Session #06 - The Duke and the Helm

Almont held open the bag of holding and Katla put the book inside.  It might be a blasphemous piece of heretical insanity, but it could also prove useful at some point.  

 

With that the party left the cottage and found themselves at the southwest corner of the chapel.  Before they could begin to form a plan of action, however, their eyes were drawn to the west where a pulsing purple glow emanated.  

 

As they rounded the corner of the cottage they saw a large hole in the ground about thirty feet away.  It was roughly twenty feet in diameter and looked like a sinkhole, the sides quite steep and only moderately stable.  A dense purple fog slowly wafted from it, slowly spreading across the ground at its edge.  

 

Almont closed his eyes and muttered, his eyes fluttering.  After a few moments he snapped out of it.  “There is necromancy at play here.  I’m not certain if this is the cause of the undead we have seen here, but there is definitely evil afoot.  We should be wary.”

 

“What, like the moving body parts on the cemetery fence didn’t make us wary enough?” Kent asked with a chuckle.  

 

Almont couldn’t be mad at him.  It was a good point.

 

Katla looked to Lola.  “Can you give us an idea of what might be in the hole?”

 

Lola didn’t look happy about the idea, but the hollyphant had bonded with the elf.  She begrudgingly nodded, gaining altitude as she slowly circled the hole.  She started twenty feet above it and began to lower herself, surprisingly entering the mist and disappearing below the edge.  A few seconds later she emerged, coughing from her mouth and blowing purple mist out of her trunk.

 

“The hole is about thirty feet deep, and there are three human bodies at the bottom.  They look like they’re dead.”  With that she again took up her usual place above and behind Katla.

 

“Well, only one way to handle this.”  Kent began tying rope around his waist while Donyxn took the other end and looked for a place to anchor himself.  Donyxn had lowered Kent down into more than one hole in their time together.

 

“Let me see if I can make this a bit easier for you,” Katla said.  

 

The sorceress carried two staffs with her at all time.  The first appeared to be made of glass, though it was unnaturally hard and could be used as a striking weapon.  It was five feet long, one end adorned with an ornately designed and seemingly delicate head that looked like something that might be found on a ceremonial mace.  It had been liberated from the death-grip of the wizard Iarno Albrek, aka “Glasstaff”, when the party defeated his forces in one of their early adventures together.  The magic contained within it not only made the staff almost impossible to break, but also provided Katla with a measure of protection.  The others weren’t sure precisely how it worked, but the elf could wield it with unnatural speed and sometimes an enemy’s blow would appear to almost slide off of her when it should have struck true.  Glasstaff was almost always in one of her hands.

 

This situation, however, called for something different, and the elf removed a second staff from its position strapped to her back.  In many ways it was the complete opposite of Glasstaff, jet black in appearance and lacking the perfect smoothness of the other, instead exhibiting slight curves and variations in thickness.  Its most notable visible attribute was the black spider at its head.  This was the Spider Staff of Nezznar, named after its original owner, a drow elf the party slew when they cleared out Wave Echo Cave to allow for mining to begin there once again.  As part of the bargain they gained a share of the mine’s future profits, much of which was spent in the renovation and upkeep of the manor they shared in Phandalin.

 

Katla pointed the spider head at Kent and quietly said a few words. 

 

“Thanks Katla,” said Kent.

 

Reya looked confused.  “Nothing happened.”

 

“Just sit back and watch, love,” grinned the rogue as he stepped over the side of the hole and… was able to stand on its near-vertical side as if he was on flat ground.  He winked at the paladin and started walking down into the hole.  

 

Reya looked at Donyxn.  “If he can climb like that, why the rope?”

 

“Why, in case he falls unconscious or dies, of course.  We’d have to be able to pull his fat body out.”

 

“I heard that,” came Kent’s voice from within the hole.  “I’m not fat.  I’m stout.”

 

Once again Reya wondered if she was surrounded by fools, though she couldn’t argue with the logic.

 

Kent’s return was presaged by the sound of his coughing as he got closer to the lip of the hole.  It wasn’t until half a minute after he emerged that he was finally able to stop hacking and speak.

 

“The elephant was right, there are three of them down there,” he said.

 

“Hollyphant,” Katla said sternly, crossing her arms over her chest and still holding the spider staff.  “Hollyphant.”

 

Kent turned to Lola.  “No offense intended, m’lady,” he said, making a slight bow.  

 

Lola smiled and wagged her tail.  “It’s OK, Kent.”  Hollyphants were not easily offended.

 

“As I was saying, there are three of them, and they’re definitely dead.  But the interesting part is this.”  With that he opened his hand to reveal a patch that showed a red fist inside a yellow flame.

 

Donyxn raised one eyebrow, something that Reya always found very disconcerting.  “The Flaming Fists.  They must have been in Elturel when it shifted to hell.  What were they doing here?”

 

The party and Reya first became acquainted due to an unfortunate incident in a Baldur’s Gate bar involving a half dozen Flaming Fists that required some extensive cleaning by the proprietor.  The Fists were the de-facto police force in Baldur’s Gate, though hardly one devoted to upholding law and order after the corruption of the late Duke Vanthampur.  

 

“When the hellriders began scouting Baldur’s Gate Duke Ravensgard traveled to Elturel to parlay with the leaders,” Reya said.  “When the city disappeared, Ravensgard was thought to have disappeared with it.”

 

“Well, those guys are very dead.  Nothing else important down there other than this.”  Kent showed them a potion in a container marked with healing runes.  The dwarf stashed it in his pack.  “Katla, how long can I climb like this?”

 

“About an hour,” she said.  “You’ll feel the effect start to weaken a minute or two before it ends.  You don’t want to be on a wall when it does, trust me.”

 

“Noted.”  And with that he strode to the western wall of the chapel, walked up the vertical stone surface to the roof, and disappeared.

 

With that the party spread out a bit and looked in through some of the stained glass windows, almost of all of which were at least partially broken.  The interior looked to be in disarray with broken furniture strewn about, though no bodies in sight.  The same purple tint appeared to be inside and there was definitely a glow coming from somewhere.  

 

Kent had silently climbed down the wall without anyone noticing.  He stealthily walked up behind Almont, who was peering through a window.  “See anything interesting?”

 

The startled cleric spun around, his warhammer held in both hands, raised and ready to strike.

 

“Dammit, Kent,” he said, lowering the weapon.  Donyxn chuckled while Katla covered her mouth as if she was going to cough, though clearly it was to hide the smile.  

 

“There are undead wandering all over the place,” Kent said.  “They don’t seem to have any general purpose or direction, just walking around aimlessly.”

 

Reya looked beyond annoyed.  “There’s a back entrance over here.  Let’s go.”  

 

“You heard the lady, Almont, let’s go.”  Kent grinned.  Almont couldn’t help but do the same.

 

The chapel was an L-shaped building, with a west-to-east portion on the north end, and a north-to-south portion on the east side.  Where the two perpendicular sections met, a curved wall emerged as a quarter circle connecting the two sides.  Reya told them it was one level above ground with a basement below, and judging by the roofline that meant the interior rooms had to be a good twenty feet high.  The entrance Reya led them to was at the far northwest corner.

 

They faced the pair of stout mahogany doors.  “The chapel is never locked,” she said.  

 

Lola looked apprehensive.

 

“You don’t have to go inside if you don’t want to,” Katla said soothingly.  “Would you rather fly around out here and alert us if you see anything important?”

 

The hollyphant looked relieved and nodded, quickly climbing in altitude.  She began to circle the building.

 

They opened the doors found themselves in an oddly shaped room.  It was fifty feet long along the north wall, though much of the east was taken up but a curved wall that was clearly the continuation of the curved exterior section.  There was an open hallway in the northeast corner, while a thick red velvet curtain served to cover the an opening into the curved wall.  The furniture in the room was broken, though there was no blood.  The two stained glass windows along the north wall were damaged, sections of them having been blown outward.  The one on the south wall, however, was intact.

 

That window was a massive square, fifteen feet on each side.  The image was of the god Ilmater, the Broken God, standing among a pile of warrior bodies on a battlefield.   He was depicted wearing only some loose cloth around his waist, his body covered in blood-dripping cuts and his arms held outward as he looked at the dead around him.  As Almont studied the image he was taken by Ilmater’s face.  The artist had somehow captured an impressive combination of sadness and compassion, two traits for which the god was known.  Ilmater was the god of the oppressed, those who suffered, those who endured.  

 

The cleric was struck by the beauty of the image, as well as its appropriateness given the current situation.  While the others searched the room quietly Almont took to one knee and offered a prayer to Ilmater, asking for the strength to return Elturel and its people back home.  His warhammer head was on the floor, his hands crossed and resting on its pommel.

 

His eyes closed, Almont perceived a brightening in front of him.  When he opened his eyes he looked up towards Ilmater’s face and was startled to see it turn to face him.  The upper half of the god’s body emerged from the window as glowing light.  Almont’s eyes followed Ilmater’s right hand as it reached down and touched the head of the warhammer, which began to glow with a white light.  When he looked back up Ilmater smiled at him sadly, nodded and melded back into the window.

 

Almont’s warhammer already had magical properties, but it felt slightly different now, as if infused with a different kind of energy, one less strictly magical and instead divine.  He knew he had been blessed and given a great honor.  As he turned to his friends it was apparent that none of them had seen what he experienced.  He decided it best to keep the experience to himself.

 

Having checked out the room the party found themselves all looking at the curtain.  There was some kind of muffled noise coming from the other side.

 

“What is that,” Kent whispered.  “I can’t make it out.  Doesn’t sound like voices.”

 

“Wings,” replied Katla, a look of anger on her face.  Katla had an uncanny ability to avoid injuries in combat, and prior to arriving in Elturel her friends had only seen her hurt by flying creatures.  Katla hated almost everything that could fly, with the notable exception of Lola.

 

“Let’s get on with it,” she said, conjuring forth a mage hand and sending it across the room, pulling the curtain open.

 

The room itself was round, approximately fifty feet in diamerter, and clearly encompassed the curved exterior wall.  There were two similar curtained openings, one to the northeast and another to the southeast.  Torches were mounted on walls at six-foot intervals to light the room, but it appeared the flames were in fact magical in nature and not actual fire.  The purplish haze existed here as well, though it was comprised less of a smoke-like substance and instead caused by small metallic particulates floating in the air and reflecting the torchlight.  At the south end of the room could be seen the top of a spiral staircase that curved along the inner portion of the exterior wall.

 

Near the center of the room stood a tall, slender humanoid with long, black hair down the middle of its back and garishly colored clothing.  Hovering about six feet off the floor were a pair of six-limbed, purple, chitin-covered monstrosities.  Their bottom two limbs had spiked joints and two-pronged feet, while the four upper limbs each ended in claw-like pincers.  Each carried a barbed trident that was slick from use.  Blood and ichor splatters decorated the walls and in some places pooled on the floor.  All three were intently focused on the top of the staircase and appeared to be unaware that the curtain behind them had been opened.

 

Donyxn entered the room first, followed quietly by the others who fanned out along the wall.  When everyone was in the room, the tiefling spoke in infernal.

 

“Who are you, and why are you here?”

 

The two flying creatures spun around with remarkable speed, revealing massive orange eyes and pincered exterior jaws framing their faces.  They replied in unison in infernal, though with a unique buzzing cadence. 

 

“Are you with the humans who unleashed the demons?”

 

“No,” answered Donyxn firmly.  “We just arrived and were following the purple light to determine its source.”

 

With that the humanoid turned around.  It looked to have been human once.  At nearly seven feet tall it cut a wiry figure, its ebony skin offset by glowing purple eyes.  It wore what looked to be priestly vestments, the material originally of excellent quality but now showing stains and blemishes.  Its shirt was orange with a blue sash draped over the shoulders, while its pants were a dark brown, disappearing into a pair of knee-high leather riding boots.  Various talismans and charms dangled form small chains or leather strands around its neck, others attached to its belt.  The most striking physical features were its hands, which had elongated fingers tipped with long, thick nails ending in sharp points.

 

“I am Gideon Lightward.  Who are you?” it said in common.

Gideon Lightward

 

“Oh good, you speak common,” Kent smiled taking a step forward and raising his right hand in greeting, grinning disarmingly.  “Kent Karrus here, at your service sir.  You say your name is Gideon?  I think we may have seen your book.”

 

Inwardly Almont groaned.  Reya gripped her mace so hard that if it was not imbued with magic she probably would have turned the handle to splinters.  Donyxn smiled, exposing his sharp white teeth.  Katla maintained a completely unreadable expression, eying the flying things warily.

 

Gideon looked at each of them in turn as the two creatures continued to hover on either side of him.  His gaze eventually returned to the dwarf.

 

“Yes, it is a masterpiece, the complete recording of the prophecies revealed to me by Zariel.”

 

“Yes, yes, quite the piece of work, that.  I didn’t get all the way through it, mostly just skimmed a few pages, you know, to get the high points.  But it definitely seemed quite interesting.”

 

Gideon stared at the dwarf, his face revealing a certain confusion.  Sarcasm had a tendency to fall a bit flat in hell.

 

“I’m certain that if you continue studying it you will find it most enlightening,” Gideon finally replied.  

 

“So what’s this about demons then?”

 

“The humans went downstairs hours ago.  Since then some of them have returned badly wounded.  But more troubling is that every twenty or thirty minutes a new batch of demons emerges from the crypt.  We are here to dispatch them and send them back to Abyss.”

 

The sound from the stairwell became audible the moment Gideon stopped speaking.  It was insect-like, a scurrying clatter but one that seemed to have some mass behind it.  With that Gideon and his two companions turned to face the stairs just as a giant scorpion emerged, accompanied by five dretches.

 

The scorpion unfolded itself as it emerged into the room.  It was easily the size of an adult horse.  The dretches resembled extremely muscular jackals, their green rubbery skin stretched tight.  They were bipedal, but their hunched stature showed that they could also travel on four legs as well.  All four limbs ended in clawed toes, while their mouths revealed a nasty set of sharp teeth.  Perhaps their most striking feature, though, was their smell, which made it to the top of the stairs well before they did and caused everyone in the room, even Gideon’s infernal companions, to gag.  

 

There was no time for witticisms with creatures as dim-witted as these.  As soon as the demonic group reached the top of the stairs they began to attack. 

 

The scorpion struck first, grabbing one of the flying devils in a claw and attempting to stab it with its stinger, barely missing.  Before the dretches could join in the party let loose with a barrage of ranged attacks.  Kent and Reya both stuck the scorpion with crossbow bolts while Donyxn launched a pair of arrows surrounded by a magical hail of thorns at the arachnid and a pair of nearby dretches.  Almont summoned a bolt of radiant energy, squarely striking the massive scorpion and causing it to glow.  

 

While the others attacked, Katla swiftly retrieved her spider staff and spewed forth a cone of thick, sticky webbing that wrapped up the three dretches to the left of the scorpion.  Not only did this prevent them from joining the fray, they also were unable to move as they struggled to break free of their bonds.  They weren’t injured, but they were out of the fight, at least for a bit.

 

Back in the center of the room Gideon and his buzzing fiends counterattacked the scorpion and the other two dretches, the six evil creatures devolving into a brutal melee of claws and pincers and tridents.  

 

No one ever accused Kent of being the smartest dwarf they’d ever met, but what he lacked in learning he made up for in cunning.  As he stowed his pistol crossbow and reached for his scimitar he saw Katla’s web gambit and had an idea.  Instead of unsheathing his weapon he reached behind him and pulled an oil flask off the side of his pack, using the other hand to light the small strip of cloth dangling from the opening.  Once lit he hurled the improvised firebomb at the web-covered dretches, knowing from previous experience that magic webs were very, very flammable.  

 

The south end of room flashed with flame as the oil ignited the webbing, leaving all three dretches screeching and covered with strands of still-burning web stuck to their skins.  Katla flashed a quick smile at Kent before turning back to the burning mass and firing another cone of webbing at the already-burning beasts, reigniting them and covering them with a layer of burning filament.  The dretches were tough, but they were no match for being completely covered in flame, quickly melting down to the floor as the flames rapidly consumed them.

 

Gideon howled with delight at the inferno, redoubling his efforts as he battled the scorpion.  The demons were simply overmatched at this point, the scorpion eventually succumbing to a pair of Donyxn’s arrows, a dretch going down under a flash of tridents, and the final dretch being torn to pieces by Gideon’s claws, his eyes glowing brightly as he dispatched the demon.  The entire battle was over in less than thirty seconds.

 

Gideon threw his head back and roared.  He turned back to the party.  “You fight well!” his eyes shining.  

 

“Gideon, you remind me of a sabertooth I fought once,” Donyxn said. 

 

Gideon, his blood up from the battle, seemed to take this as a compliment.  

 

“Only Duke Ravensgard remains below.  We dispatched any of his men who returned up the stairs and threw them in the pit outside.  Some have undoubtedly been reanimated to join the ranks of the undead by now,” the evil priest said.

 

Lightbringer continued to glow brightly on Almont’s belt.  It was hungry for the undead, and quite possible for the creature facing them that was responsible for raising the unholy creatures.  But this was not the time for that fight.

 

“Reya, how are the demons entering the catacombs?” Almont asked.

drew her mace.  “The only way in and out is those stairs.  There’s no way the demons are coming through from down there.”

 

Gideon extended his arm with a flourish and waved it across the carnage in the room.  “And yet here they are,” he grinned.

 

Reya’s look turned hard.  They all knew it required all of her self-control to not simply attack every infernal or demonic creature that crossed their paths.  Things could escalate quickly.

 

“We will go down to the crypt, find Duke Ravensgard, and figure out where the demons are coming from,” Almont said sternly, his eyes fixed on Reya’s.  She gave a very slight nod.  He then turned back to Gideon.  “Will you remain here and ensure that nothing comes down behind us?”

 

“Of course,” grinned Gideon.  “Besides, killing these demons is just so much fun.”

 

The staircase to the basement was not long, traversing about twenty feet.  At the bottom were sturdy wooden double doors which were, surprisingly, closed.  Had a spring mechanism closed them behind the scorpion and dretches, or was there potentially an enemy on the other side?

 

Kent listened at the door, looked back to the group and shook his head.  Katla summoned a mage hand to open one of the doors.  The room inside was well lit, and after waiting a few seconds to ensure nothing would come charging out at them, the group entered.  

 

They found themselves in a mortuary of sorts.  The walls were constructed of stone – the room wasn’t simply dug out of the ground.  Considerable effort had gone into the construction.  It was lit in a similar fashion to the upstairs, with wall-mounted torches giving off magical light created to give the illusion of flame.  Two large, heavy tables stood on either side of the door, an array of various knives, blades, pliers, and tools of unknown purpose strewn about.  Jars of various sizes and compositions lined the selves on the walls, while a large open-topped barrel of water sat in one corner.  The rectangular room had clearly once been an organized workspace, but whatever had transpired over the last few hours disrupted the sense of order.  Directly across the room was an identical set of doors.  

 

A quick search revealed nothing of interest and the mage hand was once again called forth to open the other doors, revealing a small landing with small stone staircases leading downward to the east and west.  More torches providing magical light were spaced evenly along the walls, though the hall was dimmer than the room.

 

The party headed west, and after a few twists and turns the hallway opened into a long rectangular vault.  They entered the room along one of the shorter sides, which was roughly forty feet wide, and the room continued onward roughly twice that distance.  The walls were smooth stone.  The ceiling was supported by three granite pillars that stood in the middle of the room at twenty foot intervals 

 

Each long wall included a pair of semi-circular daises raised three steps above the floor level and topped with a life-sized statue of a human.  The engravings that would have identified them had been chiseled off, as had the details of their faces.  A fifth raised statue was along the north wall, and this one remained intact.  It was a man kneeling in prayer, and the engraving identified him Lannish Fogel.

 

“Who was Lannish Fogel?” Donyxn asked Reya.

 

“He is said to be the founding father of Elturel, he who slew the orcs and ogres and built the first castle on this site four centuries ago.”  She said distractedly it as if she was reciting something she learned by rote.  

 

“I wonder why this one wasn’t vandalized like the others.”  Donyxn leaned on his bow as he considered this.

 

“More importantly, what was removed from his head?” inquired Kent.  All eyes turned to the dwarf.  His ability to understand stone was uncanny.

 

“You can see a ring around is head that is just slightly smoother than the rest of the sculpture,” he observed, running his fingers along the spot.  It was hard to see, but Kent was obviously correct.

 

“Could it have been the helm that Ravensgard sought?” Donyxn asked Reya.

 

“It’s possible,” she replied.  “I have never been below the chapel before, so I don’t know what is or isn’t down here.”

 

A search of the room revealed no new clues, so the party returned to the landing beyond the mortuary and took the stairs down to the west.  

 

Donyxn quickly stopped.  “Footprints.” 

 

The ranger was right, there were wet footprints of various sizes and shapes, some obviously from the dretches.  The hallway ended after another ten feet, with halls branching off to the north and south.  All the footprints were in the northern hallway; the one to the south was dry. 

 

“South it is then,” said Kent, grinning.

 

“No, we should go north to find this enemy and destroy it,” Reya replied through gritted teeth.

 

“No, we should go south first and see if we can come up around behind them.”  Donyxn was always practical about these things.  “Since the footprints don’t continue south it seems unlikely that anything will sneak up on his from behind.”

 

“You’ll get your fight soon enough, Reya.  You can be sure of that.”  Almont was ready to use his newly blessed warhammer, but Donyxn’s course of action was much more practical.  “Kent, lead on.”

 

The hallway began to curve to the west and eventually opened into a large ossuary.  The sheer volume of bones was staggering.  The entire space covered close to a thousand square feet.  Some of the room was sectioned off with walls that didn’t quite make it to the fifteen-foot high ceiling.  Much of the wall space contained insets filled with neatly stacked bones.  A few of these were covered by etched marble slabs, clearly the resting places of single individuals of note.  Every inset was filled and the priests had resorted to stacking bones on the floor as well.  The party spread out to quietly explore the area, always making sure to keep at least one of the others in sight.   

 

Almont felt the pull to a specific part of the ossuary.  He knew why.  It didn’t take him long to find one of those marble slabs, a small square inset into the bottom of the wall just above the floor.  The name had vanished with time, but rubbing his hand against the surface he could just feel the symbol of Kiri-Jolith in the bottom right corner.  He kneeled at the spot and offered a quiet prayer, leaving a platinum piece on the floor next to it as an offering.  

 

At that exact moment everyone turned their heads. 

 

“I suddenly feel… I don’t know.  Like, ready for anything,” Kent said.

 

“Aye, I have the exact same feeling.”  Donyxn and Kent grabbed one another’s forearms.  “I’m ready to go into battle with you brother.”

 

Even Reya felt it, her face losing its hard edge.  “Yes.  It’s the calm before the battle, that sense of being entirely in the moment and prepared to face your enemies.”

 

Katla looked at Almont as he walked back to the group.  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say we were all just touched by the divine.”

 

Almont shrugged his shoulders.

 

She held his gaze for a few seconds longer.  “Be careful when it comes to the gods, Almont.  They have their own agendas.”  With that she turned away.

 

At the north end of the room there was a door along the eastern wall that led to a richly appointed room with a dais along one wall and various pillows and rugs on the floor.  

 

“Priest’s reflection room,” Almont observed to clarify the confusion the others felt.  “When secluded in private, away from prying eyes, sometimes priests surround themselves with luxuries.”

 

“Do the temples of Kiri-Jolith have rooms such of these hidden away?” Kent jibed.

 

“No.  Ours are much more… austere.”  Almont’s tone dripped with disapproval.

 

An opening in the northeast corner of the room took them down two short flights of stairs headed north, then a hallway that ended abruptly with a door along the east wall.  It was slightly ajar.

 

Sound came from the other side of the door.  “Something in there is speaking in celestial,” observed Almont.  He turned his ear to the door.  “I can’t make it all out, but I’m hearing words like ‘stop’ and ‘flee’.”

 

There was a second voice coming from the room, this one speaking a language that pained the ear just to hear it.  “Abyssal,” said Katla.  “And let’s just say it’s urging the opposite of that celestial voice you’re hearing.”  

 

They stood and listened for a few more moments.  “You know, it almost sounds like it’s the same person speaking both languages,” Donyxn observed.  He was right.  If you stopped trying to make out the words it sounded like one person holding a two-sided conversation with themselves in two different languages.

 

“Since Katla and I speak these languages, we’ll go first,” Almont said.  And with that he pushed open the door.

 

A small square entry opened into a twenty foot by ten foot landing of sorts.  Surrounding it on three sides in a crescent shape was a pool of water that looked to be no more than a foot deep.  An iron railing surrounded the landing and offered a separation between the dry and wet.  The walls were covered in frescoes of Torm and the Triad, as well as important scenes from Elturel’s history.  Directly across from the party and within the pool were what appeared, in the dim light, to be a pair of large, old, rotted tree stumps, each with glowing orbs on top.  But the most interesting sights revealed themselves as the party turned to look to the north.

 

Kneeling in the water about ten feet from the railing was a man.  Clearly a warrior, his chain armor was battered, his tunic torn and stained with blood and ichor. This was the source of both the celestial and abyssal voices.  On his head he wore a helm glowing with a brilliant purple light that he was desperately trying to remove as he rocked back and forth in a trance-like state.

 

As if this wasn’t troubling enough, the man faced a shimmering portal in the northeast corner of the room.  To call it a portal implied that it had a firm shape, which was not the case.  Instead it resembled a tear in the fabric of reality, a festering wound in space.  Its shape shifted constantly, all jagged edges like torn flesh.  The opening itself was a deep purple glow, while the outer borders were the red of an infected wound.  Pus and ichor oozed from its sides and slowly dripped from its bottom into the pool.  Where it met the water steam rose, the water bubbling from the contact.  

 

Almont and Katla were the first to take all this in, the others being just behind them in the entry.  “Have I ever told you that I hate portals?” Katla said quietly, not taking her eyes from its distorting form.

 

Almont addressed the man in the water in celestial.  “Show yourself!  We are here to help you!”

 

The rest of the party came in behind them.  

 

“Well that’s something you don’t see every day,” deadpanned Kent.

 

“Thankfully,” agreed Donyxn as he notched an arrow.

 

Almont looked back at Reya.  “Is that Ravensgard?”

 

The paladin nodded solemnly.  “I believe that it is.”

 

The cleric turned back to the kneeling man.  “Duke, we’re here to help you.  We’re here to return Elturel to the material plane.”

 

Ravensgard gave no indication that he could hear them as he continued to struggle to remove the helm.

 

Then the portal began to make a retching sound, pulsing as it did so, a torrent of foul-smelling liquid dumping out into the water causing a curtain of steam to rise in front of it. 

 

And with that it vomited forth the next wave of demonic filth.

 

Three slightly disoriented minotaurs emerged from the portal, phlegm-like chunks of foulness sticking to their fur.  Each was armed with a massive two-sided axe.  As soon as they saw the party they roared and charged directly at Almont, who had the misfortune of being the closest to the portal.

 

At the same moment the stump-like objects began to move, each seeming to split down the middle to reveal massive mouths filled with a messy collection of serrated teeth.  What had originally appeared to be large branches were in fact arms tipped with spikes.  They began to move toward the railing.

 

Fortunately Katla, likely due to her less-than-pleasant history with plane-crossing portals, was already preparing a spell before the minotaurs arrived.  While her initial instinct was to attack them and protect Almont, the movement in the water of what they would later learn were maw demons appeared to pose the greatest threat, so she turned to her right, extended an arm in the direction of each of the two demons, and shouted.

 

With that two massive thunderclaps echoed around the walls of the room, the shockwaves blasting the demons backward and causing the water immediately surrounding each to blast upwards like a geyser.  First blood.

 

Unfortunately Almont was caught off guard by the minotaurs and they pounced on him as he went into a completely defensive mode, desperately trying to parry their blows with his warhammer and Lightbringer.  But there were three of them and only one of him and inevitably some of the blows connected.  He was fortunate that in their rush to close with him the three beasts actually got in one another’s way enough to partially disrupt their strikes.

 

Kent took advantage of the minotaurs’ focus on Almont to come up behind one and land two deep gouges with is scimitar, while Donyxn put an arrow into the shoulder of another.

 

The battle quickly dissolved into chaos.

 

One maw demon raked Katla with its teeth, the elf’s quick reflexes allowing her to jump back just in time to avoid being swallowed hole.  Reya attacked its flank with her mace, causing it to turn to face the new threat.  When it did so Katla took advantage of the space created, again extending her arms and shouting thunderously.  The demon exploded in a torrent of ichor, teeth, and partially digested Flaming Fists.  

 

Kent found himself having to make a hard choice – continue to aid Almont against the minotaurs or try to deal with the remaining maw demon.  The minotaurs were a known enemy, and the rogue was confident that Donyxn and Almont could hold on without him for a few more moments, so he turned as attention to the onrushing demon.  

 

In one fluid motion the dwarf reached behind his back with his right hand while springing forward to meet the abomination, ducking under the railing.  Just as the demon and rogue would have met head-on Kent feinted to the left and with his right hand jammed the immovable rod into its open mouth.  It’s teeth raked his arm as he removed it after pushing the button, but it was worth it as the demon was now stuck in place, unable to open its mouth wider to escape the rod, nor able to break it.

 

As Kent turned back to Almont he saw the cleric land a massive blow on the head of one of the minotaurs, his warhammer glowing radiantly as it made contact.  The beast’s spine shattered as it fell to the floor.  Both the remaining minotaurs had arrows protruding them as Donyxn calmly launched one after another from almost point blank range.  

 

The tide had clearly turned and before long the two remaining minotaurs were dispatched.  Almont, however, looked considerably worse for wear, having been battered by axes and gored in the left shoulder by a horn.  When he saw the remaining maw demon held in place by the rod he roared out in rage, vaulted over the fence, and crushed it with multiple hammer strikes.  When it was dead he was left hunched over and breathing hard, the pain of his injuries finally breaking through the adrenaline rush of combat.  

 

Kent calmly ducked back under the rail and retrieved the immovable rod with a click of its button.  “Handy thing, this.”

 

With that they all turned back to Ravensgard, who was exactly where they’d left him and still trying to remove the helm from his head, an anguished look on his face.

 

“Let’s see if we can’t get that thing off his had, shall we?”  Before anyone could voice an objection Kent walked to Ravensgard and reached down with both hands to remove the helm.  When he touched it a pulse of purple light blasted him backwards about ten feet.  His superior reflexes helped break the fall and saved him from greater injury, but as he rose to his feet he was clearly shaken.  

 

“Let me try a less direct approach,” said Katla as she summoned forth her mage hand.  The spectral hand floated over to Ravensgard and when it made contact with the helm it simply fizzled out and disappeared. 

 

Almont was next to try, calling forth is ability to dispel magic effects.  But when he completed the spell the helm was still firmly affixed to the duke’s head.

 

“Enough of this.”  Donyxn hopped over the rail, strode to Ravensgard, and with one fluid motion drew his magic sword and severed the duke’s head.  Just as happened to Kent, Donyxn two was blown back by a purplish pulse from the helm.  However, his strike was true and Ravensgard’s body fell forward into the pool, his head splashing into the water to the left and the helm falling from it.

 

Kent raised his eyebrows.  “Subtle as always, Donyxn.”

 

Reya was mortified.  This was a step too far, even for this bunch.  But as she was about to berate them her attention was drawn to the portal.  “It’s… it’s closing…”

 

With that the others looked and indeed the portal began to slowly close in upon itself.  It took a couple of minutes before it finally winked out with a purple flash.  And with that the room became very quiet.  

 

Katla called forth her mage hand again, and this time it was able to touch the helm.  She lifted it gently and brought it to where Almont stood, the magical bag of holding held open, and deposited it for safekeeping.

 

The danger of the portal seemingly gone and no other threats to be seen, the party decided to take a rest.  Kent closed the door to the hallway and placed the immovable rod against it, making it impossible for anyone to open.  While an enemy could break through the door, the party would be alerted and have time to ready themselves.

 

Almont used a healing spell to rejuvenate his friends.  Its effects weren’t enough to fully restore him, but it certainly helped.

 

They had the Helm of Torm’s Sight, but with Ravensgard dead whatever he knew about the situation died with him.  Once again the party was taking two steps forward and one step back, and Elturel was running out of time.