Bob led Alec, Lord Thestus and Unger away from the Chamber of the Caliph and made his way to the main room. The first thing he saw was a black dragon crouched in the great hall. “A dragon!?” Unger said, gobsmacked. “That’s not even the biggest dragon I’ve seen,” Bob scoffed. Alec frowned as he stared at the dragon. “A wizard did it,” he said gravely. “You stop that,” Bob said with a smirk, slapping his brother’s head. The vampiric mist attempted to flee, drifting slowly through the cracks in the wall near the fireplace flue and back into the chimney itself. “Unemployed! Homeless! Marked for death!” Siegfried called after it. Planetar-wen was lost in a labyrinthine realm that folded around him in an enclosing sphere – no matter which direction he walked or flew, the walls and ceilings created an unending maze that stymied his efforts to leave. Grandur attacked the mist with his chill touch. A spectral hand clawed at the vampiric mist. Some of the vampire’s mist turned to ash and floated down the chimney. Then the dwarf used his telekinetic hand to push Varien further up the chimney. “I’m giving you a hand!” he called up the chimney. “That’s unpleasant,” Varien grunted as he felt a cold hand shove his behind. He set his eyes on the mist above him as he continued to climb. “Arcetalos!” he called to his celestial. “I summon thee to my aid!” The Arcetalos had curled up, its blazing head ducked beneath its flaming wing as she perched on the ground outside the Deepwinter Vault. There was a sudden flash of light in the sky over Waterdeep, a cylinder of radiant energy that shot skyward like a beacon, rousing the phoenix from her slumber. She took flight from her perch outside the Deepwinter Vault, leaving behind a scorched circle in the frozen ground. As she flew above the city, she telepathically received her companion’s call. With a fiery scream she dove towards the source of the cylinder of radiance and her rider – a chimney. Skraper was roused from his slumber. “What now?” He grumbled as he took off after the phoenix. Varien looked up as he saw a flash of flaming light at the mouth of the chimney. The Arcetalos began to climb into the fireplace flue, slithering down towards the escaping mist. “Come to me now and engulf that vampire in daylight!” Varien called. The Arcetalos unleashed a flame strike that blasted the vampiric mist. The mist managed to avoid the worst of the attack. Grandur saw Varien backlit from the fiery blast. Siegfried saw a red glow as the column of fire nearly burst into the rent in the wall. Siegfried squeezed through the jagged fissure and began to fire eldritch blasts at the mist. Knights formed from the soot on the chimney’s walls began to drag the vampiric mist towards Varien. Bob moved to the hearth next to Grandur. “Sounds like we need to shed some light on the subject,” he said. He cast sunburst on the vampiric mist. Unnatural daylight flashed brilliantly in the confines of the chimney. “Let there be light,” Bob murmured. Siegfried shielded his eyes as the sunburst enveloped him, blasting away his burning mantle, but his cloak of resistance helped him avoid the worst of it. but Varien raised his shield to deflect the radiance. The vampiric mist had no such defences. The sunburst’s radiant rays burned holes through the mist, turning it into a shapeless ashen mass, which began to coalesce agonizingly into a vaguely humanoid form, one with its spine arched and twisted in a vain attempt to ward off the sunbeams, its arms thrown up against its bulbous head to block the light, which bored a thousand pinpricks of scouring illumination through limbs, head and torso. The shape regained its weight and inertia and plummeted down the shaft towards Varien, impacting against his raised shield. The figure disintegrated like a paper wasp nest on impact, and a fine ashen rain plummeted to the hearth below like a sudden snowstorm. Grandur turned to Bob. “I certainly can’t argue with the results,” he said. “Hooray! Where are we going now?” Siegfried began to slide down the chimney, digging his heels into the walls of the chimney. “Catch me, Varien!” Varien began to slide down at a faster rate and got out of the way. Siegfried began to lose control of his slide, bouncing off the walls as he increased in speed, tumbling back and forth as he landed with a sickening thud on the floor of the hearth. The floor tiles cracked loudly under the half-orc’s impact. A majestic phoenix on wings of flame thundered forth on a column of smoke and flew about the vaulted chamber, much to Grandur’s delight. “Oh man, what next?” Unger moaned. Varien pointed a gauntleted finger at the smuggler. “Did we find out what that slippery guy’s deal is?” “This here is Unger Farshal,” Bob said, pulling Unger forward. “He claims to be a bartender and tavern-keeper at a place called the Grinning Lion. He’s also a smuggler.” “Unger!” Siegfried said. “I believe you’re one of my employees. You assist my family in selling bloodroot.” Unger looked at Siegfried, confused, but then a look of recognition crossed his face. “Have I served you at the Grinning Lion before?” “Thann Family,” Siegfried said. “Ah,” Unger said. Looking over the rest of the party, he said. “Well, I wasn’t going to say anything out of turn.” “It’s okay, Unger, you can tell my friends all about your business, which technically is my business,” Siegfried said. “Are you sure you want me to do that?” Unger asked, his eyes narrowing. Siegfried raising a warning eyebrow at the smuggler. Unger pursed his lips and nodded. “Ah,” the smuggler said. “This is how I keep you alive,” Siegfried said. “Well, you’ll put in a good word for me, then?” Unger said. “Of course! Employees do not get killed on my watch,” Siegfried said. “I don’t let my friends kill employees.” He looked around. “Where’s Erwen?” “That’s reassuring,” Unger said. “Fine. Cards on the table. I work for the Two-Cities Consortium. I’ll let you guess which two cities those are.” Siegfried didn’t have to guess. He was a student of secret societies, having infiltrated more than a few in his career as a Harper. He was aware of the Two-Cities Consortium that facilitated illicit trade between Skullport the Port of Shadow and Waterdeep the City of Splendors and its suspected connections to wealthy Waterdhavian families. Only now was he able to put the pieces together and connect his own family’s shady dealings with the network of smugglers and drug-runners that lurked beneath the streets of Waterdeep. He had seen references to the “T-C-C” in Captain Mange’s writing. And House Thann was one of the benefactors, along with House Gundwynd, House Wands, House Phylund, House Husteem, House Anteos, and House Artemel. “Seven Families, each alike in dignity,” Unger said. “Well, as you may know, we recently had to cut Captain Mange out of operations,” Siegfried said. “Wait, what?” Unger said. “He was skimming too much,” Siegfried said, tugging on Captain Mange’s coat for emphasis. “And had to be dealt with. So I’m glad we had a chance to meet you whilst we are in the midst of cleaning house because I am certain your counsel will be quite valuable to the reorganized Consortium.” Unger had a thoughtful expression on his face. “Captain Mange’s personal interests were beginning to cut excessively into his work,” Siegfried continued. “Love is love, but one too many cities were burned to the ground in an effort to bring his wife back from the dead. But I’m sure you’ll be ready to help patch that hole so that operations can continue.” Unger frowned. “That’s for the Consortium to sort out. But I’m sure Orlpar ain’t going to be too happy.” “Orlpar Husteem?” Siegfried replied. He knew Orlpar was a bored rake who dabbled in crime to break the monotony. A member of the Husteem Family, Orlpar was known to supply party favours to the jaded young scions of Waterdeep’s nobility. Siegfried had bumped into the young noble at several different parties, but never indulged in the treats he was offering. He preferred to have his senses sharp while those of his rivals around him were suitably dulled. “I was on my way to Skullport to pick up, but if you’re telling me my ship hasn’t come in, we’re going to have to reassess,” Unger said. “Tell Orlpar he can take it up with me directly,” Siegfried said. “And make sure you can let him know that I have been cleaning house on behalf of House Thann, and we don’t want another Brevindon Margaster, now do we?” Unger nodded. “I’m sure that will mean more to Orlpar than it does to me,” he said. “When you make your report to Orlpar, tell him to make his introductions before I make mine,” Siegfried said, spinning his two axes around theatrically. Unger nodded again, impressed. “Well, I was on my way to Skullport, but next time I see Unger I’ll relay the information.” Siegfried turned to Bob. “Again, where is Erwen?” Bob smiled. “Oh, you know, he sort of vanished into a maze for a bit. He attacked Alec.” Siegfried growled. “That’s not okay.” “No, that’s why I banished him,” Bob said. “You can’t let the stabbing of an ally slide,” Siegfried said. “If he stabs anyone again I’ll stab him,” Varien offered. “If he stabs anyone again I’ll put him in a box and murder him,” Siegfried said. “Whoa!” Bob said. Siegfried sent a message to Bob. As a Warduke of the Lords’ Alliance you are authorized to perform extrajudicial killings in the name of justice as required. Bob replied. The safety of the party comes first. Hopefully it won’t come to that. “So, are we waiting for him to exit the maze or shall we leave for the surface and let him catch up?” Siegfried asked. “He can teleport back on his own, I’m sure,” Bob said. “We can leave a note.” Bob composed a note for the druid. Dear Erwen, The party is very disappointed with you. We left you in a time out so you could think about what you’ve done. We’re heading for the Temple of Beauty. Meet us there if you wish. Next to the note are some carrots. Regards, Bob “Unger, there’s a poison gas situation developing here in the dungeon,” Siegfried said. “Would you like to accompany us via teleportation back to Waterdeep?” Unger tugged his chin thoughtfully. “Where’s the gas?” “That way,” Siegfried pointed in the wrong direction. Unger shrugged. “if my regular route is compromised, maybe. Where are you going?” “Temple of Beauty,” Siegfried said. Unger brightened. “Like I said, I was going to tithe there. Sure, I’ll go along for the ride.” Bob left a bunch of carrots next to the note for Erwen. Siegfried collected the barding for his nightmare steed. Bob cast teleport and returned the party, Lord Thestus and Unger to the Temple of Beauty. The Temple of Beauty was in much the same condition as they left it. There were more visible armed guards than usual, and many fawning acolytes willing to massage the weary travelers. The party members splashed down in the sacred pool, the Arcetalos sending a cloud of steam in all directions as it touched the waters. Lord Thestus hauled himself out of the pool and looked at the seminude bathers with an appraising eye. "Well, perhaps I should select the Church of Sune as my next religious research project,” he said admiringly. “Hey now,” Varien said warningly. Lord Thestus already had his arm around two willing acolytes and wandered off, seeking a private chamber. Grandur looked around at the Temple of Beauty, taking in the sights, having the look of a lost soul about him. The acolytes who flitted about were clothed in sheer, diaphanous gowns that left absolutely nothing to the imagination, even moreso if they had just emerged from the waters of the sacred pool with no towels nearby. Bob set off to check on Nero of the Garden, who was holding court with Dhaera Darklight and Celia Orlyar. Varien intended to join him, but guided Grandur to a comfortable seat where a comely red-headed acolyte was ready and willing to provide a relaxing massage to any part of his body. “And you are?” Varien asked. The woman smiled, arched her back and ran a hand through her auburn tresses. “I am Sybil Amberglade, acolyte and scriptkeeper.” The scriptkeeper’s cantilevered bosom was stitched into a bodice whose brooch-like front clasp was threatening to pop like a high-pressure valve. She wore a formal collar and cravat about her neck that did absolutely nothing to obscure the curves of her upper works. “Oh, a scholar?” Grandur squeaked. “Indeed,” Sybil flashed a flattering smile as she took Grandur’s hand in hers. “You look like a dwarf who appreciates the written word, and,” she traced the lines on Grandur’s hand with her index finger. “You have the hands of a dwarf who has deftly paged through many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore. Perhaps you would like a guided tour of our scriptorium, which contains some of the foundational theological treatises of our faith are stored.” “Would I?” Grandur squeaked again. He was deeply, deeply uncomfortable with this situation. “Maybe you’d like to take a bath first?” Varien said. Sybil smiled invitingly. Grandur blushed red as a tomato. “What news, Nero?” Bob asked the caretaker. Nero bowed. “Wonderful to welcome you back to the Temple of Beauty. We must ensure you are comforted and healed to the best of our ability.” “Anything happen while we were gone?” Bob asked. “Well, our conclave is quickly approaching,” Nero said. “The Inuus Brothers are on their way to the Temple of Beauty as we speak.” “Indeed,” Bob said. Varien joined Bob as the conversation continued. True to his word, Unger dropped a few coins into the nearest collection plate. “Unger,” Siegfried said intently. “Tell me what you know about these brainbeasts." Unger winced. "My route to Skullport takes me through Undermountain's uppermost levels on a regular basis, at least once a month. It's a dangerous journey both ways but I've been extremely lucky, and I've been able to trade on the name of my...excuse me, our powerful backers to get by unmolested. But," he paused to collect himself. "I've heard things. Desperate whispers in the dark. Frightened, pathetic little goblins on the run from a nameless horror that stalks the Underhalls. Sad, really. But they speak of a plague, an infestation taking the minds of their fellows and turning them into aimless vagabonds who answer to someone, or...something...else. If you ask me, that's why Azrok's Legion lost half its hold to the drow recently. Sorry if that doesn't mean anything to you - Undermountain politics, you know - but not long after Skullport sent an illithid emissary to the Hobgoblin King, things started to unravel for Azrok. I don't visit the hobgoblins any more as a rule. Something's gone terribly wrong and unless I miss my guess the mind flayer has something to do with it." Unger made himself scarce. Siegfried began to pen messages on the paper cranes. The first was to Sandrew the Wise in the City of the Dead. 29/04/89 The Ettin Axe of Uruth is retrieved by Prince Siegfried Alagondar. The second paper crane flew off to Thort’s Findings. Dear Thort, Drop by the Temple of Beauty tonight if you want to see something rare and beautiful. Siegfried Siegfried then used his speedy courier to deliver a message to his brother Rulgar. Brother, In my possession is the Ettin Axe of Uruth, and the city of Waterdeep will formally return it to the heir of Many-Arrows upon the completion of the treaty negotiated between Many-Arrows and Waterdeep, as a symbol of peace and friendship. Leaders of the Realms of Men will be meeting at Highsun in Daggerford tomorrow if you are able to introduce yourself and make a peaceable first impression. You do not want to negotiate on the backfoot and should be doing so from a position of strength. Enclosed find a dossier of local politics of the Sword Coast. Your brother The legally recognised Siegfried Alagondar Siegfried included a copy of the Waterdeep Wazoo with his article on the front page in the magical chest of the speedy courier. That taken care of, Siegfried turned to one final matter at hand. Malbolge, one of the Nine Hells, was a cavernous kingdom dotted by dead gardens, petrified forests, and abandoned fortresses. Once a beautiful garden, it was beautiful no longer, save for a special arboretum enclosed within the walls of the palace city of Osseia, home to Glasya, the ruler of his level of Hell. In that arboretum was a garden of earthly delights designed to taunt the tortured souls of the damned with a reminiscence of beautiful things. It was also home to the vast stables of nightmare steeds. One of the steeds, recently returned to the stables, suddenly went missing. “What took you so long?” Violance asked. Siegfried brushed the fiendish stallion down. “I was avenging your death.” Violance shook his mane disinterestedly, but deigned to allow him to place the barding back on.