The world around Siegfried, Bob, and Erwen faded to blue as Gruumsh’s taunting words echoed in their ears. A blue wave of divine energy swept them up before they could react. In the air above Neverwinter Wood, Varien sat astride the Arcetalos and the paladin caught the glare of the blue wave out of the corner of his eye before he too was swept into a void. There, they drifted for some time through an endless void until their senses of distance and speed became clouded. The temperature began a slow and steady drop until they felt cold, a chill that seeped into their very bones. There was a suffocating silence that rang loudly in their ears – the force of nothing drowning out everything. Siegfried was no stranger to mind palaces, portable holes and sundered sanctuaries, and this environment definitely felt extraplanar rather than a mental or spiritual projection. He attempted to self-propel as one would in the ethereal plane, to no effect. He deduced that movement through the void was likely possible via flight. Concentrating, he could feel the faintest brush of wind against his face, hinting at a constant velocity. Siegfried cast mind blank on himself and then cast detect thoughts , searching for mental activity within range. He could make out the thoughts of Erwen and Bob nearby. Twisting about, he spied something floating in the void with him – it wasn’t that he could see his friends, exactly, but rather he could make out their thoughts and create a mental image of his companions that looked sketchy and ethereal, but familiarly-shaped. For Varien and the Arcetalos, it was a cold, blue-grey void illuminated by the phoenix’s natural light. The Arcetalos was querulously looking about. We’re not in Neverwinter Wood anymore, are we ? She asked. Varien rolled his eyes. Siegfried cast freedom of movement on himself and then Armour of the Dawn Titan . As the heroes drifted through the void, Varien began to hear something beyond the smothering silence – the faintest sound of a discordant clanging in the distance. It sounded at first like a tiny silver hammer striking an anvil but grew ever louder, like an anvil striking another anvil, until it was a piercing stab in his ears, a resounding gong that soon assaulted the senses of Siegfried, Bob, and Erwen as well as they floated through the void, powerless to muffle the cacophony. The initial clanging was joined by another striking sound, and then another, and another, overlapping percussive attacks in polyrhythms that refused to resolve to a steady beat, instead phasing in and out of synchronicity. The echoes grew in intensity until the heroes could stand it no longer. And then, like a grey curtain, the void began to part, and something began to emerge from the swirling ether like the prow of a great ship. The void broke against its vast angular surface as a gargantuan cube cut its way into view. Suddenly the heroes’ sense of trajectory and velocity reoriented itself against this enormous cube, and the members of the party realized they weren’t merely drifting towards it. They were falling towards it, as inexorably as a cliff-jumper falls towards the ground after leaping off the precipice. The cube’s faces, what the party could see of them, were a landscape of cracked and fissured iron, pockmarked in places by craters, torn in others. The heroes realized that this enormous cube was merely one of hundreds of similar objects strewn across the void, floating like the stars in the sky over Faerun. And these cubes were in motion - the party watched as two cubes the size of Waterdeep collided in the distance with a resounding bong that shook the heroes to their very bones. There was a red-hot scar at the point of impact caused by the friction and unimaginable energy of the two colliding objects. The cubes grinded and split along the angle of the impact, sending clouds of lethal shrapnel boiling across their disrupted surfaces – metal splinters that hissed through the air at lightning speed. These two fractured cubes spun away from each other, leaving smaller angular bits of debris in their wake, some of which seemed to plummet out of sight – prisoners of unseen gravity in the swirling depths of this eerie plane. There was an uncountable number of cubes in the distance around them – some of them planet-sized, others the size of mountains, all of them turning, gliding, and dancing in a deceptively slow pattern. As the last vestiges of the void were swept away, the party members could make out their companions floating-falling-nearby, including Varien and his phoenix mount. Varien spied an irregularity on the face of the nearest cube – a tower with a glowing beacon much like a lighthouse rose from the cube’s pockmarked surface. It seemed as good a landing site as any. “Arcetalos, gather my friends!” Varien shouted as he leapt from his saddle, aiming his sword as he was pulled inexorably towards the cube’s surface. He flew through a cloud of rusty iron shrapnel given off by the nearby collision, deflecting shards with deft twists and turns of his blade. There was a zip of impact as a shard penetrated his armor, inflicting the shallowest of wounds. It remained lodged in his armor, a dagger-shaped sliver of deteriorated iron. With each strike of his sword, he teleported closer and closer to the surface. As he neared the cube, he picked out movement on the cube’s surface – at first it was though the surface was crawling with ants, but as Varien continued to close in on the tower he realized the ants were in fact armies – hundreds if not thousands of soldiers marches across the face of the cube, separated by a zone of earthworks, fortifications, and trench networks. There were also strange war machines on the move, bigger than wagons, mechanical and armored, their carapaces festooned with ballistae and other range weapons. Their wheels were covered in treads much like the Gnomish train he had encountered in the Sword Mountains. They roared with a mechanical sound and belched smoke as they tore up both ground and soldier alike in their course across the battlefield. Phalanxes of infantry poured in behind these land ships as artillery shells launched from cannon emplacements on both sides exploded overhead as well as on the surface, sending vast swathes of shrapnel and soldier alike into the air. Magic missiles and lightning crackled as Varien teleported downward. The lighthouse was well-defended, with battlements and spikes, and appeared to be the objective of one of the armies on the field. Varien concentrated on the highest platform near the beacon, and as he misty stepped onto the parapet he realized the tower’s defenders were well-armed and armored hobgoblins. Their armor was well-crafted and burnished to a dazzling degree, and the weapons they held were strange and otherworldly. They turned menacingly towards the interloper. The Arcetalos flitted about, plucking the heroes out of the air, but as it did so, it attracted attention from the cube. Not all the war machines were landbound. Three flying machines that had been buzzing the tower peeled off and began to fly towards the phoenix. Their triple wings were stationary, unlike a dragon’s, with taut hide stretched over a rigid frame. They were armed with some sort of ranged weapons and were piloted by helmeted creatures. The red-painted bodies of the aircraft were painted with a symbol of two crossed axes – the sigil of Maglubiyet , the hobgoblin god of war. Siegfried cast dimension door and led Bob through a portal to appear next to Varien on the tower’s pinnacle. Over the parapet there were thousands of soldiers engaged in in both ranged and melee combat – the metal-on-metal clang of weapons was contributed to the overall noise that seemed to pervade this plane. The potential for violence, however, was likely to come from the bristling weapons of the tower’s defenders who were staring at the interlopers with surprise. Varien balanced Fiendbane’s pommel on the flat of his hand, stretching out his fingers. “Don’t be rash,” he warned the hobgoblins. Siegfried sheathed the Ettin Axe of Uruth, steadied himself, and looked down his nose at the hobgoblin guards. Hands clasped behind his back, he turned to gaze over the battlefield and cast sending to Gruumsh. Well? IN THE GRIM DARK OF ACHERON, THERE IS ONLY WAR was the god’s reply. And you’re bad at it , Siegfried thought to himself. FIND YOUR WAY TO NISHREK AND WE WILL PARLEY. Turning to the mortal tower defenders, Siegfried snapped his fingers and said, “you will be providing us with immediate transportation to Nishrek,” in his most dismissive yet authoritative tenor. The soldiers brandished their weapons. “MOVE!” Siegfried commanded. The hobgoblins, duly threatened, responded to said threat. Siegfried pointed at the nearest soldiers as he strode purposefully into their ranks. “You, you and you, prepare vehicles for our journey!” One or two of the hobgoblins took a desultory swipe at Siegfried with their swords, but shadowy cubes drifted from his Armour of the Dawn Titan to deflect their blows. The Arcetalos swooped towards the three flying machines and let loose with a flaming burst , blasting the aircraft with a wave of radiant fire. “Whee!” shouted Erwen, even as the phoenix’s blast singed him. “Did we just explode?” he howled with glee. Yes, small one, the Arcetalos chirped. My apologies. “Don’t worry, I’m used to friendly fire!” Erwen said, clapping his hands. “Do it again!” The Arcetalos dove between the two aircraft as each pilot frantically beat at the flames now licking at the taut fabric covering the fuselages of the flying machines. Something hopped out of one of the flying machines as the Arcetalos swooped past. It was vaguely humanoid, with elongated claws like knives in place of its hands and feet. A construct, perhaps? The Arcetalos muttered as it saw the attacker’s coal-scuttle helmet and glowing red eyes. It folded its wings, bombed down towards the tower, intent on roosting atop it. The three flying machines spun around in a loop and matched the Arcetalos’s trajectory, emitting a hellish howling sound as they dove towards the phoenix, bracketing it with hot lead spit from the barrels of small cannons mounted on the wings and fuselage. There was a ricocheting sound as if dozens of crossbow bolts were bouncing off the battlements around the phoenix. Some of the hot leaded bolts stitched across the phoenix’s hide. Then the flying machines roared by, close enough to shake the heroes. Two more constructs spilled out from secondary seats in the aircraft, floating towards the tower. Varien, Bob, and Siegfried were suddenly aware of a growing feeling of recklessness welling up inside them, as the likelihood of melee combat drew closer. Varien took note of the hobgoblins’ fearfulness, but also their resoluteness in the face of invaders. He launched forward, twisted his shield broadside, and collided with the nearest two hobgoblins, knocking them clear off the battlements. They fell over the side with a scream. Varien teleported deeper into their lines and swung his shield again at another hapless hobgoblin, throwing him off the tower. Varien turned about and glared at the remaining defenders. He felt a sudden bloodrush as his victims impacted on the iron surface with a splat. Not to be outdone, Bob fired a telekinetic shove at the nearest hobgoblin, sending him tumbling over the parapet. Siegfried considered his options for a moment. It was clear that with Gruumsh’s reference to Nishrek, he and his companions were now in Avalas, the first layer of Acheron, where orcs and hobgoblins spent their afterlives locked in immortal combat, a neverending battle. It stood to reason then, with the party having landed on a tower held by hobgoblin forces, that the opposing army was likely made up of orcs. Bob turned to Varien. “You’re immune to fire, right?” Varien nodded. Bob pushed a hobgoblin out of the way, aimed Ilydrael like the sword was a cannon, and blasted a fireball into the Hobgoblin lines. It exploded, catching two of the flying machines as they flew by as well as a squad of hobgoblins charging around the parapet. Erwen wildshaped into his air elemental form, Air-wen. Instantly he morphed into a wolf-shaped creature made of air currents and cloud. Then he used the heartwood relic to encase the top of the tower in a wall of thorns . The wall of thorns sprang up, catching three hobgoblins and two of the bladed constructs in an embrace of tangled, rusty barbed wire. The screams of the hobgoblins were horrible, but mercifully short. One of the constructs tore itself apart as it tried to extricate itself from the tangle. The wire stripped its armored carapace from its frame, causing it to leak black lubricating oil from every joint. The red glow faded from its eyes as it hung there like a demented scarecrow. The second construct was damaged by the thorny wall, but still retained enough of its mobility to claw at Siegfried, albeit ineffectually, as the half-orc’s Armour of the Dawn Titan withstood its attack. Siegfried shot the construct a withering glare. Air-wen twisted his paw and drew more screams of agony from the surviving hobgoblins. One of them desperately pushed through the barb wire, and then stumbled forward, sword at the ready, trying to charge at the air elemental. The remaining hobgoblins, brushing cinders from their armoured pauldrons, pressed the attack against Varien. One of them hurled a javelin at Varien, which he casually chopped out of the air. Then the swordsmen were on him, one of them aiming his katana at a vulnerable point. “No, no no!” Bob said, wagging a finger as he cast silvery barbs. The attacking hobgoblin looked confused and tried to swing his sword again, which clanged off his armour. Another attacker hacked at Varien, getting through the paladin’s defenses, and a second hobgoblin pressed the attack, slashing at the paladin. Varien grit his teeth as he weathered the attacks. “Perhaps you were not paying attention earlier,” Siegfried raised his voice. “I said, prepare transportation!” He grabbed the nearest hobgoblin and shoved him against the tower’s wall. “I gave you an order!” The hobgoblin, defiant, spat at him and sneered, “go to the Hells, orc!” Siegfried sighed and quickened a spirit guardians spell. Shadowy corpses of dead soldiers began to claw their way out of the stonework around the hobgoblin and his compatriots. “I brought an army with me, you see,” Siegfried said darkly. The shadowy soldiers tore the remaining construct limb from limb. The flames on Siegfried’s armour shot towards the ceiling. He walked past another squad of hobgoblins and his shadowy guardians cut into them. One of the hobgoblins struck at Siegfried with his sword, and for his trouble received a blast of fiery damage from Siegfried’s Armour of the Dawn Titan. A second hobgoblin did the same, receiving another blast of fire from Siegfried’s armour. The third hobgoblin considered what happened to his two colleagues and declined to follow suit. “Finally, someone shows some sign of intelligence around here,” Siegfried said. “Now, PREPARE MY TRANSPORTATION!” The remaining hobgoblin was cowed. Siegfried put his hands behind his back as his shadow soldiers continued to shred. “All of you have a chance to survive this day,” he said. “I will not raise a blade to anyone willing to serve me. Those who don’t, well, figure it out.” The courageous hobgoblin shot back, “Survive? Survive? We are already dead!” Siegfried sighed. “With that attitude, most certainly.” During the melee, the occasional artillery shell struck the tower, shaking the building. The Arcetalos launched an attack on the nearest squad of hobgoblins, buffeting the flying construct with its wings to no effect. The construct opened its claws as it closed in. Varien continued to shove hobgoblins left, right, and centre, sending them tumbling over the side of the tower. The flying machines made a return sweep, firing at the Arcetalos. One of the flying machines struck the Arcetalos with its cannons. Bob cast fireball at the trio of flying machines as they flew past. Two of the flying machines caught fire and began to spin towards the ground, aflame. The flying construct took the brunt of the blast but continued to fly down towards the Arcetalos. The construct stabbed at the phoenix with its claws, slashing it violently. Air-wen pushed a hobgoblin back into the wall of thorns , killing him, and flew towards the nearest target, blasting him off his feet over the parapet, punching him towards the ground. “Who’s short now, buddy?” Air-wen said as the hobgoblin fell to his death. Siegfried’s shadow guardians continued to shred the remaining hobgoblins. One of the hobgoblins threw a javelin at Siegfried, striking him squarely. He lurched forward, ducking into the tower’s interior. Another hobgoblin swung his sword at Varien but missed. “One last chance to choose life,” Siegfried said warningly. A dolorous bell began to toll. “One chance,” he repeated to the nearest hobgoblin, as he cast detect thoughts . “How does one navigate Acheron to get to Nishrek?” The hobgoblin was focused on trying to stab Varien, but his deeper thoughts betrayed him as flashes of cubes on a collision course with one another, and entire armies leaping from one careening cube face to another. There were also glimpses of what looked like a gargantuan airship, a cigar-shaped flying machine with organic bits peeking out between armor plating. “That will do nicely,” Siegfried said. He scanned the battlefield and the sky above to see if there was any sort of armoured zeppelin or nearby cube hanging about. From his vantage point high above the battlefield, he could make out objects in the air further south. “Airwolf, we fly!” Siegfried said to Air-wen. Bob sent a guiding bolt to the final flying machine, which obligingly exploded in a rain of shrapnel. The Arcetalos performed a beak attack on the construct that had attacked her. The construct burst into flames, sending it reeling back. Varien pulled Fiendsbane and slashed at a hobgoblin, striking him down with prejudice. He teleported towards the next hobgoblin, who was frantically ringing an alarm bell. Varien pitched him down the stairs, sending him ass over teakettle down the curving staircase towards the sound of approaching ironshod boots on the stairs. Siegfried stuck his head over the railing and called out, “do any of you fine people know how to hail a cab?”