ADVENTURE 09: FRENEMIES WITH BENEFITS
PC Roster:
Game Session Date: 14 February 2018
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"Come at once to the Enchanted Flagon," commanded Skevros to the Durnhill conscripts through the iron rings they wore. "Leave all grudges behind."
That last bit had Syngaard wrinkling his brow in confusion. Grudges? The only grudge he could think of was the constant belittling - (Ha! "Belittling!") - he engaged in where Orion was concerned. But why would that bother Skevros? Shrugging mentally, the scarred fighter gathered up his clothes and put them on, buckled on his armor, and collected his assortment of weapons.
"You goin' so soon?" murmured Cori from the warmth and comfort of the bed.
"Yep," replied Syngaard. "Nippin' off to my other job. You go on back to sleep." Cori muttered something into her pillow, which the bald fighter took as agreement. He closed the door quietly behind him and made his way out of the brothel, nodding to the Madame on duty as he left. It was a pretty good gig he had going here: room and board in exchange for his services as a bouncer whenever any of the clientele got too rough with the girls or tried slipping out without paying. It was a loose arrangement; if his "other job" called him away for days at a time that was fine with the establishment, as he wouldn't be using up any room and board during his absence. And they didn't have to pay him any coin for his services as a bouncer, merely give him a place to sleep and a meal or two while he was working. Anything extra beyond that he paid for like any other customer. But he had a special deal with Cori, who often let him stay over in her room if she wasn't otherwise occupied with a client. She liked the safety the burly fighter offered, and Syngaard's demands were minimal - usually he just wanted to be with someone until he fell asleep, and didn't want to wake up alone if the nightmares came - as they still did, even now.
Walking towards the Enchanted Flagon, Syngaard saw Galen Thorne riding up on his warhorse, Seneca. "Good day!" called the paladin; Syngaard merely lifted a hand in greeting. Galen was a good enough sort, but rather a bit too boisterously nice at times for the scarred fighter's liking. As Galen tied Seneca's reins to the post just outside the tavern, Kaspar Hardstrike wandered up from the other direction. He nodded his greeting to the two warriors, and the three men entered the tavern more or less together.
And there they got the shocks of their lives.
The first thing they noticed was the beautiful woman standing before them. Long of leg and statuesque, she wore fine armor that managed to enhance her curves while still providing adequate protection in battle. The second thing they noticed - once they could raise their gazes to her face - was that this was a woman known to them, although they'd never seen her in her combat armor before. Framing her face was a pair of batlike wings, currently folded flat behind her while in the confines of a building's interior.
"Serenity!" gasped Galen, his hand dropping to the magic longsword at his side. Instinctively, he detected evil on the woman before him and got an overwhelming response that caused his head to throb in migraine-level pain.
"Stay your hand!" commanded a figure in the back of the tavern. His face was hidden in shadow, as he had two burly knights looming protectively in front of him, but they parted at his approach and the three heroes got their first sight of King Leornic the Third in person since entering his service months ago.
"My Liege!" gasped Galen. "This woman before you--she is a succubus!"
"This is known to me," observed King Leornic. "Nonetheless, she is a trusted ally." Galen merely swallowed, unwilling to argue further with his liege but absolutely certain the king had made a grave error of judgment in letting a demon freely roam the streets of Durnhill. Syngaard, in the meantime, tried to figure out what he was supposed to do in the presence of a king. Weren't you supposed to bow, or curtsy, or something? Drop to a knee, maybe? Or maybe that was only under certain circumstances? Ah, the Hell with it! the fighter finally decided. Galen wasn't genuflecting or anything, and he'd probably know if that was something you were supposed to do. He decided to follow the paladin's lead.
"An ale, if you please!" Galen suddenly called out to the room at large - he found himself needing the comfort of a mug of alcohol just now - but nothing happened. Skevros's "seen unseen servant" was no longer in residence, it seemed; he probably didn't want to have to explain her to the king.
"Ah, Miss Nightsky arrives," Skevros said, changing the subject, and the assembled group looked over to the door as Orion rode her riding dog Carl into the tavern. Upon seeing Serenity her face darkened; upon seeing King Leornic III she gave an audible gasp of surprise. Thinking back to Skevros's mental admonition about "no grudges" and suspecting he might be in trouble of some sort with the king about the hard time he'd been giving the halfling thief, Syngaard walked up beside Orion and put a welcoming arm around her shoulder. "Glad you're here," Syngaard said with an uncomfortable - and quite insincere - smile on his face (it was really more of a grimace). Looking over to the king, he explained, "She's like a sister to me." Then, unable to help himself even under these circumstances, he sneered, "Well, more like a half-sister." Orion silently wriggled her shoulder out from underneath Syngaard's arm but said nothing to attract the king's notice.
"Now that we are all assembled," Skevros began, and anticipating Orion's question he added, "Daleth is on a mission for me in the Azure Glades" by way of explanation. Orion closed her mouth, her question answered before she could even ask it. "You are all here to receive a mission brief before we send you to an abandoned mine in Ashfall. I believe you all know Serenity?" The succubus smiled at the group of heroes, favoring Galen with a prolonged smirk.
"Good morning, everyone," Serenity cooed. "Today you will have an opportunity to - quite literally - save the world."
"What's it pay?" asked Syngaard immediately, earning him a dark glare from Skevros.
"Two thousand gold pieces each, plus the free crafting of a mithral item of your choosing," replied Serenity as if already anticipating the fighter's question. "...Assuming you survive."
"Generous," admitted Galen. "I assume the job is particularly dangerous, to be worth such a reward?"
"Oh, it is," agreed Serenity. "Here's the deal: I have discovered a cult of devil worshipers calling themselves the Cult of the Burning Gate, who serve a powerful devil known only as the Hope Ender. They gather in an abandoned mine at the foothills of the Baator's Breath Mountains. As you know, we are currently about halfway through the dangerous part of the decade, where for about nine months, various gates to Baator open up sporadically. At the end of the nine months, we will have nine years without such dangers. All of Ashfall's able-bodied men are up in the mountains, fighting off the devil armies trying to get in. Well, this devil cult is working on a ritual that will permanently open one of the sporadic gates that manifests upon occasion in the mine. In addition, if the ritual is successful, the random breaches to Baator will continue on indefinitely. Normally, I would go in to deal with the problem myself, but the mine - like other known areas where the boundaries between the worlds are weak - are currently shielded against denizens of the Lower Realms by magical dwarven runes. And that, alas, includes me."
"A wise move," replied Galen sternly. "So why not just remove the wards?"
"That would take time we do not have," replied the succubus. "For the same reason, the cultists are moving to set up their permanent breach; presumably, they'll deal with the wards themselves after their ritual is successful."
"What is our mission, then?" asked Kaspar. "Enter the mines and stop these cultists, I assume?"
"Not just stop them from performing their ritual," corrected King Leornic. "I want them slain to the last man, so they can't regroup and try again later!"
"Do we know when the cultists will attempt the ritual?" asked Orion.
"In about two hours," answered Serenity without hesitation.
"As you can see, time is of the essence," pressed Skevros. "Therefore, if you are all ready?"
"Wait, wait!" begged Orion. "I want to take Carl with us! Galen, do you want to bring Seneca?" Galen thought it over, but decided his warhorse would not likely do his best fighting within the confines of a cramped mine.
"Why aren't you coming with us?" demanded Syngaard of the king's adviser. "A powerful wizard like you? Gotta figure you could bring some firepower to the fight."
"Alas, I cannot," Skevros replied curtly, not deigning to elaborate.
"Why not?" demanded Syngaard.
"My adviser has been magically confined to the kingdom," answered King Leornic. "He ran afoul of a cabal of wizards in his younger days, something to do with a magical helm that alters the personality of the wearer. As a result, he cannot step foot outside the kingdom of Durnhill, where he was exiled."
Syngaard rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So that's why you teleport us places but we have to walk home all the time," he grumbled.
"Indeed," agreed Skevros, clearly uncomfortable about discussing his past. "Is everyone ready?"
"You can expect to find seventeen cultists," Serenity advised the group. "All human, all wizards, although the bulk of them are mere initiates. Still, there are five acolytes who will likely give you a bit of trouble."
"Seventeen?" gasped Orion. That was more enemies than their group had ever been up against before!
"And I want all seventeen of them slain," reminded King Leornic.
"Yes, Your Majesty," answered Galen. Then Skevros cast his teleport spell on the group and they were suddenly standing at the entrance to a mine.
"We're here," announced Syngaard, quite unnecessarily.
"'Half-sister,'" snarled Orion at the bald fighter. "Keep your grubby hands off me in the future, if you please."
"Not a problem," replied Syngaard, wiping the hand that had touched her shoulder during his grimace-hug on his pants leg as if he'd touched something foul. "I was just trying to play nice in front of the king. So, whaddayathink? Has Serenity got him under some sort of spell, or what?"
"Unlikely," replied Kaspar. "Skevros would have noticed and taken appropriate countermeasures."
"Yeah? Not if she's got him under her spell, too," countered Syngaard.
"You do realize we're probably being observed by Skevros - and King Leornic, and Serenity - as we speak?" asked Kaspar. It made sense; the whole reason the heroes each wore an iron ring on a finger was so the king's adviser could scry on them at will and send them mental messages as needed.
"Ah, crap," muttered Syngaard to himself. Nothing like being watched by your boss while you're doing your job!
"Shhh!" hissed Galen suddenly. "I hear something up ahead!" He pulled the bow from his back and readied an arrow. Sure enough, there were voices coming from down the corridor of the mine. Three men, each dressed in identical robes, turned the corner and spotted the four heroes - and a riding dog - framed in the pool of sunlight as they stood just outside the mine's entry point.
Galen let fly with his arrow, catching one of the men in the throat; he fell to the ground at once, choking on his own blood. The paladin nocked another arrow and entered the tunnel. Two fiery bolts of energy went whizzing by him as he strode purposefully down the tunnel, hastily-cast spells from nervous cultist guards who hadn't actually expected anyone to know of their plans and try to interfere.
Kaspar ran past Galen, slipping a pair of shuriken from his robes as he did so. He threw them on the run, each piercing the same enemy: one struck an eye and one the chest, each charged with electricity from his tenryutsume. The cultist fell over before he even had time to scream.
Prodding her dog on the sides with her feet, Orion sent Carl dashing down the mine tunnel. He raced faster than the two heroes beside him, going low at the third cultist's legs while his rider went high, stabbing at him with her flaming short sword. In as many seconds, three cultists lay dead on the ground. Behind the dog, Syngaard ran up, disappointed to see they hadn't left anyone for him to kill. He turned the corner and came face to face with a fourth cultist, this one dressed in robes of the same color but of a finer workmanship, no doubt designating a higher rank among the cult. Syngaard glared menacingly at this foe as he prepared to throw his javelin of returning. But before he could release his weapon, the cultist suddenly sprouted an arrow shaft in the chest and a pair of electrical shuriken in the head. He dropped in a heap, leaving Syngaard once again standing there with nobody to attack. "Dammit!" he swore.
Orion spurred Carl down the tunnel and up to the next corner, which led deeper into the mine. She peeked quickly around the corner and then ducked her head back, having spotted the scene of the upcoming ritual. Five flickering flames roared at the ends of a pentagram inscribed into the stone floor of the chamber, providing enough light to see a dozen more cultists arranged around the pentagram. Of the dozen, nine wore the robes of an initiate while the other three were acolytes. And oddly, a hunk of reddish metal shaped like an oversized tuning fork was lying in the middle of the pentagram. It came to a point at the bottom, as if the cylindrical bar had been sheared off at an angle. Orion whispered what she'd taken in of the scene from her single glance to the others, who had sidled up behind her.
"Twelve ahead, and four already dead," counted Kaspar. "I wonder where the other cultist is. We're one short."
"Maybe he's off taking a leak or something," suggested Syngaard.
"What's the plan?" asked Galen.
"We're greatly outnumbered," pointed out Kaspar. "Our best bet is to take out as many as we can as quickly as we can, using the element of surprise to our advantage. I'd recommend taking out a bunch of the initiates at first, to drop their numbers significantly. It will add to the chaos, with bodies dropping all around them."
"I like the way you think," Syngaard said, admiring the elven monk's strategy. Then, on Kaspar's signal, they all rounded the corner and attacked, using ranged weaponry as they closed the distance between the two groups.
Galen's first arrow missed its target entirely, serving merely as an announcement that there were enemies in the mines with the cultists. Carl bounded down the short tunnel and snapped at a cultist while Orion swung out with her blade; she hit him but he failed to drop. At the dog's side ran Syngaard, throwing his javelin with all his might. It hit its target, but the initiate also failed to drop. "Crap!" swore Syngaard, aghast at their success rate thus far.
As one, the initiates raised their hands and voices and started casting spells. Orion and Carl managed to slay the two nearest spellcasters as they fumbled through their verbalizations, dropping them before their spells had been finished. But seven other fire spells went flying through the air; apparently variety was not high up on their list of priorities. Three fire orbs were thrown at Orion, only one of them hitting its target. Syngaard was targeted with three but managed to dodge one; the other two struck him in the arm and chest. The last fire orb was sent at Galen, who sidestepped it easily enough.
Kaspar raced towards the fight, throwing an electrified shuriken at one of the acolytes as he did so. The weapon struck, but failed to slay the spellcaster. He retaliated by casting a burning hands spell in an arc, catching Kaspar, Syngaard, Orion, and Carl in its blast radius. The other two acolytes took the opportunity to cast mage armor spells upon themselves. "Destroy these intruders!" one called. "The Hope Ender will not be pleased if we fail him now!"
"And yet, I'd be perfectly fine with it!" quipped Syngaard, swinging his morningstar into the side of an initiate's head, caving it in with an explosion of blood and brain matter. Orion stabbed out with her flaming short sword, gutting another initiate. Their actions gained them the ire of the rest of the cultists, who targeted them with waves of flame splash spells. But Kaspar and Galen teamed up against the acolyte the monk had been fighting, flanking him from opposite sides and bringing him down with blade and open hand strike.
With a roar of fury - these fire spells were starting to hurt! - Syngaard caved in another initiate's skull and then cleaved into the body of another one nearby. As the second body dropped, he raced up to his next target. He was starting to feel a bit woozy from the damage he'd taken, but the scarred fighter tended to put revenge as a higher priority than self-preservation.
Another acolyte cast a burning hands spell that dropped Carl out from underneath Orion. The nimble halfling dropped to the ground, rolled, and came up with her flaming blade stabbing up at the spellcaster, cursing him for hurting her dog. Galen, who had been trying to cast a healing spell from his wand upon Syngaard but unable to keep up with the fighter because of the heavier weight of the paladin's armor, saw Carl drop and changed course. The stupid fighter could look after himself for awhile; Galen wasn't about to let Carl die when he could still save him!
Syngaard got the other remaining acolyte's attention focused on him, allowing Kaspar to sneak up from behind and snap his neck with a well-placed blow. Looking around the battlefield and seeing only three remaining initiates and the last acolyte fighting Orion, the bald fighter decided he could waste a moment drinking down the contents of one of the two potions of cure light wounds at his belt. After all, Galen was dealing with Carl, but that still left Orion and Kaspar to deal with the four remaining cultists, who were all down to their weaker spells by now. They could do without him long enough for him to swig down a potion, surely.
Syngaard only had a moment to realize this potion tasted different than the other healing potions he'd guzzled down before in his life as an adventurer before he was overcome by a wave of dizziness. The world about him suddenly stretched and swayed, expanding in all directions. But that didn't make sense! How could drinking a potion cause everything to--
Oh no, thought Syngaard. Not that! He looked across the chamber to Orion, catching her eye and capturing her immediate attention. He noted she wasn't looking up at him as she would normally be doing - she was looking directly across the room from him, from the same height. And then a look of shock and surprise spread over her face, as sudden realization hit. Her mouth dropped open, but then she had to divert her attention to the initiate trying to gut her with an evil-looking dagger of masterwork craftsmanship.
"Orion!" Syngaard bellowed - only in his new, three-foot-tall form, his voice was several octaves higher than before. That bitch shrunk me! he thought, a blood-red rage washing over him. He took out his frustration on the closest initiate, bringing his morningstar down in an overhead swing. At his normal size, this would have brought the spiked head of the weapon down upon the spellcaster's temple, likely killing him; at half-size, the weapon caught the initiate in the groin and caused him to crumple to the floor in agony. Syngaard, fully aware of his combat capabilities, realized he wasn't as strong as normal now that he was only three feet tall. Kaspar helped him finish off the pain-wracked spellcaster writhing on the stone floor, while across the room Galen, having restored Carl to consciousness, helped Orion take down the last of the acolytes. Carl slew one of the remaining initiates, leaving the last one to Syngaard's tender mercies. (This was unfortunate, for at the moment Syngaard had no mercy - he was too busy imagining Orion's face in the place of the screaming cultist's.)
Galen dutifully trotted over to Syngaard's side to heal him properly with his wand when he was suddenly struck from behind by a burning globe of fire rolling around the floor. Spinning around, the paladin found the seventeenth cultist, an acolyte steering the flaming sphere spell effect with his hands. Galen stepped away from the flaming mass, then pulled his bow back out and sent an arrow at the spellcaster - the cult's leader, judging by the elaborateness of the trim along his robes. "Attack!" called Orion, sheathing her flaming blade and racing forward. Carl obeyed his mistress, bounding off after the cult leader; Orion leaped up upon her mount as he passed and steadied herself in the saddle. But by this time the spellcaster had taken in the piles of dead bodies all around the ritual chamber and realized their plans for creating a permanent gate to Baator were finished - for now, at least. Now it was imperative that he escape from here, to rebuild the cult's numbers; after all, there were always gullible patsies who could be convinced - like this batch of initiates had been - that the Cult of the Burning Gate would elevate them in personal power. Sure, the Hope Ender could grant a few farmers the ability to fire off a few flame spells, but they had no idea the true cost of the power they'd been given!
Unfortunately for the cult leader, Kaspar was just as swift of foot as was Carl. The monk sprinted forward, chopping down at the cultist with a hardened fist and cutting off his escape as the spellcaster staggered to one knee. Then Carl bounded up and Orion cut the cult leader down from the saddle with her flaming short sword.
Galen and Syngaard were busy stripping the slain cultists of their valuables - these guys carried a lot of coin on them; who knew devil worshiping was so lucrative? - when there was a blast of hellish light from the direction of the pentagram. Sheathed in flames, an enormous pit fiend stood in the center of the five-pointed star, a hunk of silver metal clasped in one clawed hand. It was a cylinder with one end sheared off at an angle, and looked like it would fit perfectly with the red tuning fork at his feet. "What is this?" demanded the Hope Ender. He tried stepping forward but was kept from doing so by the magical dwarven runes inscribed along the walls of the mine. "My cultists slain? I'll have your heads for this!"
Seeing the devil was unable to leave the confines of the pentagram - for he was certainly giving it his best shot - Syngaard was emboldened to drop his pants and moon the pit fiend. "Can't have our heads," he taunted, "but here's my tail!" The Hope Ender roared in fury, but the breach fizzled out almost immediately thereafter, leaving nothing behind but the stench of brimstone. Syngaard pulled his pants back into place, his attitude momentarily brightened. It brightened even further when the spell effect of the potion finally wore off and the fighter regained his normal size. But then it immediately soured again when the damned halfling came back with Kaspar to help "loot the stiffs."
"I'd almost forgotten I'd done that," Orion said by way of apology. "Back when you were knocked out by those kobolds that one time, I swapped out one of your healing potions with a potion of reduce person. I figured you were so down on halflings all the time, maybe you could use a dose of seeing what it's like to be one yourself! But I expected you'd drink it between battles, when it wouldn't have mattered so much. ...Sorry 'bout that."
"Well, as long as you got your petty revenge!" snarled Syngaard. "It's not like we were trying to, I dunno, save the world from devils or anything!"
"I say," interjected Galen. "She's apologized, and no real harm was done...."
Syngaard spat on the ground at Orion's feet. "This ain't over," he warned her, then stormed off, not trusting himself to say anything further at the moment - it was all he could do to restrain himself from grabbing up his morningstar and striking out at the smug little rogue.
It was an uncomfortable walk home.
- - -
Man, was that a surprise! Apparently Vicki had planned this revenge on me months ago! She had explained her plans to Logan without me knowing, and motioned to him somehow that Orion was switching potions when she healed Syngaard during the kobold fight three adventures prior. And then it was just a matter of waiting for Syngaard to drink down the swapped-out potion. But I kept everyone waiting for a long time, because Syngaard's generally more interested in dealing damage to others than healing his own. However, Dan helped convince me that this was an opportune time to heal up and I went with it. Normally, we roll our own healing, but as soon as I said I was drinking one of my two potions of cure light wounds, Logan started rolling dice. I was surprised but not overly worried, but when I asked him how much I had been healed, he responded with, "All of a sudden, everything around you expands to twice its normal size..." and the table burst into laughter. I'm sure Dan had known of his wife's impending perfidy and was just waiting for the shoe to drop; he later complained that his head hurt from laughing so hard. (I found it difficult to give him any sympathy for that.) In character, I was livid with this betrayal; out of character, I congratulated Vicki on a well-planned and expertly-executed revenge.
So now apparently Syngaard and Orion will be involved in a series of escalating petty revenge. It ought to be fun!
Dan and Vicki showed up a bit late for this adventure, and as a result we finished up after 9:00 PM, Harry's normal bedtime. He was almost falling asleep at the table there at the end, so we sent him off to get his pajamas on and brush his teeth while we packed up and calculated experience. Galen, Kaspar, and Syngaard all made it to 4th level as a result of this adventure, with Orion dragging just far enough behind that she'll upgrade at the end of the next adventure she goes through for sure.
PC Roster:
Galen Thorne, human paladin 3
Kaspar Hardstrike, elf monk 3
Orion Nightsky, halfling rogue 3
Syngaard, human fighter 3
Kaspar Hardstrike, elf monk 3
Orion Nightsky, halfling rogue 3
Syngaard, human fighter 3
Game Session Date: 14 February 2018
- - -
"Come at once to the Enchanted Flagon," commanded Skevros to the Durnhill conscripts through the iron rings they wore. "Leave all grudges behind."
That last bit had Syngaard wrinkling his brow in confusion. Grudges? The only grudge he could think of was the constant belittling - (Ha! "Belittling!") - he engaged in where Orion was concerned. But why would that bother Skevros? Shrugging mentally, the scarred fighter gathered up his clothes and put them on, buckled on his armor, and collected his assortment of weapons.
"You goin' so soon?" murmured Cori from the warmth and comfort of the bed.
"Yep," replied Syngaard. "Nippin' off to my other job. You go on back to sleep." Cori muttered something into her pillow, which the bald fighter took as agreement. He closed the door quietly behind him and made his way out of the brothel, nodding to the Madame on duty as he left. It was a pretty good gig he had going here: room and board in exchange for his services as a bouncer whenever any of the clientele got too rough with the girls or tried slipping out without paying. It was a loose arrangement; if his "other job" called him away for days at a time that was fine with the establishment, as he wouldn't be using up any room and board during his absence. And they didn't have to pay him any coin for his services as a bouncer, merely give him a place to sleep and a meal or two while he was working. Anything extra beyond that he paid for like any other customer. But he had a special deal with Cori, who often let him stay over in her room if she wasn't otherwise occupied with a client. She liked the safety the burly fighter offered, and Syngaard's demands were minimal - usually he just wanted to be with someone until he fell asleep, and didn't want to wake up alone if the nightmares came - as they still did, even now.
Walking towards the Enchanted Flagon, Syngaard saw Galen Thorne riding up on his warhorse, Seneca. "Good day!" called the paladin; Syngaard merely lifted a hand in greeting. Galen was a good enough sort, but rather a bit too boisterously nice at times for the scarred fighter's liking. As Galen tied Seneca's reins to the post just outside the tavern, Kaspar Hardstrike wandered up from the other direction. He nodded his greeting to the two warriors, and the three men entered the tavern more or less together.
And there they got the shocks of their lives.
The first thing they noticed was the beautiful woman standing before them. Long of leg and statuesque, she wore fine armor that managed to enhance her curves while still providing adequate protection in battle. The second thing they noticed - once they could raise their gazes to her face - was that this was a woman known to them, although they'd never seen her in her combat armor before. Framing her face was a pair of batlike wings, currently folded flat behind her while in the confines of a building's interior.
"Serenity!" gasped Galen, his hand dropping to the magic longsword at his side. Instinctively, he detected evil on the woman before him and got an overwhelming response that caused his head to throb in migraine-level pain.
"Stay your hand!" commanded a figure in the back of the tavern. His face was hidden in shadow, as he had two burly knights looming protectively in front of him, but they parted at his approach and the three heroes got their first sight of King Leornic the Third in person since entering his service months ago.
"My Liege!" gasped Galen. "This woman before you--she is a succubus!"
"This is known to me," observed King Leornic. "Nonetheless, she is a trusted ally." Galen merely swallowed, unwilling to argue further with his liege but absolutely certain the king had made a grave error of judgment in letting a demon freely roam the streets of Durnhill. Syngaard, in the meantime, tried to figure out what he was supposed to do in the presence of a king. Weren't you supposed to bow, or curtsy, or something? Drop to a knee, maybe? Or maybe that was only under certain circumstances? Ah, the Hell with it! the fighter finally decided. Galen wasn't genuflecting or anything, and he'd probably know if that was something you were supposed to do. He decided to follow the paladin's lead.
"An ale, if you please!" Galen suddenly called out to the room at large - he found himself needing the comfort of a mug of alcohol just now - but nothing happened. Skevros's "seen unseen servant" was no longer in residence, it seemed; he probably didn't want to have to explain her to the king.
"Ah, Miss Nightsky arrives," Skevros said, changing the subject, and the assembled group looked over to the door as Orion rode her riding dog Carl into the tavern. Upon seeing Serenity her face darkened; upon seeing King Leornic III she gave an audible gasp of surprise. Thinking back to Skevros's mental admonition about "no grudges" and suspecting he might be in trouble of some sort with the king about the hard time he'd been giving the halfling thief, Syngaard walked up beside Orion and put a welcoming arm around her shoulder. "Glad you're here," Syngaard said with an uncomfortable - and quite insincere - smile on his face (it was really more of a grimace). Looking over to the king, he explained, "She's like a sister to me." Then, unable to help himself even under these circumstances, he sneered, "Well, more like a half-sister." Orion silently wriggled her shoulder out from underneath Syngaard's arm but said nothing to attract the king's notice.
"Now that we are all assembled," Skevros began, and anticipating Orion's question he added, "Daleth is on a mission for me in the Azure Glades" by way of explanation. Orion closed her mouth, her question answered before she could even ask it. "You are all here to receive a mission brief before we send you to an abandoned mine in Ashfall. I believe you all know Serenity?" The succubus smiled at the group of heroes, favoring Galen with a prolonged smirk.
"Good morning, everyone," Serenity cooed. "Today you will have an opportunity to - quite literally - save the world."
"What's it pay?" asked Syngaard immediately, earning him a dark glare from Skevros.
"Two thousand gold pieces each, plus the free crafting of a mithral item of your choosing," replied Serenity as if already anticipating the fighter's question. "...Assuming you survive."
"Generous," admitted Galen. "I assume the job is particularly dangerous, to be worth such a reward?"
"Oh, it is," agreed Serenity. "Here's the deal: I have discovered a cult of devil worshipers calling themselves the Cult of the Burning Gate, who serve a powerful devil known only as the Hope Ender. They gather in an abandoned mine at the foothills of the Baator's Breath Mountains. As you know, we are currently about halfway through the dangerous part of the decade, where for about nine months, various gates to Baator open up sporadically. At the end of the nine months, we will have nine years without such dangers. All of Ashfall's able-bodied men are up in the mountains, fighting off the devil armies trying to get in. Well, this devil cult is working on a ritual that will permanently open one of the sporadic gates that manifests upon occasion in the mine. In addition, if the ritual is successful, the random breaches to Baator will continue on indefinitely. Normally, I would go in to deal with the problem myself, but the mine - like other known areas where the boundaries between the worlds are weak - are currently shielded against denizens of the Lower Realms by magical dwarven runes. And that, alas, includes me."
"A wise move," replied Galen sternly. "So why not just remove the wards?"
"That would take time we do not have," replied the succubus. "For the same reason, the cultists are moving to set up their permanent breach; presumably, they'll deal with the wards themselves after their ritual is successful."
"What is our mission, then?" asked Kaspar. "Enter the mines and stop these cultists, I assume?"
"Not just stop them from performing their ritual," corrected King Leornic. "I want them slain to the last man, so they can't regroup and try again later!"
"Do we know when the cultists will attempt the ritual?" asked Orion.
"In about two hours," answered Serenity without hesitation.
"As you can see, time is of the essence," pressed Skevros. "Therefore, if you are all ready?"
"Wait, wait!" begged Orion. "I want to take Carl with us! Galen, do you want to bring Seneca?" Galen thought it over, but decided his warhorse would not likely do his best fighting within the confines of a cramped mine.
"Why aren't you coming with us?" demanded Syngaard of the king's adviser. "A powerful wizard like you? Gotta figure you could bring some firepower to the fight."
"Alas, I cannot," Skevros replied curtly, not deigning to elaborate.
"Why not?" demanded Syngaard.
"My adviser has been magically confined to the kingdom," answered King Leornic. "He ran afoul of a cabal of wizards in his younger days, something to do with a magical helm that alters the personality of the wearer. As a result, he cannot step foot outside the kingdom of Durnhill, where he was exiled."
Syngaard rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So that's why you teleport us places but we have to walk home all the time," he grumbled.
"Indeed," agreed Skevros, clearly uncomfortable about discussing his past. "Is everyone ready?"
"You can expect to find seventeen cultists," Serenity advised the group. "All human, all wizards, although the bulk of them are mere initiates. Still, there are five acolytes who will likely give you a bit of trouble."
"Seventeen?" gasped Orion. That was more enemies than their group had ever been up against before!
"And I want all seventeen of them slain," reminded King Leornic.
"Yes, Your Majesty," answered Galen. Then Skevros cast his teleport spell on the group and they were suddenly standing at the entrance to a mine.
"We're here," announced Syngaard, quite unnecessarily.
"'Half-sister,'" snarled Orion at the bald fighter. "Keep your grubby hands off me in the future, if you please."
"Not a problem," replied Syngaard, wiping the hand that had touched her shoulder during his grimace-hug on his pants leg as if he'd touched something foul. "I was just trying to play nice in front of the king. So, whaddayathink? Has Serenity got him under some sort of spell, or what?"
"Unlikely," replied Kaspar. "Skevros would have noticed and taken appropriate countermeasures."
"Yeah? Not if she's got him under her spell, too," countered Syngaard.
"You do realize we're probably being observed by Skevros - and King Leornic, and Serenity - as we speak?" asked Kaspar. It made sense; the whole reason the heroes each wore an iron ring on a finger was so the king's adviser could scry on them at will and send them mental messages as needed.
"Ah, crap," muttered Syngaard to himself. Nothing like being watched by your boss while you're doing your job!
"Shhh!" hissed Galen suddenly. "I hear something up ahead!" He pulled the bow from his back and readied an arrow. Sure enough, there were voices coming from down the corridor of the mine. Three men, each dressed in identical robes, turned the corner and spotted the four heroes - and a riding dog - framed in the pool of sunlight as they stood just outside the mine's entry point.
Galen let fly with his arrow, catching one of the men in the throat; he fell to the ground at once, choking on his own blood. The paladin nocked another arrow and entered the tunnel. Two fiery bolts of energy went whizzing by him as he strode purposefully down the tunnel, hastily-cast spells from nervous cultist guards who hadn't actually expected anyone to know of their plans and try to interfere.
Kaspar ran past Galen, slipping a pair of shuriken from his robes as he did so. He threw them on the run, each piercing the same enemy: one struck an eye and one the chest, each charged with electricity from his tenryutsume. The cultist fell over before he even had time to scream.
Prodding her dog on the sides with her feet, Orion sent Carl dashing down the mine tunnel. He raced faster than the two heroes beside him, going low at the third cultist's legs while his rider went high, stabbing at him with her flaming short sword. In as many seconds, three cultists lay dead on the ground. Behind the dog, Syngaard ran up, disappointed to see they hadn't left anyone for him to kill. He turned the corner and came face to face with a fourth cultist, this one dressed in robes of the same color but of a finer workmanship, no doubt designating a higher rank among the cult. Syngaard glared menacingly at this foe as he prepared to throw his javelin of returning. But before he could release his weapon, the cultist suddenly sprouted an arrow shaft in the chest and a pair of electrical shuriken in the head. He dropped in a heap, leaving Syngaard once again standing there with nobody to attack. "Dammit!" he swore.
Orion spurred Carl down the tunnel and up to the next corner, which led deeper into the mine. She peeked quickly around the corner and then ducked her head back, having spotted the scene of the upcoming ritual. Five flickering flames roared at the ends of a pentagram inscribed into the stone floor of the chamber, providing enough light to see a dozen more cultists arranged around the pentagram. Of the dozen, nine wore the robes of an initiate while the other three were acolytes. And oddly, a hunk of reddish metal shaped like an oversized tuning fork was lying in the middle of the pentagram. It came to a point at the bottom, as if the cylindrical bar had been sheared off at an angle. Orion whispered what she'd taken in of the scene from her single glance to the others, who had sidled up behind her.
"Twelve ahead, and four already dead," counted Kaspar. "I wonder where the other cultist is. We're one short."
"Maybe he's off taking a leak or something," suggested Syngaard.
"What's the plan?" asked Galen.
"We're greatly outnumbered," pointed out Kaspar. "Our best bet is to take out as many as we can as quickly as we can, using the element of surprise to our advantage. I'd recommend taking out a bunch of the initiates at first, to drop their numbers significantly. It will add to the chaos, with bodies dropping all around them."
"I like the way you think," Syngaard said, admiring the elven monk's strategy. Then, on Kaspar's signal, they all rounded the corner and attacked, using ranged weaponry as they closed the distance between the two groups.
Galen's first arrow missed its target entirely, serving merely as an announcement that there were enemies in the mines with the cultists. Carl bounded down the short tunnel and snapped at a cultist while Orion swung out with her blade; she hit him but he failed to drop. At the dog's side ran Syngaard, throwing his javelin with all his might. It hit its target, but the initiate also failed to drop. "Crap!" swore Syngaard, aghast at their success rate thus far.
As one, the initiates raised their hands and voices and started casting spells. Orion and Carl managed to slay the two nearest spellcasters as they fumbled through their verbalizations, dropping them before their spells had been finished. But seven other fire spells went flying through the air; apparently variety was not high up on their list of priorities. Three fire orbs were thrown at Orion, only one of them hitting its target. Syngaard was targeted with three but managed to dodge one; the other two struck him in the arm and chest. The last fire orb was sent at Galen, who sidestepped it easily enough.
Kaspar raced towards the fight, throwing an electrified shuriken at one of the acolytes as he did so. The weapon struck, but failed to slay the spellcaster. He retaliated by casting a burning hands spell in an arc, catching Kaspar, Syngaard, Orion, and Carl in its blast radius. The other two acolytes took the opportunity to cast mage armor spells upon themselves. "Destroy these intruders!" one called. "The Hope Ender will not be pleased if we fail him now!"
"And yet, I'd be perfectly fine with it!" quipped Syngaard, swinging his morningstar into the side of an initiate's head, caving it in with an explosion of blood and brain matter. Orion stabbed out with her flaming short sword, gutting another initiate. Their actions gained them the ire of the rest of the cultists, who targeted them with waves of flame splash spells. But Kaspar and Galen teamed up against the acolyte the monk had been fighting, flanking him from opposite sides and bringing him down with blade and open hand strike.
With a roar of fury - these fire spells were starting to hurt! - Syngaard caved in another initiate's skull and then cleaved into the body of another one nearby. As the second body dropped, he raced up to his next target. He was starting to feel a bit woozy from the damage he'd taken, but the scarred fighter tended to put revenge as a higher priority than self-preservation.
Another acolyte cast a burning hands spell that dropped Carl out from underneath Orion. The nimble halfling dropped to the ground, rolled, and came up with her flaming blade stabbing up at the spellcaster, cursing him for hurting her dog. Galen, who had been trying to cast a healing spell from his wand upon Syngaard but unable to keep up with the fighter because of the heavier weight of the paladin's armor, saw Carl drop and changed course. The stupid fighter could look after himself for awhile; Galen wasn't about to let Carl die when he could still save him!
Syngaard got the other remaining acolyte's attention focused on him, allowing Kaspar to sneak up from behind and snap his neck with a well-placed blow. Looking around the battlefield and seeing only three remaining initiates and the last acolyte fighting Orion, the bald fighter decided he could waste a moment drinking down the contents of one of the two potions of cure light wounds at his belt. After all, Galen was dealing with Carl, but that still left Orion and Kaspar to deal with the four remaining cultists, who were all down to their weaker spells by now. They could do without him long enough for him to swig down a potion, surely.
Syngaard only had a moment to realize this potion tasted different than the other healing potions he'd guzzled down before in his life as an adventurer before he was overcome by a wave of dizziness. The world about him suddenly stretched and swayed, expanding in all directions. But that didn't make sense! How could drinking a potion cause everything to--
Oh no, thought Syngaard. Not that! He looked across the chamber to Orion, catching her eye and capturing her immediate attention. He noted she wasn't looking up at him as she would normally be doing - she was looking directly across the room from him, from the same height. And then a look of shock and surprise spread over her face, as sudden realization hit. Her mouth dropped open, but then she had to divert her attention to the initiate trying to gut her with an evil-looking dagger of masterwork craftsmanship.
"Orion!" Syngaard bellowed - only in his new, three-foot-tall form, his voice was several octaves higher than before. That bitch shrunk me! he thought, a blood-red rage washing over him. He took out his frustration on the closest initiate, bringing his morningstar down in an overhead swing. At his normal size, this would have brought the spiked head of the weapon down upon the spellcaster's temple, likely killing him; at half-size, the weapon caught the initiate in the groin and caused him to crumple to the floor in agony. Syngaard, fully aware of his combat capabilities, realized he wasn't as strong as normal now that he was only three feet tall. Kaspar helped him finish off the pain-wracked spellcaster writhing on the stone floor, while across the room Galen, having restored Carl to consciousness, helped Orion take down the last of the acolytes. Carl slew one of the remaining initiates, leaving the last one to Syngaard's tender mercies. (This was unfortunate, for at the moment Syngaard had no mercy - he was too busy imagining Orion's face in the place of the screaming cultist's.)
Galen dutifully trotted over to Syngaard's side to heal him properly with his wand when he was suddenly struck from behind by a burning globe of fire rolling around the floor. Spinning around, the paladin found the seventeenth cultist, an acolyte steering the flaming sphere spell effect with his hands. Galen stepped away from the flaming mass, then pulled his bow back out and sent an arrow at the spellcaster - the cult's leader, judging by the elaborateness of the trim along his robes. "Attack!" called Orion, sheathing her flaming blade and racing forward. Carl obeyed his mistress, bounding off after the cult leader; Orion leaped up upon her mount as he passed and steadied herself in the saddle. But by this time the spellcaster had taken in the piles of dead bodies all around the ritual chamber and realized their plans for creating a permanent gate to Baator were finished - for now, at least. Now it was imperative that he escape from here, to rebuild the cult's numbers; after all, there were always gullible patsies who could be convinced - like this batch of initiates had been - that the Cult of the Burning Gate would elevate them in personal power. Sure, the Hope Ender could grant a few farmers the ability to fire off a few flame spells, but they had no idea the true cost of the power they'd been given!
Unfortunately for the cult leader, Kaspar was just as swift of foot as was Carl. The monk sprinted forward, chopping down at the cultist with a hardened fist and cutting off his escape as the spellcaster staggered to one knee. Then Carl bounded up and Orion cut the cult leader down from the saddle with her flaming short sword.
Galen and Syngaard were busy stripping the slain cultists of their valuables - these guys carried a lot of coin on them; who knew devil worshiping was so lucrative? - when there was a blast of hellish light from the direction of the pentagram. Sheathed in flames, an enormous pit fiend stood in the center of the five-pointed star, a hunk of silver metal clasped in one clawed hand. It was a cylinder with one end sheared off at an angle, and looked like it would fit perfectly with the red tuning fork at his feet. "What is this?" demanded the Hope Ender. He tried stepping forward but was kept from doing so by the magical dwarven runes inscribed along the walls of the mine. "My cultists slain? I'll have your heads for this!"
Seeing the devil was unable to leave the confines of the pentagram - for he was certainly giving it his best shot - Syngaard was emboldened to drop his pants and moon the pit fiend. "Can't have our heads," he taunted, "but here's my tail!" The Hope Ender roared in fury, but the breach fizzled out almost immediately thereafter, leaving nothing behind but the stench of brimstone. Syngaard pulled his pants back into place, his attitude momentarily brightened. It brightened even further when the spell effect of the potion finally wore off and the fighter regained his normal size. But then it immediately soured again when the damned halfling came back with Kaspar to help "loot the stiffs."
"I'd almost forgotten I'd done that," Orion said by way of apology. "Back when you were knocked out by those kobolds that one time, I swapped out one of your healing potions with a potion of reduce person. I figured you were so down on halflings all the time, maybe you could use a dose of seeing what it's like to be one yourself! But I expected you'd drink it between battles, when it wouldn't have mattered so much. ...Sorry 'bout that."
"Well, as long as you got your petty revenge!" snarled Syngaard. "It's not like we were trying to, I dunno, save the world from devils or anything!"
"I say," interjected Galen. "She's apologized, and no real harm was done...."
Syngaard spat on the ground at Orion's feet. "This ain't over," he warned her, then stormed off, not trusting himself to say anything further at the moment - it was all he could do to restrain himself from grabbing up his morningstar and striking out at the smug little rogue.
It was an uncomfortable walk home.
- - -
Man, was that a surprise! Apparently Vicki had planned this revenge on me months ago! She had explained her plans to Logan without me knowing, and motioned to him somehow that Orion was switching potions when she healed Syngaard during the kobold fight three adventures prior. And then it was just a matter of waiting for Syngaard to drink down the swapped-out potion. But I kept everyone waiting for a long time, because Syngaard's generally more interested in dealing damage to others than healing his own. However, Dan helped convince me that this was an opportune time to heal up and I went with it. Normally, we roll our own healing, but as soon as I said I was drinking one of my two potions of cure light wounds, Logan started rolling dice. I was surprised but not overly worried, but when I asked him how much I had been healed, he responded with, "All of a sudden, everything around you expands to twice its normal size..." and the table burst into laughter. I'm sure Dan had known of his wife's impending perfidy and was just waiting for the shoe to drop; he later complained that his head hurt from laughing so hard. (I found it difficult to give him any sympathy for that.) In character, I was livid with this betrayal; out of character, I congratulated Vicki on a well-planned and expertly-executed revenge.
So now apparently Syngaard and Orion will be involved in a series of escalating petty revenge. It ought to be fun!
Dan and Vicki showed up a bit late for this adventure, and as a result we finished up after 9:00 PM, Harry's normal bedtime. He was almost falling asleep at the table there at the end, so we sent him off to get his pajamas on and brush his teeth while we packed up and calculated experience. Galen, Kaspar, and Syngaard all made it to 4th level as a result of this adventure, with Orion dragging just far enough behind that she'll upgrade at the end of the next adventure she goes through for sure.
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