Session #13 - Mad Maggie, Beyond Fort Knucklebones

The party searched the tower, securing a few potions and a couple of soul coins.  Things like gold and gems held little to no value in Avernus, so the spoils were minimal.  The most valuable items were actually two things David was wearing when he died.  

 

The first was the wizard’s red cloak, which came through the battle without so much as a mark on it.  In fact after removing it from the body and holding it up they couldn’t even see any bloodstains.  They’d seen David use it to teleport twice, so it obviously had magical properties.  The second was a helm made of a sliver-like metal resembling mercury.  It wasn’t designed to cover the entire head but was instead similar to a small crown, the metal band roughly an inch high with triangular protrusions on either side aligned with the ear.  Almont and Katla used their knowledge of arcana and a bit of magic to ascertain the helm would convey some kind of telepathic abilities to the wearer.

 

The devils and imp were growing more agitated with every passing minute.  Eventually the imp approached.  “You must leave soon.  If you are seen here and it is discovered that we did not fight you, we will be destroyed.”

 

“Calm down.  Or I’ll cut your wings off one at a time and impale you on one of the spikes outside.”  The imp found the matter-of-factness of Kent’s response unnerving, given how casually he had killed David, and returned to the bearded devils.

 

It was decided that Donyxn would wear the cloak and Almont would take the helm.  Both, of course, sized themselves to their new owners and fit perfectly.

 

“One more thing before we go.”  Kent walked back and removed David’s belt.  Donyxn raised a single eyebrow.  Katla shuffled her feet uncomfortably.  But all the dwarf did was take the metal buckle from it, which he then stashed inside his cloak as he threw the leather part back onto the body.  “Now we can leave.”  With that he walked to the door and continued straight through without looking back.

 

They gathered in front of the tower.  Looking down toward the Styx they noticed a blue barge of some sort up river.  It was hard to tell, even with Donyxn’s goggles, if it was docked or beached.  Whatever the situation, it wasn’t there when they arrived.  After some discussion, however, they resolved to head back to Fort Knucklebones and claim their vehicles instead of checking out the barge.  While they had a deal with Maggie none of them fully trusted the witch, and the sooner they could gain their own means of transport the better.

 

The journey back to the pick-up point was uneventful and eventually Maggie’s Salvager rose from the hot plain first like a mirage, slowly taking on a more solid shape.  As they got closer it became apparent Maggie had a profitable trip.  The open section in the middle of the vehicle was piled high with various objects, at least one of which appeared to be the wreck of a small, two-seat war machine.  The red caps were busy sorting the smaller pieces and paid the party no heed as they approached.

 

Maggie stood in the cockpit, her hands on her hips.  “Seeing that you’re wearing David’s cloak and helm, I presume your mission was a success?”

 

Almont climbed up the side of the rig.  “You won’t be seeing David again.  Ever.”

 

Maggie smiled.  Almont reached down with his right hand, grabbing Kent’s forearm to help him aboard.  “And I can promise you, it hurt,” he said as he climbed onto the platform, not making eye contact with the witch.  “A lot.”

 

Maggie nodded and whispered, “Good, good.”

 

Donyxn regaled Maggie and Mickey with the story of their battles at the tower, finding a receptive audience to his newest tale.  Maggie asked a few questions and came away disappointed to learn they left behind the merregon’s weapons and didn’t skin the spined devils for their spines.  She shook her head.  “You still have much to learn about what is of value in Avernus.”

 

“We’re just passing through,” observed Almont.

 

Kent sat quietly in a corner of the cargo bay, rubbing the metal of David’s belt buckle, first tracing its outer edges, then following the pattern of the “D H” motif on the front.  He was completely fixated on the buckle and oblivious to the conversation.  The dwarf was absorbing the lesson that so many before him also learned, that the act of revenge brought a level of satisfaction in the moment and scratched away the itch that was his rage, but what it left behind was an empty hole of sadness, a sadness that now had no direction other than inward. 

 

He stopped rubbing the belt buckle and looked up.  His friends were standing on the platform behind the cockpit talking with Maggie as she drove.  They had been there when he needed them, both at their first encounter with David and at the end, allowing him to strike the final blow.  They were always there for him.  They were his family now.

 

Kent looked back down at the buckle in his hand and could see one possible future in it.  A future in which he rubbed it and rubbed it until the D and H disappeared, likely under a long and never ending haze of alcohol, a future in which he relived his revenge over and over until the sadness consumed him.  He looked back to his friends.  He watched the ease with which Donyxn captivated Maggie with his story, his hands gesturing as he explained what each of them did.  He watched Almont off the side, stoic as always but still listening intently to Donyxn’s story, offering a small correction here or there.  And Katla, always watching, watching them both.  She turned back and gave Kent a small smile and a nod before turning back to the storytelling.

 

Kent stood and brushed the dust of Avernus from him.  He reached into his bag and pulled out the bottle of Skallbender.  There was only enough left for one last swig, which he took into his mouth and savored as it slid down his throat.  He looked down again, the belt buckle in his left hand, the empty bottle of his family’s legacy in his right.  He took in a deep breath, closed his eyes as he held it, then exhaled slowly.  He opened his eyes and he threw the buckle and bottle over the side of the bouncing Salvager.  Then he walked over and joined his friends.

 

“… and that’s when Kent slid his blade into David’s skull,” Donyxn finished, his hands mimicking the stabbing motion with a flourish.  

 

Maggie nodded sagely.  “A fitting end, that dog dying on his back, lies dripping from his lips to his last breath.”  

 

“What news have you for us, witch?” asked Almont.  “You said you would tell us about two others who may know where we may find the sword we seek.”

 

Maggie nodded again and told them what information she had.  

 

Avernus used to be ruled by a fiend named Bel.  Bel and Zariel had a complicated relationship, one defined by loyalty, betrayal, and torture.  Zariel came out on top, relegating Bel to a subordinate role.  He might be willing to offer aid to those who could help clear the path to his renewed ascendancy.  The devil also knew Lola from her time in Zariel’s court.  Bel could be found in his forge within a volcano southeast of Fort Knucklebones.

 

The other was Olanthius, a former hellrider who campaigned alongside Zariel during her invasion of Avernus.  He was sworn to her service, a vow that he wouldn’t break even after Zariel’s fall into evil and madness.  Olanthius remained on Avernus, the caretaker of a crypt housing the remains of the hellriders.  Unfortunately Maggie did not know the location of the crypt.

 

They asked Maggie what she knew of the blue barge they’d seen from the tower, but she didn’t recall having seen anything like that before.  

 

“So where will you go next?  To Bel’s forge?  Or will you quest for Olanthius’ crypts?  Or perhaps the blue barge you saw.”  Maggie was always trying to collect information.

 

“We haven’t decided yet,” replied Almont.  

 

“Well, you’re handy ones to have around, that’s for sure.  If you’re looking for more work and more soul coins, Bazlsteen runs the infernal dock at the bend in the Styx where the devils power up their vehicles.  He asked for some of my red caps to do a job for him a while back.  They never returned, but he sent me some soul coins to conclude the deal.  I’m sure he would have work for the likes of you.”

 

Before long they returned to the fort.  Cucka and Kronk were almost done with the work on the Tormentor and assured them, via Lola, that it would only be a few more hours.  With that they headed toward the back room where they holed up previously in order to get some rest.  Before they reached the door a voice called out from their left. 

 

“Priest, I have something for you.”  It was Barnabus, the flaming skull approaching with a spectral mage hand holding something in front of it. 

 

The others continued into the back room as Almont turned to meet Barnabus.  “You asked me before about powdered silver or iron you needed for spell-casting.”  With that the mage hand moved forward.  It was holding two leather pouches.  “That should be enough for your needs.”

 

“What can I offer you in return, Barnabus?”

 

“Nothing.  You saved my very existence by fixing my teeth.  Though I must still be wary of those red caps.”

 

Almont reached into the bag of holding and withdrew the blue wrench that caused them so much trouble.  “Is this something they value?”

 

“Oh, I’ve heard so much talk about that particular tool,” Barnabus said, his voice conveying the sense of sinister plans.  “It has been the cause of so very much trouble and violence within their ranks.”

 

“Then having it might put in you a position to influence events, would it not?”

 

It was disconcerting to see a flaming skull grin, but Almont had seen much worse.  “It would indeed.”

 

Almont placed the wrench in the mage hand, nodded to the former wizard, and headed back to the others.

 

When they emerged a few hours later both the Tormentor and Devil’s Ride were vibrating with energy and belching black smoke out of various pipes.  Cucka and Kronk showed them how to operate the machines using a series of gestures.  

 

The Devil’s Ride was the two-wheeled vehicle Donyxn fell in love with a few days earlier.  Designed for a single rider, though looking like it could take two in a pinch, it would require a good sense of balance to operate.  Spikes had been added since the last time they’d seen it, protruding from the front and back as well as some blades jutting out from the hub of the wheels.  Donyxn straddled it, his goggles already in place.  Cucka showed the tiefling the controls, and a twist of one of the handles made the machine even louder as it pumped out more black smoke.  The tiefling smiled.

 

The Tormentor had for wheels and offered at least the most basic sense of similarity to vehicles they’d encountered before.  The front cockpit was sized for only the driver and was forward near the front wheels.  Behind it was a flat platform with two seats attached near the front, and a third in the center.  This third seat could be raised or lowered using a lever.  When raised it moved the seat up above the metal roof and into a rotatable turret equipped with a harpoon gun.  The metal sides of the compartment had hatches that could be opened or closed, providing those inside views of Avernus or, more importantly, the ability to fire weapons or cast spells at those outside.  The back third of the space was not covered by the roof and exposed to the elements.  A pair of metal doors could be used to close off the forward portion from the back.  As they mounted the machine these doors were open, and they left them that way.

 

Maggie and Mickey arrived as they were making their final preparations.  “The soul coins providing power are mostly used up,” she said, pointing to the small glass-covered section near the steering wheel.  “You insert them into the slot there and can see how much of the soul has been consumed by looking through the glass.  Once the coin is all black, it will expire.  The old coin gets dropped into a container below.  There are those who can put new souls into them.”

 

The idea of using the soul of some unfortunate as a source of power was distasteful, to say the least, but the vehicles were their only hope of covering ground quickly and they had no idea how far they would need to travel to save Elturel.

 

“Any last words of advice,” Kent asked as he clambered into the cockpit.

 

“Yes.  If you see other vehicles like yours out there, shoot first and ask questions later.  And if you destroy any, mark their locations.  I may be able to salvage them.”

 

Kent nodded as he strapped the duck decoy to the front cage of the cockpit.

 

“I dub thee Mildred (quack).”

 

A small crowd of red caps and mad caps gathered expecting to see these vehicles crashed by their novice operators.  Mildred went first, Kent moving it out of the shop in a series of lurches that caused the infernal engine to whine in dismay and pump out belches of black smoke.  But eventually he got the hang of the controls and the Tormenter slowly emerged from the building.  Almont rode in the turret manning the harpoon gun.

 

A high pitched whine from behind caused the three of them to turn their heads as Donyxn emerged on the Devil’s Ride, blasting out of the building with only its rear tire on the ground and going way too fast.  The bike slowed suddenly, the front wheel dropping to the ground roughly as the ranger fought for control and wildly jinked to the left and then to the right. 

 

The red caps laughed with delight, and some of the more adventuresome mad caps ran in pursuit, sensing an impending wreck and the opportunity for some quick salvage.  But the tiefling suddenly accelerated into one of his wobbling turns, cutting a tight arc that sent a rooster tail of dirt in the air as the back end of the bike swung around, one of it’s blades cutting down a mad cap at the thighs.  It rolled around the ground in agony, both it’s legs severed, as Donyxn shot forward toward the gate in a perfectly straight line.

 

Maggie just laughed and laughed.  “That looked like it hurt.”

 

 

They intentionally did not tell Maggie their plans.  While she’d upheld her end of the deal, they wouldn’t have been surprised if she sent someone after then in an attempt to reclaim the vehicles as well as their magic items.  They reviewed all their options and decided to try to track down Madhi and his wandering emporium.  Given Lola’s recollections of Madhi, as well as his appearance within her dreams, they felt this was their best approach.

 

They crossed the Styx using Maggie’s barges and from there headed southeast.  Last time they saw the emporium, prior to their battle with the hell wasps, that was the direction it was moving.  They fell into a steady pace, Donyxn riding his Devil’s Ride on the left side of the Tormentor.

 

Riding the Devil’s Ride took Donyxn back, his memories rushing alongside as the plain of Avernus blurred past.  He thought back to the two seasons he spent living and working with a nomadic tribe on the steppes.  He learned so much from them.  A man’s worth within the tribe was defined by two skills, his abilities on a horse and his work with the bow.  They accepted the tiefling into their tribe because they saw his bow work was superior.  From a standing position he could consistently beat their best archers.  But it wasn’t until he saw how they fired from horseback, usually while riding at a full gallop, that the ranger saw how much he still had to learn. 

 

He sharpened his skills living and riding and hunting with them.  They played a game on horseback, a game that used a dead animal in place of a ball, and it was there that he learned quick turning, reaching down to grab objects off the ground, and how to stay in the saddle while being battered from all sides.  He also learned to fire his bow effectively from horseback.  He never reached the level of the best riders, but he became proficient enough to earn their respect.  

 

Hurtling along on the Devil’s Ride brought a grin to his face. 

A few hours after the crossing they saw a dust cloud on the horizon in front of them.  A few minutes later they could see a black speck in the center of it, a speck that got larger and larger.  

 

“It’s another vehicle!” Donyxn shouted above the engine noise.  

 

It was time to put Maggie’s advice to use.

 

The vehicles closed quickly.  As their foe grew larger and larger it became apparent that it was in fact bigger than the Tormentor, more like a cross between their vehicle and Maggie’s large, bulky Salvager.  It looked to be traveling at roughly the same speed as the Tormentor and was pointed directly at them.

 

Almont considered the harpoon gun.  He’d tested it back at Fort Knucklebones and knew its range was shorter than that of his crossbow.  In fact it had roughly the same range as his guided bolt spell.  Magic would likely be more valuable than the harpoon in the battle to come, so he loaded his crossbow and waited for the other vehicle to come within range.  

 

Katla called forth her magic meteors.  A half dozen fist-sized stones rose from the ground as it rushed by, taking up station orbiting around her head.  She planned on inflicting as much damage as possible upon the enemy before they closed.

 

Donyxn broke ofd to the left at an angle.  Kent could tell the tiefling was trying to flank their opponent, but worried because none of them had ever waged battle at these speeds.  A miscalculation could take Donyxn out of the fight completely.  Or worse still cause a massive crash.

 

“I’m going to swerve right soon,” Kent shouted over the tumult.  “Hang on!”

 

At this point the crew of the monstrosity barreling towards them came into focus.  A bulky wereboar sat at the controls, a look of gleeful anticipation on its face, drool forming at the corners of its mouth.  A second wereboar hung off the side to their left, holding onto a handhold with one hand and holding a raised maul in the other.  A third beast was on the back end manning the boom.  Raised above and behind the cockpit was a harpoon launcher manned by a pair of wererats.

 

“I hate lyncanthorpes,” muttered Almont to himself.  With that he fired a bolt from his crossbow at the driver.  It was a surprisingly good shot.  The aim was true, but a metal crossbar that framed the cockpit deflected the bolt.  Had that crossbar been a little higher or lower it would have struck true.

 

Kent swerved to the right, the onrushing machine matching with a swerve to its left.  If they continued along these drifting trajectories the two vehicles would end up along side one another heading in the same direction.

 

Donyxn overshot the lycanthorpes and swung his bike around in pursuit.  The beasts were paying him no mind, seeing no threat from the Devil’s Ride.  So they were caught by surprise when one of the wererats took an arrow to the back of its right shoulder, a second arrow striking the vehicle further back.  The rats turned and gawked at their attacker, but then turned back to their weapon and the impending impact with the Tormentor.

 

Because of the open cockpit of the other vehicle Almont had a clear line of sight on the driver’s right side.  The creature was facing them roaring with battle rage.  That roar turned into one of shock and pain when the priest’s guided bolt slammed into it, burning away flesh and hair.  

 

The wererats fired their harpoon at Almont, but the shot flew high and went over the Tormentor.  Katla was about to take them out, but stopped when Almont shouted, “The driver!  Hit the driver and the machine cannot pursue us!”

 

The sorceress turned her attention the driver, a grin on her face as her hands began their intricate dance.  The driver, the flames on its body now extinguished, looked back up just in time to see her smile, its expression changing to a low growl.  Two bolts of Eldritch energy leapt from her hands, striking the wereboar.  Then she released a pair of the circling meteors, which burst into flames, flew across the gap between the two vehicles, and exploded in the driver’s face.  This caused it to pull the wheel to the left and prevented the two vehicles from side-swiping one another.

 

Despite the nearly ten-foot gap between the vehicles the wereboar hanging off the side sprung across, landing on the Tormentor’s rear platform.  Almont rushed to meet it and the pair began exchanging blows.  At the same time the wererats found their range and stuck a harpoon into the side of the Tormentor.

 

The driver of the other vehicle was in bad shape, its movements becoming somewhat erratic.  It eventually righted itself and fell in behind the Tormentor.  It was the faster of the pair and began to make up ground.  

 

Kent tied the steering controls to one of the cockpit crossbars and tossed his pack on the accelerator pedal to hold it to the floor.  He then turned and raced to the back of the Tormentor, ducking under and between Almont and the wereboar as they battled.  He tried to give the wereboar a shove to knock it over the side, but the beat was a mass of muscle and the rouge simply bounced off.  

 

When Kent reached the back of the vehicle he withdrew the immovable rod from his belt.  He reached over the back of the Tormentor.  Looking up locked eyes with the wereboar driver, it’s right side and torso a blistered mess of wounds and burns.  It roared at him, then got a confused look on its face.  

 

Kent smiled and winked.  He then set the rod in space, about five feet above the ground, and pushed the button.

 

The wereboar yanked the wheel hard, but at these speeds it was not enough.  The immovable rod carved a gaping gash along the right side of the vehicle, destroying two of the there wheels on that side and causing it to lurch even harder to the left.  One of the wererats went flying off the harpoon mount, hitting the ground hard and rolling.

 

As the pursuer veered off and slowed Donyxn emerged from behind it.  Kent watched from the rear of the Tormentor as the ranger calmly fired two arrows, both striking the remaining wererat manning the harpoon gun.  The creature slumped over the mount, clearly dead.  A look of horror overtook Kent’s face as he realized Donyxn’s bike was rocketing straight towards the still-in-place immovable rod.  Donyxn wasn’t looking forward, his concentration off to the left side, so he wouldn’t see the rod in his path until it was too late.

 

Kent was about to watch his best friend die.

 

Time slowed as Kent saw Donyxn slip his bow across his body, the string across his back and the wooden part across his front.  His right hand dropped to the handlebar as he made the slightest nudging course correction to his right.  As he did so he leaned over the left side of the bike and with his free left hand deftly grabbed the rod and pushed the button to disengage it at exactly the same moment.  Had his timing been anything less than perfect it would have ripped his arm off.  Donyxn looked at his friend and used the rod to give a salute.  He then stuffed it inside his robe and turned left to pursue the other vehicle.

 

It was the most incredible thing Kent had ever witnessed.  

 

The dwarf turned.  Almont and the wereboar continued their one-on-one battle, the lycanthorpe looking desperate as it tried to fend off the cleric’s blows.  He saw Katla, who was behind Almont and closer to the cockpit, casting fire and another pair of her meteors at the other vehicle, immolating the cockpit and driver.  The battle’s balance had tilted decisively in their favor.

 

Kent drew his scimitar, stepped forward, and calmly severed the wereboar’s spine from behind, nearly cutting it in half.  Its legs gave out and it crumpled to the floor in a quickly expanding pool of blackish blood.  

 

A roar off to their left caught their attention.  There was still a third wereboar on the other vehicle and it looked to be uninjured.  Kent returned to the cockpit, took control, and circled the Tormentor around.  They approached the stopped war machine, and as they came up alongside it blasts of energy crossed the gap as Almont’s guided bolt and Katla’s flame strike and meteors struck the wereboar at the same time it lashed out with three crackling bolts of lighting, one of which struck a glancing blow on Almont.  

 

As the Tormentor passed, Donyxn burst through the gap on his bike coming from the opposite direction.  He planted a pair of arrows into the staggered wereboar and it fell back against the boom, sliding down and leaving a trail of blood.  

 

Kent circled around again and brought the Tormentor to a halt a dozen feet from the smoking wreck.  Donyxn pulled up alongside and stopped as well, tossing the rod up to the dwarf.  “I’ll be right back.”  With that he spun the bike around, kicking up a trail of dust and small rocks as he sped off to the right.  Kent watched as the ranger drew his sword with his right hand.  That’s when he saw the wererat that had fallen to the ground stumbling around trying to get its bearings.  It turned at the sound of the bike’s engine approaching.  The last thing it saw was a flash of silver as Donyxn’s sword took its head.

 

Donyxn returned and the party searched the vehicle and bodies.  The driver’s body was burned beyond recognition, but three soul coins lay on the floor of the cockpit completely undamaged by the fire.  As Almont walked around the vehicle he saw Katla removing something from the wrist of the wereboar resting against the boom.  She held up a bracelet.  “A circlet of blasting,” she observed.  “A strange thing for a wereboar to own.  It will be useful for one of us.”

 

They salvaged a half dozen harpoons from the other vehicle as well as a few pieces that looked potentially useful if they had to repair the Tormentor at some point.  The harpoon sticking out of the side of their vehicle didn’t do any significant damage and Katla used a mending spell to attach a new piece of metal over it.  Given the haphazard construction of the Tormentor it was impossible to tell that it had been damaged.

 

“I see it,” Donyxn said looking off in the distance.

 

“See what, boy?” asked Kent.

 

“The wandering emporium.”