Bob knew that the party had to put the Horderaiser down, and quickly. He cast a twinned haste spell on Theryn and Alec. With a defiant roar, Yeemik surged forward, holding his censer-flail like a brace before him with both hands as he plowed into the Horderaiser, knocking the orc necromancer prone. He then disengaged and moved to protect Bob. Erwen struck at the prone necromancer with primal savagery, acid splashing into the orc’s face from his open-handed slap. Theryn cast hunter’s mark on the Horderaiser and moved to strike with his quarterstaff. As he did so, the Horderaiser barked an invocation and there was a flash of shadow-smoke. The Horderaiser switched positions with one of his minions and now stood a distance away, getting back to his feet. Theryn shrugged and let his staff strike home, cracking it on the head of the surprised minion. He followed through with a second strike and then leapt towards the Horderaiser, spinning his quarterstaff to ward off the blows from two other Hands of Gruumsh in the way. He landed deftly before the Horderaiser, who was trying to hide behind the bulk of one of his tanarukk guardians, and struck the orc resolutely, sending him staggering back against the wall. “No, you fools,” the orc wheezed. “If you kill me, you’ll awaken-” “Enough of this!” Alec raged, unsheathing his mercurial greatsword and dashing towards his quarry. He leapt up the side of the surprised tanarukk and straddled the foul creature’s shoulders as he stabbed downward with his sword, finding gaps in the orc necromancer’s armor. By the time his third stab penetrated the Horderaiser, the orc was swaying listlessly, blood draining from his body. He slowly slid off the end of Alec’s blade, falling to a heap on the floor. Alec spun away from the tanarukk and landed next to Theryn, sword at the ready. The Orc Hand of Gruumsh who had acted as the party’s guide cursed and resisted the urge to rush to the Horderaiser’s side to offer his master aid. “Fell spirits!” he called out, his hands tracing an invocation. “protect us!” Siegfried smiled. “There’s no need for that,” he said, casting counterspell . The Orc’s spell dissipated harmlessly. “The insult has been paid,” Siegfried explained. “The offence caused to the Bloodbreaker is now forgotten. Hand that one’s trinkets to the flamebearers and guide us to the ritual chamber.” “But, but the Horderaiser bows to no one!” another Orc Hand shouted. Raising her hands, she shouted “Fell spirits, protect us!” “No, you!” Bob shouted back, casting counterspell to nullify the Orc Hand’s magic. The Orc Hand kneeling before Varien got painfully to his feet and swung his Morningstar, striking the paladin with a necrotic strike. Varien only shook his head and said “You are as foolish as you are despicable,” in Abyssal. The tanarukks moved on the party members. One bit Alec but missed with a swing of its sword, while another attacked Yeemik. Siegfried readied himself as another tanarukk charged towards him. He blocked the creature’s bite with his axe, and glared fiercely at the creature as its sword swung at him harmlessly. “Embrace the freedom the Horderaiser’s betrayal has afforded you!” Siegfried bellowed. “Cease this foolishness before the Bloodbreaker kills us all!” he indicated Varien. He cast mass suggestion and continued. “The Bloodbreaker demanded a sacrifice of one, yet you caper about like goblins! Behave yourselves as Sons of Gruumsh and lead us to the ritual. We’ve wasted enough time.” At once the orcs ceased their aggressive moves, with the exception of one of the tanarukks who had slogged his way into the middle of the water pool. “But…no!” the tanarukk shouted in response, pointing an accusatory claw at the party members. “They all look like orc, but they no smell like orc!” The creature’s features twisted in confusion at the actions of his brethren. Varien stepped forward without a word to confront the dissenting tanarukk and activated his Helm of the Regent’s Glare, blasting the creature with beams from his eyes that scorched and burned it with flames and lightning. The creature’s smouldering, charred remains pitched forward to splash into the water, and steam hissed as the creature sank out of sight. “Now then,” Varien turned to the rest of the orcs. “Are there any more fools in this chamber, or shall we proceed?” There was a pregnant pause in the room. The Orc Hand guide chose his words carefully. “Bloodbreaker Varoc, you have made your point. We will guide you as the Bloodsworn has suggested.” He cocked a thumb at Siegfried. “I will collect the remains of this disrespectful cur so that you may punish him further,” Siegfried said, rolling the Horderaiser and his belongings into Bob’s bag of holding . The party followed the Orc Hand of Gruumsh to the western side of the chamber. The Orc opened the door and ushered them through. The sound of drumming and chanted greeted them as they entered a subterranean temple. Eight pillars supported the ceiling of this grisly chamber, and iron chains and manacles dangling ominously from each one. The walls of the octagonal room contained hundreds of small niches holding piles of humanoid skulls and bones. Two rough-hewn tunnels broken through the north wall, while a shimmering gray curtain concealed a 10-foot-wide exit in the middle of the south wall. Four gnomes, shivering in their undergarments, were manacled between two sets of the pillars at the north, south, east and west. They look beaten, broken and brutalized. A 10-foot-square, 1-foot-high stone platform rose up from the middle of the floor, and carved into its smooth surface was a 7-foot-long humanoid- shaped concavity. The ceiling over the platform consisted of a 25-foot-high dome painted to resemble a great lidless eye. Reclining in the indentation was a large, well-proportioned humanoid, handsome even by human standards. The half-orc’s muscular body was covered in runic warpaint that glistened in the unholy light. At his side was a large warmaul. Standing on the platform chanting a chronicle of vile deeds was a desiccated orc woman, wearing a black hood festooned with feathers and other shamanic totems. Her lips are painted black, and her tusks were honed to a dangerous sharpness. “That must be Aunty Jurrg the Cave Witch,” Siegfried whispered to Varien. “She’s the one who set this foul display in motion, according to Sheenzen the Spiteful back in Neverwinter.” Siegfried began to scan the assembly, intent on memorizing their features. On a plinth nearby between the north and west pillars rested a set of plate armor and a longspear, guarded by an imposing orc warrior who the party members recognized as the wyvern rider they had seen flying a patrol above the mountain. The room was crowded with orcs. Among the ranks were obvious emissaries from several orc tribes: The Severed Eye, The Sixblade, The Shadowed Chain, and the Broken Fang. Each of these emissaries were surrounded by a bodyguard of vicious-looking orcs. Not all of the other witnesses to the ritual, however, were orcs. In the southeast corner were two Red Wizards of Thay, one male and one female, along with an armored bodyguard. To the northeast were a cadre of mountain dwarves surrounding an impatient-looking leader with a beard tucked into his belt, who was about as wide as he was tall. The party recognized the dwarves as belonging to the Forgebar clan, the same dwarves who had attacked the gnomish caravan train. The dwarven leader was puffing on a pipe and looked ready for a long drink. In the northwestern quadrant was a trio of elves, including a platinum-haired Eladrin who looked extremely ill-at-ease. Two female elves stood next to him. Varien, Erwen, Alec and Bob recognized one of the elves as the leader of the Eldreth Veluuthra they had fought against in Neverwinter Wood, and the second one looked like Sister Gaerele of the Shrine of Luck in Phandalin. In the southwest section there stood three drow, including Nezznar the Black Spider. “Nezznar,” hissed Bob and Yeemik in unison. A large Orc moved to block their path. “The ritual has begun and was not to be disturbed.” “My apologies, Champion,” the Orc Hand mumbled. “We had a final delegation held up by interlopers who demanded entry.” “And who comes?” the Champion said, eyeing the party. “Varoc Bloodbreaker, sire,” the Orc Hand said. “Bloodbreaker?” the Champion enforcer replied. “Never heard of him. What clan do you represent?” he asked Varien, who stood impassively before him. “No clan,” Siegfried piped up. “He comes from the Abyss to bear witness!” “An Abyssal Orc?” the Champion said, arching an eyebrow. “No,” Siegfried said darkly. “An Abyssal prince.” He affected a shaken expression. The Champion considered this, and then nodded slowly. “That’s pretty badass, actually. Enjoy the show.” He let them pass. The party members kept to themselves as they watched the ritual unfold, looking for an opening and considering their options. Siegfried figured he could use an animate object spell to unshackle the gnomes. The rest of the party would have to sweep in and grab the scions, bringing them close enough together to get out of the chamber together. “I can use my word of recall to teleport a bunch of us back to sanctuary in the Crystal Cathedral,” Bob whispered. “I can cast wind walk if we can get everyone together,” whispered Erwen. Varien leaned over to ask the Orc Hand a question. “These sacrifices, will they be unshackled and brought to the centre of the platform to be slaughtered?” The Orc Hand shook his head and grinned. “No, they shall be run through where they stand.” “That’s, er, excellent,” Varien replied. “We will need some sort of distraction to cause confusion when we put our plan into motion,” Siegfried told his companions, who nodded. Siegfried flashed the shard of the ise rune . “Yeemik,” Siegfried whispered to the Tiefling. “Nezznar must not interfere in our plans when we put them into motion. Make sure he does not interrupt us.” Yeemik nodded. “I know what I have to do,” he said. He began to slink through the crowd of onlookers towards the drow. Erwen sidled over to the dwarves and pulled out his own pipe, beginning to puff in unison with the Forgebar emissary. Siegfried felt his gaze continually drawn to the subject of the Bloodspear Ritual, the half-orc who reclined on the platform. The orc’s features, though they tended to favour his orcish bloodline over his human one, were still ferociously handsome, perhaps even a shade more handsome than his own, though he was loath to admit it. But wait. There was something strangely familiar with the shape of Rulgar’s nose, and something exceedingly recognizable about his jawline. Siegfried’s jaw hung open slightly. “It…it can’t be,” he whispered. “What can’t be?” Varien whispered back. “Rulgar,” Siegfried said disbelievingly even as he saw the inexorable truth of it before him. “He’s my brother. My…my elder brother! He’s the heir, not me!” “But his name’s Ashenshadow!” Varien said. “He’s first in line to the throne,” Siegfried’s voice was so hushed that it was almost like he was talking to himself. “That means I’m not the rightful heir, and yet if I live, I’m a threat to his rule. One of us has to die.” “It can’t be as bad as all that,” Varien replied. “He’s using magic to distort his features somewhat, likely to make him more palatable to this audience,” Siegfried hissed. “He’s using my tricks! He’s a warlock like me! But that means…” In the back of his mind, Siegfried’s mother began to chuckle, the sound like crackling cinders.