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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 2402909" data-attributes="member: 143">Chapter 424“Ah, but there are so many asylums on Carceri,” the cambion said, leaning back in a chair that creaked alarmingly to hold his bulk.  He made a gesture with one a finger topped by a three-inch, lacquered nail, and the succubus standing at his left shoulder popped a white globe roughly the size of an eyeball into his mouth.  To his right stood a massive minotaur with glowing red eyes, who had stared menacingly at the intruders since the beginning of the interview.  “I would so love to help you, my dear, but you understand how these things are.”  He shrugged, the movement causing the layers of fat draped down from his bloated neck to jiggle unpleasantly.  “We are grateful for your time, master Cymberion,” Dana said.  “If we were referred to you in error, then I certainly apologize for disturbing you.  If, however, your superior recollection can direct us to the particular locale we seek, then we would be most grateful.”  The priestess made her own gesture, and Cal quickly stepped forward, laying a small package of scrolls onto the low table that separated them from the cambion and his entourage.  The cambion leaned slightly forward, even the small movement requiring an obvious effort from the bloated fiend.  He shifted the scrolls with a long fingernail, enough for him to read the names of the spells written in Cal’s neat hand on the outside of the parchment. “Hmm… yes, well, I am sympathetic to your plight, as you may well understand.  I myself had a cousin who was wrongfully imprisoned over a trifling matter, some decades ago.  A terrible inconvenience!  But let me see, let me see…”  He touched his chin with a long nail, displacing a fold of bloated flesh.  But he also made a subtle movement with his eyes, and a rail-thin figure clad entirely in black—they never did discover his race or particular purpose—detached himself from the wall of the cramped booth and quickly moved to the curtained entry, standing where he could scan the rest of the tavern outside. Cymberion leaned forward conspiratorily, his belly flopping out over the edge of the table.  Dana leaned forward as well, although she had to will herself not to gag at the demon-spawn’s foul breath, which smelled like the inside of a sewer. “Skullrot is not easily found, my dear.  Its master cloaks it in a powerful dweomer… one does not stumble upon it, nor can one utilize the… usual spells of location-finding to discern its location.  Indeed, the only way I have heard of reaching it is to be escorted there by one who knows the way.”Dana’s gaze dropped down to the scrolls in the middle of the table, and the cambion, observing the gesture, was quick to continue.  “Now, there might be someone who can be of assistance to you, I think.  Have you heard of Harrowfell?  Ah, no matter, I can easily direct you to that place; many of my clients make use of the shattered stone that is the citadel’s most prominent feature.  Its current owner is a marilith named Byakala.  She has a certain… shall we say, interest in the most famous resident of Skullrot, and it is quite likely that she knows its location.”Cal and Dana shared a look; they had a good idea to whom the cambion was referring. Dana stood back, her manner indicating that she considered the exchange acceptable.  “Very well, master Cymberion.  If you could direct your instructions to my valet…  I thank you for your time, and trust that your discretion in this matter will be up to its reputed standard.”The cambion nodded.  The scrolls had disappeared somewhere; it was probably best not to dwell upon where the creature had hidden them.  “Of course, my dear.  I hope that we will have the opportunity to do business again, if your interests bring you back to Carceri.”The succubus knelt beside Cal and whispered in his ear; from the way that the gnome flushed it was clear that she’d passed on more than just the location of the marilith’s hold.  Then the black-clad figure drew aside the curtain and ushered them out, so quickly that they barely had time to glance back before the heavy black fabric was drawn shut behind them.  The others stood as they reappeared in the back of the tavern’s common room; a few nearby fiends cast idle glances their way, but no one took any further action to hinder them. “Let’s get out of here,” Cal said.  They made their way out of the crowded tavern back to the main hall of the Bastion of Lost Hope.  The fortress was really a small town, a sprawling complex packed into the space within the massive black basalt walls.  The three warriors formed a wedge in front of the others, moving those who did not make way for their party with hard looks bolstered by a few inches of drawn steel.  They did not speak until they were clear of the gatehouse, warded by a pair of goristro demons that cast hard looks at them.  Even then, the companions did not linger.  The citadel was located on a wide shelf nestled in between a range of ugly black peaks, within a range of mountains it had taken them two hours to ascend even with the magic carpet.  Oddly, the temperature was exactly the same as it had been in the lowlands, obviously this place did not follow the rules of their home-plane with regards to geography and climate.     “We have a destination,” Cal told the others.  “But we’ve been on Carceri now for at least ten hours, with a battle to boot; we need rest, first.”  Dana opened her mouth to speak, but thought better of it, shaking her head and turning away. “I take it we are not going to take advantage of the high-class accommodations available in the Bastion,” Dannel said. “Something tells me that folk don’t sleep too soundly in there,” Cal said.  “No, let’s take the carpet back down to that valley we passed on our ascent.  Then, we’ll see if the prized possession of the Harper High Mage meets our needs.”</blockquote>

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