The Fortress of Two Woes, Pazunia, The Abyss
The rancid stench of boiling fat, blood and bile fills the superheated air. The air ripples with heat, distorting the depraved carvings melted into the metal of the tower. The great balor Nnuhlfit, one of Demogorgon’s generals, grins in malevolent triumph. In his hand he clutches a sheet of dull copper-colored metal. Scriven upon it: a map.
Nnuhlfit fairly howls in glee, but he restrains himself. Certainly, among his courtiers there are spies for Hell. If any of them were to realize the magnitude of the map in his hand... surely, the Archdukes would put aside all else to take it from him. For mapped out on that orichalcum sheet are portals from Avernus, the first plane of Hell, to five of the deeper layers!
This could win the Blood War, Nnuhlfit thinks with malignant joy. And then the burn of ambition ignites within him: I could break away from Demogorgon. I could use this to become mightier than any other balor- to become a demon prince myself. I could be Nnuhlfit the Mighty, Exterminator of the Devils! He exults in the thought for a few moments, but then, reluctantly, he thinks, But even if my army stays loyal to me rather than Demogorgon, once word got out of what I had- and to make use of it, I must make my prize known- the devils and many demon princes would be after it. I would not have a force sufficient to defend myself. And there is no Abyssal lord able to protect me from the wrath of the Twofold One if I defect to the service of another. Reluctantly, the balor issues a sending to Demogorgon: I have a great prize for use against the devils, that might allow your mighty armies easy ingress to deep layers of Hell.
The response is instant, and in two voices- two terrible, mighty voices- at once: Bring it to the Gelid Lagoon. At once.
Without hesitation Nnuhlfit vanishes from his tower. His master- or masters, depending on how one looks at it- will brook no delay in a matter such as this. Nnuhlfit knows that any attempt to take advantage of his current possession of the map would tempt sheer annihilation; yet, with luck, his master(s) will remember the balor’s... loyalty... later.
***
The Bastion of Law
Gerontius flies down into the rubble of the Bastion of Law and zips through the portal that JJ seemingly encountered inevitables. A mere instant after Lillamere blasts the rubble atop her with a disintegrate, Sybele scrambles to her feet and launches her large self after the little halfling, vanishing from view as well.*
A serpent slithers from beneath some of the rubble, and over the telepathic link that our heroes share, Mabrack tells the other, Hey, I’m the snake, guys, nothing to worry about! Meanwhile, Wankerman and Chakar toss rubble aside with superhuman strength and speed even as Veil/Graz’zt greater teleports out from under the great chunks of rock and metal burying her/him.
“Yes, Chakar,” Pan Lo intones. The Perfect Master continues to watch serenely, his arms crossed before his body, his hands up the wide sleeves of his robes. “Use your strength and focus. Even in such a menial task, you have a dedication that does you credit.”
I wish that old bastard would show some dedication himself, complains Wankerman sarcastically.
The forces of Law have not yet responded to the current situation. We’ve thrown them into disarray and confusion! Veil exults over the link. Now we have them!
In a few short moments, Thrush is free. With a grunt of annoyance, he brushes a few chips of stone from his breastplate and dashes through the second portal that JJ penetrated. Wankerman springs after him, grinning like a madman. Chakar follows without hesitation.
***
A demiplane
On the other side of the portal, Sybele and Gerontius immediately find themselves pressed by inevitables. The planar constructs blast at them with mystical energies and strike with their metallic fists, but by the time that Baron Lillamere and Alcar appear through the portal behind them, it is clear where the advantage lies, and in a moment more, our heroes are searching through the twisted wreckage of springs and gears. Strange oils pool on the floor from the shattered inevitables. The walls are adorned thickly with pipes, hoses, plugs, wires and strange apparati. The place smells strangely of metal and weird, unidentifiable things.
“Anything?” asks the angel.
“Do you forget ‘oo you are with?” Gerontius retorts wryly.
In his small blue hand is a key.
***
The Purple Pool, Sigil
Kaprack Kalkrack, proprietor of the Purple Pool, nods seriously to his guest. They sit together in his office, which is warded against both mundane and magical eavesdropping. “I know what I saw,” he says. “I don’t know what it means, but I know it’s worth something to you bashers. I know that, today especially, you need every edge that you can get. And I’ve heard about you.” He leans back, stroking his moustache speculatively. “I know who you work for, and I know that, even though he’s the old boy, so to speak- he’s still the new kid in town. He’s just back after a long absence, and his house needs putting in order.” He grins. “I figure, this information might be worth a lot to your boss. Think about it- either he gets a hold on one of your folk because they’re treating with the enemy, or he finds out who a demon that is already compromised is. You can’t lose.”
“Of course,” purrs Glaisig. His face is impassive. “I will give you 10,000 gold pieces for the information.”
Kaprack snorts. “Come on, now, I’m a businessman!” he boasts. Soon the haggling starts, and after Glaisig leaves his office with the names of the abishai and the balor that Kaprack saw conspiring, the dwarf finally allows himself to take a deep breath and wipe off his brow. I’m glad that’s over, he thinks in relief. And the price was right, too. Almost 24,000 gold! And the keys to certain deep areas in the Hells! You’d think his boss didn’t care if those were compromised!
More fool he, Kaprack never thinks to follow up on that thought.
***
A demiplane
JJ is there, ahead of Thrush and Wankerman. He is not moving, but it’s not like he is lying on the ground or anything; he is standing in front of the others, unmoving as a statue.
“Weird,” Wankerman breathes.
“Yeah,” Thrush nods. “What do you think, Chakar?”
“I don’t know.” Chakar takes a step forward and touches JJ.
“Chakar?” Thrush gulps.
The dwarf is no longer moving.
”They’re in some kind of stasis,” opines Dorn Wankerman. He grins. “But I bet we can find that key anyway!”
Hey, Chakar just dropped off the link, a telepathic message from Lester comes. What’s going on in there, guys?
Some kind of stasis thing, Thrush thinks back.
You must be in Marius’ demiplane, Orbius declares. Come on, Lester, we’re going through after them! And a moment later, both Lester and Orbius enter the demiplane through the portal behind them.
“Well, well,” declares the Eye smartly. “This is Marius’ handiwork, all right- some kind of temporal stasis. Hmph! Let’s see what I can do about this...”
***
The rubble of the Bastion of Law
Alcar bites his lip as he emerges from the portal to the inevitable demiplane. He’s not having second thoughts about his course of action; for the first time, he feels as if he truly belongs in his faith. As a Galadorian, he was always a heretic; as a follower of Bless... the dogma is him.
We have another key, Lillamere announces over the link. The argent savant smiles fiercely as he feels Chakar and JJ come back onto the link. Clearly, someone has managed to do something about their situation.
I think- ah! We’ve found one as well, Orbius announces a moment later.
Four, thinks Lillamere. We have four of the keys. We’re almost there!
Alcar, meanwhile, issues a sending to Prayzose: Don’t fight us. We don’t want to kill you. Can we talk about this?
The answer gives the angel pause: Will you open your mind to me?
He hesitates for a moment. How much do I trust Prayzose? he wonders. Everything is on the line now. Do I dare let him into my mind? He is eminently Lawful- if he swore an oath not to tamper with my mind...
But everything is on the line here.
He hesitates in indecision; when the mental touch from Prayzose comes, Alcar refuses to open his mind, and the questing tendril of thought withdraws gently.
I think I have just refused parlay, Alcar realizes, an instant before the sky belches fire and a blast of blazing heat emerges as a gate opens. An instant after that, Gerontius barely has time to cry, “Look, in the sky over there!” –pointing away from the gate- before the world explodes.
Next Time: The Omega Horror! Pasha Amhari Ifroobil! The leshay hunting Sybele! And Pan Lo finally acts in combat!!!!
*Bear in mind that the touch of Chaos has granted Gerontius the air subtype, which allows him to fly, and Sybele is large-sized, also due to the influence of Chaos- in her case, from her prestige class (warrior of Chaos).
