“Whoa,” Planetar-wen said. “Whoa what?” Varien asked. “There’s something there,” Planetar-wen said, turning to speak to Varien. “Somewhere where?” Varien asked. “One of these tiles is really thin, translucent-like, and when I peeped through it there was an eye peeping back at me!” Planetar-wen said. Varien turned to Alec and indicated Lord Thestus. “Please protect this man,” he said. Alec nodded and deftly picked the arthritic noble up in a fireman’s carry. “Oh, my!” Lord Thestus said. “Are you sure this is necessary?” “Oh, it’s necessary,” Alec said, his long hair waving majestically in a sudden breeze. Varien came over to investigate Planetar-wen’s discovery. He pressed his helm up to the worked marble tile and saw as though through a glass, darkly. He could discern shapes through the milky marble, but Varien could make out what he thought was a very large bed. Varien took half a step back and readied his sword, lining it up as a chisel. Are you sure about this? Fiendsbane asked. “Yes” Varien said as he struck the thin tile with all his might. Fiendsbane had time to sigh before the tip of its blade scored a crack through the tile, sending a triangular chip flying into the darkened room beyond. From his position, he could see that a huge wooden bed dominated the large square room. Once of ornate construction, the frame and linens were now gouged, rotted, and splattered with old, dried blood. The square-shaped room had an antechamber or vestibule on its eastern wall, but Varien could not see whether there was an open door within. Varien cast misty step and found himself inside the room. What was once a pleasure dome was now a charnel house, with streaks of dried blood on the floors, wood-paneled and marble-inlaid walls, and even the high, domed ceiling. Here and there, near the corners, were ragged claw marks made by some unknown creature. The door in the eastern vestibule was shredded with claw marks and splashed with long-dried blood Varien opened up his divine sense and the ancient rot that pervaded the room was overtaken by the noxious stench of pure evil. It was coming from beneath the massive bed. Fiendsbane rattled. Varen sighed and hefted the bed frame with all his strength, tossing it to the side. Beneath the bed was a huddled, bloated form, its gargantuan bottom sticking up comically in the air. But that was the only humourous thing about the creature, which gave off a rank stench of infernal evil and fiendish chaos. The creature rolled onto its side, its corpulent belly engorged and sloshing horribly as it peered its horned head up at the paladin. “Ah, didn’t think you’d come in through the peep hole,” it said to Varien sheepishly. “A bit silly on my part, wouldn’t you agree?” Varien stabbed at it with his magical sword. The creature began to swell, its skin stretching with a leathery squeak. Soon it was three times its normal size. Its belly undulated as though something, or several somethings, were pressing against the creature’s flesh. The occasional profile of an open-mouthed face pushed against the taut skin of its gut, as though souls were trapped within. “Haha!” the fiend cackled, its claws elongating into cleaving blades. “I drew you in, fool! I can smell your blood. Your particular flavour smells oh so sweet to me.” Varien took a theatrical sniff. “And yours smells like bitch.” The creature clawed at Varien, who sideswiped it aside with his shield. “You’re going to make this difficult, are you?” the creature hissed. The fiend got his claws into Varien, who reeled back in shock. The fiend slipped his other hand into Varien’s chest. “Ah, that’s it, I just need to get a little further inside,” the fiend said lecherously. “Let’s see what else I can do.” He began to rip and tear the wound open, intent on ripping his ribcage apart. The creature attempted to bite Varien, but the paladin evaded the attack. “Don’t struggle; it just prolongs the inevitable,” the creature hissed. “I’m not going to struggle with the likes of you,” Varien hissed back. He slashed Fiendsbane across the fiend’s exposed belly, slicing it open in a single swing. He then shoved the creature back. A high-pressure waterfall of blood began to expel from the bloated belly, splashing over Varien’s greaves. “Oh, that’s the spirit!” the fiend cackled. Varien twisted his sword and ripped Fiendsbane out of the creature, unleashing a divine smite. The creature’s face fell as more blood and gore spilled out. He staggered, trying to hold the contents of his shattered stomach as an unholy wailing began to emit from the ragged gash in his belly. “No! That was blood for the Master!” he shrieked. “And who is your master?” Varien demanded. The fiend smiled through bloody teeth. “You’ll meet him soon enough,” he said wetly, blood running down his chin. Siegfried approached the crack in the marble and evaluated the situation. He’d heard of bloodbag fiends who served as fermentation chambers for those who would drink the blood of the innocent. Nodding to himself, he mounted Violance and misty stepped into the bedchamber beyond, swinging his axe mightily at the fiend’s neck and shoulders. Blood sprayed onto the bedsheets anew as Azuredge chopped deeply into the creature’s upper thorax. “Grandur!” Siegfried bellowed as loud as he could. “We need banishment!” The bloodbag fiend swayed in front of Varien, mumbling an infernal prayer. Varien caught the names Asmodeus, Bel, and Zariel amid the prayerful petitions for mercy. Violance trampled over the fiend and crushed the creature beneath his hooves. There was a flash of cinders and brimstone, and the fiend’s broken body disappeared, leaving behind a copious amount of blood. Varien grabbed some of the rotten bed linens and dabbed futilely at his bloodstained boots. Siegfried prestidigitated a clean spot around Varien, but the blood soon sloshed back, such was the volume of ichor in the room. Varien sighed. He went back to the broken section of marble and spoke to his companions. “Make your way around, we’ll meet you on the other side.” Bob nodded. The air in the bedchamber became noticeably cooler as the temperature in the room plummeted. Bob crept down the narrow stairs beneath the sarcophagus and made his way through the secret tunnel to the east. Varien considered the fiend’s last words, the desperate, penitent babble. Asmodeus he was familiar with, and he thought that at one time both Bel and Zariel had been named Lord of the First, the title given to the ruler of Avernus, the first of the Nine Hells. Fiendsbane’s runes glowed again, and Varien recalled the sword’s incantation: Seven devils in an Archfiend’s thrall; One by one answer their Dark Lord’s call; Loosed on the planes from the Cloven Hall; Fiendsbane has sworn to slaughter them all. Varien also knew that Zariel was a fallen angel. His brows furrowed as he pondered the connections to the Sinister Seven of Nessus. Elsewhere in the dungeon, Grandur was considering which tools to apply to the concentric lock configuration, when he heard a voice echo “Grandur! We need banishment!” He whirled around, trying to discern the location of the shout, and shivered as he felt the temperature in the room begin to drop rapidly. Worse yet, a pall of white fog had begun to seep under the door to the north, drifting silently across the stone floor, obscuring everything in its path. Grandur used his psychic hand to make waves and eddies through the mist, trying to clear a section to no avail. He used mage hand to open the door to the north remotely. The door was locked. “Ugh, I usually have something for this,” Grandur muttered, thinking of a knock spell he knew. He brightened up as he considered a different approach. He shocking grasped the door, focusing his arcane energy into the lock mechanism. The lock began to glow a dull red and he could hear the mechanism beginning to break apart. Grandur smiled and prepared for his big entrance. Planetar-wen began to squeeze through the secret tunnel heading east. Varien investigated the room as the fog began to seep into the chamber. It was noticeably colder now as he squelched around on the sticky blood. At one time, this room was well-appointed. Now it was a charnel house. Varien took note of claw marks around the room as well as some Infernal graffiti scratched here and there. CAEDES WAS HERE was etched repeatedly into the wood panelling. The only items of note were bits of broken jewelry trod underfoot in the corners of the room. The door to the room was either locked or stuck in its frame. Varien shoved the door, cracking it open. He found himself in a hallway that led north and south, with the doors at either end closed. The fog in the corridor was knee-high. Bob climbed out of the trapdoor and took a position next to Grandur at the northern door. “You have to learn to make an entrance if you’re going to travel with us,” he said with a smile. Grandur nodded and blasted the door open with his mage hand , slamming it open with all the force he could muster. He saw a figure shrouded in fog to the north. “Show yourself, demon!” Grandur growled. Varien cast light on his sword and held it aloft, illuminating the corridor. “It’s me, you goon!” “What a relief,” Grandur said as he started forward. Siegfried, still mounted on Violance, cantered out into the hallway ahead of Grandur. He turned and directed Violance to kick in the door. The nightmare obediently bashed down the door with its hooves. The large rectangular hall before them stood a full two stories tall, with a great barrel-vaulted ceiling. The walls were wood paneled and hung with tapestries depicting great armies battling fearsome dragons and beasts. A massive granite hearth dominated the north end of the room. Two chairs sat nnear to the roaring fire. In the centre of the room stood a massive circular table, large enough to seat two dozen around it comfortably A single doorway led through the east end of the north wall. “I know you’re here, Artor Morlin!” Siegfried bellowed. “What’s yours is mine!” He peered through the fog with his truesight , intent on sussing out any would-be hidden vampire. “Come out bargaining if you want to survive this day!” One of the chairs before the hearth was indeed occupied. A tall, dark-skinned man with long hair in dreadlocks was reading a book, which he snapped shut theatrically. The man set the book down on a side table and stood. He was dressed in the style of the ancient Shoon imperium, with colourful robes and bracers of ringed metal. A longsword was sheathed at his waist. Siegfried’s truesight, however, revealed a form within – a tall, grey skinned humanoid that appeared androgynous, with bulging red eyes and long claws. He seemed to be wearing the handsome human male form like a disguise. Smoothly, he turned to face Siegfried and smiled. “At last, those who have been loudly blundering through my domain have arrived, to meet their doom.” Violance kicked up onto the large table and catapulted Siegfried toward the vampire, axe in hand. Siegfried unleashed a hexblade’s curse on his target as he brought Azuredge down fiercely. How do you feel about striking an undead criminal? Siegfried asked. I am sworn to defend Waterdeep from all threats , Azuredge replied. Including creatures like this one. Morlin took both slashes in stride, his smile unwavering. Siegfried had time to recognize a fist-shaped amulet around the vampire’s neck as a Clenched Fist of Karlyn. Heedless of Siegfried’s menacing stature, Artor Morlin calmly walked away from the half-orc and with a deft hop began to stride up the wall as if out for an evening stroll, hands clasped behind his back idly. Siegfried noted that none of the vampire’s accessories surrendered to gravity as he scaled the walls and stood upside down on the vaulted ceiling. “Not much of a conversationalist, are we?” he purred. “A pity.” “I’m open to conversation as long as you submit that we’re taking your stuff,” Siegfried replied. Morlin chuckled darkly. The great hearth suddenly vomited forth a great quantity of bats, which made an unholy noise as they began to swirl around Siegfried in a leathery vortex. “I acknowledge merely that you are interlopers in my domain. But please, as a guest you may speak freely. I am a hospitable host, after all.” He narrowed his eyes and his smile grew wider as he attempted to dominate and charm Siegfried. “Of course, we may have a long conversation in front of the fire.” Siegfried returned the vampire’s smile with one of his own as his mind blank rendered him immune to the vampire’s intrusive thoughts. “The future is now, old man!” Siegfried called out. “You cannot mind control a wizard with a battleaxe!” Morlin’s expression changed to something more feral. “Ah, perhaps I won’t have to,” he purred. “Perhaps you won’t get to,” Siegfried replied. Varien watched Siegfried and Varien rush into the great hall and cross blades with the threat therein. He sighed. “I needed him to cast protection from evil and good on me,” he muttered under his breath. He tried to recall what lore he knew about vampires, hoping to find a way to avoid being dominated by the dangerous undead. He felt a cold heat beginning to build close to his breast beneath his tunic and immediately thought about the Immortal Rose . He didn’t have time to check on that relic, and steeled himself for the battle to come. Varien walked into the room, surveying its environs. Violance was up on a round table, stamping its hooves, while Siegfried was surrounded by a vortex of bats. He saw a lean, chiseled man of Tethyrian heritage with dusky-hued skin wearing robes over armour and great ringed bracers, his well-oiled, long black hair in dreadlocks that ran past his midsection. Though standing upside down on the vaulted roof of the chamber, he and his belongings betrayed no surrender to gravity. He had a grim, almost sunken countenance, though his eyes gleamed with the feral cunning of a natural-born warrior who had survived innumerable fights, and bathed in the blood of his foes at the conclusion of each and every one. Varien also noticed someone skulking in the room, pressed up against the wall in an effort to avoid detection, using the fog to his advantage. The bald man was unarmed, and Varien could tell that the fearful expression on his face was a put-on. “Oh hells,” Varien said, and swung his sword at the bald man. The man ducked Varien’s swing. Varien shoved the man with his shield, but he was a nimble target and rolled out of the way. “I am not the threat in this room, you fool!” the man hissed at Varien. Varien blocked his way. “Then why are you skulking in the mists?” He swung his sword again. Somehow, the man feinted and put Varien’s swing directly into the path of Violance. Varien’s eyes widened as he stabbed Violance instead of his intended target. The nightmare whinnied in shock and surprise. “That’s on you, friend,” the man whispered from the mists. “Varien! I shall eat you and your sword! Why do you treat me this way?” Violance shouted, stamping its hooves in outrage. “I thought we were cool! We were bonding over eating bad guys and killing them! Catch that human!” Not going to lie, that actually felt good, Fiendsbane whispered. Yes, it did , Varien agreed with his sword. To Violance he replied, “Catch that human? What does it look like I’m doing, mare?” “Well, it looks like you’re trying to kill me, human woman!” Violance snarked back. The man kept his hands where Varien could see them. “I didn’t do that. You’ve got bigger problems, friend.” He backed towards the door. “I’d like to see you try,” Varien said. Violance rushed towards Siegfried, who climbed aboard, knocking aside the bat barrier as he did so. “Take heart, friend!” Siegfried called to his companion as he cast a quickened protection from evil and good on Varien. He spied the bald man in the mist and said “Hey, that’s the chimney sweep!” and then rose to meet Artor Morlin at the vaulted ceiling. Siegfried’s first swing with Azuredge missed, but he followed up with a solid swing.