Below the tower on the vast pockmarked plain of the cube, an orc army hurled themselves against the defensive breastworks of the hobgoblin defenders. Hobgoblin bowmen poured a fusillade of crossbow bolts into the approaching orc infantry, aided by ballistae and cannon, gouging deep, bloody holes in the phalanx, which were filled in by innumerable reinforcements, screaming bloody murder and songs of battle. Squads of orcs marched resolutely behind creaking, leaking metal behemoths that rolled heedless over wounded and healthy troops alike as they drove towards the defensive perimeter. Hobgoblin flying machines dive-bombed the mechanized landships, spitting hot lead projectiles and releasing bombs from their crafts’ underbellies even as the landships returned fire from elevated turrets, blowing holes in the aircrafts’ hidebound fuselages and sending more than a handful into death spirals, crashing to the remorseless surface of the cube where they were crushed beneath tread and boot. Further back, great trebuchets were pulled into range by slaves, and large chunks of detritus – from ruined stone castles to rusted metal hulks– were lobbed at the tower, tearing sections out with each direct hit and glancing blow. In the air above the tower’s signal lens, the floating blade construct continued to attack the Arcetalos. Air-wen drifted towards the embattled Arcetalos, intent on providing aid. The air elemental slammed the construct in mid-air, bashing it back, and following up with a second slam that missed. Inside the tower, Varien looked about as the metal-on-stone sound of the falling hobgoblin soldier receded into the tower’s depths. The chamber looked like a military command centre, with a map table laden with charts, as well as several metal footlockers stacked like crates hither and yon. One of the footlockers rattled at Varien’s approach, a padlock banging against its lid with each thump. A muffled voice made a series of frustrated exclamations. There was a crash from the bottom of the circular staircase. Varien smiled. He approached the footlocker and tapped the lid of the footlocker with the pommel of his sword. The box grew still, and then a muffled voice from within asked, “Is that…is that a mortal I hear?” “And what do I hear?” Varien replied. “What do you hear?” there was a shuffling sound from within the box. “Well, you hear the sound of a prisoner, a valuable prisoner of war in fact, imprisoned unjustly.” “What was your crime?” Varien asked. If the box could shrug, it would. “You’d have to ask the tower’s defenders!” “To your knowledge, what was your crime?” Varien repeated. “Uh, breach of protocol?” the voice replied. “What protocol did you breach?” Varien sighed. “Listen pal, I can’t tell you unless I know what your security clearance is,” the voice said haughtily. “I’m not an orc,” Varien replied. He detected a distinctly goblin-like accent from the box’s occupant and considered. What’s the worst that could happen? He said to himself as he bashed the padlock off and opened the lid. Staring up at him was a goblin, at least part of a goblin. Its head and torso were intact, but its limbs ended in stump-like metallic cuffs at forearm and knee. The goblin chuckled. “Uh, could you give me a hand, boss?” Varien reached down to help the creature out, but it protested. “No, no, seriously, my hands are over on the table there. My legs too, if you don’t mind.” He made a pleading gesture with his stumps. Varien looked over his shoulder. Sure enough, there were four metallic limbs stacked on a nearby table – large gauntlets with oversized claws, and lower legs terminating in heavy boots with pneumatic pistons instead of muscle and bone. Varien grabbed the two legs first and handed them over, but made a waggling gesture with one of the metal gauntlets at the orc. “What exactly did the orcs think that you did wrong?” The goblin fumbled with its legs. “Oh, this ain’t an orc tower, boss, currently it’s held by the hobgoblins. Specifically the Long Distance Surveillance Corps, the LDSC, yeah, the 1377 th division. Not the sharpest tools in the shed, not like those magnificent bastards in the 158 th , no sirree. The goblin managed to fuse the legs to the cuffs at his knee, and there was a sharp clicking sound and a sparkle of lightning energy. “Ahh, that’s better. Mind if I stand up?” Varien nodded. The goblin stood up on his mechanical legs, which made him much taller than the average specimen of his race. “So, what did you say your name was?” “Of course! How rude of me not to introduce myself,” the goblin said. “My name is Gnash the Slash, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” He paused. “Would you mind handing me my hands?” “I’ll give you your hands, so long as you pledge not to harm me or my companions, and furthermore, that you tell me what you were doing here,” Varien said. Gnash nodded. “Oh, you got it, boss!” He saluted with his stump. “I’m not the type to turn on them what gave me my freedom, if you get my meaning. I’ll do better than not tell you!” “On orc tower!?” Siegfried said, shocked. “Hobgoblins are red, Varien, orcs are green!” To Varien, Gnash seemed eager to please. The paladin handed over the gauntlets. Bob surmised that the goblin was quite pleased to not be in captivity, and did not wish to jeopardize his newfound freedom. Gnash deftly maneuvered the gauntlets into place, connecting his cuff-like stumps to inverted receptacles at the wrist. There was a zapping sound and a discharge that smelled strongly of ozone. Gnash flexed and waggled his metallic claws. “Ah, much better, and look!” He put his hands behind his back. “No threatening moves, eh?” He snapped to attention and then clapped his hands with a resounding gong. “Now, you seem like newcomers. Allow me to be the first to officially welcome you to Avalas, where a multitude of spirit legions grind in a machine of eternal war, while those with the right gumption and drive might be able to make a profit in between.” There was a crashing sound below and angry goblinoid noises echoed up the stairwell. “Ah!” Gnash continued. “It sounds like we need to get out of here before the LDSC regroups. From what I heard, you guys did a bang-up job out here.” Siegfried strode over to the map-laden table and pored over the hobgoblin documents, trying to make sense of them. He sifted through requisition forms for reinforcements and logistics. Other documents looked like orders for suicidal mass-wave counterattacks, passed from warlord to captain to lieutenant to subaltern to private, to whomever was left alive to receive the directive and execute it. Varien joined Siegfried at the table and looked at the hastily-scrawled maneuvers drawn in grease pencil across the map’s gridded surface. “There’s no strategy here,” Varien said. “The hobgoblins on this plane seem to lack a grasp of tactics.” Siegfried set his mouth in a grim line, tossing aside a request for reinforcements spattered in hobgoblin blood. “There is a strategy here, Varien,” he said. “One of attrition. Each side hurling as many men as they can mass into the path of their enemy until one side is exhausted.” He found another map that looked more promising, one that sketched out a series of cubes like an archipelago of square islands in a sea of shadow. The names scrawled across the cubes—Big Blue, Reizmis, Clangor—were foreign to his eyes. He rolled up the map and pocketed it. Judging by the paperwork, the primary purpose of this tower seemed to be signaling troop movements across the plane. The tower shook as an artillery barrage found its mark. Gnash grabbed a woolen greatcoat from a peg on the wall and shrugged it on nonchalantly, his claws making a snikt sound as the fabric slithered over them. “You know, I can’t thank you enough for rescuing me. Allow me to make it worth your while.” Siegfried turned to Gnash. “You mentioned Avalas,” Siegfried said. “What of Nishrek?” “Nishrek?” Gnash repeated. “I know Nishrek. I know all about it. If you need a guide, I’m your goblin, right? I’ll make it worth your while, I’ll get you where you need to go. I can introduce you to the right people. I can get you an audience with whoever you’re looking for.” “Excellent,” Siegfried said. “We are headed to Gruumsh One-Eye.” “Oh, ho, ho!” Gnash chuckled. “Of course you are. Starting from the top, eh?” “What’s so funny?” Siegfried asked. Gnash coughed. “Nothing! I can just tell from your, uh, noble character, and that giant two-headed orcish axe that you’re toting there, I’m just putting two and two together, you know what I mean?” Gnash grabbed the strap of a ditty bag hanging off the back of a chair and shouldered it smartly. “Boy, am I glad you guys came along!” He moved to the circular stairs and heaved the heavy trapdoor lid closed, cutting off the approaching hobgoblin defenders with a thud. “Friends, would you mind stacking those crates atop this door? It’ll slow those guys down.” Bob shrugged and dragged a footlocker over the hinged door. Varien followed suit. “Excellent! Now, I assume you guys are my exit strategy, and we need to make an immediate exit. I’m here to help. This tower was a lost cause long before I got here.” He cracked a grin. “But then again, it’s all a lost cause on Acheron, ain’t it?” He chuckled at the private joke. “So, is the Orcish side winning this campaign?” Siegfried asked. Gnash squinted. “Winning? Oh, on this cube?” He coughed. “Well, if past is prologue, it’ll likely change hands. The orcs, they put a lot of troops down and fielded a lot of machinery on site after the last collision, in fact, that was what I was trying to do here, uh, entice the hobgoblins to improve their situation, but turns out they didn’t want to improve their situation, strategically speaking, and the deal went south.” Gnash shrugged. “What was the deal?” Siegfried asked. “This deal may have gone south, but what passes for negotiation in this place?” “Oh, well, it’s an arms race, right?” Gnash said. “I’m sure you saw the machinery outside, there’s a lot of sellers but not a lot of buyers depending on who’s running the campaign, you know? And there’s a lot of good materiel in fine working order, that kinda falls through the cracks here, if you take my meaning, on Avalas. You might have heard of Thuldanin?” “Can’t say we’ve gotten that far,” Siegfried said. “We have recently been called from Toril.” “Toril! Oh, wow, well, I figured you guys were still breathing so you had to be from somewhere, if you get my meaning,” Gnash said. “But Toril? Sheesh. Well, everyone comes from somewhere. But I gotta tell you, when it comes to Acheron, the goblins and the orcs, well, they aren’t sending their best, if you know what I mean. If this war is any indication, I mean.” He gestured to the parapet outside. “Shall we?” “Lets,” Siegfried said. “Perfect!” Gnash said. “So tell me, is this like the Hells with many layers, or is Nishrek one of the cubes?” Siegfried asked. “Oh, oh, of course, you want a geography lesson, sure,” Gnash said. “So, Acheron is a plane of contrasts, many contrasts, first of all, it’s a lot of cubes, right, a lot of floating cubes, but also, there are layers, so it’s kind of a complicated place. Thuldanin, the second layer, lies shrouded in the mists below us.” He pointed a clawed finger down and arched an eyebrow. “That’s where a lot of the good gear can be found, if you’ve got a lot of moxie and can get in and get out before you, well, turn to stone, if I’m being honest. That’s a working hazard for sure. But, the pickings are pretty good. Graveyard of a Thousand Empires, they call it. So what I do is, I find some stuff, pull it out, dust it off, sell it to the highest bidder, you know? Make a lot of friends in this business.” He looked around sharply. “Not here though. But what can you do?” “So what is the method of alternating between layers?” Siegfried asked. “Well, you certainly didn’t walk here, so I assume you’ve been flying around. Well, if you let yourself kind of fall forever, you end up in Thuldanin. That’s if you’re lucky. If not you might fall a little too far and get shredded in the depths of Orcanthus. You do not want to go there, no thank you. You think the shrapnel’s bad up here? Orcanthus is a sea of shrapnel, high speed, ricochets, razors flying through the air flaying everything in their path.” He shuddered. “So, when did you last visit Nishrek?” Siegfried asked. “Well, I’ll tell ya,” Gnash said, leaning forward to whisper conspiratorially to Siegfried. “I actually had an audience with someone that you might be very interested in speaking with.” He waggled his ears. “I say we wind walk it,” Air-wen thundered. “That’ll get you most of the way there, sure!” Gnash said. “All right, and if you can get us to an Orc stronghold at the point of ‘most of the way,’ that will put us in a better position to make it the rest of the way,” Siegfried said. Gnash chuckled. “I like the way you think. Like I said, I can get you an audience with certain high-ranking folks!” “Sorry, who are you, exactly?” Varien asked. “An arms dealer!” Siegfried said. Gnash grinned. “Right now I’m a goblin who wants to get as far away from this tower on the ass end of this cube as possible.” “Varien, if you died in this tower, he’d be selling Fiendsbane to the highest bidder on the morrow,” Siegfried said. Gnash’s red eyes widened. “Whoa, sorry, did you say Fiendsbane?” Fiendsbane rattled. “What do you know about Fiendsbane?” Varien asked. Gnash looked incredulously at Varien. “What do I know about-?” he waved a claw dismissively and muttered to himself, “what do I know about Fiendsbane…” He straightened up. “Well, gee, I dunno, what do I know about Fiendsbane? What’s it worth to ya?” Varien smiled in spite of himself. “What do you mean, what’s it worth to me?” “Well, I’m not in the habit of giving out information for free, if you know what I mean,” Gnash replied. “How about this, it’s worth more to me than your life,” Varien said. “Oh. Ohhhhhhh,” Gnash replied. “Oh, I see. It’s like that, is it? Okay.” “What do you know about Fiendsbane?” Varien pressed. “What do I know about Fiendsbane? What do I know about Fiendsbane?” Gnash repeated excitedly. “Fiendsbane is famous in the Lower Planes, all right?” “Well, look at that, you’re friends with a celebrity,” Siegfried clapped Varien on the shoulder pauldron. “People talk about Fiendsbane around certain hushed conversations I should mention, you know he puts the fear of annihilation into certain folks, if you get my meaning.” “Are any of those certain folks in this place?” Varien asked. Gnash smiled crookedly. “Oh! Okay, I’ve got something for you.” “Who here has need to fear Fiendsbane?” Varien asked. “Who here has reason to fear Fiendsbane?” Gnash repeated. “You’re gonna love this. Because I heard you guys talking, about some kind of transportation, or something like that, right? You wanted transportation and you mentioned some kind of airship, right? Do I have that right? Have my ears deceived me here?” “It was one of the options, certainly,” Siegfried offered. “It was an option, sure, you guys, obviously, you guys have plenty of options on the table, but I mean, the captain of that airship, is someone who Fiendsbane might wanna meet, if you get my meaning.” “Is he on the list?” Siegfried asked. “Is he on the list?” Gnash repeated. He nodded to Varien. “Show me the blade, my friend.” Varien pointed the sword at Gnash in a way that allowed him to see the full length of Fiendsbane’s blade, pointing it at the ground between his metal-shod feet. Varien caught the slightest flinch from the goblin as he brought Fiendsbane’s blade near. Gnash hid his fear well, but couldn’t avoid shrinking back ever so slightly. “What’s the problem, Gnash?” Varien asked. Gnash shrugged. “Well, clearly I’m in the presence of greatness here, right?” “Do you have reason to fear Fiendsbane?” Varien asked. Gnash sputtered. “Wh-why would I have reason to fear Fiendsbane, right?” “That’s not an answer,” Varien replied. “Well, I respect you, after all you gave me my freedom,” Gnash said. “We’re joined at the hip now, buddy!” “And you’ve seen these runes before?” Varien asked. “Can you read them?” “Well, of course!” Gnash replied. “Yancazi, Lorcan, Vashi, Azazel, Baazka, Rimmon, Levistus,” Siegfried rattled off the names. “Well it ain’t Levistus, sorry to disappoint you,” Gnash said. “But I gotta tell you, Rimmon? He’s flying around here with five companies of Gelgulons in that airship, selling his services.” Rimmon, Fiendsbane rattled.