Bob’s attention was drawn to the peculiar five-tined trident—a quintent, really—that stood in a receptacle next to Rimmon’s command chair. The archdevil was stroking the weapon idly as he glared at the party members, but there was something about the weapon, and the draconic energy it was giving off, that drew Bob further in. He realized that the archdevil appeared to have a dusting of dragon scales on his hide, evidence of some sort of draconic blood coursing through its veins. Bob recognized it as the Claw of Tiamat , a legendary artifact, glowing with the energy of the Nine Hells, bearing five pointed spikes at the end of its length, which each spike bearing the iconography of a different coloured chromatic dragon coiled around its length. It will be mine , Bob thought. From his vantage point, Siegfiend noted that the only non-devils on the bridge were a trio of hobgoblins standing off to one side. The trio’s leader was a female veteran wearing a high-collared red leather greatcoat with flashy epaulets, a peaked cap, and a formal military uniform, also styled in red, festooned with medals bearing the crossed-axe sigil of Maglubiyet. At her hip was a holstered pistol as well as a cutlass sheathed in a scabbard. The hobgoblin woman’s face had fiendish features contorted in a scowl. She was flanked by two heavily-armed and armored escorts. “Why, hello there!” Gnash muttered behind Siegfried at the sight of the Hobgoblin veteran. Rimmon sighed in his command chair. “Are you sure I can’t offer you gentlemen a drink before we get down to business? You all look parched.” “My blade drinks blood,” Varien replied. “Oh, goodness me,” Rimmon sighed again, rolling his eyes. “Fine.” He took one last look at the goblet held by an imp minion at his side. “Shame, it was a good vintage.” He turned to the party. “Now, as for-” Siegfiend lunged at the archdevil with blinding speed, his fiendish wings flapping, but Rimmon reached out with his claw to stop him in his tracks, blocking claw, mace, and tail attack. “You’ll have to do a little better than that if you want to climb the infernal ladder, my friend,” Rimmon taunted. Siegfiend responded by biting down on the fleshy part of Rimmon’s claw. “An inauspicious start!” Rimmon cackled, shrugging off the pain. “Are you sure you don’t want that drink? It might loosen you up a tad.” Devilish ichor streamed down Siegfiend’s jaw as the pit fiend smiled around the chunk of Rimmon’s flesh. He swallowed defiantly. “I’d rather have a meal!” Rimmon looked past Siegfiend’s leathery wings at the paladin standing ready. “Is this the best you have to offer, little swordsman?” “You’re right Varien, I should’ve gone full angel,” Siegfiend said. “Have I introduced you to Bob?” Varien asked, standing aside to reveal Bob Trevelyan. Rimmon arched a horned eyebrow and stabbed at Siegfiend with his quintent. Siegfiend took the hit but weathered the worst of the cold damage. The Archdevil stood from his chair – at full height the tips of his horns nearly brushing the vaulted ceiling of the command deck. He lunged at Varien. Siegfiend took the opportunity to strike him with his infernal mace , connecting solidly, but nothing could dissuade Rimmon from his target – the Fiendsbane-wielding paladin. “Sorry, just learning the controls!” Siegfiend shouted. Across the room, the martial hobgoblin woman slapped the leather holster at her hip and her hand was suddenly filled with a revolver crafted from black iron. She spun it up on her trigger finger and shouted “fire!” as she pointed it at Siegfiend. “I want that!” Siegfiend said, staring longingly at the pistol. There was a belch of smoke from the barrel of the gun and the crack of a bullet splitting the air. The shot went wide, nailing an imp seated at the control panel nearest Siegfiend right between the wing pinions. The exit wound sprayed the imp’s inner ichor over the console and the creature, deflated, slumped over, dead. There was a bubbling sound as the imp discombobulated into a piddling puddle that dripped off the jump seat. “Damn,” the hobgoblin said, shaking her head sheepishly. Rimmon’s other eyebrow arched as he swept down on Varien. The archdevil gleefully slashed at Varien with his claw, grabbing the paladin and drawing him towards his horned head. “The sword chose you,” Rimmon said, eyeing Varien closely. “Interesting.” He squeezed Varien with his serrated claw, and then his barbed scorpion’s tail whipped overhead, piercing Varien. The paladin felt brutal cold coursing through his veins. The nearest gelugon guard found itself in Siegfiend’s fear aura and shrank away from the pit fiend nervously. The insect chose to defend Rimmon from the rest of the party, moving to block their advance through the bulkhead entry into the command deck. The fiend extruded a magical wall of ice that covered the entryway with a translucent shield. Bob stepped around the corner and entered the command deck from the vestibule’s other entry. He passed an imp poring over navigational tables. Bob smiled. “Step into the light, boys!” he shouted as he cast sunburst. Siegfiend ducked and covered. Bob crouched behind the map table. Brilliant sunlight exploded from the centre of the room, searing friend and foe alike with a blast of radiant heat. The imp crewmen didn’t have time to scream as they were flash fried into shadows where they sat. “Impslayer!” Bob crowed. The bridge stank of fried imp. The other fiends in the room reeled from the radiance of Bob’s spell. The female chain devil shrieked and tried to put hands to her eyes, but the chains locking her to the steering column prevented her from doing so. The fimbrul devil guards also stumbled, blinded. The gelugon managed to avoid the worst of the radiant damage. The hobgoblin trio were also struck blind by the spell. The air marshal cursed as her revolver wavered. Rimmon squinted and blinked away the black spots in his vision. He pointed his quintent at Siegfiend and struck him squarely. There was a mechanical sound and two arcane turrets lowered from concealed housings in the ceiling, their refractors spinning as they sought unfriendly targets on the bridge. One of them targeted Siegfiend with a bolt of negative energy, sending necrotic damage ripping across his fiendish hide. The second turret hit Bob with the same sort of negative wave. The chain devil navigatrix managed to regain her vision, steadying herself. The blind fimbrul devil stumbled into a control console near Siegfiend. “Is this really worth your life,” Siegfiend whispered, “or do you want to swing your sword in the air over yonder?” The fimbrul devil paused, then spun away and hacked at the air in the corner. Siegfiend smiled. The second fimbrul devil similarly stumbled about ineffectually. Varien squirmed in Rimmon’s grip. “Is there any last request that you’d like me to see to once you’re dead?” he asked the archdevil. Rimmon smirked. “I will make a note of your bravery in my annals, worm.” “Then I’ll see you in Hell,” Varien said, freeing his sword hand and striking Rimmon with Fiendsbane. Erwen gave a sidelong glance to Gnash the Slash, who appeared to be deep in thought, watching the blinded Hobgoblin air marshal with keen interest. Erwen nodded to himself, making a decision. He conjured 24 wolves, which appeared in a ring around him. Gnash was suddenly aware of the vestibule full of growling wolves. Erwen pointed at his target and the hackles raised on two dozen snarling, slavering predators. “Hey, uh, Erwen, what are you doing?” Gnash asked, suddenly nervous as the wolves began to close in. “N-n-n-nice doggies!” He stuttered as he backed towards the bulkhead. “Look, Erwen, I can still be valuable, I can still be a part of the team here! I’m good with locks! You want me to get you into Rimmon’s personal vault? I’m your barghest, if y-you know w-what I mean.” The wolves continued their inexorable advance. Air-wen’s canine features were impassive even as storm clouds swirled about him. His back against the wall, Gnash’s countenance changed and a dark, almost feral look came over his goblin-like face. “So, it’s betrayal, then? You know, Erwen, we could have been friends. We could have had a lot of fun together. But unfortunately you’ve shown your true colours.” He leaned forward towards the air elemental and whispered conspiratorially. “By the way, Gilbo the Nimble says hello.” Then, a rectangle of pure white light opened beneath him and in a flash he was gone, with only a cheshire cat-like afterimage of a fang-laden smile left to fade away. The Hobgoblin air marshal, tears of black pitch running down her cheeks from her injured eyes, holstered her revolver with practiced ease and with a ring of steel wrenched a cavalry sabre from its scabbard at her hip. Taking an uncertain step or two forward, she began to move generally in Bob’s direction. “When I find you, sorcerer, I’ll cut your eyes out,” she hissed. “See how you like it.” She slashed violently but made no contact. “The pointy end usually goes into your target,” Bob said as he crouched near the signal desk. The Air Marshal sneered. “Yes, keep talking, it will help me track you!” She slashed down on the signal desk with a ring of infernal iron. Her third strike caught nothing but signal machinery. “Gah!” the hobgoblin cursed, wiping tears from her eyes. “This is frustrating work,” she said. “You’re telling me,” Bob muttered. Erwen shrugged at Gnash’s disappearance and set his wolves loose on the nearest fiends on the command deck. With growls and howls his pack of wolves swarmed over the nearest fimbrul devil, the Air Marshal, and her hobgoblin attaché. The wolves tore the fimbrul devil into discombobulated chunks of steaming ice. The Air Marshal screamed in pain and rage but managed to ward off the worst of the wolf attack, and the remaining wolves pulled the Hobgoblin Devastator to the ground and ripped him to bloody gobbets. Siegfiend grabbed the nearby fimbrul devil and took a bite out of it like he was a frozen ice treat. Freezing ichor dribbled sprayed the ceiling of the command deck and spilled over Siegfiend’s jaws as he chewed loudly. Then he clapped a clawed hand on Rimmon’s shoulder. “Mind if I cut in?” He swung his mace and bashed the archdevil with a vicious uppercut square to the face. Rimmon twirled the Claw of Tiamat about and stabbed at Siegfiend, who cast shield to deflect the blow. “You know how it is with new suits,” Siegfiend said mock apologetically. “Takes a while to get the fit right.” “Hmmmm,” Rimmon rumbled. Siegfiend reclined in Rimmon’s control chair. “Enjoy that while you can, worm,” Rimmon said. “Ugh!” Siegfiend said, sitting up as he realized the seat and back were studded with rusty nails. “This chair is hideous! It’s the first thing I’m throwing out when I redecorate. You are a shit interior designer.” “We’ll see how sharp your tongue is after I kill your friend in front of you,” Rimmon said as he squeezed Varien with his sharp claws, drawing blood. His scorpion tail whipped up to pierce the paladin again. The gelugon next to Rimmon, still wary of Siegfiend, moved past, sending a shiver of cold through Varien and a number of Erwen’s wolves. The gelugon began slashing at the wolves. The Air Marshal tried to defend herself but, still blind, was unable to stab any wolves. Another gelugon approached from the east, laying into the wall of wolves protecting Bob. Bob saw the 12-foot-tall insectoid fiend move on his wolf companions. He cast Palarandusk’s whipstrike . A whirwind of furious solid air descended upon the gelugon and Air Marshal, slamming them both to the ground. “What is happening?” The Air Marshal shrieked. One of the ioun turrets glowed red and blasted a fireball into the wolfpack. Bob clenched his cheeks as the flames washed over him. The Air Marshal screamed again in pain in frustration. The second ioun turret tracked Siegfiend but did not fire off a spell. The chain devil shouted, “Somebody sound the alarm!” in infernal. A fimbrul devil exhaled a cone of cold air, freezing Air-wen’s remaining wolves but not eliminating them from the fight. A second fimbrul devil killed a wolf but missed the other two. Erwen conjured 16 pixies from the Feywild. The creatures flared into existence around him, shortbows in hand. “Oh, no!” Siegfiend muttered. “Which one of you is in charge?” Air-wen asked the pixies. One of them flit forward shyly. “The name’s Patricia,” she squeaked. Air-wen nodded. “You lead from the front, Patricia!” The pixie snapped a smart salute and with a flap of her gossamer wings took off in the direction of the enemy. Varien was still in Rimmon’s grasp, but not for long. He quickened a steelwind strike and vanished, striking like the wind – he caromed off a fimbrul devil, the Air Marshal, a second fimbrul devil, and a gelugon, before appearing behind Rimmon. The two fimbrul devils shattered into ice-blue chunks. Rimmon began to turn as there was a blinding flash of teleportation magic. His horned head turned straight into Fiendsbane’s critical strike, cleaving the archdevil right through its eyeline. The top of Rimmon’s skull separated from the rest of the devil’s head, The Claw of Tiamat fell from Rimmon’s slack claw, ringing against the deckplate. Varien kicked it up, grasped it, and tossed it to Bob. “Head’s up!” he shouted. Bob snatched the quintent out of mid-air. “Yes!” he shouted. Varien bowed and sheathed Fiendsbane, who was rattling with satisfaction. The horned skullcap bounced once on the deck, trailing ichor, as Rimmon’s body began to turn to black slime that seeped through the deckplates on his way back to the Nine Hells. “Right!” Siegfiend boomed. “Anyone who considers themselves essential to the flying of this contraption, on your knees.” The navigatrix glanced over her shoulder and took a knee. “And somebody turn these turrets off!” Siegfiend bellowed. At the sound of Siegfiend’s voice, Air Marshal Zuvok pulled her revolver out and pressed the barrel to her head as if in prayer. “Light ‘em up,” she hissed. She fanned the hammer as her handgun crackled with ethereal damage and scored a hit on the pit fiend. Her second shot went wide. “Make better choices!” Siegfiend sighed. Air-wen’s pixies went on a polymorph spree and turned the gelugon into a frozen chicken. One remaining pixie polymorphed an imp into a chicken. Two squads of pixies riddled an imp with short-bow bolts, killing it. The remainder sent a barrage of arrows at the Air Marshal. The Air Marshal finally blinked away the afterimages of the sunburst. Looking around, she evaluated the situation with the smudges of dead imps, the pool of ichor where Rimmon once stood, her dead minions, and two confused chickens. Sighing in exasperation, she holstered her revolver with a flourish and sheathed her sword, raising her hands in defeat. “Smart woman,” Siegfiend said. “Does anyone else want to make a sensible decision?” From further down the corridor, an Erinyes arrived, beautiful mouth agape at the scene. She put up her weapon as well, not wanting any part of the slaughter. From below deck there was the sound of marching boots on deckplate. Downstairs, Optio Dundarth was rallying his squad to ascend the stairwell. Siegfiend grabbed the speaking tube built into Rimmon’s chair. “This is your Captain Siegfiend speaking,” he intoned in a deep baritone. “Rimmon has been bloodily executed and a mutiny has taken place. Now, all of you want to keep your jobs and I am happy to allow all of you to report back a successful mission, but in the meantime we will be traveling down to the Tower of Many-Arrows and after a short layover there, we will be going to the cube of Nishrek. Now, everyone can report a successful mission to their bosses, or we can drag the hostilities out into something that has to be reported back home. Those of you who would like to continue your records of good effort and behaviour will find little problem with me.” Down the stairwell, Optio Dundarth shouted, “All hail Captain Siegfiend, right boys?” There was a forceful cheer from the enlisted fiends. The ioun turrets retracted into the ceiling. Air Marshal Zuvok clasped her hands behind her back and approached Siegfiend. “The Screaming Harpies of the 144 th Air Division will follow you to the Citadel of Many-Arrows and Nishrek,” she said firmly. “Wonderful,” Siegfiend said. “Send an envoy ahead with a message that this is a diplomatic visit and that we hope for a warm orcish welcome.” Air Marshal Zuvok nodded smartly. “Very good, Captain. I will dispatch my fastest aircraft immediately.” She smirked. “Of course, you won’t mind if our signals corps gleans whatever intelligence it can during this diplomatic venture, will you?” “Whatever you have to do to report back a successful mission,” Siegfiend shrugged. “I don’t give a shit. I’m sure nobody wants to report that mortals came in here and wrested control of the ship from Rimmon in 20 seconds. That would be an inconvenient report to make.” Air Marshal Zuvok smiled anew. “Who needs that kind of paperwork? I like your style, Captain. Perhaps you’d join me in the Ready Room for a drink?” Efrarta the Navigatrix began to change course. Imp tubes in the floor began to open, and a fresh squad of imps gingerly crept aboard and manned the vacant stations, returning the command deck to some semblance of normal. “Optio Dundarth, up here!” Siegfiend called. “You’re my new Chief of Security.” “Sir, yes sir!” Dundarth shouted with a knife-sharp salute.