Several hours have passed and Wendella has completed her work in transcribing and compiling the incantation that she believes will enable the closure of the randomly-opening portals to the Abyss. She has gathered most of the material components she needs with one notable exception. A large, clear gem, as she had explained to the party previously, is one of the keys to successfully powering this ritual. She and Xodar had sought the largest, clearest Shadowfurst Sapphire, they could obtain. This would be a priceless jewel, prized for its unmatched ability to harness the power of starlight, and the arcane applications such power could enable. This was the item that Hack was meant to deliver into their possession for a sizable sum. As it turned out, he absconded with both the gem and the intended payment. She and Xodar had little choice but to make use of smaller gems. Furthermore, they had no access to starlight, as they had not yet discovered the means to unlock the stone hatch sealing the shaft above the conjuration circle. Now, with the hatch open, and the stars shining, they had satisfied another of the requirements, but they would still have to compromise with a sub-standard gem. The Duergar had been collaborating with Xodar and Wendella, by running a mining operation in the lower cavern, industriously excavating, cutting, sorting, examining, and testing gems. Thus far, their efforts, while potentially profitable had yielded little of value to their arcane aspirations.

She decides that the time has come for them to proceed to the conjuration circle and attempt the ritual. They leave her study in the company of six Duergar guards. As they pass through the corridors of this place that had been the home of her colleague Xodar, and the center of her ambitions, she appears subdued and lost in thought. They pass the scenes of much destruction and death. There are black formations of solidified lava that could only have been spat there by the demon-infested portals they have come to know all too well. They pass through the wrecked armature lab, where the piled bodies of goblins, ghouls, and humans have begun to smell. The room is still festooned with tangled wires. They proceed down the hall, through the dining room, and into Xodar’s private chambers. This room too has been defiled by violence. The floor is stained with blood and other fluids from the horrible creatures that met their end here. Footsteps ring on iron as they descend the spiral staircase into the cavern. Their lantern light glows dimly on distant stone walls and sparkles on the rippling waters below. They cross the catwalk in silence, peering down through the gloom at the barely discernible conjuration platform, thirty feet below. Finally, they descend one more spiral staircase and arrive on the stone floor of the cavern. Candles are lit, and Wendella goes about setting up the ritual. She sprinkles the bone powder, drizzles the blood, and places candles at four corners of the eight-pointed star. She instructs the four party members that they need each of them to stand at one of the cardinal points of the star, holding lit candles. They agree to do so. Cycek has given her one of the gems he had in his keeping. It is a sapphire, but of low quality. Nevertheless, it is the best they have and she places it at the center of the platform.

She climbs back up the platform that overlooks the conjuration circle and commences the ritual. She holds aloft a gilded skull in her right hand, and commences chanting harsh unintelligible words, read from the spell book she holds in her left hand. At that moment, at the center of the circle, an immensely obese Duergar appears from the concealment of magical invisibility. It is Goerth, the imposing Duergar chieftain with whom they had an audience earlier in the day. He wears a leather skullcap with flaps that conceal both of his eyes. He lifts one of the flaps, doubling it back and snapping it in place atop the skullcap. His eye is a glowing, faceted orb of sapphire. He loudly announces that this ritual in not going forward without Duergar participation. He address Wendella, berating her for her and Xodar’s failure to yield a bound demon in their previous conjuration. “You were supposed to supply us with a demon that would be bound to our control, in exchange for our services. That was the arrangement, and you failed. Now, we have this plague of uncontrollable demons running through our stronghold. This ends now! I will supply the jewel you need to ensure success!” He digs his fingers into his eye socket and withdraws the glowing stone, and eerie blue lights washes over the stones and mingles with the flickering candlelight. From beyond the dimly illuminated perimeter comes the shuffling of boots on stone, and the clink of metal. A ring of Duergar guards and miners have formed a rough ring and have moved in closer to observe. Goerth holds the sapphire “eye” aloft and commands, “Start the ritual again, witch, and see to it this is no failure like your last attempt!”

Wendella commences the ritual once again. Here voice reverberates in the stone chamber. Her incomprehensible words rise and fall in the cadence of a chant. A more insistent light is kindled in Goerth’s ocular sapphire, and Wendella’s own eyes emanate a reciprocal glow. As the incantation continues, the light intensifies, as does Wendella’s voice. The candles held by the four adventures seem to blaze with an intensity far beyond what should be expected of a mere candle. Abruptly, Goerth interjects some harsh arcane words of his own. His voice is like the bark of an immense dog, or the croak of bullfrog. It is hard to tell if his exclamations interrupt or augment Wendella’s words, but they seem to correlate with some alarming developments. Orange light blossom in several places throughout the cavern. The party members realize this cannot be a good thing, and to their consternation demonic creatures begin to pour out of them. At that moment, the stone platform on which they stand begins to rotate, counter clockwise, slowly at first but steadily picking up speed.

Light beings to flood the chamber. It pours out of the sapphire orb and out of Wendella’s eyes. Cackling demons lash out with barbed chains, and vile winged heads swoop and bite at Duergar soldiers swinging picks and hammers. The flying heads unleash horrifying screams, and the Duergar bellow curses. Sartan and Davros are stricken by fear and stand rooted to their spots and the platform picks up speed. A plume of black smoke rises from the center of the platform, alongside Goerth. Soon a writhing column of inky smoke looms over him and begins to take on a terrifyingly familiar shape. Long black arms unfurl, ending in clawed hands that immediately begin to grasp at the Duergar chieftain. Black wings flap and a leering fanged face emerges. Goerth’s voice booms forth, “Unhand me creature! You are mine to command! You will do as I say!” The creature retorts in a voice that cuts like glass, “You are in no position to command! I will destroy you for your arrogance first, and then kill the rest!” The black demon claws at the Duergar, leaving gashes across his corpulent form. Goerth expands in size, nearly matching the demon in height, but eclipsing the fiend in bulk. He swings his massive mace, landing a crushing blow that rings out like a thunderclap.

This clash of titans rages as the platform begins to whirl more and more rapidly. Sartan and Cycek are flung from the platform into the moat. The water has begun to whirl with the movement of the platform, and to the horror of the swimmers, there are creatures in the water. Sartan is bitten, and Cycek is stung by unseen swimming assailants. The sting proves to be the more grievous injury, for Cycek immediately loses the ability to move. His body goes limp and he is swept away with the current.

Mishok at first is able to keep his footing, but soon the situation takes a turn for the worse. The spinning stone platform begins to crack. A chunk of it tilts inward, and he topples toward the center of the circle, tumbling directly into the legs of the giant embattled Duergar chief. He flings himself back outward and catches the lip of the stone. The centrifugal force spins his body around and deposits him in the water as well.

While the platform spins, more frightening demonic manifestations take place. Horrible giant larvae bearing grotesque human faces extrude from the surface of the spinning stone. These too are flung outward by centrifugal force. One of these lands close to Davros as he too has been propelled from the platform, and combat immediately ensues. Darvos whips out his rapier and impales the creature, but it continues to wriggle with hellish vigor.

Mishok climbs from the water, and takes a position on the stone retaining wall. He lowers a spear handle into the water and manages to hold Cycek’s inert body in position as it gets swept along. He tries to reach out and draw him in, to no avail. Meanwhile, Sartan has managed to grab the framework of the spiral staircase. He climbs up to the platform from which Wendella still chants, almost hysterically now, despite the fact that the ritual appears to have taken on a life of its own, and events are unspooling now with no regard to any of her carefully laid plans. He knocks the spellbook from her hand, and she starts to scream, as she goes down to one knee, still clutching the golden skull in her right hand. The activity atop the platform seems to have attracted the attention of one of the flying horrors. It swoops down to attack Sartan, but he swings a killing blow with Demonsbane. He hurls the slain head into the swirling water below.

Atop the platform, the furious combatants tear and beat at each other, and a column of undulating light climbs up through the hole in the ceiling, perhaps all the way out into the night sky where the stars gaze down upon a scene of horror. All around the cavern, fierce battle has claimed the lived of numerous Duergar soldiers, but reinforcements arrive. Out of the darkness, a trio of additional Duergar arrive in the company of the ogre their workshop ogre. The aggressive ogre, egged on by his handlers to attack a hated dwarf, shoves Mishok off the wall and into the water. The timing could not be worse. The cracking, buckling platform, has begun to collapse inward. With a BOOM the remnants of the stone disk collapse inward and fall into a pit. Goerth and his demonic foe plummet downward and out of sight. The water begins to plunge over the shattered lip of the broken platform, turning the moat into a swirling vortex, inexorably drawing everything inward toward oblivion.

Mishok hangs on to the paralyzed Cycek, but is being carried away by the water himself. Sartan hustles back down the structure of the staircase and into the water. He hangs onto the shaking iron supports and readies himself to grab his two companions as they float past him.

The whole cavern is shaking and stones are beginning to fall. Davros is surrounded by numerous Duergar along with the towering ogre. He yells at the stupid creature. “Why did you do that!? Pull them out of the water right now!” The ogre is not intimidated, nor persuaded, and so Davros prepares to do battle with a truly imposing foe. More demons are appearing and Duergar are running and screaming at the sight of their leader’s disappearance. Mishok, from his vantage point in the rushing waters of the moat, peers down into the pit and far below sees a blasted hellscape filled with hordes of heaving, wretched bodies that move like rivers of tortured flesh. They are herded by larger, frightful creatures, but there is one that looms above all. It walks on two feet but it appears as a massive misshapen dog with patchy hair, enormous fangs, and wild bloodthirsty eyes. It turns its head, sees Mishok, and lets out a howl that makes his blood run cold. 

Mishok mutters a quiet prayer to Divoc, asking for assistance in this time of dire need.

Having convinced their Duegar escorts that Mishok was in fact just another corrupt town guard trying to loot his former client, the group accompanies Wendella to her study. She is shocked to see the damage to her room: the burnt wreckage in the corner, and the conspicuously absent array of ritual spell components which she has expected to retrieve. In fact Mishok had taken all those items, but he does not initially say anything about it, as he is trying to remain under-cover. Cycek, however, reveals that he has many of the required items in his possession, having taken them from the bandits they had fought on their first night out of Stilport. The one missing item is salt. Wendella suggests that she spend some time in her study, while the party goes to the kitchen supply room to find salt. She must translate and re-combine sequences of phrases from the spells designed to endow the Staff of Wizardry with its planar travel properties, along with the ritual spell she and Xodar had designed to summon the Nabassu from the Abyss. She also informs them of the importance of a large, clear gemstone to harness light and to power the spell. The original ritual was designed to employ the largest, clearest Shadowfurst Sapphire they could obtain. Nothing else can take the pure light of the stars and focus it in such a way as to make the ritual a guaranteed success. It was just such a priceless specimen that Hack was attempting to procure and sell them, when it had been unwittingly delivered into Carver’s hands by mistake. Now, with the gem armature in ruins, and the sapphire gone with Hack, they must try to make do with a lesser gemstone.

Mishok, being fluent in dwarvish lettering, stays with Wendella in her study to help transcribe the rituals, while the rest of the group, accompanied by guards, heads out in search of salt. Rather than go directly to the kitchen, Sartan decides to try and lure the guards to the trapdoor down the corridor in the opposite direction. He tries to trick them into falling into the trap, but they are aware of its presence and angry that they should attempt such a ruse. An argument ensues in which Sartan asserts a claim to the stronghold, while his Duergar opponents hold an opposite view. One of the guards gets fed up and shoves Sartan, who stumbles back and falls through the trapdoor himself. He hits the stone floor 20 feet below and is knocked prone. He lights a lighter and begins exploring the passageway in which he finds himself. Davros and Cycek follow him down, and they proceed down an exceedingly long corridor. They are pursued by a Duegar who has leapt down after them, but he lags behind and eventually gives up the chase.

Twenty minutes later, the three give up and head back up the corridor to the trap door, uncertain how to get back up. Fortunately, another contingent of Duergar have arrived on the scene, including an individual named Foreman Blackvein, who is on friendly terms with Wendella. He is foreman of the mining crew which has been excavating a deposit of gems in the lower cavern. This mining activity was also in the service of acquiring a gem suitable for the conjuration ritual. The foreman is, according to Wendella, reasonable and rational, as Duergar go. She persuades him to go with Mishok to fish the trio out of the trap, using the wire they had brought with them from the demon’s lair.

The group finally returns to the study. Wendella spends some more time, and with Mishok’s assistance, after about 3 hours of work, she feels she is ready to start putting the ritual together.

Having just tumbled out of the portal and back into the material world, the adventurers clamber back to their feet and gaze around them to regain their bearings. It is difficult to understand the shifting of time between worlds, but whatever time has passed has brought a change in the weather. What was once a sunny early spring morning has become overcast, foggy and cold. As near as they can tell, they are in the vicinity of the glade where they had battled the giant spiders and thereafter entered the portal to the Abyss. Rocks and barren trees are reduced to indistinct dark shapes in the heavy mist. They debate their next move. Wendella reasserts the imperative to find the spell books containing the rituals which will enable them to close the portals. They decide to circumnavigate the bluff which extends to the northeast like the prow of a ship. The travel is slow as visibility is poor and the rugged terrain is strewn with rocks, roots, and brambles. Occasionally they detect a flickering flash like distant lightning. They cannot pinpoint its source in the gloom, but they also hear the distant muffled sound of cackling and guttural roaring. After a couple hours of traveling, they find their way back to the ancient staircase, and the path they had followed a couple days before.

They pass beneath the arches where they had first encountered the late Stringbean and subsequently battled Eve Viscerator and her hobgoblin guards. Not far beyond that point, they come upon blackened deposits of solidified volcanic rock. Once-molten lava had solidified into razor-sharp black crystalline structures. Mishok recognizes this as the same material as the fire arrors they had found days before in Avita’s barn. He collects a dozen shards that will make good arrowheads once they have been shaped and balanced. He also fastens one to his spear. They recognize this as the place where they had done battle with emergent demons the previous day, and realize that they must be close to the place where they had buried the books they had taken from Ekso’s library. 

It takes them nearly an hour, but they are finally able to retrieve the books. They go through them with Wendella, hoping that the one they need will be among the random selections they had made. She is both eager and anxious, and searches through book after book only to be disappointed, finding that none are the one that she seeks. She says that they must get to the library, and that it must still be there on one of the shelves. Mishok then realizes that he had taken a spell book, not from the library, but from Ekso’s private quarters. He still has that one in his possession. He pulls it out of his bag and Wendella gasps with recognition. That’s it! She reaches out for it, but Mishok is reluctant. Should they trust her? Sartan reminds him that she seemed to have the approval of Adara. So, he hands it do her. She flips page after page, growing increasingly excited, as she gain confirmation that this book holds the knowledge required to cast the ritual. “This is what we need,” she says, “But we also need the material components. I have them in my study.” The adventurers look at each other sheepishly, and Mishok nudges Cycek, “Isn’t that where Sartan set that fire?”

They set off toward the back entrance to the compound. Before long, they find another strange sight. They have come upon a pile of bodies. It includes hobgoblins, goblins, demons, and even the mauled remains of a body clad in the torn and bloody garb of a Shadowfurst town guard. Davros realizes that this must be the grenade-wielding guard he had fought in the lookout room. These corpses have apparently been dragged there from the places where they had fallen, presumably to be disposed of.

Before they can even speculate about who had moved these bodies, a gravelly voices challenges them, “Who goes there?! Begone intruders!” They look up to see a squat armored figure with a pale, bald head, and a coarse white beard brandishing a pick axe. Mishok recognizes this as no ordinary dwarf, but rather a Duergar – a race of dark, fallen dwarves with an evil reputation. Sartan moves to get a better look and notices another Duergar wielding a spear in the lookout window above the main cave entrance. The angry Duergar continues to order them to leave. Wendella steps forward and addresses the wicked dwarf. “It is I, Lady Wendella, apprentice of Xodar, returned home to continue the  important work of my mentor.” To which the guard replies, “Lady Wendella, this place no longer belongs to the wizard. Your plans have failed and Goerth is not pleased. We need no more of your meddling with magic you don’t understand. Ever since your experiment, we are plagued with demons!” Wendella replies, “Let me speak to someone with real authority. Send for Blackvein. I will speak with him.” The guard replies “Foreman Blackvein is busy. If you’ll not leave then you will accompany me to Goerth himself.” Wendella agrees to this and she steps forward, along with the rest of the group. The guard raises his weapon and says, “Not them! They can be on their way! And,” he glowers at Mishok with an expression of contempt, “That dwarf of yours! If he wants to keep his eyes, he will stay far away from this place.”

Some haggling occurs and the guard finally agrees to bring the entire party to an audience with Goerth, with the exception of Mishok. He must stay outside. However, the guards are both foolish and short-staffed, so as they march their “guests” down into the lower tunnel, they leave the cave entrance and upper tunnel unguarded. Mishok waits for them to move out of sight, and then sneaks into the upper tunnel and into the storeroom and kitchen. He waits to make sure he is alone and undetected, then moves on to Wendella’s study. He gets in without incident. In one corner is the burnt wreckage of the fire Sartan had built. There are wood and paper ashes, and the smell of old smoke in the air. But it appears that the fire did not damage any more than the items that were heaped on the pyre. The shelves in the opposite corners of the room still contain a variety of strange items such as a gilded skull, vials of bone dust, and more. Mishok, stuffs the lot into a sack, and prepares to move on to the safe room until he can decide what to do.

Meanwhile, the rest of the party stumbles down a long, rough hewn tunnel, steered through the darkness none-too-gently by the pair of Duergar guards. The emerge into a large cavern, vaguely illuminated by diffuse light beaming down from an opening in the high ceiling. They realize that this is the large cavern in which Ekso had performed his failed attempt to summon a powerful demon. They can see light flickering on ripples in the moat, and shining on the metal structures the wizard had erected in this area. They are led past an area littered with broken rocks, metal buckets, carts, pickaxes, chains, and other mining implements. They proceed down another steeply descending tunnel and up to a broad set of heavy oaken double doors. The lead guard swings them open.

The large room before them houses some kind of stone processing operation. Beams of candlelight are focused through glass lenses and refracted by mounted specimens of gemstones. Three surprised Duergar faces look up from their work. Colored spots of lights shine on their otherwise grey, craggy faces. Piles of stones rest on work stations, and sparkling gems shine from ceramic vessels. A fifteen-foot tall vertical drum rotates with a clunking, banging rhythm, and twin conveyor belts carry rubble to piles at opposite ends of the room. 

One of the stone-processing Duergar speaks out, “What are you doing here?! You dare interrupt our important work!? Get back to your guard station!” The lead guard retorts, “Hold your tongue! I have emissaries from the wizard’s clan here for an audience with Chieftain Goerth.” More angry words are exchanged, and the clanging drum stops turning. A huge ogre peers from around the drum, and seeing the party, lunges forward like a hostile dog seeing a stranger. The ogre, however, is chained in place. One of the Duergar scolds the hulking creature and it reluctantly recedes back behind the drum and resumes turning a huge crank, setting the drum and conveyor belts back into motion.

The party proceeds through a side door and into a dimly-lit and vacant dining hall. They walk past  stone tables set with red tablecloths, metal flatware and cutlery. The lead guard stops before the far wall, and pulls aside a large red tapestry than hangs there. This reveals a hidden door which he pushes open. The corridor ahead reaches a point where the finished stonework gives way to rough hewn unfinished stone. There is a well dug into an alcove, and a bend in the corridor that brings the party to another solid, blank wall. The lead guard pulls a rope and the muffled clang of a bell sounds. A deep voice calls out, “Who disturbs the mighty Goerth?” The guard replies, “It is Sentinel Slate. I have brought Wendella and her entourage for an audience. She offers a solution to the demon problem.” The seams of another hidden door are revealed. Sentinel Slate opens the door, bows deeply, and steps aside. The other guard takes up a position to the opposite side of the door. Wendella steps forward.

A Duergar of enormous girth peers at them from a stone throne atop a dais. He is easily as wide as he is tall. Before him is a large, luxurious bed, around which are arranged 6 chairs. It is as if he regularly holds audiences from his bed. He wears a silver-studded leather helmet with flaps that cover his eyes. What they can see of his face is a deep frown and a white beard. One meaty fist clutches a heavy spiked mace. The walls and celing of the room are covered with a disturbing mural of eyes of different sizes and colors. Even in the dark, they glow with an eerie, disorienting light. The colors seem to swirl and the eyes appear to shift, almost as if they are pushing forward into space and then receding into nothingness. The effect is unsettling enough to keep Sartan from entering the room. The others withstand the frightening effect and move  forward to stand alongside Wendella.

Wendella and Goerth exchange words. He is angry at the outcome of Xodar’s failed conjuration, particularly since there is now the problem of demons running rampant through the compound. Wendella explains that she may be the best chance at closing these portals. She is the only one with the expertise. Goerth condemns the presence of her companions. Why has she brought them here? She persuades him that these are her personal guards and she will require their assistance to perform the ritual that will close the portals. She reports that she will need to retrieve material components from her study. Goerth sends them away with the guards to retrieve what she needs.

The party takes their leave of the chieftain, and proceeds back through the passageways and into the cavern. They climb the metal spiral staircase that they know will bring them to Xodar’s private chamber. The top of the stairway has been blocked with a hinged metal grate. They throw it open, and it hits the stone floor with a loud clang.

Meanwhile, Mishok has moved into the safe room. He sees that it remains unchanged from their last visit. It was here that they broke the wizard’s staff, sending Wendella into the Abyss and Eve into the Celestial Realm. That explosion of arcane energy also blasted shelves, chairs, and beds outward toward the walls. Canned goods, broken jars, and splintered wood are strewn about. But now, all is quiet. Mishok bides his time in prayer. The guidance of Divoc comes to him, giving him strength and the realization that he has an important role to play in the salvation of the world. He must remain open to recognizing the right time to act. Shortly, he hears a clang echo through the stone corridors. This he takes as his cue to move. He quietly heads down to the Xodar’s gem armature lab. He finds that many of the wires they had left dangling have been clipped and removed. He also sees a pile of bodies. There are hobgoblins, ghouls, demons, and a couple of individuals whom he recognizes. Here lies the body of Hack’s henchwoman known as Skinny Minnie, and also the body of their brief companion, Coriander. Hearing voices, Mishok quickly decides to disguise himself. He finds the body of a town guard and quickly dons the ill-fitting armor, cape, helmet, and shield. Rather than lurk amid the wreckage of this room, he moves forward into the hallway from whence the voices come. He soon finds his companions approaching in the company of the Duergar guards. Naturally, they challenge him. Mishok entreats them to stay their hand, for he is merely a town guard. He admits to trying to loot the remains but asserts that he is no threat. The Duergar guard is unconvinced, but Sartan speaks up on his behalf, as does Wendella. An argument ensues, threats are made, and it nearly comes to blows, but, the Duergar, not fully convinced of the identity of this “guard” at least recognize that they might be outmatched at this time. They decide to accept to story that this individual is one of Wendella’s entourage, and for the time being, conflict is averted.

Cycek cautiously heads down the tunnel, until he reaches a point where he hears the hubbub of multiple voices. He creeps forward to a point where the tunnel opens into a stone chamber. The gibbering voices sound like they are right around the corner. He sends Fuzzidohnge to investigate. The tiny weasel rounds the corner stealthily, but is immediately overcome with confusion by the gabbling voices of a terrifying creature a mere two feet away. He stands transfixed long enough for the huge amorphous mass of flesh, riddled with horrible eyes and mouths, to surge forward and smother him beneath its disgusting bulk. Cycek steps forward to rescue his animal companion and slashes at the monster with a sword, causing a wound that is quickly reabsorbed by the jelly-like flesh. The monstrosity snaps at him with many mouths, but fails to land a single bite. In rage and frustration, it wildly spits a glob a fluid which misses the mark and instead hits the wall with a flash of light. Cycek attacks again and quickly inserts the immovable rod into the fresh wound. His hope is that the wound will close over it and hold the creature in place. This is not to be. The disgusting creature oozes over and around the rod, like mud over a stone, and approaches Cycek for another unsuccessful bite attempt.

Cycek calls to Davros for back up, and the rogue obliges – running down the tunnel. Sartan hears the cry for help and follows Davros toward the tunnel. Mishok stays with Wendella and the treacherous wizard while also keeping a lookout for other unwelcome visitors. Peering over the edge of the spire, he sees a portal once again beginning to sputter and blink on the conjuration circle where they had emerged into this hellish place. He also detects a surge and an apparent rise in level of the lava flows. He hopes his companions hurry in finding a way down to the lower plateau so they can get out of here.

Meanwhile, Cycek has continued to battle the blob of mouths and eyes. He slashes and deftly dodges the gnashing teeth, until he finally makes a mistake and is bitten by multiple mouths. Bleeding from many cruel wounds, the battling elf falls to the stone floor and loses consciousness. Emboldened by its success, the creature slides forward for a follow-up attack, but not before Davros arrives on the scene. He grabs his fallen companion and drags him back up the tunnel away from the slow moving menace. He begins administering first aid, while Sartan shoulders past him in the tunnel. Sartan is carrying several canisters of flammable oil, and a torch. He pours a gallon of oil down the sloping floor, where it pools around the murderous mass of mouths. He lights the oil and a wall of flame springs up. The monster is singed, and its foul, blackened flesh writhes in pain. The creature is not killed, but it ceases its forward progress.

Davros revives Cycek who reenters the fray. He fires a flaming arrow over Sartan’s shoulder, further injuring the creature. Sartan then follows up with a second application of the burning oil technique. This sends the monster into full retreat. The companions press their advantage and rain arrow and sword blows upon the blob until, finally the frightful gibbering mouths cease their noise, the eyes roll back to white, and then shut tight with one last spasmodic dying jerk.

Cycek is dismayed to find the limp, lifeless body of Fuzzidonghe, but he does not lose hope. He uses one of his healing spells, and to his great joy, the tiny creature stirs, opens its eyes, shakes off some of the slime coating its one-lustrous fur, and scampers up Cycek’s shoulder to nuzzle his pointy ear. Sartan retrieves the magical immovable rod, and explores the rest of the chamber and finds nothing noteworthy other than a pair of other tunnels leading down. They decide to abandon this direction of exploration and return to the surface.

Mishok explains the urgency of getting out of here, as the ground is shaking, the lava is rising, and the portal seems to be sputtering into a tentative existence. They decide to take the ladder. Cycek heads down while his party members remain up top and create a harness out of the wire they had brought with them. They use the harness and the immovable rod to carefully lower Wendella down the ladder. That having been done, the remaining companions carefully climb down as well, leaving the bound wizard to his fate.

Their next task is get back across the river of lava. They bring the ladder back down from its upright position and once again lay it flat across the gap to the adjacent island. The lava has risen quite high and is surging past a mere foot below the ladder itself. Using the immovable rod once again, they stabilize the rickety, warped structure and one by one cross to the other side. Mishok carries Wendella on his back, and barely makes it across, nearly falling as everything begins to shake more insistently. The portal is flashing to blue, green and white, intermittently appearing and then vanishing. They see a group of bat-winged heads in the sky, and insubstantial worm-like forms begin to emerge from the wildly fluctuating portal of light. Finally, the portal snaps into a moment of stable, green light. The group links hands, rush past a grasping evil worm, leap up two tiers of the conjuring circle and plunge into the light.

Their hearts instinctively feel a rush of relief to put that evil place behind them. They find themselves floating in a field of grey mist. A distant shadow stirs. Bat-like wings flap and recede, and the shadow seems to pour itself away into a glowing blue orb. As they stare in wonder, a green glow surrounds them, and they feel as if they are falling toward an inviting pool of warm emerald green. The glow envelops them, they feel drawn inexorably forward, and they tumble out onto a verdant green sward of lush grass. Disoriented, they gaze around, taking in the beauty of a blue sky, golden sunlight, sparkling mountain peaks, and a babbling brook. The air is a fragrant spring breeze, and wildflowers blossom all around. The landscape is like a garden, but wilder and more potent with the majestic beauty of an idealized natural world. A kind, yet almost overwhelmingly mesmerizing voice speaks to them. They are transfixed by the being that addresses them. She is a tall, luminous woman, with her black hair pulled back in a long braid. She is resplendent in fine white robes and gleaming armor plates. One white wing rises from her right shoulder, but her left is graced by only a shorn stump. She is the Deva, Adara. She bids the team be at ease, for they are with her in the Celestial realm, where all is good. She congratulates them on their success in rescuing Wendella, while acknowledging the difficulty and danger they have endured. She shares with them the serious news that the Nabassu, the enemy whom she held at bay in the ethereal plane, was stronger than even she could control. The demon broke free, but rather than return to its isolation in the Abyss, it fled through a portal into the material world. Now despite their victory, she advises that they rest here while they can, but to make haste to find a way to close the portals. The situation is becoming increasingly unstable, and more frequent and larger portals are likely to sporadically open, spilling more, and potentially deadlier, demons into the material world. They ask how they can do this. How can they close the portals? Wendella volunteers the idea that there are spells in Xodar’s library. If they can retrieve the books, and the material components, they can maybe end the results of the flawed magic that opened them in the first place.

The party discusses their options. There is some understandable resentment toward Wendella for her having caused the situation. They have an inclination to simply tie her up, cart her back to Shadowfurst, deliver her to her parents, and collect their reward. She is contrite, explaining that she was a foolish girl, lashing out and wishing for power. She never meant for this to happen. She is worried about the damage that can still occur if they don’t act to stop it. She is worried about her parents. The Nabassu constantly tormented her with threats against her parents. Adara replies that the Nabassu can be anywhere, it could be across the ocean or in the immediate vicinity. There is no telling where that portal led, other than the certainty that it was the material world.

As they contemplate their options, they hear approaching footsteps and the clink of steel. Looking up, they see a tall figure approaching, silhouetted against the bright sky. Light sparkles on gleaming armor and helm. A familiar voice laughs, and a gauntleted arm reaches up to remove the helmet. Sartan’s eyes widen in recognition. Eve Viscerator runs forth, laughing to grab him in a huge bugbear bear-hug. She says “I never thought I would see you guys again! But here we are! So much has changed! I am so happy to see you my friends! It was you who changed my life for the better!” They are amazed at the sight of this former adversary who mysteriously disappeared in the same arcane blast that sent Wendella to her evil patron. They ask her what happened, and Eve explains that there was a blast of light, and the next thing she knew she was sprawled on the grass in this miraculous place. She was attended to by Adara, who healed her. She does not know how long she has been here, but it feels like many months. She has thrived under the tutelage of Adara and she is now a Paladin of Tyr, and a squire to the Deva.

Adara gives the team some time to relax and recuperate, but shortly encourages them to take advantage of the next portal that appears. She brings forth the glowing orb that Sartan had thrown through the portal long ago. She explains that this orb is a tool that can provide the means for steering the positioning of the portals. She has some ability to exert her force of will to shorten or lengthen their individual span of existence once they have manifested. But this unstable emergence of portals is a force of nature, she cannot say when the next one will appear or whether it will lead to the Abyss or back home. She suggests that if she can steer their location to a degree, they should decide where they want to go, and she will do her best to dial in the closest location.

They wait for awhile, and then finally a blue portal begins to blink into existence, hovering just above the green lawn. She gifts each of them a flask of healing water, and then holds forth the glowing orb as the portal fully materializes. She closes her eyes in thought and rotates the orb, its radiance becoming blinding. She commands, “Now! Go before it closes! Go forth! Do good work! Close these aberrant portals! Be brave! I have faith in you. Go!” The companions leap through, hand-in-hand, bringing Wendella with them.

They land with a rattle of armor and a thud, back in the glen near to the place where they had battled giant spiders just the day before.

Standing around the lifeless and hewn bodies of three ghouls, the party admires their handiwork and contemplates their next move. They have been in this abyssal realm for approximately an hour, and have been hard pressed by foes for much of it. The unclean air polluted by acrid smoke is beginning to take a toll. Sartan and Mishok both begin to feel lightheaded with weariness. Sartan takes the precaution of donning a makeshift mask through which to breathe. 

A metallic scraping noise catches their attention. A maw demon, perhaps the same one which had passed overhead not long ago, stands on the far shore attempting to shove the far end of the ladder over which they had come into the burning river of lava. Davros and Sartan run to grab their end and pull it out of the creatures grasp. They succeed beyond their hope, for the evil creature loses its footing and tumbles into the lava where it is destroyed.

They pull the entire ladder over to their side, again bracing the base, and using a length of wire to tip it up and over onto their shore. In doing so, they come to the realization that the length of the ladder should be sufficient to carry them to the top of the spire. They lean the ladder against the steep cliff, and Cycek begins to climb. As a precaution, he uses the immovable rod to lock it into place at increments as he goes. This proves to be a wise choice. At about the halfway point, the ranger looks up to see a strange figure silhouetted against the red sky. The head and shoulders of an antlered humanoid peers over the stone lip of the summit. It grabs the top of the ladder and attempts to tip it over. Frustrated by the immovability of the ladder, it shakes and jerks at the ladder, futilely trying to dislodge it. As Cycek nears the top, the creature withdraws, to hide behind a metal cylinder that stands at the center of a dish-like plateau.

Cycek approaches, questioning this strange creature, “Who are you? Why are you trying to knock over the ladder?”

The rest of the band climb the ladder to join him, just as the creature replies, spitting out the words is a pained strangle of a voice, “Begone! You don’t belong here! My master demands it!”

This creature is a distorted humanoid, perhaps once a man. An enormous, tangled pair of antlers sprouts from a head that is deformed, damaged head. A sizable chunk of one side of his head, including the forehead and right eye is burned away, the flesh replaced by solidified stone. The remaining eye peers out from a monocle, appearing oversized and distorted. The gnarled “man” is wrapped in filthy, torn, grey ropes, and staggers about in a hunched posture. His left forearm is missing from elbow to wrist, and that absent portion of that limb is replaced instead by what appears to be a length of rebar. He leans heavily on 6 foot length of bent, rusty rod of iron.

Cycek responds to this wretched creature with hostility and scorn, as do his compatriots when they arrive on the scene. They question him, while he hisses angry words: “How dare you trespass in the dwelling of my master!” He refuses to answer their questions, and their insolence enrages him. When asked his name he replies, “My name is… Aiaaagh! Aiaaagh!!! My name… my name is of no consequence.” He doubles over in pain, as if even the notion of his name is an agony to him.

The cylindrical structure that looms at the center of this tableau is approximately seven feet tall and three and a half feet wide. It appears to be roughly constructed of unevenly bent sheet metal coarsely welded and riveted together. Five long rods with crank handles stick out of it at strange angles. About five feet from the ground, there is a small, barred opening about three inches wide by three inches in height. A woman’s voice screams from this opening, “Help me! Help me! Oh please, help me get out of here!”

Cycek demands answers as to what the cylinder is, and who is imprisoned in it. The enraged creature refuses to answer and instead issues a threat, “Begone or you shall die!”

Sartan steps up and breaks the standoff by employing his trusty fidget spinner. He holds it aloft and the antlered man locks his monocled eye on it. His hands fall to his sides, and he allows his staff clatter to the ground. He stands, glassy eyed and muttering quietly while Sartan and his colleagues bind and gag the wretch.

That threat nullified, the crew ponders the cylindrical prison, and its occupant. Questioning reveals that the prisoner is none other than Wendella. She is almost breathless with relief, saying, “I remember you. It seems so long ago. Months? A year? I don’t know. I can’t believe you’re here! Oh please, please, you have to get me out of here.”

The team is extremely skeptical. Can she be trusted? Her appeal is met with disdain, and Cycek in particular berates her for her past behavior and poor decisions. She is very contrite in her replies, and in fact want to make things right. She expresses her fear that this horrible demon, her one-time patron whom she looked to for power, is going to get loose in the material world and target her parents. She thinks she can help close the portals, and prevent more demons from getting out into the world.

Closer inspection and communication with Wendella reveals that the five crank handles are part of a contraption by which her jailers can inflict pain. When one handle is cranked out, another one cranks in, piercing her with an auger-shaped blade. The knob of each handle bears a different sculpted icon: skull, heart, eye, hand, and flame. The flame icon corresponds to a blade poised to impale the core of her abdomen, while the others are a more literal representations of the body part that will be “under the knife.” The party grows frustrated trying to puzzle out which combination of crank handles to rotate in which direction to avoid causing injury. They instead slap “Aiaaagh! Aiaaagh!!!” out of his trance and threaten him with bodily harm unless he opens the prison. He gives in to his fear and agrees. But, he needs to be untied, and have his gag removed so that he can perform the spell. They give him his staff and take positions to attack should he do anything untoward. He speaks an incantation, and knocks three times on the metal surface with his staff. The prison splits open along a vertical seam. Wendella tumbles out upon the ground, but she takes a grave wound from an augur blade in the process. Mishok and Cycek go to her aid, providing her healing magic to ensure that she does not die. The evil wizard takes the opportunity of distraction to cast a spell of magical darkness. He disappears into the inky blackness. Sartan and Mishok rush in swinging blindly, trying to bring him down, but they fail to connect. He emerges on the far side of the darkened area, running while performing another incantation on himself. The result is that he appears capable of rapidly running up a steeply pitched stone wall as if he were a spider. He is able to gain the top ridge of the spire, but before he is able to escape down the far slope, the almost equally sure-footed Davros springs into action. He hustles along the ridge and soon catches up to the fleeing wizard. He inflicts a wound with his rapier and the wretched man quickly surrenders.

They group quickly binds and gags him again, none too pleased with his treachery. They leave him on the stone floor and seek a more efficient way down from the spire, to ease the transport of a bound captive. The bound captive in this case is Wendella. The party still does not trust her, and they have no intention of taking the mad wizard with them.

Cycek discovers a set of stairs and a trail along the lip of the dished plateau. He heads down it a short way, and sees that it leads to a cave. Mishok and Sartan stay with Wendella, securely tying her up while Davros takes a lookout position and Cycek heads down the tunnel.

The party continues to debate which way to go, arguing among themselves. Cycek suggests several courses of action, which meet with the silence of uncertainty. Eventually, Sartan and Davros decide to forge ahead and cross yet another bridge to another small island, while Mishok and Cycek stay put.

Midway across the bridge, Davros is attacked by another tiny green demon which pops into view and claws him, nearly knocking him from the catwalk. He manages to pull out his rapier and skewer it before it can vanish. It slides off his blade, dead, and plops into the churning lava just below. He continues across the bridge, to land on an island that is an even filthier hunk of rock. It is strewn with metal debris like old bent nails, staples, and spikes. There are skeletons of strange creatures, scales, and teeth. There are coils of wire, hooks, and heavy chucks of metal with eyelets. Most disgustingly, there is the decaying body of a large wormlike creature, at least six feet long, party torn apart, and stinking horribly. Before Davros has but a moment to take this in, he is set upon by another green creature. This one is ineffective, and Davros immediately dispatches it. Sartan joins him on the island, and they inspect some of the debris. Davros takes about 150 ft. of wire, and some assorted spikes and nails. Sartan comes across two long iron rods standing upright, protruding from the ground. They angle slightly out over the river, and wire, secured to their tips, runs out into the flow. Both wire and rod contraptions thrum with the current of the lava flowing past. But one of them begins to quiver and flex. Sartan, curious, hauls on the wire, pulling it in hand-over-hand and piling up coils of the smoking hot wire onto the soiled stone at his feet. There is resistance at the  other end of the wire, a pulsating force, but it is no match for Sartan’s great strength. A shape emerges from the depth. An enlongated, finned body breaks the surface, and then submerges again. Sartan keeps pulling and soon a glowing, thrashing beast is brought once again to the surface. With a heave, he pulls a two-foot long glowing, flaming fish-beast onto the shore. It leaps and flops, splashing gouts of liquid fire as it does so, burning Sartan in the process. He kicks it back into the river, and the wire goes taut again.

While this is happening, Cycek and Mishok are inspecting the ladders, and discussing how they might be repositioned to give them better access to some of the larger islands, so they can continue their search for Wendella. Cycek is mid-sentence when their attention is drawn by flickering light. They turn to see the portal through which they had come flickering through color changes, and spasmodically fluctuating. Before they can even move, there is a ground rattling “BOOM!” and the portal ceases to be. Loose stones rattle and tumble hissing into the lava. Cycek turns to Mishok with a concerned expression, and says “Oh, great.” There is a moment of silence, and then the sound of distant laughter returns with renewed vigor. 

Mishok shouts across to Davros and Sartan, that if they use the last bridge they had crossed, they can cross directly back to the place where they had started rather than backtracking. He figures it is long enough to span that gap, and then also the gap to the larger land mass at the opposite side of that island. It takes some work, but with Sartan’s great strength, they slide the ladder toward them, using a thin sliver of rock mid-stream to keep it from tilting down into the lava. Then they attach a length of wire to it, stand it on end, and bracing the grounded end, lower its far end down onto the opposite shore. This is a difficult task, requiring a great deal of pivoting and repositioning as it hangs up on the overhead wires, but they succeed. Crossing over the the island where they had first landed, they are met by Cycek and Mishok who have retraced their steps.

Reunited on a slab of rock littered with the corpses of their fallen demonic foes, they ready the ladder to make another crossing on the opposite side. Brainstorming ways to better move a 70 foot ladder without catching in the wires or dropping it into the lava, Cycek remembers the strange “immovable” bar he had found in the quarters of the evil wizard, Ekso. He uses it to anchor the foot of the ladder in place, to keep it from shifting as they again stand it on and, and lower it via cable onto the far shore.

They cross this bridge one at a time. Cycek deactivates the immovable bar, takes it in hand and starts across. Halfway there, he loses his balance and topples off the ladder. By amazing reflex, he hits the button on the bar. It stops in mid air, and he holds on tight, dangling precariously, with his toes just inches from the heaving mass of deadly molten rock. He manages to crawl back up onto the ladder and with the utmost caution, cross the rest of the way and get his feet back on solid ground.

The plateau the find themselves on it at a slightly higher elevation, and it slopes upward as it nears a towering spire. The ground is all the more strewn with the huge misshapen globs of solidified lava, and the refuse of long years of demonic occupation. The begin to explore, moving upward toward the spire. Keeping a careful watch, they soon notice that a dangling maw demon is moving into view above their heads, on a wire that intersects their plateau. They take cover among the rocks and debris. A few tense minutes elapse and the creatures passes them by and continues out over the river and adjacent islands. Returning to their exploration, they find a six-foot diameter hole, bored into the rock, leading to a dank tunnel than twists downward at a steep angle into the darkness. A horrible reek rises from the hole. The see the long beaten track of bare, clawed humanoid feet leading into, out of, and all around the hole. Understandably reluctant to go in and blindly explore, Cycek instructs Fuzzidohng to go in, explore, avoid being seen, and return. The weasel wrinkles his nose, but does so. The four adventures stand at the ready outside the hole, keeping a careful watch for any foes that might appear. After five to ten minutes of waiting, the weasel comes running out of the hole in a state of great agitation. They hear horrid, incoherent shouting and scrabbling footsteps running their way. Cycek is frustrated with the poor performance of his animal companion, complaining, “I told you to stay out of sight!” The tiny creature is shaking with fright and it hides among the rocks. They quickly hatch a plan before the purser emerges. Sartan and Mishok position themselves  above the hole with a length of wire, looped into a giant snare. Cycek and Davros station themselves to the sides of the hole, swords at the ready. They are barely ready before the purser emerges bellowing with fury. Sartan and Mishok heave to and tighten the wire noose around the head of the enraged creature. Mishok quickly identifies it. “It’s a ghoul!” They have fought these before. The ensnared creature goes wild trying to escape, but it is no use. Cycek and Davros quickly stab at it, and their companions pull the wire with all their might, nearly severing its wretched head. The creature goes limp and falls to the ground dead.

Having a clearer idea of what they may be dealing with in the cave, they decide to carefully explore. Cycek decides that Fuzzidohng will be the light source for those without night vision. Mishok casts the Light spell on the creature. The glowing weasel carefully proceeds into the cave at Cycek’s bidding. It is a cramped tunnel, six feet in diameter at its maximum. They encounter a couple of forks in the passageway, and they choose the rightmost passage both times. Suddenly, Fuzzidohng’s light illuminates a stone chamber, and the shambling forms of two more ghouls. The wretched creatures immediately react to the light and rush forward to attack. The party turn and run for the entrance, except for Cycek who stealthily steps into one of the side tunnels and hides. The ghouls, drawn by the glowing weasel, run screaming past without seeing him. The other three explorers hastily gather outside the cave entrance and try to reassemble their snare arrangement, but it’s too late to do so effectively. The first creature bursts from the cave. Sartan and Mishok drop the snare around its neck, but it is not secure. The noose tightens around its undead neck, but its flailing arm tears the wire out of Mishok’s grasp. Sartan holds on to his end, barely restraining the creature which pulls like a dog on a leash. Davros is able to use this to his advantage, and he stabs the vile creature with his rapier. The second ghoul emerges and shoves past the first one to get at Davros, who successfully dodges out of reach of the nasty claws. Sartan grabs his trusty battle axe and buries it the head of the first ghoul, bringing its hell-driven state of living death to an abrupt end. 

Mishok attacks the second one before it has a chance to turn and face him, cutting into it with the antique silver sword he had acquired just the day before. The ghoul, howling with fury, whirls around, giving Davros an opportunity for a sneak attack. He jabs the point of the rapier through its unbeating heart. It screams and writhes on his blade, but soon convulses one final time and drops dead at Davros’ feet.

While this battle takes place, Cycek sneaks down the passageway, into the chamber where they had first encountered the ghouls. He finds nothing of value and presses on, through another passage which rises upward. Soon it opens into another roughly 30′ x 30′ chamber. He sees two other tunnels leading from the chamber. But, most disturbingly he sees a huge, amorphous, glistening red mound, across the chamber. It opens up an eye, another eye, then scores of eyes. One by one mouths open, and soon there are dozens upon dozens of mouths of all sizes, all gabbling in a cacophony of voices. It surges toward him, like a massive grotesque slug. Cycek turns and flees back the way he came.

He shouts to his team as he approaches the cave entrance, letting them know it is he, and not another monster to be garroted upon his emergence from the hole. The team, together again, catches their breath and begins to plan their next more.

Faced with a savage and resilient enemy on the ground, and deadly monstrosities in the terrible red sky, the four adventurers take up defensive positions. Remembering the horrifying shriek that the flying heads had used to render his allies helpless, Mishok calls upon Divoc to cast the spell of silence. In doing so, the quartet are immediately enveloped in an unnatural quiet, which is entirely incongruous with the abysmal visions that assail their eyes.

Sartan fires an arrow at the stocky, gape-mouthed mound of gristle, flesh, and teeth that rushes, snarling, directly for him. Perhaps a bit disoriented by the weird silence, he shoots wide and his arrow disappears into the river of lava. Cycek fires an arcing arrow shot at a flying creature, yielding an equally unsuccessful result. His arrow clatters uselessly to the ground.

A movement at the body of their fallen ally, Stringbean, draws their gaze to an unsettling sight. The dead goblin’s eyes spring open, and the pointed ears stretch and deform into a grotesque pair of wings. They begin to flap, weakly at first, but then with a fury. The neck stretches upward and the head begins to rise. Tendons stretch and then snap. Green flesh rips, and gouts of blood splash over the filthy stone. In the magical silence, they cannot hear the screams from Stringbean’s agonized face. The goblin’s head tears away from the body, takes to the air, and flutters wildly, as disoriented as a butterfly in a cyclone.

There is little time to digest this latest grotesquery, as the other flying heads are not disoriented at all. Three of them dive down to inflict injury on whomever they can. Cycek receives another devastating bite, and he again suffers the effects of abysmal venom. The attacker immediately takes to the sky again, but not before Cycek whips out his shortsword and swipes at the departing foe. He cuts into it, but it still flaps away, where it wheels around, preparing another attack. Sartan is similarly attacked. The flying horror darts past his defenses and sinks its poisoned teeth into his flesh. Demonsbane is quick to Sartan’s hand, and the warrior swings the enchanted blade. The cloven head lands on the stone sickeningly as two disgusting lumps of quivering flesh. A third head dives at the ever evasive Davros, but is unable to cause any injury. Nevertheless, Davros lashes out as the creature flaps back upward. He slashes it across the face, failing to kill it. But he swings again and brings death to the nasty fiend. 

Mishok moves into position near Sartan, readying himself as the demon with the gaping, fanged maw barrels towards him. It closes the distance and takes a tremendous bite at Sartan. It’s jaws snap closed on thin air as Sartan deftly dodges aside. Demonsbane is almost whimpering with anticipation, and Sartan gives the sword satisfaction, as he swings and cleaves into the muscular creature, spilling demonic gore onto the rocks at their feet. Cycek moves counter clockwise around the stone platform, placing himself below Stringbean’s flapping head. He shoots straight up at it, but misses. This attack gives the heretofore disoriented monster a new sense of purpose. It dives directly down and sinks its goblin fangs into Cycek’s neck. Cycek falls to the ground, unconscious, Fuzzidong jumps lithely down from his shoulder, and Stringbean’s head takes to the sky again.

The other remaining flying creature makes another attempt at Davros and misses once more. He shoots it down as it flies away, and it tumbles into the lava with a splash, and a spattering hiss like hot grease from a burst sausage. He then dashes toward the fallen Cycek, already readying his healer’s kit as he runs over the blood-soaked, bone-strewn battlefield of stone.

Mishok takes a mighty swing at the maw demon with his heavy dwarven war hammer. He brings the weapon down with all his strength, crushing and deforming the horrific jaw, but not killing the all-too-sturdy demon. He steps back out of range, and the damaged monster lunges at him clumsily, missing the dwarf with the still deadly teeth. It whirls back around and takes an equally ineffective bite at Sartan.

Cycek is in bad shape when Davros arrives, but the rogue is able to stop the bleeding, and keep his elvish friend from meeting the same fate as Stringbean. The flying head of Stringbean shortly meets its fate as well, as Davros brings it down with a well-placed arrow shot.

Sartan and Mishok are still engaged with their foe, fighting in silence against an enemy that must certainly be roaring with rage and pain. Mishok sinks a crossbow bolt deep into its revolting flesh, setting the stage for Sartan to make the killing blow. He stabs Demonsbane into the creature and shoves it hard with his shield. It gushes blood and is thrown backward. It staggers at the cliff edge and tumbles into the lava, shriveling and smoking as it sinks slowly into the viscous molten rock.

A few moments pass, and no new attackers emerge. Mishok drops the zone of silence, and the sound of bubbling lava, and distant cackling laughter return to their ears. Mishok and Sartan rush over to assist with reviving the stricken Cycek. Mishok extends his hand a brings Cycek back from the brink of death with Divoc’s healing touch.

Having been embattled since the moment they entered this world, the team has had little opportunity to observe their environs until now, and what they see is far from inviting. A flat-topped pinnacle of stone looms over a tortured scene of darkness, fire, and death. Writhing channels of sluggishly flowing lava snake between jagged islands of dark grey rock. The ground beneath their feet is strewn with debris: bones, teeth, broken rock, scraps of metal, and shards of glass… the filth of ages of abuse by wretched fiends who care naught for beauty, relishing instead all the ugliness, fear, and pain they can muster. A ladder-like catwalks extends from the island upon which they stand to a smaller adjacent one, and additional ladders connect other ones in the vicinity. Upon one island, two demonic figures caper and gesture. Over the bubble and hiss of the lava, they can hear cackling laughter, punctuated by an occasional human voice, screaming in despair.

Free for the moment from attackers, they discuss at length their next move. Seeing no foes upon the smaller islands, they decide to cross the catwalk and explore. Davros, the most nimble of the crew, readies himself for the prospect of crossing a rickety structure that awkwardly spans a channel of lethally-hot lava, when Sartan impatiently barges ahead. In doing so, he loses his footing and falls forward, barely catching himself before tumbling into the fiery sludge. He rights himself and continues. Upon setting foot on the far shore, two small green creatures spring into view and attack him their tiny but vicious claws. One of them darts past his startled defenses and digs its claws deeply into his flesh, leaving a damaging residue of demonic venom. Davros hastens across to help and the two creatures wink out of sight. Demonsbane speaks in Sartan’s ear, “He went that way! Over there! Get him!” Sartan heads toward the narrow end of the island and swings wildly in the general area that the demon-sensitive sword indicates. His sweeping sword stroke connects with the invisible fiend, cleaving it in half. The two green, seeping pieces appear, twitching on the stone. At the other end of the island, the other creature appears and attacks Davros – unsuccessfully. Before it can disappear again, the rogue runs it through with his rapier. 

The island clear of danger, Mishok and Cycek cautiously cross the precarious bridge. Cycek decides to lead the way across to the next island. He too is set upon by evil creatures that remain invisible until the moment of attack. He manages to kill one, pinning it to the ground with a skewering thrust of his short sword. But the other envenomates him with a clawed attack, and the elf is again brought to the ground, where he lays unconscious, his life force slipping away. 

Demonsbane leads Sartan to the vicinity of the other hidden opponent, but this time he swings through thin air. This leaves the tiny fiend free to rush forward and attack Davros as he comes across the bridge. Losing its cloaking ability during the attack, the creature is targeted by Darvos and it is soon dispatched.

Mishok joins the team, and they ready themselves for yet another crossing, this time to a narrow shelf on a much larger island. Davros leads the way, and is nearly across when the uneven bridge shifts and he falls. He scrambles for purchase, but fails to catch himself. He falls into the chasm, but luckily lands on the steep slope skirting the edge of the island. He slides precariously close to the gurgling river of certain death. Sartan makes his way across the bridge with as much haste as he can, aware of the point where his weight would rock the structure and risk throwing him of in the same manner as Sartan. He carefully negotiates this point in the journey and makes it to the far shore. He quickly pulls out the handy Gnomish Gooey Grabber and whips it out toward his endangered partner. Davros holds tight and the mighty Sartan hauls him up to the relative safety of the godforsaken island in this hellish realm.

The strip of flat stone on which Sartan and Davros find themselves is just as filthy and rubbish strewn as the others islands. They explore the path as far as they can in one direction and find that the shelf comes to an end with a frightful view of a veritable ocean of lava. A few islands outlying islands of this archipelago thrust jaggedly out of the heaving mass of liquid fire, and a distant mainland of jagged peaks shows itself through the haze of incessant burning.

While one pair explores, Mishok and Cycek, remaining on the previous island become aware of another maw demon dangling from a wire, scuttling hand-over-hand toward them. Cycek fires an arrow at one of its clawed hands, skewering its forearm, while Davros unsuccessfully calls the fire of Divoc upon it. It continues inexorably toward them despite the arrow wound, but Cycek fires again, this time puncturing its other hand and knocking it from the wire. With an bellow, it plummets into the lava where it is consumed in flesh-melting fire.

Now, free from immediate threats, the party again debates the next course of action, and the scene closes with no clear path forward.

Three fiendish flying horrors set upon the band of adventurers. These are monstrous human heads with mutated, exaggerated ears turned into revolting flapping wings. The first one dives at Sartan, missing with its snapping jaws, and then flying out of range. It then swoops at Cycek, connecting with a vicious bite. The terrible teeth of the creature sink into the flesh of Cycek’s head. Blood runs down his face, but it is a minor wound. However, the bite also carries the venom of the abyss, and Cycek suffers the effects of a dreadful poison. The two other creatures join the fray, diving in to attack other members of the group. Stringbean wisely runs and crouches in the shadow of a large rock, hiding from the onslaught, and Sartan and Davros soon follow suit. The flying heads move fast and are elusive, but between arrow shot and sword stroke, one of the three is brought down. One of the remaining monsters assails the team with a blood-curdling shriek, inducing a paralyzing fear. Most of the party is unable to act as the airborne horrors wheel around for another attack. They are unable to connect, then, as if called back home, they fly back into the portal and disappear.

The heroes recover from their shock and fear and swiftly decide “Now is our chance!” They hold hands and dive into the portal before it had a chance to disappear.

For a few quiet seconds, they find themselves floating in an endless field of misty grey. There is no indication of up or down. There are pools and eddies of grey light and subtle shade, and also a palpable, amorphous region of writhing shadow. A black arm seems to reach out, but a mass of light interposes itself, spreading like a protective shield of wings. The voice of Adara speaks, “go now, and act swiftly, I may not be able to hold this creature for long, nor hold the portal in stasis.” Complete your task. Find the girl and do so quickly.

At that moment the mist turns to orange and they find themselves falling into a pit of angry light. They seem to move every more quickly and are shortly dumped unceremoniously in a heap onto a slab of stone.

They are disoriented, but a quick look reveals that they have come to rest upon a tiered, circular platform of stone, in the center of a jagged, irregular island of black rock. Around the island snake glowing channels of sluggishly flowing lava. The air smells of harsh smoke. It stings their eyes, and makes them want to cough. The red sky above them is criss-crossed with black wires. They barely have time to take in the view beyond their immediate proximity, because they are immediately set upon by a small crowd of demonic creatures. These are horrid little bloated, squat fiends with scabrous flesh, wretched faces, and clawed hands. At least eight of them converge on the newly-arrived group, while the bat-winged heads circle above. Stringbean is the last through the portal, yet the first to react. He springs to his feet, and lunges for the nearest foe, sinking his dagger into its rubbery flesh, but failing to kill the wretched beast. One of the flying heads then sets upon the hapless goblin and delivers a killing wound. He is knocked to the ground and the hideous flapping monstrosity follows him to the ground where it continues to savage him at will.

Demonsbane is fairly quivering with excitement, and the weapon gleefully expresses its desire to kill as many of these fiends as possible. Sartan is happy to oblige, and he swings the blade, cutting down a couple foes.

Cycek instructs Fuzzeedong to attack the Achilles tendon of the nearest demon, and he does so, effectively hobbling the creature, but by no means critically injuring it. He then tries to fling the weasel into the face of another, to no effect. At bat-winged head dives toward him and inflicts another nasty poisoned bite.

Mishok, seeing the dire situation Cycek is in, moves into position where he can channel the divine force of Divoc, and deliver healing to the stricken elf. In the process, a trio of shambling assailants surround him and rake him with their jagged claws. He speaks some words of prayer and conjures a spiritual pitchfork. The weapon emanates radiant light, and flies through the air with deadly accuracy. It spears the first enemy with such force that the foul body of creature is blown apart with a sickening splat. The weapon then drives its pulsating tines into the next foe, and brings this one to the ground in a pile of torn, semi-molten flesh.

Davros darts through the fray, unleashing devastating sneak attacks on any opponent he can. He moves toward Sartan who has found himself locked in combat with two larger creatures who have approached from a hooked spit of land at one end of the island. They have encountered these types of creatures before: once at Hack’s pit battle, and once in the fray that had cost Coriander her life. One of these disgusting fiends unleashes a stench that sickens Sartan, slowing his reflexes. Nevertheless, Sartan gets the upper hand on one of the creatures and shoves it over the edge and into the bubbling lava below. Davros takes advantage of this distraction and slays the other one.

Before long the ranks of enemies is thinned of all but the winged heads which continue to pose a threat. However, as the party begins to collect itself, a new combatant takes the field. Above their heads, the sky is criss-crossed with wires. Misshapen silhouettes dangle, moving to and fro as they swing hand-over-hand. One of these creatures has dropped with a plop into the midst of the fray. It opens up a gaping maw that nearly splits its body, and scuttles toward the party.

Settling down to rest for the night, Cycek takes the first watch. His new friend, Fûzzeedöng, scurries quietly about, exploring or perhaps looking for food. It is still early in the evening when a bit of flickering in the sky catches his attention. He sees, arrayed in the sky, a number of both orange and green lights, some of them very distant, some nearer, but none within immediate reach. He nudges the other guys awake and encourages them to go exploring, to see if they can get near to one of them. They tentatively set out on foot, and before long, the lights flicker out, but not before they observe a couple of things. First, they notice one of the orange lights high in the sky and far out over the southeastern plain seems to shed a few smaller specks of light which fall to the ground. Additionally, they notice a pattern to the position and arrangement of the lights. They seem to be arrayed on concentric arcs, akin to the arrangement of gems they had seen in the wire armature in Ekso’s lab. Extrapolation, based on insightful observation, would perhaps put the center point back in the center of the bluff. This realization leads to some discussion as to whether they should immediately head back into the caves to see if they can get to the heart of the matter. Instead, they decide it would be wiser to rest up, attend to their wounds, and set out in the morning, better prepared for whatever they might encounter.

Later in the night, Davros is awakened by a sharp pain in his side. He groans but remains sleeping. He feels another sharp pain, and comes to as he realized it is a hard boot in his ribs. He looks up to see Sartan looming over him. “What the hell!” he exclaims, to which Sartan replies with a bellow, “Get up asshole! On your feet or I’ll kill you where you lie!” His sword is drawn, and his eyes are alive with yellow flame.

Davros springs up and shoots out a kick, attempting to bring down the belligerent fighter, but in his groggy state, he misses. Sartan takes a half step back, and then lurches forward, swinging his sword, which cackles with laughter. The attack delivers a shallow but serious slash across his chest. Davros, in pain, grabs his rapier and tries to strike back, but again misses. Molten fire blazes in Sartan’s eyes, running down his face and charring it to ash. At this moment, Mishok steps out from behind Sartan, where he had lurked unseen. He carries the goblin, Stringbean, by the legs and swings him like a club. The goblin cranes his neck, sinks his teeth into Davro’s neck, and clamps on like a pitbull. Blood pours down Davro’s neck, soaking his shirt. He tries to bat him away and knock him off, but Stringbean holds tight. Davros is confused, and his confusion grows when a giant weasel burrows out of the ground directly in front of him, speaks with Cycek’s voice, and attacks with a flurry of claws and teeth. Davros skewers this bizarre creature with his rapier, and the resulting bloody wound blossoms into a gaping hole wreathed in orange fire. The sky glows with red light and spires of black rock tower all around him. He stands staring at heaving rivers of lava that flow sluggishly around an island of jagged black rock upon which he stands. The hole widens and two leathery black clawed hands reach out, which scratch and scrabble and pry at the edges of the holes, trying to widen it. Davros is rooted to the spot, as a hideous, enlongated face is thrust through the portal. Two tusks protrude from a distended lower jaw, and beady, close-set eyes glare with bestial fury from beneath a protruding, bony brow. It snarls in rage and frustration, unable to force its way through the too-small opening. It rants in a deep, coarse voice, “I am coming for you. I will eat your soul!” Davros comes out of his nightmare with a shout at the moment the orange portal flickers, falters, and contracts to a point, as the spindly black claws are abruptly drawn back in and disappear.

Davros’ noisy emergence from sleep alerts the rest of the party, and they all stand quiet in the early morning, listening for any reaction to the commotion. They hear nothing, and they relax long enough to discuss events of the night. Davros was not the only one to have an unusual dream, although his was certainly the most alarming. Sartan dreamed of intensive combat training under the tutelage of none other than Demonsbane, his enthusiastic demon-hating sword. With Demonsbane coaching him, the night’s nocturnal training instilled a greater understanding of ways to effectively fight infernal fiends. 

In Mishok’s sleep, he speaks with his god, Divoc. The deity offers words of strength and encouragement to his loyal servant. He instructs the dwarf to remain true to his values and to stay strong in the face of battles to come. Mishok asks if he should trust the Deva, Adara. Divoc replies that yes, Adara, and her master Tyr, are allied in the struggle against evil. He recommends that they heed her advice and welcome her assistance. Mishok awakes feeling strong and inspired, his heart filled with new prayers and, he believes, greater access to Divoc’s power.

Cycek, the elf ranger, has spent part of the night in deep meditation, and the rest in quiet reflection. He focused his attention on his weasel companion, studying its movement, marveling at its dexterity, and contemplating its finely-tuned sensory abilities. He gains a deep appreciation for these attributes, and takes them to heart to such a degree that he feels he has gained some of these skills himself.

the band of adventurers starts the day feeling stronger and more capable than any time before, despite the hardships of the past several days. They are ready to set out, but they are uncertain which way to go. Should they travel around the protruding edge of the bluff, back to the staircase they had climbed a couple of days before, or should the go directly back into the cave from which they emerged the previous afternoon, and perhaps face a collapsing tunnel? 

Before they can decide, they once again experience the rumbling vibration associated with the emergence of portals. An orange sphere, clearly now a portent of evil, appears nearby. Acting quickly, they move to investigate. They approach through a scrubby glade strewn with boulders. They approach the glowing phenomenon, and true to expectations, it spits out something horrific. Three distorted, leering human heads fly out, born aloft of flapping, fleshy wings, like ears grown to monstrous proportions. The adventurers stand ready as these latest flying monstrosities bear down on them.

While the group rests, Sartan is startled to hear a voice in his ear. A high-pitched, cheerful, and slightly brazen voice addresses him, “Hey buddy, you did pretty good back there!” He whirls around, saying “What the hell?” He doesn’t see anything. His companions look up and wonder, “What the heck is up with him?” The voice continues, “You’re pretty lucky you found me though. Killing demons is kinda my specialty, you know. Some of these demons, they’re not gonna be hurt, or at least not much, by these “normal” weapons you guys are carrying. That’s where I come in. I get the job done! You guys woulda been in a bad way without me. Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad you found me! I was getting bored laying there! Now, my former partner, we did pretty good against demons – but iron spikes shooting outta the floor… well, that’s above my pay grade if you know what I mean. Poor guy got skewered! And I been laying there ever since. I’m glad you came along. You and me are gonna be buds!”

Sartan is finally able to determine that the voice is coming from the pommel of the ancient sword he has slung across his back. He is mystified, but he engages it in conversation, asking it questions such as how it came to be in the dungeon. It answers, “Well, I don’t really sweat the details… the why’s and the whatfors. Near as I could tell, ol’ Elric was onto something. There were demons showing up in the countryside and we pinpointed the center of their activity… basically right around where you picked me up. And we went after ‘em. Killed a few, but we never quite got to the bottom of it. Those damned trapped tiles put a little crimp in our plans.”

Sartan’s partners look at him like he has lost his mind. He says to them, “You guys don’t hear this?” With a look of deep skepticism, Cycek replies, “Um… no.” 

Sartan goes on, “This sword! The sword is talking to me!”

Mishok tries to talk to the silvered sword that he picked up from the other skeleton. He receives no reply, but notices delicate engraved shapes that seem to reflect a bit of light, despite the layer of tarnish that mars the rest of the blade. The blade bears a series of geometric shapes, phases of the moon, from a thin waxing crescent to a full moon and back to a thin waning crescent.

The talking sword laughs at this, telling Sartan, “Hey, your buddy is gonna look pretty funny talking to that hunk of metal. I mean, a silvered sword is helpful in certain circumstances, say against a werewolf or maybe some undead. But it sure ain’t gonna talk to him.”

Sartan says, “Hey sword, you know anything about these orange glowing orbs?”

The sword replies, “Naw, I don’t know. You can call be Demonsbane by the way. But that was some kind of portal, I guess. It’s the first time I seen one of them. But those cacklers came pouring out. And where do cacklers come from? The Abyss, that’s where! Gotta be some kinda portal from the Abyss. I wouldn’t mind going there…” The sword sounds almost like it’s musing about a dream vacation. “Man, that would be demon central. I looooove killing me some demons. I mean I hate demons. I hate em! But I looooove killing ‘em!”

The conversation with the sword is interrupted by Cycek alerting to a stealthy movement in the underbrush. Something is making a rustling noise within about 50 feet of their camp. The party quiets down while Cycek goes to investigate. He moves with a degree of stealth that few but an elven ranger could master. He soon sees a small weasel foraging among the rocks and weeds. He reveals himself to the critter, which seems to accept his presence with only slight reluctance. Cycek moves slowly and speaks softly, and gradually coaxes the weasel into his reach. Shortly, the weasel, sensing a kinship climbs up Cycek’s arm and rests on his shoulder.

Returning to camp, he finds his companions at an impasse, uncertain where to go or what to do. Sartan recommends heading back toward the road, while Davros favors going back into the cave to explore. While they are discussing, Sartan hears a voice coming from the wilderness to east. It is hard to tell how near it is, but he seems to hear a cry for help. Cycek on a hunch, asks his new weasel companion to scout out the scene. It clambers down his arm and heads toward the sound, darting from rock to shrub, moving quickly, but quietly. It is gone for at least 10 minutes. The group waits quietly, listening to the distant voice, trying to make out the words. Presently, the weasel, dubbed “Fuzzydong” returns. It sits upright on hits haunches looking at Cycek, turns its head back toward the sound. It drop to all fours, runs a few tight circle, and sits again, eyeing Cycek. Cycek tries to ask it questions, but the weasel is unable to answer in a manner that makes sense to the elf. Finally, Cycek says, “Lead us to what you found.” And it does so, leading them rock by rock, and bush by bush until the near the place from which they hear the voice.

They have entered an area where there are 6-10 foot terraced rock outcroppings. Before them, is an 8 foot drop off to a small grove of trees. Out of sight, but apparently near the base of the trees, a nasal voice, pleads, “Help me! Help me! Come on somebody, please get me out of here!” Sartan notices that there are large spider webs clinging to and connecting the tops of the three nearest trees. In fact, he soon notices a giant spider lurking in the topmost bare branches of the tree. Davros sees a grassy incline around the side of the stone drop off. He moves stealthily down and around while Sartan dips an arrow into oil, lights it, and fires at the spider. He connects, sending the spider scurrying down the tree trunk and igniting the webs in the upper branches. This commotion reveals another two spiders, one in each of the other two trees. Davros takes a shot at the nearest one, wounding it, but also alerting it to his presence.

The source of the distress calls now realizes that someone has in fact heard the calls and has come to the rescue. With renewed hope, the owner of the nasal voice calls out, “Hey! Hey, I’m here! Get these spiders away from me! Get them away! Help! Help!” Davros, with a clear ground-level view, realizes that these is a small, green-faced humanoid, wrapped up in webs and hanging near the ground as if in a web hammock. He calls to his companions up on the small bluff, “Hey! It’s a goblin! Do we want to rescue this guy?” To which the goblin replies, “Hey! Hey! Wait, I know you guys! Oh, thank the gods you came along!” C’mon, help me!”

Davros responds, “Who are you? Do we know you?”

The captive goblin hollers back, “It’s Stringbean! You remember me right!?”

The team up on the bluff, look at each other puzzled, but then remember, “Oh yeah… that’s the one who we captured on the other side of the bluffs. He gave us his climbing equipment for his freedom. That guy!”

At this point, puzzling over this situation comes to a halt, as the spider wounded by Davros rushes at him, and delivers a vicious, venomous bite! Sartan sends another flaming arrow at the original spider, but the third one also scuttles over to Davros’ position and prepares to attack as well.

Mishok joins the battle by way of his mechanical spider. He commands it to attack the nearest spider, and it follows this command flawlessly. It creeps up on the unsuspected “real” spider, and inflicts a bite that is tiny but amplified by a decidedly unnatural venom. The presence of a mechanical ally engaging a foe enables Davros to whirl toward the second spider and deliver a sneak-attack killing blow with his rapier.

The original “burnt” spider has decided to flee, but not without its prize. It grabs the bound, shrieking goblin, and begins to drag him across the brown grass toward safety of another cluster of trees across the glade. Cycek conjures a handful of goodberries, and he sends his new weasel companion to deliver one to the injured Davros. A few more attacks are made and soon the spider confronting Darvos is dispatched. The remaining spider, now alert to its danger, drops Stringbean, and hurries up a tree. But it is too late. The team pursues it and destroys it before it can do harm to anyone else.

Combat having ended, and the area apparently devoid of additional foes, the adventurers gather around the grateful Stringbean, and cut him out of his bonds. He is shaky and weak. They give him a goodberry to bolster his health, and then ask him a series pointed questions as to his presence there. Where did he go after they released him? How did he get here? Where did the spiders come from? Why did they see dead goblins and hobgoblins? He tells them:

“Since I last saw you, I have been trying to stay hidden. I’ve been wandering out here, trying to avoid being seen by any hobgoblins. And I’ve done that pretty well. I have always specialized in “outside” work… stealth, scouting, setting traps. But it was a job! Those hobgoblins though… they were working for the wizard, but they were never really part of his plan. Whatever he was up to, they were not interested. They have their own agenda. And they were using him, as much as he was using them. He hired them as guards, but plainly, they were scouting out his location with a plan to seize it for themselves some day. They have been scouting strategic locations for awhile. They want a stronghold. They have military goals in the area. Us goblins… well, most of us are with them. I mean, they bully us, basically enslave us, but most goblins are fine with that. But not me… I hate the hobgoblins. And if they find me now, they’ll kill me for sure for abandoning my post.”

Sartan asks him, “Do you know anything about the lower level?”

He replies “No, I’ve worked in the kitchen a little bit, and I slept in the barracks, but my assignment was mostly outdoors. I never went to the lower level.”

Mishok observes, “Barracks, huh? That must have been that room with the big bed. Stringbean, who’s bed was that all curtained off?”

Stringbean tells him, “That was where Eve slept. She was the captain of the guard, and she liked those fancy perks.”

Davros is uncertain that he can trust the goblin and asks him, “Can you fight?”

Stringbean replies confidently, “Yeah, I’m good in a fight. I’m not a mighty warrior, but I can take care of myself.”

Sartan asks, “What do you know about these orange glowing spheres?”

He says, “Nothing! I don’t know what they are! They scare me! I’ve seen them, and I run and hide!”

Satisfied with his answers, they give him a dagger and offer to allow him to stay with them. He mentions that he is hungry, and Cycek seems to notice him looking hungrily at Fuzzydong. He admonishes him against eating his weasel.

Before they have a chance to sort out their next step, they are again treated to a vibrating sensation, and the flickering of lights. They soon see a green orb emerge, up near the small bluff where they had encountered the spiders. “Green means good!” they exclaim and run up toward the glowing orb. They smell a floral, herbal aroma. Curious, and expecting a beneficial result, they thrown Stringbean into the orb. With a startled squawk he disappears. Nothing happens for a few seconds and then a refined, formal feminine voice addresses them:

“Friends. Be at peace. Be resolute. Your struggles have been brought to my attention. For the consequences of your battle go deeper than you realize. Your actions have meaning, and you can do good in ways that transcend your own time and place. I have faith in you to make the right decisions. And when this curtain which separates the material world from the celestial world grows thin, I can help those who are lawful and righteous. These tears in the fabric, like this one that is allowing us to communicate… some force triggered them. Something triggered a period of instability, like tremors in solid stone. It may subside. But some evil is at work, exerting its will to take advantage of this situation. I sense its malice, its will, and its power. I believe it is trying to open a gate large enough that will allow an entity of its stature to step through. Presently, these holes are small and of brief duration, and can only accommodate the passage of mundane materials and relatively diminutive, weak creatures such as the “friend” whom you presented to me.”

The group asks the voice who she is, and she identifies herself as Adara, a Deva and she inhabits the plane of Celestia. She is a servant of Tyr, and her role is that of a messenger. Demonsbane, hearing this, says, “Oh, hey Adara, how you doing?” They exchange pleasantries and it is clear that the sword is familiar with this unseen entity. Sartan asks, “You know her?” to which the sword replies, “Yeah, we’ve worked together a time or two. Good people, Devas.”

Adara continues,

“I can exert my influence only so far without risking a serious rift between planes – this would be bad for the world you know. Our adversary has no such concerns for your well being. I cannot mend these rifts – but there is one whom I believe can. She is the one you already seek. I believe she has the hidden knowledge to close these tears in the fabric. You must go to her, and bring her out. She can be redeemed, and she can be the solution to this instability between planes.”

Cycek suggests that perhaps there is a way to superimpose a green portal upon an orange portal. Adara seems impressed with his thought process and replies. “While this may not be literally possible, it is metaphorically akin to what I would propose. When you are ready and have an opportunity to enter a portal in search of the girl, then I may be able to engage the enemy in the space between our planes. The etheral plane that is neither here nor there, and yet both at the same time. I can preoccupy the creature, prevent it’s manifestation where it can reach you. I may have just the power to detain such a creature, for a time, but you must act quickly and decisively.”

The party is understandably concerned about the prospect of going into a hellish plane from which nothing but demons and molten rock have emerged. As the green orb begins to show signs of winking out, Adara offers to grant them each a blessing. Each member of the party thrusts a weapon into the orb, and receives the assurance that weapon will bear a blessing enabling damage to be dealt to abyssal fiends.

A moment before the orb vanishes, Stringbean comes tumbling out. He gets to his feet and stands upright, smiling, he looks strong and vigorous, stating, “Wow, guys! That was the best, most beautiful place I’ve ever been. Like a wonderful vacation. Those were the best weeks of my life.” Apparently time runs at a different pace on the other side of the portal.

With that, the party decides that they should set up camp for the night, as the sun will be setting soon, and they still haven’t decided which way to go.