Kurychek, the imp, sneered as he perched on the table top. It took a break from gloating to insolently stab at the platter of roast with his beak
Inquisitor Guthwulf scowled back from across the scratched and scorched table. It had been dragged into the shop from the ruins of a nearby pub along with a single salvageable chair. The insignia of an apple with a skull over it was carved over the top of it, though what that was to mean, he had no idea. As the imp pulled a piece of pork from his own dinner, Guthwulf pulled the plate back out of its reach.
“Our contract bound me to return the case originally stolen by the gnome Rivereye,” the small devil squawked. It undoubtedly chose to remain in raven-form so its voice would grate on his nerves even more. “You have the case, so my role is done.”
Guthwulf shook his head knowing already that the little bastard was correct. “The case is worthless without its contents,” he growled, punctuating his words by pointing his Inquisitor’s Claw at the devil. If the High Inquisitor Kreven knew he was carving his roast with his trade’s weapon and symbol of authority, he would be very displeased, but such displeasure would become palpable rage if he knew of this failure. “You should have obtained it before the switch could be made.”
The raven-imp laughed, it’s cawing like nails dragged over a tin roof. “You should have put in a clause if you wanted speedier service. You have the case and I am no longer bound to your service.” Kurychek paused to let his former master seethe a while. Then, in a burst of flame accompanied by an audible pop, Kurychek vanished, leaving only a few drifting black feathers and the aroma of sulfur in the air.
Guthwulf sighed. It was as he had expected. He suspected the devil might have even made contact with the spies, perhaps arranged things this way. It was no matter; he had a stronger devil, Kazyk, pursuing the resistance members, just in case the imp had managed to dodge its responsibility. Reaching into the pocket of his tabard, he unfolded a small triangle of parchment to re-read the contract with the perfidious devil:
“You shall learn and reveal to me the history of the fire forest and its secret of
continual burning. And too, shall you retrieve and return to me the adamantine case containing the Ragesian secrets. Let not those who held or hold the case, nor their companions, leave the burning forest with their lives.”
The first line was in little danger of being violated. High Inquisitor Kreven would have his information, though how he could use it to move troops through the burning pass was a mystery to him. However, if the devil realized the group did not have the adamantine case, the second line would be nullified. Guthwulf smiled at the third line. Without knowing for sure which of the escapees once held the case and with the use of the word “companions”, the devil would have to kill them all. If the secrets were incinerated in the forest with their corpses, surely Kreven would be satisfied. Guthwulf re-read the contact. again. Devils, by their nature, sought the easiest way to fulfill the letter of their binding. Perfidious devils were full of pride, too, so Guthwulf doubted this one would avoid a fight.
****
Well, Shealis and I are on our way now to Shahalesti. She’s pretty angry right now, though it has little to do with the minor teleporting-related burns we sustained in escaping beyond the city walls. Some of it is related to the inability to get any information from our captured Inquisitor. More of it may stem from the fact that the raven swooped down and carried off a case more than ten times its size when Shealis felt the call of nature, as it were. So much for the distraction. But it’s probably mostly because Joven slipped away once he got on the other side. That’s pretty uncharacteristic of him, to break his word like that. He must have had a good reason to leave though it saddens me to know that I will be making this trip with Shealis and her solon familiar only. The prospect of many more days of the silent treatment is not one I envy. The next camp we get to should have horses awaiting us.
I don’t know that I envy my former companions in the fire forest, though if I was with them, I might have prevented a lot of wasted time. For them, the day began with a greeting from a hell hound toting a femur in its jaws. Carved into the bone was a message from a devil asking for “the case.” This was followed up shortly thereafter by the appearance of a fiery, glaive-wielding devil who fought the Coming Storm for said non-existent case, only to vanish to safety before they could dispatch him. He will provide a nuisance for them, I’m sure, but hopefully little more. Still, I’d keep double watches at night.
Only a little farther down the road, the party came across a dragonborn sorcerer named Khadral. In what I would consider a spectacular waste of precious time, the group agreed to dally with him over lunch, play some dicing games, and run errands for him to find some fungal reagents for a ritual that would allegedly put out the fires of Innenotdar. These reagents were located in a subterranean cave warded by the remnants of a magical alarm spell. From what I understand an eldarin body was found with that of some goblins. I assume they battled one another, but why the Shahalesti Solei Palancis would have been in this cave forty years ago is a strange puzzle. It must have something to do with the records of a transaction of Shahalesti gold to the Razortooth goblin tribe they found in the cave last night. I fear to ask Shealis if she knows any history about this given her foul temper. Associating her people with goblinoids might be the final straw that gets me turned into a newt.
Anyways, more fighting came of this diversion, against some large walking fungal creatures. Then, predictably, Khadral’s ritual failed, killing a dryad in the process and dumping the dragonborn into the depths of the earth and into the spongy hands of the fungal colony. Oz nearly became a mushroom meal himself in an aborted rescue attempt, but the others quite literally hauled his beaten form up and out of the cavern. From the sounds of things, Damner, at least, is thinking of going back to rescue him. I have mixed feelings on this. On the one hand, they did agree to help him, but on the other, too much is riding on the success of their mission to die in the clutches of these plant-like beings.
The forest indeed IS sentient and approached the Coming Storm. After testing them with the attack of some burning stags, the forest itself manifested a face and burning set of eyes and spoke to them. Az claims the exact words were: “Know this: I am the flame, and I am a prisoner here. Save me, free me from the prison of this enforced flesh, and you may continue to your destination. Refuse, and never shall you leave this wood. You shall be a prisoner for as long as I. You shall burn forever and never die.” Compelling argument…
Needless to say, the Coming Storm agreed to help this somewhat abrasive-sounding spirit (?) by silencing the “forty tongues” that bind it. As part of the arrangement, each of the party was granted a boon by the spirit Indomitability: the power of the ever-burning flame kindling in their blood. The cooling draughts will no longer be needed and they possess the dubious “power” of rekindling as…something else…should they fall. I can say for certain that I would have wanted no part of it, having kinship with water-spirits myself. At least their travels will take them downriver and vaguely southward. If they can put out the fire, it won’t be much farther to get back on the elf-road. Just beyond the point of the delivered ultimatum was a bridge crossing a river. In its midst stands a fortress tower that once overlooked a village, now incinerated. It is here the Coming Storm agreed to spend the night, though they needed to spring some traps first. Of note amongst some treasures there, was a journal. But since no one knows elven, its mysteries will remain just that.