Rod is ours, the Sword is yours,” Sifer said, “The deal was done.”

“I am renegotiating the deal,” Kas smirked.

“The Rod was our quest, Vecna yours,” Three said.

“Vecna is mine. And so too the Rod. Give it to me or I will take it from you,” Kas said raising his blade.

“Oh don’t be like that,” Eli said tiredly.

Three tried one last time. “Can’t we just let you go through? And we will remain here?”

“As I think I have mentioned earlier, there is a problem with trust between us. I do not trust you and nor you me.”

“That is correct,” Three conceded.

“Therefore if you say you will not follow, I do not believe you. Can you tell me honestly that you will not?”

“I can,” Eli said immediately.

“Nor will I follow you,” Three promised.

Idris had heard enough to know this was not going to work. He quietly backed through the doorway, intending to open the portal himself. Maybe Kas was lying, or maybe not, but either way it needed to be tested.

But Kas’s eyes followed his every move, knowing Idris carried the Rod. “The Rod,” he said softly lowering it to Marko’s neck, “Now.”

Marko wasn’t open to being a bargaining chip. He blinked and misty stepped away, reappearing on the far side of the font. Kas cursed and leapt himself, landing next to Idris and swinging his thirsting weapon.

Eli sprinted after him, but his strike was easily parried by Kas dropping his blade and striking on the return strike. It was Eli’s turn to curse (politely), but he continued his assault with his more trustworthy fists, landing multiple blows.

Marko crept from behind Idris and struck, but Kas stepped away from the rapier. The dagger not so much, grunting as Marko buried it into his hip.

In the throneroom Sifer held the second door to stop the company from being flanked, then pummelled Kas with a barrage of deadly bolts. Kas spun under the assault and wailed on Idris “This could have been so simple,” he scowled as Idris staggered under the strike.

Idris responded fast. He constructed a mental prison in which to entrap Kas: chained by the feet and surrounded by Vecna’s minions who taunted and mocked. A laughing Vecna stood before him, revelling in Kas’s pathetic state.

Kas, the real Kas, only smirked. “That won’t work.”

Uthar had wistfully watched Kas’s sword at work but had to settle for his own. He heaved it into Kas from behind, staggering him under the holy smite. It felt good. He felt good. He didn’t need the accursed blade.

“A cowardly blow,” Kas snarled. Pointing the blade at Idris he lifted a lone finger. “Give me the Rod!” he snapped as a finger of green destruction shot into Idris. Idris knew this magic and knew how to counter it, but the spell still stung, badly. Kas looked frustrated that his target still lived. He spun his head and glared at Uthar: “You should run.

It was Uthar’s turn to smirk as he stood his ground.

Kas’s frustration grew and Three took advantage. He induced a contagion in Kas, conjuring a slimy doom that would turn a blooded creature to stew. Three knew that would fail on the bloodless Kas, but there was something better. “If you strike him he will be stunned!” Three cried.

“I cannot die like that,” Kas laughed, and Three felt him shrug the disease away.

“Then we’ll kill you the other way,” Eli growled. In response, Kas disappeared in a cloud of mist to reappear on the far side of the throneroom.

Sifer, nearby, felt his door shunted with force from within, but it held fast. Instead the deathknight surged into the font room. It held an orb of hellfire in one fist and hurled it atop Eli. The explosion engulfed all but Sifer, searing and burning.

The deathwolf too finally joined the fray, bounding atop Idris. Much to Idris’s relief its fetid bite missed, as did the follow-up raking claws. The rotting death stench however was unavoidable.

---

Eli pierced the deathknight with his blade, allowing him to disengage and sprint over to Kas and strike with his whirling fists. “It seems I underestimated you,” the vampire growled under the assault. He retaliated with a glancing, almost despondent, blow that Eli shoved aside with ease. Uthar was shocked to see the weapon fail.

Kas hubris had led him to the verge of disaster, and he knew it. With a deep sigh he dropped the point of his blade, stepping back. “Enough,” he declared, “Enough.”

Sifer smiled. Kas has monologued twice, offering the company the deal he wanted. Now he was going to get the deal he deserved. “This guy’s not going to be beat Vecna,” he smirked.

“You’d be surprised,” Kas snarled.

Three was desperate to hear what Kas had to say. There was so much knowledge, experience, and history in him. Unfortunately for Three, ‘enough’ was not a word in Marko’s vocabulary. He bampfed across the throne room, appearing behind Kas, and threaded his rapier through the vampire’s ribcage.

“Cowards!” Kas cried as he staggered forward, dropping to one knee and laying the sword flat.

“Cowards are what you are when you’re losing,” Eli hissed. “When you’re winning this is smart. Sifer—kill this evil abomination.”

Sifer showed no hesitation. He stood over the fallen vampire, gleaming gold scimitar raised.

“Not again,” Kas muttered, knowing beyond doubt what was coming.

“You would never have been able to kill him,” Sifer repeated.

Kas looked Sifer in the eye. “You don’t understand—it was personal.”

Sifer’s blade fell and cleanly removed Kas’s head. The body collapsed to dust leaving only the blade.

In the font chamber, the deathknight collapsed into a tumble of armour. The hound howled, and the company finished it off in only moments.

---

Marko crouched and drew an alchemy vial from his collection. He started carefully, very carefully, collecting every last grain of the dust that was once Kas.

“He did surrender,” Three said, watching Marko after healing the company fully.

“He said ‘not again’,” Uthar observed, “I don’t think he’s gone for good.”

“We’ll see,” Marko said, sweeping the final grains.

“We should kill the other one,” Idris said, nodding to the simulacra that stood reaching for the font of blood.

“It’s a good point,” Sifer said. It didn’t fight back, making the whole thing slightly uncomfortable, like killing a chained dog. Three turned his back and left, not wanting to watch. Once it was dead it sloughed into the floor leaving nothing behind.

---

The company stood around the fallen sword of Kas. “Don’t touch it,” Marko said, “Not without a scabbard.”

“Don’t touch it,” Uthar agreed.

“Why are we so scared of it this time? It did so much good,” Eli frowned.

“Eli! It whispers into your mind. That sword is the most evil thing that you have ever encountered,” Idris said, shocked.

“I’m just saying that Uthar was fine before,” Eli shrugged. “And nothing is more evil than letting Vecna win.”

“Yet I don’t want to touch it again,” Uthar said softly.

“And he opened a door,” Marko reminded everyone to some confusion.

“Red, when you carried it, what was the sword’s goal?” Idris asked.

“It wants to kill everything. It is deeply, deeply evil. I wielded it for an hour and I was already losing the battle to resist,” Uthar said, his voice full of regret.

“But did it want to go back into Kas’s grip?” Sifer asked.

“It did.”

“And now Kas is gone. We should use it when we need to use it. We have a willing bearer,” Sifer said glancing to Eli.

“We’ll put in in the bag to keep it out of harm’s way,” Idris declared.

“Do not do that,” Three warned. “Generally, and the lore is unclear, but artefacts should not be placed in bags of holding.”

“That’s an old wife’s tale,” Marko scoffed.

“I heard about a kid who found otherwise!” Three snapped, an ancient memory surfacing.

Idris sighed. “Then someone has to carry it.”

“As I have already said: give it to Eli,” Sifer declared. “Let him carry it on his back and decide when the time is right.”

“I’m happy to carry it—” Eli started before a voice whispered inside his head. “Bear me. You have nothing to lose.”

“—Uthar if you will lend me your spare scabbard I will bear the burden,” Eli continued without skipping a beat.

“I don’t have one,” Uthar said. “It was given to Kas.”

“What about the simulacra?” Eli said, “It had a sword and scabbard.”

“It’s gone—”

A slurping, slapping, wet sound echoed from the font. Sifer turned to see another dead-eyed Kas lurching from the pool toward the chains that would forever bind it. “I think we’ve found another scabbard,” he laughed.

“I don’t think Eli should do this,” Three said suddenly and with deadly seriousness. “Uthar has already met the challenge, Eli…” he glanced at Uthar, “Eli is unblemished.”

“And that is why I can take it,” Eli said simply.

“Eli can take it,” Sifer said. “We may need this terrible tool!”

“Uthar is already marked! I can see it on him!” Three snarled.

“He opened the door!” Marko squeaked.

“My faith will be my armour,” Eli said with force.

Uthar took a deep breath. “I will take it. But you must not let me use it. If I go to draw it you must stop me.”

“Which is why I will take it,” Eli said, getting frustrated.

“You are too eager,” Three hissed.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Sifer said, calming the frayed nerves. “Stop worrying aout it. We talk about the petty foibles of a group of six. If we come up against the great lich and we need to use it…we use it.”

“I’m not disagreeing with that,” Three scowled, “But Uthar is already marked by it! Don’t mark then a second person.”

“I just told you: that is so inconsequential!”

“And now Uthar is marked he is weaker. His ability to carry it will be lessened—it will be harder for him to resist,” Eli said, showing great insight.

“That is not true!” Three cried, showing less. “He is a paladin, and you are unblemished now but you will not be the moment you touch it. It is arcane evil! Can’t you see that?”

“It is his choice,” Sifer declared. “We’ve let him make his choices this entire journey. Why not now?”

“Is it? Should not good friends stop him?”

“When did you become my master?” Eli said softly to Three.

This struck Three hard. He dropped his eyes and his shoulders slumped. “True,” he whispered. “True.”

“I’m sorry, we are going into a martial attack against the most powerful being,” Sifer insisted. “Why are we not availing ourselves of everything we can? If he wants to use it is his choice; let him bear it!”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Marko said.

“There are no good ideas here,” Sifer snapped.

After a moment of silence, Idris spoke. “Just take it. I will get the scabbard,” he added turning back to the freshly brewed Kas. “Then we should rest. Properly rest.”

---

Eli woke to find Idris studying the completed Rod. “You know I think you could use this as a melee weapon,” he said, hefting it. “Not that I’m much good with a staff.”

“I can,” Eli grinned, the rest having calmed his soul. “Sword in one hand, staff the other…”

“We will finish what he could not,” the sword whispered approvingly to Eli, “I think you are a better choice.”

“I didn’t want to say,” Eli said glancing at a dozing Uthar.

“Your companions are insane. You know that.”

“SILENCE!” Eli cried aloud, waking the slumberers. “Idris! Let us make haste, the clock is ticking,” he added quickly to hide his outburst.

“I can use this to detect evil at will,” Idris added. “The sword, the Hand, but nothing else, not even Sifer’s armour.” He stood and walked to the font of blood, lowering the Rod close but not touching. Nothing changed. “I may need to touch the Rod to the surface,” he warned.

“There are no rules,” Three shrugged.

Idris kissed the surface, sending a ripple that broke the bloody reflection of the pool. The surface crystalised then shattered, leaving a multicoloured miasma of thick liquid.

“That looks safe,” Eli said with a raised eyebrow. “Mister Marko?”

The Stormwatch veteran flew into the room, hovering above the pool. With a grin he lowered himself until he touched the pond.

Marko vanished…

…and the company dived in after him.

---

Session played October 25, 2026

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